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“Come on,” I said gently, resisting the urge to say ‘honey’, in case Anderson objected for conflict of interest.
I knew Coop was in a bad way. I hadn’t known him long, but I had learned to recognize his moods—especially the dark ones.
“Will you walk me home?” I asked sweetly.
“I-I don’t know, I should really drive mom back and—”
“Do you think I could have your house key so I can settle in while you’re boinking Sarah?” Sequoia cut in.
I blushed at her forthrightness, but Sequoia seemed utterly oblivious. She was really the sort to say precisely what she thought at any given moment. A trait I actually kind of respected.
“See to Sarah,” Sequoia said, squeezing Cooper’s arm, “I can take care of myself.”
Cooper gave her the house key, and we started in the direction of my place, with me very much in the lead. Cooper didn’t really seem to know what time it was and was eerily silent. He wasn’t a chatterbox at the best of times, but it was different that night. Something was going on, something potentially dangerous, and I felt the driving urge to try and keep him safe.
Chapter Thirteen
Cooper
I was listening. Sarah probably couldn’t tell because I didn’t say anything, but I really was trying to pay close attention as she went through the case.
“The contract is actually pretty open on your end. Technically speaking, you can cancel any contract with any client at any time. Though there needs to be a reason. I believe you about Ivanov laundering money for the mob, but we need to be able to prove that. If we can’t, the case is pretty weak. He could make it look like you canceled the contract and slandered Ivanov for no reason or just because you didn’t like him. Though even then, he had no right to the company’s profits. Anderson probably just put that into beef up the case.”
I flinched at the mention of Anderson’s name and shuddered as I remembered the way Marla eyed me. The drums of my anxiety got louder as the heat rose in my chest, feeling like it might burn out my heart. I needed time. I also needed to be away from Sarah in case something bad happened again.
Getting Sarah safely to the door of her building, I turned to leave and do something very dangerous and incredibly stupid.
“Please come up.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a request. She was practically begging me, which was something of a surprise. I wanted to say no, but I was already hurting her feelings, which hurt even more than the fire in my heart.
“Okay.”
She didn’t let go. Taking me by the hand to guide me into the building Sarah held on until we were inside. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of affection, or she was trying to keep me from running away. Maybe a little bit of both.
I knew I had to tell her. It was no good trying to build a relationship while holding onto secrets like that. I knew Sarah’s secret. It was time for her to know mine.
“I’ll make some coffee,” she said, finally breaking away.
She clearly wasn’t planning on going to sleep anytime soon, which made me wonder what she had in mind. Maybe she could tell that I had something I needed to say to her. I was already on the couched when she arrived with two mugs of instant coffee. It was a far cry from the gourmet stuff I usually drank, but it didn’t matter. It was made with love and exactly what I needed at that moment.
Taking off her shoes, Sarah tucked her feet up under herself and turned to face me. I intentionally didn’t look at her, so I would get distracted by her beauty. I had to get through it, and if I was going to, I had to be able to focus.
“When I was in college, my first year of college, actually, I needed money. Or, we did really. My dad walked out on us, as you know. Mom did the best she could, but there was only so much she could do, and college was going to be expensive. I always did what I could to help her with the finances and raising Camilla. I was really more of a dad to her, or at least a father figure than our dad had ever been,”
“She told me,” Sarah said, taking my hand.
“Mom was already working two jobs, I made what I could doing illustration work, mostly for underground publications and indie magazines and working part-time at an art supply store but we were still just scraping by. I-I found an opportunity for escorts. I didn’t want to, not really, but we really needed the money. I could make more in a day than I could in a week at the store. So, I did it. For a few months, soon after I turned eighteen, I was a boy toy for rich women. Marla Anderson was one of my clients.”
