“Everything all right?” He strides over, and I pocket my phone.
My heart’s racing, but the last thing I want to do is let this guy know. He’ll probably turn me over to the police.
“Just my dealer.” He already thinks badly of me, so I might as well play up to that.
His eyes go wide, and if I keep this up, he might explode.
“I’m just fucking with you. Relax.”
He puts a hand on his chest and lets out a long sigh. “Are you ever serious?”
“Not if I can help it.” I give him a sweet smile. Flirting with him helps me forget the text, forget the out-of-control feeling.
But apparently the distraction only works one way.
He indicates the pocket where I slipped my phone. “But is everything okay?” He seems generally concerned, and I start to think there might be a beating heart under his uptight exterior. My mind whirs with all the things in my life that are far from okay, but I’m not willing to share any of them with this stranger. It’s better to flirt. Flirting is fun, and I need all the fun I can get right now.
“You know, you’ve been bossing me around all day, and I don’t even know your name.” I put on a smile, hoping for deflection, but he continues to peer at me suspiciously.
“I’m Hudson.”
I put my hand out. “I’m Willow.”
He takes my hand, and it’s so big it engulfs mine. His handshake is firm but not too tight, and it’s warm. Like, making my arm tingle kind of warm.
“I know who you are, Willow.” His voice is a low purr, and the way it rolls over my name makes heat jump through my entire body.
Then I realize what he said, and I jump away. “What do you mean?”
Could they have found me here? Is Hudson working with them?
His eyes go wide, and he puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Your name’s on my checklist.” He waves the clipboard he’s been carrying around all day.
On his checklist. Of course, that’s what he means. My heart starts beating again, and I try to pull up a smile but fail.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” There’s a gentleness about him that I haven’t seen previously. But he’s still a stranger. I know nothing about this guy, apart from the fact that he’s a veteran of some sort and he might like spanking.
“Yeah.” I tap my pockets for my car keys and hold them up. “I have to go. I’m making dinner for the girls tonight.”
Before I can leave, he captures the top of my arm in his strong hand. A reassuring warmth travels down my arm, making me jerk back in surprise.
“If you need anything, just ask.”
3
WILLOW
Electric blue streaks across the canvas as I move my paintbrush in quick strokes. I smudge the edges into the emerald green, making the lines blur where earth meets sky.
I sit back on my stool to peer at the canvas.
The sound of a TV drifts through the open window to the courtyard of the hostel. Inside, most of my fellow work team are slouched on couches, watching a house-flipping show. I prefer to spend my evenings doing the one thing that calms me—painting.
The whir of the A/C unit masks the sound of the road behind the stone walls of the hostel courtyard. The occasional human voice drifts in as people leave the bar down the road.
It’s not where I’d choose to paint, but I’m used to making do. The scene I’m painting is in my imagination, a place where the trees are emerald green and the sky sparks and the reflection of the sun on the river is so bright it burns your eyes.
The door to the inside cracks open, and Boxy slides through. My skin crawls, and an icky feeling settles in my stomach at the sightof the skinny man with the rat face. He licks his lips and doesn’t even try to hide the stare he gives my breasts.
