“No little girl says, ‘I want to be a stripper when I grow up.’ Not one of us would sell sex if there’d been another way to survive. Every single woman who works here has the same story—fucked up life, no money, and no hope. Don’t you dare damn her for it! If you do, you’re damning me, too, and I refuse to accept your pity, or whatever the hell this is.” I’m in his face, an inch from his nose, breathing hard. It looks like I’m going to pop out of my corset every time I breathe. Mounds of flesh swell well above the low neckline, glittering like twin disco balls.
I expect him to look at me, but he doesn’t. Jon presses his lips together, letting his silence build between us while the others stare in shock. When his blue gaze lifts to meet mine, he tips his head to the side. No trace of a smile softens his lips. Nothing subdues his sharp look. “You don’t know Sean. He’d show up with a corpse if it suited him.”
Something inside me snaps. I straighten, laughing bitterly. “You’re an asshole.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just saying—”
“Shut up, man. She hears exactly what you’re saying.” Trystan peers around the girl in his lap, forgetting his own awkward situation for the moment. The girl sits perfectly still, but I can see her thoughts running wild behind her eyes.
Jon growls, “No, she doesn’t. This isn’t about any of you. It’s about my brother and me.” There’s obviously a huge rift between Jo
n and Sean, but he’s poking a bear with Pixy Stix. What does he think is going to happen?
“It might also be about your apparent distaste for working girls.” Avery folds her arms over her chest and juts one hip to the side, glaring at him. “So, Little Ferro, spill it. Did your first hooker mistreat you? Or was it one of your strippers?”
Jon’s body tenses and he sits so still he might explode. It’s the moment of utter silence before a bomb detonates and blasts everything around it to bits. One of his fingers presses into the chair, and I see something flash across his face. It’s raw, a wound that’s still weeping.
He’s quiet for a moment, swallows hard, then stands and walks into the office. The door closes soundlessly behind him. Something happened to him. I’m sure of that. Someone hurt him badly.
Apparently Avery senses it too because she slips off the edge of the stage and rushes toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I glance at the closed door and then back to her pale face. “Neither did I. I’m not sure any of us did.”
CHAPTER 2, JON
I feel like a fucking idiot walking away to hide in the office. I’m not a kid anymore. This shit shouldn’t bother me, but it’s always lurking—ready to rear its fuck-ugly face when I least expect it. Of course they all think I had hookers and strippers. I’m not a priest. I’m a Ferro. I live up to my reputation and then some. But that’s not what made me back down. I know I don’t see things accurately at times. I know my past taints my vision, clouds it, and makes me respond in the worst possible ways.
I sit down at the desk and stare at the packet of papers. I wonder if I’m reacting to Sean or my past. How can I protect Cass when I can’t even deal with this?
There’s a knock on my door, and before I can answer, Avery steps inside.
“Hey," she says, "I didn’t mean to do that.” She's standing there, her long brown hair sweeping over her shoulders and a somber expression on her face. She steps around the door, pushing it shut behind her with the heel of her foot. No shoes.
“You didn’t do anything.” I’m not telling her shit. She’ll report back to Sean, and I don’t want him involved in this. His chance to intercede is long gone.
I shuffle through the stack of papers on the desk, ignoring Sean’s envelope. I’ll look at it when she leaves.
“Maybe not, but it seemed like I found a sore spot and ripped it wide open.”
I act like it doesn’t matter. I’m not telling her shit. “I misspoke. Cassie is hurting. It was reasonable to assume I insulted all of you.”
Avery stops in front of my desk, turns to a ninety-degree angle from me, and rests her denim-clad hip against it. She folds her arms loosely across her chest. “We’re all hurting.”
I glance up at her. Is that a hint? Is something going on with my brother? “Sean included?”
Her eyes dart to the side. She pushes off the desk and looks at a picture of the club on the wall. All the dancers are standing with the bouncers and the former owner, posing as if it were a yearbook picture. “You don’t know him anymore, do you?”
“There’s nothing about him that’s worth knowing.” I sound like a cold motherfucker, like I don't give a shit about my brother, but the tightening sensation in my chest tells me otherwise. The growing unease in my stomach, the way it twists like it’s filled with shards of glass, reminds me of something I don’t want to admit. I suppress it with one swift blow, forcing my emotions back down where they belong. “Maybe you don’t know, so I’ll tell you the drive-by version. Sean thinks I’m a piece of shit stuck to his shoe. No one willingly walks through shit, Avery. He’s here to save his ass. It has nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t know him.”
I appreciate the audacity of this woman. This is the first conversation we’ve had, beyond initial pleasantries, and she’s picking a fight? I lean back in my chair and look at her. She’s smart. I'd bet anything that she’s scanning that picture for Cassie’s face. It’s not there. Cass always dodges pictures, probably because of her ex.
I roll my eyes and sit up quickly, reshuffling papers that don’t need it. “I don’t want to know him. There’s nothing there worth saving, no way we’ll ever be anything but blood. I don’t give a shit what he does or if someone puts a bullet in his head. Actually, I’ve been waiting for it to happen. Between his past and the shitstorm in the press, it’s only a matter of time. I wouldn’t get too attached, Avery.” It’s a dick thing to say, but this conversation is over.
She takes the hint and heads to the door. Her hand rests on the knob for a second then she looks over her shoulder at me. “Too late. I’m already attached.” She smiles sadly, watching me until I meet her eyes. “And no matter what you think, Sean cares about you. I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his voice when he talks about you. Think what you want, but take it from someone who knows what it’s like to be utterly alone—Sean’s here out of more than loyalty. You’re more than blood to him. I’ll see you around.” She walks through the door without waiting for a reply.