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“Time’s up,” I ground out, grabbing at Josh’s wallet, and taking out the folded notes in there, dropping it to the bed. It was empty now of all but photos of a kid with tousled hair and a toothy grin. Ben—the center of this entire thing.
“I need to get more money for you,” he murmured.
“No need.”
“But—”
“I said, no.”
I couldn’t meet the sapphire eyes, sleepy and sated, as Josh watched me leave. This was my job, and I was damn good at it, and it was healthy that I suffered a moment of guilt.
I wasonlyhuman and I’d done the worst thing possible.
I felt guilt that cameras had recorded every profanity, every thrust, and every moan, of Josh Anderson’s walk on the dark side, all for his ex-wife’s lawyers to suggest he was an unfit father. All so his ex-wife’s fiancé could get his own way.
I would be well-paid for this—I’d asked for twenty thousand for tonight, and hadn’t settled for one cent less, played my part well, got the video my potential new boss needed.
That was all that mattered.
Josh was pretty, cute, small in my arms, all Ivy League short hair, slim hips, and thoughtful blue eyes. No hardship involved at all, and Josh had gotten off. Twice.
But he’ll lose his son.
Josh had been incendiary.
“Thank you,” Josh whispered, and I heard him as I walked away. Thank you? Who the hell thanked the person they paid to fuck them. I hadn’t gone halfway down the hall before something inside, something old and ingrained started to crack open, all because of those two freaking words. I stopped, catching my reflection in the dirty glass of the landing window. This was fucked up. All I could see a man who was losing his way when I knew he was fighting for custody of his son, and somehow, leaving him was proving difficult.
Don’t fuck this up.
Mission accomplished as usual, but I knew it wasn’t a victory I wanted.
I shook my head. I was going to screw this entire thing up—it was a job, nothing more. I shouldn’t be worrying about consequences in situations like this—it was the end result I needed to think about. Josh would lose Ben at the hearing tomorrow, but I’d make sure he got him back.
What if I couldn’t? The kid was as cute as his dad, pre-teen, same blue eyes.
An innocent child.
Pain knotted in my gut. Danvers would kill me if I fucked this up now.
Please leave.
I shook off my unease and took the stairs three at a time, landing in the foyer with a final jump. The reception area, behind bars, was empty of the usual guy who took a hundred-dollar cut for every client hookers brought here.
I almost made it to the front door, but my feet were like lead, and I stopped maybe three feet inside. I couldn’t make myself go out into the street. My head was telling me to go, but my contrary heart told me to return to the room.
“What are you doing, Cap?” the voice was clear in my ear, Ryder was on point for this tonight and my best friend sounded confused.
“Can’t do this,” I muttered.
“Cap?”
“Comms off,” I said, and Ryder went silent.
My heart hurt—seeing the picture of the boy I only knew as the one people were fighting over started to chip away at my resolve. With that final thank you from Josh—the innocent man I’d fucked into the mattress, I was finished. Cursing, I walked back up the stairs, this time slower, wondering what the hell I was going to say to the person I should never see again.
When I arrived at the door and pushed it open, it was to see Josh sitting on the side of the bed. His head in his hands, he was half-dressed, his posture one of total defeat. He looked up startled as I moved past him into the room and crossed to the closet, my height meaning I could reach over the top and to the boxes sitting there, yanking down the top one and tossing it onto the bed.
“It was recorded,” I explained, steady in front of a confused Josh, waiting for a reply.
