Payback

Warmth flooded my pelvis and I squirmed, intensely grateful that Jameson couldn’t see my reaction.

But the bastard must’ve sensed it because that damnable chuckle tickled my ear, giving away what he knew.

“Let’s say I believe you — which, I don’t — what makes you think that I wouldn’t want to be the first man to split you open?”

“God, are you always so crude?” I squeaked, barely able to breathe.

My heart was seriously jack-hammering and I thought at this rate, I might faint and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he’d caused it.

Even if it were true.

“You’re disgusting,” I said in a shaky tone that sounded a little too breathy for my tastes but I couldn’t quite help it. “I’m not attracted to you…at all.”

That was mostly true.

He ignored my statement. “Want to know something? I’m hard as fuck right now. You’re not my type either, baby girl, but there’s something about you that turns my crank. Do I like to fuck virgins? Not usually but for you…I’d make an exception.”

“Why?” I asked plaintively, wishing he’d been turned off by my admission. “I’m not interested in being your…whatever…fuck-buddy or whatever you’d like to call it. I want my first time to be meaningful…with someone I love. Not…a payoff. That makes me no different than a prostitute.”

“Baby, we’re all prostituting ourselves for something,” he said, amused. “You’re naïve if you think otherwise.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine,” I replied to his open cynicism, a prick of something akin to pity softening my tone. “You must be very unhappy.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

His voice took on a cold edge. “I don’t believe you’re a virgin but props for trying to pull that one off. Girls with brothers like yours don’t stay pure for long.”

Instant anger washed away the unwelcome hint of arousal I may have been suffering for the smallest sliver of time and I had to stop myself from shouting into the phone.

“You arrogant asshole,” I said. “You don’t know anything about my life or how I’ve lived it. You don’t have the right to judge me or make assumptions about my reputation. I am a virgin and staying away from jerks like you has been pretty easy, actually. I want a man who will cherish me, not treat me like property.”

“And yet you’re contemplating selling your car to bail out a brother who wouldn’t do the same for you,” he pointed out. “Seems either way, you’re willing to sell something of value to help out that shitbag.”

I couldn’t argue. He was right. I was considering selling my car.

And I agonized over the fear that Frankie wouldn’t truly appreciate my sacrifice.

I would end up carless, without a way to work and Frankie would find a way to get into more trouble.

My head began to throb. “Just fuck off,” I grumbled, wishing I’d never made the call. What had I been thinking? Jameson Reed didn’t care about anything but himself.

“The deal stands.”

I startled. “W-what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice roughened. “Make your choice.”

What a fucking asshole. He was making me go through with this.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked. “Surely, there are other women…willing women…who are interested in having sex with you. Why don’t you go find them?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

The steel in his voice was frightening and, God help me, terribly alluring in the worst, most shameful way.

A beat of charged silence followed before I hung up.

He still wanted me. He wanted to take my virginity! The thing I’d been saving for someone special! Angry tears burned behind my eyes but I didn't let them fall.

I wasn’t going to cry. Tears didn’t solve anything.

I’d learned a long time ago that crying over a situation was a waste of energy.

But I felt defeated. I was trapped by my love for my big brother. I knew he wasn’t perfect but Frankie had always been my protector.

Frankie had been there when our parents died, looked out for me, made sure I had food and clothing, money for school books.

How could I abandon him when he clearly needed me?

I would never in a million years ditch the one person who’d always put my welfare above his own.

At least he used to.

I didn’t know if Frankie was addicted to drugs. I knew he was a dealer and I hated that, but I also knew that Frankie had done what he had to, to survive.

I didn’t judge him.

But damn it, when was he going to get his shit together so I could actually start living my life?

I just wanted some stability in my life for once.

If I didn't take the deal, Frankie might die in jail.

That was the cold, hard truth.

He'd made some poor choices in his life and there were plenty of people on the inside who'd like to get a piece of him.

I shuddered to think of what else might happen to him. Frankie was a good-looking guy — in spite of the drug use — and the last time he'd been beaten nearly to death it'd been because he'd fought off a guy trying to rape him in the supply closet.

Jameson might think Frankie deserved being fresh meat behind locked doors but I couldn’t leave my brother to that kind of fate.

It was barbaric, for one; but two, it was impossible to fathom the terror of being assaulted knowing no one was going to save you.

I couldn't leave Frankie in there. What kind of sister would I be if I turned my back on my only family?

Frankie would never abandon me if it were reversed. Frankie had been the one to watch my back when we were kids, even fending off foster dads with touchy-feely hands.

I wiped at my eyes. The choice seemed pretty clear. The phone in my hand seemed to leer at me, taunting me with the knowledge that I was going to place that call and take Jameson's deal.

The fucking, evil bastard.

And he probably knew it. Probably still had the phone in his hand, waiting.

Time to deal. I wasn't a baby anymore. Twenty-three was probably a long time to hold onto something like virginity in this day and age.

I rubbed my nose and tried to get a hold of myself. I’d long since learned life wasn't fair so there was no sense in belaboring the point.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hit redial. Within seconds he answered.

I went straight to the point, nearly choking on the bitterness on my tongue. “You have to promise me he gets probation,” I said tightly.

“That's not a promise I can make.”

“Then find a way. I won't do this otherwise.” He wasn't the only one who could drive a hard bargain.

Jameson hesitated but ultimately agreed. “Fine.”

I let out a breath. Was this really happening? “Okay...where and when?”

“No time like the present.”

“N-now?” I stammered, shocked that he was so eager when I wanted to put it off for as long as possible. “It’s late.”

He seemed to think better of his answer and said, “You’re right. Tomorrow, I want you to go get waxed. Everywhere.”

I wanted to vomit. This was more than I bargained for.

“You don't get to dictate—“

“Everywhere. Except for a nice landing strip. I like that.”

I wanted to scream at the injustice, the sheer audacity of the man to demand such a thing after everything I was sacrificing. Wasn’t it bad enough that I was agreeing to this disgusting exchange?

“Ivy.”

His voice in my ear sent unwanted shivers down my spine.

I hated that his voice had that effect on me.

I shouldn’t feel anything but revulsion for the man who was forcing me to sacrifice my values to save my brother.

“I look forward to seeing you.”

I didn't trust my voice not to tremble and simply hung up. Secon

ds later a text bubble appeared with an address.

This was insanity.

My stomach felt ready to rebel except I hadn't eaten anything to purge.

How would I get through this without wanting to die?

Jameson

I was going to hell.

I stared at my phone and shook my head at the career suicide I was eagerly committing.

Maybe it was too much time spent undercover, hanging with dirtbags, learning their secrets that I’d forgotten what it meant to be a decent human being.

There was no prettying up what I was doing. Hell, I was playing fast and loose with the law.

Skimming the edge of disaster with two wheels off the ground.

I was supposed to undergo a psych eval each time I surfaced from deep cover but I usually found a way to get out of that detail.

The captain didn't much care about my mental state as long as I was still bringing home wins and big busts.

Looked good on paper for the captain.

I didn’t exactly log a win this time around though. I wondered if that would affect my ‘captain credit.’

If I were smart, I’d call off this deal and forget it ever happened but that would mean I’d have to forget about the way Ivy made me feel and that wasn’t going to happen.

She was under my skin and I’d never even touched her yet.

Going undercover means having to shelve the ‘real you’ for someone that you probably despise.

I would never hang with the fuckers that I traffic with when I’m playing a part.

I’ve backstabbed people who thought I was their friend.

I’ve watched as women who were in love with me, were handcuffed and thrown into the back of a squad car.

And I felt nothing.

That was the thing. Lately, I felt a whole lot of nothing.