14. Chapter Fourteen #2
Slamming back the remaining liquid in my glass, I stand and smooth my hands down my stomach.
Avoiding looking in Lynx’s direction, which is nearly impossible when I can feel his heated gaze scorching every inch of my bare flesh, I weave through tables and chairs and make my way down the hall to room six.
Standing in front of the closed door, I knock three times, exhale a shaky breath, and let myself inside.
Relief swarms me when I realize it’s just Peter, the customer with the foot fetish.
“Hi, Rebel,” he greets politely after the door clicks shut behind me.
“Peter,” I respond cutely, taking a step forward and eyeing the stack of cash sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
Now that’s more like it.
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. Thought maybe you quit working here or something.”
I force a smile and offer him a beverage. He accepts and I saunter over to the cart to pour us each a stiff drink. I’m going to need copious amounts of alcohol if I’m going to make it through round two of toe licking.
But anything is better than sitting out there in the lounge with Lynx watching me like a hawk and souring my already bitter mood.
I take a seat beside Peter and hand him his drink, noticing the ring on his left hand is gone and in its place is a faint tan line. I wonder briefly if his wife discovered his indiscretions and left his sorry ass.
But then I remember that I don’t fucking care. I have plenty of my own problems to worry about.
“So, Peter. What can I do for you this evening?”
His bloodshot eyes meet mine.
“I was hoping …” He tugs at his collar the same way he did the first night. “If you’re alright with it … that I could …” His eyes dart to my feet.
I shush him with a finger to my mouth and heave out a long sigh. Setting my glass on the table beside me, I make a show of leaning back and raising my foot, twirling my ankle a few times before setting it on his lap.
He swallows, a sheen of sweat coating his face as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
Men really are fools.
But just as Peter’s reaching for the buckle of my shoe, the door flies open, the metal handle smacking into the drywall and leaving a large dent in it. Peter releases a startled wheeze and practically throws my foot off his lap.
I straighten my spine and stare in hot irritation at the big, dumb jerk filling the doorway.
Lynx.
He’s really starting to get on my nerves with this caveman bullshit.
“Get out,” he barks at Peter, his booming voice leaving no room for protest.
Peter, who looks like he’s about to crap himself, wastes no time leaping to his feet.
The trembling coward doesn’t even spare me a single glance before tucking his tail between his legs and bolting for the doorway.
Lynx takes a single step to the side to allow him to pass before slamming the door closed behind him.
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Fucking pussy,” under my breath, then take my sweet time grabbing the stack of money off the coffee table and counting it. When I’m done, I make a show of rolling it up and using the spare hair elastic I keep around my wrist to secure it.
Lynx closes the space between us, his close proximity sucking all the oxygen out of the room and depriving me of air.
I ignore the sensation and stand to face off with him. Despite the fact that even in six-inch heels, he still towers over me and makes me feel like a teeny tiny ant.
“You have a real problem obeying orders, don’t you, pretty girl?”
“They don’t call me Rebel for nothing. Now kill me or leave. I’m working here.”
His navy eyes dart over my face, settling briefly on my mouth. He licks his lips and smirks.
“Not anymore you aren’t,” he growls before swiftly leaning down, grabbing me, and tossing me over his shoulder like I’m as light as a feather.
“Lynx,” I screech, pounding my fist on his hard backside. “You asshole. Put me down.”
His big palm connects with my bare bottom, heat blossoming over my skin and sending a ripple of fury out through my limbs.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.
“Shut up, Harlow. Or I’ll take back my promise not to drug you.”
I gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Now be quiet.”
The floor starts to move, all the blood rushing to my head and making my brain swim. The door opens and closes, and down the hall we go at an impossible speed.
I don’t scream because I don’t doubt he’d make good on his threat to drug me. But he said nothing about kicking and thrashing. So that’s exactly what I do, all the way from the private room to the exit at the end of the hall.
We bust through the back door and the cool autumn air smacks against my heated skin. Cracked concrete flies beneath me. Then a vehicle door opens and cold, smooth leather kisses the backs of my legs. Something warm and soft cloaks me.
It all happens so fast, I’m left dizzy and panting.
With horror, I realize quickly where I am. The passenger seat of Lynx’s truck. With his coat draped over my scantily clad body.
I try not to think about what that small gesture might mean and throw it off myself and attempt to push past him.
But it’s pointless. He’s a wall. And the jerk is laughing at me.
He pins me against the seat by my shoulders, restraining me.
“Stop struggling,” he tells me. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”
“Like hell,” I blurt, grappling at his arms and shoving at his chest. My shoed foot comes up and I aim for his crotch. But he’s too quick and before I know it, I’m strapped in and the door slams shut. I yank on the handle but it’s locked.
“Fucker,” I shout, watching in rage as he saunters around the front of his truck, whistling a chipper tune as he casually hops into the driver’s seat and presses the start button. He snatches his discarded jacket off the floor and drapes it over my body again.
“I hate you,” I snip out, clutching his coat to my chest because even though I’m mad as hell, it’s warm and cozy and smells divine.
“You can hate me all you want at the house,” he responds coolly, a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes.
My expression falls flat. “House? What house?”
He flashes me a dazzling smile. “My house.”
Seriously. Could this day get any worse?
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.