Page 22 of A Light in the Darkness
“Maybe I told her.” Moose quips. “Or maybe you don’t remember me taking a pic for your benefactor when you were begging for me to fuck you the other night?”
The scarlet that crawls along my cheeks has to rival the wine in my glass… wine which I promptly take a big gulp from. “Moose.” Rhea chides. “Not helping.”
I don’t turn to see how he reacts to that, but I’m sure he doesn’t care. His job isn’t to help her make me feel better. “Does everyone know about that?” I mutter, wondering if I can drown myself in the two inches of wine still left in my glass. It definitely won’t do, so I grab the bottle from the coffee table and press it to my lips instead.
“Not everyone.” Moose reasons. “I haven’t told Boudreaux just yet.”
“Because he’d fire you both.” Rhea snaps. “You heard him as clearly as I did. Claire is an adult. She can sleep with whoever she wants to. You had no right to intervene… either of you.” Her eyes sweep to Eli, who looks to the floor in a way that lets me know she thoroughly punished him for his part in my celibacy that night.
“My job is to protect herbody, not her fragile feelings.” Moose laughs, making me snap around to face him.
“Fuck you.” I grind out the words, my hatred for him rising like a tide.
“I know you want to, princess.” He winks, undisturbed by the rage flooding me.
“Your job is to keep anything bad from happening.” Rhea says, sounding almost exasperated. “Orgasms aren’t bad, okay?”
Moose snorts, and I find myself wondering how much Rhea had to drink before she called this meeting. “She can give herself as many as she wants. I think both Boudreaux and I quite enjoy when she does.”
“If you really have access to that, you’d better pretend you don’t, or I promiseBoudreauxwill slit your pretty tattooed throat, okay?” Rhea smiles sweetly at him, catching Moose off guard for just a moment. “Now, we are going on vacation. I don’t care what any of you say. I’ve rented us a house, so no weird hotelroom situation.”
“And you’ve cleared this?” Eli asks, glancing over me to Moose and then back to Rhea. “With your brother?”
“My brother isn’t my keeper.” She laughs. “And neither are you. We tolerate your presence, but don’t misunderstand… you’re not going to be around forever. And I can have you replaced any time I want.”
Moose only snorts, clearly not believing her, but Eli straightens under the threat. No surprise he loves his job. He gets paid a pretty penny to fuck a beautiful woman who is, arguably, out of his league. He’s one of a rare few man who actually gets to enjoy her company over and over again, but I know that Rhea hasn’t caught feelings for him. She could have him replaced in less than twenty-four hours, and men would probably line up for the position.
“Also, yes. I told him we were going to Miami.”
“The human trafficking capital of the south,” I say, despite the fact that it’s not the worst city possible. I’m being petulant simply because my best friend is insistent upon making me pretend that I’m just a college senior who wants to drink and party without thinking about reality.
“We’ll be fine.” Rhea assures me. “We have the guys, and besides, it’s not like lightning strikes the same place twice.”
I didn’t mention it because I was worried, although I guess she would see it that way. Miami is a hub, making travel to other places so much easier. Like Atlanta, they both connect to several other destinations. If you take a wrong turn, you could end up in a totally different country mere hours later.
It’s actually kind of perfect.
I can feel the weight of Moose’s eyes on me as he speaks. “Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice…” he almost sounds like he’s agreeing with Rhea, until he continues. “Unless you’re a lightning rod.”
Chapter fifteen
Remy
I’ve kind of learned there’s no way to ease someone into the conversation, so I don’t bother. Once I’ve got the senator to myself, isolated from the others at the front of the plane, I shove the menu Elaine insisted I bring into his open lap.
I watch his brow furrow with confusion as he looks at the Dutch words stamped across the file. The confusion stays as he swings it open and gets a look at the first page of photos—they could be mugshots, except they’re not lined up so that their height can be recorded, though that informationisprovided under each of the photos in lieu of a name. Height, weight, and age, written as a continuous and unbroken number, using the metric system of course.
His eyes sharpen as they search for identifiers as to what he’s looking at—each girl looks to be made up, hair styled perfectly and makeup applied by a steady hand, but none of them are smiling. Some even have tear tracks cutting through the powder on their cheeks.
“What is this?” He demands, turning the page to take in more, looking for anyone or anything he recognizes to help explain what he’s seeing.
“A menu.” I tell him honestly. “You can choose which one suits you best.”
“A menu?” His eyes flicker up to mine, clouded by confusion. “I don’t understand. Like… an escortservice?”
I laugh drily. “Something like that, although you won’t be escorting these women anywhere. Well, other than to freedom, if everything goes to plan.”
His eyes narrow on me, looking for more than what I’m saying. “What do you mean?”
