Chapter 1
Chapter One
Taylor
My feet are killing me, my ears ring, and I’m dying of thirst.
Pretty normal after a seven-hour cocktail shift at Sins.
I wince as I walk out to my car in the dark parking lot, balancing two plastic cups of ice water in one hand, along with my purse and keys. I can’t believe I forgot my water bottle–not that there’s ever a free moment to drink it.
I’m in a pair of high heeled stilettos. Yeah, they bring the tips in, but damn, do they hurt!
You would think for someone pursuing an education in physical therapy I would take better care of my body.
But then I wouldn’t bring in the big bucks.
And Lord knows, I need the money. I’m still paying down the loans from my undergraduate education, living on ramen and mac and cheese.
If I didn’t have the job at Sins to supplement my student loans, I wouldn’t be able to afford the gas in my car.
The club closed an hour ago, but there are still a smattering of cars in the parking lot, including a slick BMW that can’t possibly belong to any of my co-workers.
Must be one of the customer’s then.
Probably mafia-owned.
My lips quirk as I think about the hundred dollar tip in my pocket from one of them.
Marco. He and his brother Leo come in here with different women on their arms every freaking weekend.
Tonight he had the nerve to ask me if I’m ever tempted to come on my nights off.
“Never.”
He flashed that cocky smile. “Never, ever?”
“No,” I told him. “I don’t like pain.”
“Do you like pleasure, angel?” He arched a sexy brow.
I roll my eyes as I open my car door. I would’ve told him I’m not his angel, except I like his money way too much to draw that line in the sand.
I groan when I drop to the driver’s seat and take the weight off my feet. I set the water cups down on the center console and lean down to unbuckle the ankle straps on my heels. “Ow, ow, ow,” I mutter. I can’t stand another minute with these torture devices affixed to my poor throbbing feet.
As soon as I get them off, I start my old Honda Accord and back out.
When I turn to drive out of the lot, one of the water cups careens off the center console and dumps ice and liquid into my lap.
“Ack!” I accidentally twist the wheel when I grab for it and try to shake the ice from my already-soaked dress. One of my heels tumbles under the brake pedal.
Fuck.
I try to kick it out as the second cup of water tumbles all over me.
I reach down to grab the shoe, but my foot jams onto the gas pedal and the car lurches forward.
I plow straight into a parked car.
I scream. There’s a sickening crunch of metal and plastic, and I still can’t get the shoe out from under the brake! The engine revs as I continue to shove against–oh God.
It’s the BMW. Of course it is.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I kick the shoe out and press the brake, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles crack.
What do I do? I’m in a total panic. There’s no logic running through my brain at all.
Or very little, anyway.
I look around quickly for the crowd of observers, but no one’s here.
That’s when I make the dumbest mistake of my life.
I throw the car in reverse and hit the gas. After a few excruciating moments of engine grinding and breaking parts, my car pulls free of the wreckage.
I straighten the wheel and flatten the accelerator pedal to the floor.
There’s a screech of rubber on asphalt as I tear out of there.
Away from the scene of the crime.
Straight toward consequences I’m not even remotely equipped to face.
Marco
What. The fuck?
I reach for a piece, but I’m not wearing one.
Weapons aren’t allowed on premises at Sins.
“What is it?” Leo’s instantly at my side, moving his body protectively in front of his date for the evening.
“Some asshole just smashed into my car.”
My brand new BMW.
“Did you get a look at him?”
The club bouncer beside us clears his throat.
“What?” I snap. “Do you know who that was?”
He rubs his nose, looking uncomfortable. “I, uh, think it was just an accident.”
I fist his shirt and push him back against the wall, even though he’s bigger and brawnier than I am. “Who was it?” I snarl. “What do you know?”
He doesn’t resist, because he knows I’m fucking dangerous. He lifts his hands in surrender. “It was a her, not a him .”
I loosen my grip.
Maybe it was just an accident.
Some drunken club-goer?
She’s still going to have to answer to me.
“Do you know her?” I demand.
“What are you going to do?”
Okay, he definitely knows her.
“I don’t hurt women,” I assure him, then glance over my shoulder where our dates for the night are standing, looking glassy-eyed and thoroughly pleasured. “Except when they like it.”
“It was Taylor,” the bouncer admits. “The cocktail waitress?”
I release him, completely relaxed now.
Taylor. The adorable little blonde who looks far too innocent and wholesome to work here.
“Text me her address.”
“What are you going to do?”
I glance in the direction she sped off.
“Tomorrow, I’m going to pay her a little visit.”