God, I should have run off to another country or something. All I’m doing is making everything worse for myself. I’ve done nothing but create a bunch of drama, even if I’m not sure of theactual drama or if it will follow me here. I have created it by not dealing with the issue and running instead.
Running straight to Axton.
I’m the same girl I was when I was eighteen—running straight to this man, my best friend’s brother, and leaning on him to rescue me from my shit situation. Except this time, it’s probably life and death, whereas last time, it only felt like it.
My parents wouldn’t have ever killed me. They might have slapped me around,often, they might have drunk more than they should have and never had enough money for rent or food, but they wouldn’t have murdered me.
Those guys in Vegas, they’re going to kill me if they get the chance.
Forcing myself out of bed, I head to the kitchen to find something to eat and distract myself from Vegas. From the possible outcome that is without a doubt lingering in the not-so-distant future.
I open the fridge and reach for a container of chia seed pudding that I meal-prepped a few days ago. Eyeball pudding. That’s what I call it anyway. It’s not my favorite thing, but it’s high in fiber and really good for you, so I eat it.
I drizzle some honey over the top, then toss in a few blueberries and raspberries for color and taste. Grabbing a spoon, I walk over to the sofa and sink down as I reach for the remote control with my other hand and press the power button to turn the television on.
I’ve been watching a documentary about the world’s worst prisons. I don’t even know why I’m watching it, but at this point, I’m a few seasons in, and now I have to finish it and see all the prisons around the world and how this guy just jumps in with a camera crew to chat to all these bad guys.
I’m completely fascinated by the whole concept.
As I eat my breakfast, I continue to watch the show, and at least until my alarm sounds, I forget about my predicament. When my alarm does go off, I know it’s time for me to get ready for work.
I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly as I flick the television off and stand up from the couch. I rinse my dishes in the kitchen and place them in the dishwasher, then take a bottle of water from the fridge and carry it back to my bedroom with me.
Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to think about work tonight and avoid seeing myself. I haven’t made any friends here, and I’m very lonely and isolated. I miss Vegas. It was always busy, and with the friends I made, there was always something going on.
I spent the last ten years living the perfect life of being infinitely distracted, and I loved it. Being here alone, I do nothing but think about my problems, past and present. It’s starting to give me a level of anxiety that I’m not sure I will be able to handle much longer.
Turning away from my reflection in the mirror, I start the shower before I strip off my clothes. It’s time for me to shift my focus to my job and making money. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to flee the country altogether.
Sure, they could follow me, but would they? Just because I know too much, saw something I wasn’t supposed to see, I’m not sure I’m worth the expense to track down in a whole other country.
Letting out a snort, I step into the warm shower and shake my head a couple of times. I may not know those guys very well, but I have a feeling they would do it on principle alone. They aren’t going to let me get away, hide for months, and then not chase me to another country. They’re going to drag my ass back and then make an example out of me.
A shiver slides up my spine at the thought of what that means. The steam and the heat from the splashing water do nothing to warm me up. I’m chilled to the bone now just thinking about those men.
Those highly dangerous assholes.
CHAPTER FOUR
MILLIE
Gripping my steering wheel,I twist my hands back and forth slightly as I drive toward work. I flick my gaze to the rearview mirror to check if that black pickup truck is following me again.
The traffic is heavy, so I don’t know if I would even notice him, but that doesn’t stop me from looking.
When I pull into the club’s parking lot, I shift my car intoParkand stay there for a long moment in silence, just breathing.
Closing my eyes, I take cleansing, calming breaths.
The sun is warm against my skin through the windows and as much as I want to stay here for hours, I force myself to open my eyes.
My gaze darts around the parking lot, taking in every parked vehicle. No pickups. I wonder if he’s going to come later tonight, or maybe not at all. I can’t deny that I hope it was Axton and that he’ll be coming back. That would be a lot more convenient than me driving to him.
A lot less embarrassing, too. And I am all about self-preservation. And all about not looking like a fucking fool. That’s seriously important to me. I’ve looked like a fool enough in my life. No more and never again.
Pushing open the car door, I swing my legs over the side, place my feet flat on the ground, then stand and straighten. I take a step forward before I slam the car door closed and move around toward my trunk. I have a duffel with my costumes, shoes, and makeup inside.
After closing the trunk, I move toward the club. The bouncer isn’t set up yet, although it wouldn’t matter if he were. He’s a fucking idiot. I’m pretty sure he takes cash to turn his attention away, pretending he doesn’t see a fucking thing.
