“I can’t wait to get to know you. We haven’t had any new blood in months.”
“Druscilla,” Juniper reminds her.
“That girl’s as exciting as a roll of toilet paper.”
Juniper elbows Loveless. “A soft, sweet roll.”
“True,” Loveless says. “But Scarlett…she’s got secrets.”
I laugh, though my heart is in my throat. “Secrets?” I shake my head. “I’m an open book.”
But Juniper nods. “Richard hasn’t told us anything about you. I mean, flat-out nothing. You’re shrouded in mystery.”
“Am I?”
“Well, a few of us know you want to keep everything quiet,” Loveless says.
I chew my lip. “Wow. I didn’t realize Richard had discussed me with anyone else.”
“Just Loveless and Rachelle,” Juniper tells me. “Rach is the manager here, as I’m sure you know, and Loveless is the Head Girl.” I arch a brow, and they both laugh. “We try to keep it light,” Loveless says. “And I do give mean head.”
I blush, and Juniper says, “You will be, too, before it’s over. We’ll teach you.”
When my eyes widen, she says, “Don’t worry. We’ll use a dildo.”
Loveless nods as I try to get my face to return to its regular color. “You’ve got a whole box of treasures waiting in your room. But we can talk about the sexin’ later. For now, we want to hear more about you.”
My stomach flips, and I hate myself for it. For being so un-smooth. I’m in my twenties now. I should be more confident. Less afraid of what everyone thinks. “What do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?” Juniper asks.
Seeing no reason to lie, I say, “I’m from California.”
“Wouldn’t be the Napa Valley area, would it?” Loveless asks me. She’s wiggling her eyebrows.
I gape, truly taken aback, and they eagle-eye me.
I quickly pull it together, feeling a little more confident as we file into a stairwell. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Juniper says. “We’ve got one of those Superman kind of clients. Loveless and a few of the other girls are half in love with him. Quite pathetic, really.”
“I am not,” Loveless says defensively. “He’s just a mystery. Well, he was,” she says, looking troubled.
“Who is he?”
Loveless looks over her shoulder, casual as can be. “His name is Hunter.”
“Hunter.” I barely have enough air in my lungs to get the word out. I’m slayed by the image of Hunter locked around beautiful Loveless.
“We should go by first name only,” Juniper interjects. “Privacy,” she tells me with her brows arched. “Hunter’s been a client here for years, but he mainly just sees Sarabelle, Loveless, and Marie V.”
I’m silent as I imagine Marie V. and Loveless with their paws on Hunter.
Hunter visits Love Inc.? The shock of it makes my chest ache, although why am I surprised? His best friend owns the place, and it’s not as if he’s tied down to anyone.
We push through a metal door, into a hallway that quickly leads us into a fabulous gym, and my brain is so rattled I’m barely able to follow them over to a hot pink mat.
Hunter visits escorts to have sex. Hunter comes here. Holy shit, this is bad news. Holy shit. I can’t run into Hunter here!
“What happened to make him stop coming?” I manage after a moment. Automatically I expect a joke about my wording, so I’m kind of surprised when they exchange a dark look.
They both look somber. Loveless, especially, has a blank look in her eyes. “It makes me so upset, to think about that,” she says quietly. “Something terrible happened.”
Chapter 15
Hunter
After we’re finished playing with her fucked-up party toy, Priscilla leaves her bag with me and steps into the guest bathroom. Just when I think my efforts are futile, I find a receipt from a couple of days ago, signed by M. Lockwood, from a place called MIGHTY’S down in San Luis, Arizona, of all places.
I fold it and slide it into a desk drawer. I’m surprised to find my fingertips shaking a little. With what? Anger? Excitement that I’m adding another flag on the trail of clues, even if I still don’t know where it’s leading me?
I realize as I sink down on a leather chair to catch my breath that I’m shaking because my back is ripped to shreds. The next second, I’m pissed off, because she did come to my place to keep me away from the party tonight, and my dumb ass let her.
I let her flay me because when she put the whip she’d brought in my hand and bent over in front of me, I heard Rita’s voice in my head, telling me what an evil prick I am. I started having flashbacks of the day when I proved to both of us that she was right, and I decided I would rather be whipped than have to feel like I’m the perpetrator—even if in this case, I would have been giving a fucked-up woman what she wanted.