p; “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, I owe a bad man a lot of money. If I don’t pay him soon, he’s going to break my legs or worse.”
God. He wanted money. Money to keep these photos out of the public eye. They were already on a web site. How many people had already seen them? Would it matter at this point?
“What web site are these on?”
“It’s a private web site. Men pay top dollar to visit it.”
“Where in hell did they get the pictures?”
“I haven’t a clue. And I don’t care. Like I said, I just need money.”
She sighed. “And if you don’t get it?”
“The good folks of Bakersville will get some brand new impressions of their reigning rodeo queen.”
She clasped both sides of her head. To think she’d actually thought she could be happy here. That she could make a new start.
No such luck for Amber Cross. She was that lush Karen Hedstrom’s trashy daughter. She always would be. Some things couldn’t be escaped.
“How much do you need?” As if it mattered. She didn’t have two dimes to spare.
“Twenty grand.”
Icy fingers gripped her neck. “Twenty grand? You think I have twenty grand? This is where I live, for God’s sake, in this oversize closet!”
“Ambrosia—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’m a reasonable man. I’ll give you some time to get the money. You’re a good friend of Catie McCray, and I happen to know she’s loaded.”
Catie? Seriously? She couldn’t tell Catie about this.
“Your new boyfriend Harper’s pretty well-off too.”
She really couldn’t tell Harper about this.
“Even Judy Williamson has managed to put away some money over the years.”
Her boss? Was he kidding? She couldn’t tell any of these people. She’d be run right out of town.
Where had those photos come from? She’d never done drugs, hardly ever drunk alcohol.
Except that one night when she blacked out.
Oh God.
She’d been at Rachel’s for a few months, had gotten pretty popular, when two of the more experienced dancers invited her and Laura out after work one night. They went to their apartment. The bed had red satin sheets…
Oh my fucking God.
What was the woman’s name? Megan? Martha? Something with an M. Were there photos of Laura too? Of course there were. She’d seen Laura’s head between her own legs. She grabbed the laptop.
“Hey!” Blake said.
“Shut up, you creep. Let me see this. Get that web site back.”