Page 53 of Save Me

“What does Poison Ivy have to do with it?”

“We need to wash the money.”

I bring my glass to my lips, taking a few sips of the cool water before placing it back down on the desk and repositioning myself in his lap.

“How do you do that?”

Jax leans back in the chair, his hands never leaving my waist, as he makes himself comfortable.

“The guy who helps us with the money will make it look a little used—make it wrinkled, and then it’s dropped at Poison Ivy, where we integrate it with real money,” he explains. “Clients will often want smaller bills to tip dancers with, so we get their larger bills in exchange for ours. We use it in every aspect of thebusiness—paying suppliers, filling our cash registers. You get the idea.”

“So, you drop off the money at the beginning of the month to hide the fact it was printed and not actually profits from Poison Ivy?”

“Correct, and that way when we go to use it ourselves, it doesn’t raise any red flags.”

“So, when you came into Poison Ivy—”

“I was picking up my money.”

“And everyone there is in on this with you?”

“Not at all.” He smiles. “Mike is the only one who knows exactly what we do. Everyone else knows I’m involved… in a management-type capacity. But they don’t know what I do is illegal. They might have their suspicions, but it’s never been confirmed, nor will it ever be.”

I nod. “So will I have to go there? To pick up the money?”

“Only if you want to,” he says casually. “If you want to do all your work from here, you’re more than welcome to. If you’d rather have an office, let me know and I can make Mike’s yours. Just say the word.”

“I think I need to go back at some point,” I muse quietly. “You know, so it’s not just a place where that happened to me,” I say, silently referencing the night Tanner and Bryce took me.

“There’s no rush for you to do that,” Jax says. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be right beside you.”

“When is the next money pick-up scheduled for?”

“We can go any day this week.”

“Might as well rip that Band-Aid off then, or however the saying goes.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he reassures me.

*

The roar ofhis motorcycle drowns out the thoughts in my head, and I focus on the wind blowing through my hair as we ride through the city streets. I could do this every day, ride on the back of his bike with him, holding onto his waist and pressing against him as he navigates the roads at breakneck speeds. No matter how fast we go I never feel anything but secure, trusting his ability to get us where we’re going safely, my mind blissfully blank. That is until we pull into a familiar gravel parking lot.

Picking up the money from Poison Ivy with him has been the only thing on my mind. It’s something I’d have to do eventually and, until this very second, I thought I was ready. A surge of anxiety starts to vibrate within me as the motorcycle starts to slow down. The parking lot is empty except for one car, and I’m thankful that we’re here well before open and I won’t have to face the girls—or their questions—just yet. The bike comes to a stop just outside the club entrance, and I take a moment to breathe before I let him help me down. The gravel crunches beneath my shoes and I try not to think about that sound, and how the last time I heard it I was trying to claw free from Tanner and Bryce.

“Easy, love,” Jax says, presumably picking up on the anxiety building within me.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to be calm, to prove to myself that I am okay, that I’m moving on and not letting what happened define who I am and what I can do.

“We don’t have to be here if you’re not ready,” he says, never letting go of my hand as we walk towards the entrance.

I swallow the bile that’s building in my throat as he opens the heavy front door.

“I’m fine, I’m ready for this,” I say, hoping my voice comes across as somewhat confident.

He holds the door open for me and I walk inside the dimly lit foyer, his steps close behind me as we walk towards the mainroom. The club always looks different with the lights on, and the lack of music and dancers makes it feel like a regular bar, except, of course, for the metal poles decorating the room.

Jax pulls out a chair for me and I sit at the bar, remembering the first time I was here, interviewing for a bartending position.

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