“You can’t just demand someone spill the deepest parts of themselves. It’s rude.”
“Never said I was polite, sweetheart.”
I don’t want him to know; not yet. He’s too focused on freedom, and if I tell him why I’m in the position I am, he’ll go into that infamous rage of his that I’ve heard about, I thought. I took a deep breath. He was already angry. Making him go into that deep recess of his emotions wasn’t a good idea. He’d march into King’s office and shoot him point-blank.
And he’d do it on my behalf, I thought.
Maybe there was more to Crush than wanting to get in my pants. Maybe he was sincere, despite the awkwardness at the coffee shop and the walk to the little alcove. I resigned myself to tell a version of the truth. He doesn’t need the gritty details. I can say my parents are dead—that part was easy enough. He didn’t need to know they died in a helicopter crash my first year of med school.
I was an only child, and I had no living relatives. I had some money for med school from my parents’ life insurance, but it wasn’t enough. I got desperate and signed on for a low-interest rate loan that I could pay back as long as I worked for the benefactor. And when I came home to an eviction notice if my rent wasn’t paid, I needed the money more than ever. I signed without a second thought.
The benefactor turned out to be King.
And that was five years ago. And I’m nowhere close to getting it paid off. Years of rent, bills, tuition, and basic living expenses were stacked against me. King held the cards, and I had to play what I was dealt. But the stress and violence—it was getting to me. I knew I lived and moved through Vegas always under scrutiny; there was no way to get out. King wouldn’t let me run away. Not with the amount I still owed him.
I sighed, “Look, Crush. I’m a doctor with no family, all right. My parents died, I was desperate. King got me to where I am now, but I owe him a lot of money. You just can’t sweep me away. He won’t let someone like me just slip away.”
“But you want to slip away,” Crush replied. It wasn’t a question. I nodded, looking into his brown eyes that had softened but were stern. “I ask you out, you want your freedom, and it goes well. But then it gets weird when I tell you what’s got King off his rocker. Am I some sort of a means to an end for you?”
“I could ask the same of you,” I shot back, back to being angry. “And I can figure this out on my own. I could leave under my own terms.”
“And go where? You just said you have no family,” Crush erupted, his eyes going almost black. “King’s insane. Whatever debt you owe to him, even if you pay it back in full, he may never stop looking for you.”
I couldn’t see straight, I was so angry.I can handle my own shit. I’d made it this far on my own—I could get myself out. And to have Crush suddenly take interest in me and want to give me the thing I want most was just too much. And just like it was nothing, I turned on my heel and walked back in the direction of the café.
Crush didn’t bother following—which was probably the best choice given the state of my mood. I wasn’t one for violence, but if he tried to stop me, I’d have no problem throwing a punch or two. He was infuriating, but I didn’t know why I wanted to trust him.But he’s got to open up too,I thought.Trust is a two-way street.I got to my car undisturbed and drove back to my apartment with road rage from hell, feeling only slightly bad for the people I was cutting off as I weaved through traffic.
When I got to my apartment building, my mood had simmered enough to not want to break anything. And I tried not to stomp every step up to my place—a noise complaint was the last thing I needed. I dug around in my purse for my keys and dropped them as soon as I freed them. I cursed under my breath.
I slammed my door shut, throwing the bolt to lock it. I found a pillow, which took the brunt of my anger. After I got it all out of my system, I looked at the empty cake container from the night before.
I got up, throwing away the cake container. I even managed to clean some dishes, just to feel as if I was getting my life together in some way. The date might have gone terrible, but I wasn’t going to let it spoil the rest of my afternoon. I was going to enjoy my day off and get my own life together.
I will be out in six months, I vowed. I’ll double my efforts for King and get the fuck out of here. I don’t care if that means I go into whatever warehouse on whatever night; I’ll do it. I don’t care if King wants me to be his live-in servant; if it gets me out faster, I’ll take it.I was ready to be gone and free—anywhere out of this shit life, this debt, and the terrible apartment.
My phone rang with that eerie tone.Speak of the devil. With a grumble, I got up and snatched my phone from my purse. I accepted the call on its final ring, and I knew I didn’t even need to say hello. I put it up to my ear, looking out my sliding glass door that led to my balcony. I wondered how many eyes he had on me at that exact moment.
“Ah, my favorite surgeon,” King crooned. “How’s the guy last night? Pulled through, I assume?”
“He’s fine,” I said as casually as I could. “Got jumped, apparently. Nothing fatal, but there were some pretty deep wounds.”
“Good to hear,” he said, and I could practically hear his wicked smile through the phone. There was a silence, and I knew better than to break it. King was a man that spoke to you, and not the other way around. Finally, he continued, “Interacted with anyone since?”
My heart pounded.Did he know about Crush? About the date?My stomach flipped, and the coffee felt like it was burning acid.I have my suspicions,King’s voice rang in my head. Whatever secret Crush was hiding about getting free, King was on his scent about it. Or at least was catching a whiff of it somehow. And I had a lot of incriminating evidence against Crush’s loyalty.
So? That’s another 10K from the debt,the voice in my head rang. But something was holding me back from selling Crush down the river so fast. Crush may be an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to be a target. Especially not a target for King. Whatever it was Crush wanted, he’d have to do on his own and without me. But I wasn’t too keen to run to King with the information.
“No,” I lied, and I hoped it was convincing. “Worked at the hospital early and went and got a coffee just now.”
Again, I settled for a half-truth. If King wanted to trace my whereabouts, he’d find out I had gotten a coffee. And if he found out it was with Crush, then I would cross that bridge later. Something about that new role he’d assigned me or just curiosity. Or a simple,he asked me out, and I said yeswould do. It wasn’t against the rules to have a life outside of the club.
Silence.
My heart was pounding in my ears now. I couldn’t feel my knees—it was like they turned to water. The adrenaline was racing through my system.He’s on to Crush, I panicked. I had the urge to hang up and call Crush to warn him. But King didn’t need to know what I knew—from either party. I’d play coy for as long as possible. It was becoming a common role for me nowadays.
“Okay,” he said finally, but I could hear his disbelief. There wasn’t an alarm bell in my head that wasn’t blaring. King kept up with the silence, and I tried to steady my breathing. I could barely hear him over my own pulse as he said, “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten about our deal.”
“Of course not,” I managed.
