Page 102 of The Bet
“But the 10% isn’t so bad.”
“Glad you find something about me that isn’t bad.”
She eyed him for a moment longer than usual, then turned away, her face curious. “Thanks for driving me home.”
“I wanted to make sure you were safe. I wasn’t coming onto you or anything.”
“You don’t need to always say that.”
“Okay.”
She turned and looked out of the window. “You wanted to know about that money that my pimp threw at my door.” She turned back at him, her dark eyes twinkling in the half-light.
It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about. “I’m sorry. I jumped a mile high and reached the wrong conclusion that time.” He’d already apologized for that, and assumed she was bringing it up now because they were talking more, opening up more. The notion of getting to know her, through talking and finding out more about her—as opposed to diving into foreplay—was heady stuff. Something else he wasn’t used to. Hell, if he wasn’t careful, he might end up falling for this girl.
She chortled. “You thought I was pushing drugs and the addicts couldn’t slip the bills through the door?”
“I thought your pimp took too much of your money and had thrown the rest outside your door.”
“Sick,” she said,” shaking her head. “You have a very active imagination.”
He was about to say something inappropriate, but stopped himself. “Sorry,” he said, instead.
She hadn’t moved, didn’t look as if she was about to leave, and if truth be told, he was more content sitting in his car, in a dodgy neighborhood, listening to Laronde, than being any place else right now.
“You were partly right,” she said, her voice sounding shakier than he had ever heard it.
“Partly right?” He sat up taller. What the fuck did that mean? This was turning into a night of confessions and he was all ears.
“That money was from someone I used to work for.”
He looked at her wide-eyed, and more curious than ever. “What do you mean, ‘someone you used to work for?’” His mind wandered off to dark places.
“This guy I used to work for before. He came to my apartment, and he wanted to pay me off, but I took what he owed me and threw the rest of it back at him.”
“Pay you off?” He tried not to sound disgusted, tried not to think of the worst alternative. And what did she mean by ‘took what he owed her’?
“He wanted me to keep my mouth closed, because, earlier in the summer, when I’d been working for him and his wife, looking after their children, he abused his power. He was disgusting.”
Something inside him fell, like a piece of him, something from his bones, or his ribs, or his heart. “What did he do?” he asked, slowly, a bitter taste rising in his throat. She shook her head, and he didn’t push. “I left, and then luckily, or it maybe it was Karma, as Cara calls it, Savannah called and asked if I would like to come and work for her because she didn’t trust anyone else to look after Jacob.”
“When did you work for that guy?”
“Last summer.”
He had a million questions, wanted a name, wanted to know what had happened. Felt his rage building as he flexed his knuckles instinctively.
“But the money outside your apartment?” That had only been a recent thing. “It was only a few months ago.”
“Yes.”
He waited for her to say more, didn’t want to push her when already she had shared so much.
“I wanted to tell you, because I can see now how odd it must have looked to you.”
He felt like a real idiot, for thinking what he had at that time. “I’m sorry I said what I did. If I had known … I might have been more understanding. I’m sorry for being an ass.”
“Like I said, the scenario must have looked weird.”
