Poppy asked me if I knew how to have fun last night. This warehouse right here is my idea of fun. Giving people the justice they deserve, that’s fun.
I walk in next to my father. The two soldiers in the room stand, greeting him before me. “Mr. Russo.”
“Get a cleanup crew ready. This one’s going to be messy.” My dad smiles and then removes his jacket, handing it to one of the soldiers. “What’s your name?” Dad approaches the man currently tied to a metal chair in the middle.
“Who are you? Why am I here?” The guy looks from my father to me.
“You took my daughter out on a date. You really shouldn’t have done that,” Dad grunts, stepping closer. “How fucking old are you?”
“Late-twenties, Imogen said,” I answer.
“Why the fuck are you taking nineteen-year-olds out on dates, you sick fuck?” My father’s fist swings out and clocks the guy in the face. His head snaps to the side, and his cries echo off the concrete.
I lean up against the wall, knowing I’m not going to get to have any of the fun here. But I can watch, and that’s good enough for me.
“Did you tell my daughter she was fat?” my dad grunts.
“What? No!” The asshole shakes his head.
“He told her she needed to order the salad,” I fill in.
“Same fucking thing.” Dad’s fist swings out again.
“Fucking idiot, did he not know who he was taking out?” One of the soldiers steps up next to me.
“Some people were born without survival instincts.” I laugh.
Chapter Six
Note to self:What happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas.
I got home yesterday, and after a very sleepless and unsatisfying night of trying to pleasure myself to get the memory of Sammie and the best sex of my life moment out of my system, it didn’t work.
I spent the night recalling every detail about the man, right down to the little scar at the top of his eyebrow. I should have asked how he got it. Maybe if I knew, I wouldn’t still be thinking about it.
I’ve never had a problem leaving after a one-night stand. I don’t get attached. I’ve experienced too much loss in my life to want to ever be attached to anyone. Well, apart from Alice. But in all fairness, I was attached to her before the loss.
I scull the lukewarm coffee that’s been sitting on my desk for the last half hour. I have my first client in ten minutes, and I need to snap out of whatever this is.
“Hey, you look like shit.” My business partner pops her head into my office.
“Well, thanks.” I roll my eyes. I’m aware I have bags on top of bags and dark circles.
That happens when you don’t sleep, because every time you close your eyes, you see some stranger that gave you five orgasms in one night. I know the number because he made me count them. I’m never going to have sex like that again. Men like him just don’t exist in Kestral Valley. This place is a sleepy little country town full of men who are either way too scared of my family or too intimidated by my last name to touch me.
Usually my one-night stands happen when I make the trek into the city. That’s when I can become a stranger, another face in the crowd. And it never gets back to my overbearing family.
“You just look tired,” Kellie clarifies. “Are you okay?”
“It’s Vegas. It will tire out even the hardest of partiers,” I joke.
“I’m sure it would. I’ve got a client, but yours just walked in as well,” she says. “I’ve set him up in your room, but if you want, I can take him off your hands.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got this,” I insist.
It’s a guy anyway. They mostly only come in for an eyebrow touchup or something easy like that. I’m an esthetician, but around these parts, the cowboys are vain as fuck and they like to look their best, especially their eyebrows. It started when I made my cousin Jaxson let me shape the two bushy caterpillars he had on his face and now they all want nice, manicured eyebrows.
Standing, I push my chair in and walk into the treatment room. I don’t look at the figure sitting on the bed. Instead, I turn to the bench and pick up the chart. I like to keep notes of what treatments people have had done previously.
