His Stripper (Dance For Me)

He knocks again. “Open up, Hazel. I know you are in there. Open the door, or I’ll kick it in.”

I get out of the bed, forcing my weak knees to carry me to the door. I unhook the flimsy chain that looks more like a decoration than anything and wouldn’t keep Myles out. As soon as I unlock the door, Myles pushes it open, and I take a few steps back.

Blinking the tears away, I wrap my arms around myself as if that could keep me from falling apart. Through the tears, I see him closing the door behind me. When he turns back to face me, I expect him to yell, maybe even hit me. Instead, he closes the distance between us in one large stride. His sudden closeness takes my breath away. Grabbing my arm, he pulls me along with him to an ancient-looking recliner in the corner of the room.

Sitting down, he pulls me onto his lap. My legs are draped over the side of his, and he has one arm around my torso, holding me to him like he is worried I might run. My own hands are folded in my lap, though my fingers itch to touch Myles.

As always, his nearness only confuses me. I know he is a bad guy, yet I want nothing more than to lean into him, wrap my arms around him, and bury my face in his shirt. Keeping my head down, I hiccup, wondering what the hell he is doing.

“Look at me,” he orders, his voice surprisingly gentle.

I raise my eyes to his and blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken the money. It was stupid. I’ll pay you back and more—”

“I don’t care about the money. I want to know why you ran. Who is Randy to you?”

I flinch. Just hearing the name makes my stomach churn. Myles places his large hand on my knee, his thumb rubbing small circles over my jean-clad leg. He acts like he is trying to comfort me, but there is no way. This has to be a trick. A cruel game he is playing.

“Tell me,” Myles presses.

“Randy was one of my foster parents,” I explain. Myles tightens his grip on me, his arm is actually shaking, and his face looks like he’s exercising a great deal of restraint by staying quiet. He gives me a tiny nod, and I continue.

“I turned eighteen two weeks ago, and he basically told me I had to leave unless I was willing to…” I trail off, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Willing to do what?” Myles barely gets the words out without it sounding like a snarl.

“Unless I was willing to have sex with him.”

“That fucking prick,” Myles curses under his breath, looking past me into the room. “I’m gonna kill him. He is a dead man walking.” His eyes fall closed, and he takes a few deep breaths, kind of like he is calming himself. When he opens them again, the anger in his gaze has disappeared slightly, but he still looks like he is ready to kill someone. Since I’m the only one here, it must be me.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Kill you? What? Why would you say that?”

“Holly told me who you are… what your family does… and I stole your money. Now I owe you even more than before.”

“You don’t owe me anything. The insurance paid for the car, and don’t worry about the cash from today. I told you, I don’t give a shit about the money.”

“Why? I mean, why did you come here then?”

He inspects my face for a moment. His gaze is thoughtful, as if he is trying to solve the world’s problems. “I had to know what connection you have to Randy.”

“Oh…” That’s all I can manage to get out. I think if I try for any more syllables, I’ll start to sob again. “So what now?”

“I think it’s better if I leave.” His words feel like a dull butter knife jammed between my rib cage. A minute ago, I was scared to let him in the room. Now, I want to throw myself at him and beg him not to leave me.

“My brother is outside waiting for you. He’s going to take you somewhere safe. You can stay there as long as you want.” He doesn’t even look at me as he tells me. Then he pushes me off his lap and stands us both up. I stumble back, and my ass hits the bed. Stunned into silence, I watch him walk out of the room. The door shuts behind him, leaving me alone.

While his cologne lingers in the air, I take a deep breath, letting the scent calm me before it’s gone and the stale cigarette smell of the room returns.