Her hand lifted to smack the shit out of me, but I caught her wrist. “Fucker.”
“I’m more than willing to show you just how much of one I am.” My rapidly thickening dick was fully on board and seemingly in control. I should have been worried Mrs. Quinn was watching this entire exchange on the cameras. I should’ve considered being so close to this woman could cut short my time here, having consequences I didn’t want to face. Instead, I wanted to find out what the oh-so-eager-to-knee-me-in-the-balls woman would do next.
She shoved at me, but it was useless. I was too strong, though she was no lightweight. There was more to this woman than met the eye, and I wanted to find out what it was. That was an enigma in and of itself. I didn’t give a fuck what anybody was about. There could only be a single number one, and I was most definitely it.
“Well, sugar,” she said venomously, making me smile. “I wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you, but I wouldn’t want to start lying now.”
“Because you’re a pillar of truth?”
The edge of her lip turned up ever so slightly. “Hope you can find somewhere else to serve your sentence. You’re out of here,” she threatened, and I shrugged indifferently.
“What makes you so sure I’m not here out of the goodness of my heart? Volunteering?”
She snorted. “You’re not.”
So what if she saw through me. “If I go, you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said matter-of-factly, nostrils flaring. Now that surprised me. She wasn’t terrified of me . . . and shouldn’t she be? At a woman’s shelter? I wouldn’t allow her any power over me, though.
“Don’t think you can be that confident, sugar. I doubt any of the other women inside would be as calm as you are right now. Maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t be here.”
She laughed in my face, but I knew that laugh—contrived, purposeful, and without mirth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said harshly, the laughter dying instantly. “Now let me go.”
“You sure that’s what you want, my little tigress?”
When she shoved again, I stepped back, unblocking her path. She looked momentarily stunned but collected herself as if nothing had happened. Her face got to within an inch of mine. “I’m not your little anything, jackass.”
She and the mutt disappeared inside, and I chuckled, taking one last drag before tossing the butt on the ground and stomping it out. Maybe this “punishment” wasn’t so bad. There was no way I was going anywhere as long as that vixen was around. In her presence, I was more engaged than I had been with anyone in years. I didn’t even like her, but something about her sparked my interest. And that head of curls . . . I could almost feel my fingers tangled up in them while I fucked her senseless. They were already wild, but I’d make them untamed while she was at my mercy.
I had other shit to worry about besides getting more pussy, but I wanted hers. She didn’t just spread her legs. It was why I’d gone after sweet Holly all those years ago, to see if I could get a woman like her under me. One who wasn’t throwing herself at me to see what I would give her.
I patted the back pocket of my slacks a couple of times. Son of a bitch.
The tigress had lifted my wallet.
Chapter Eight
Sonya
He was a Valentine baby?
I stared at the date of birth on Drew Harris Carter’s Texas driver’s license. Wasn’t that supposed to be the day of love? There wasn’t a speck of goodness in that man.
Yet there was something about him I was drawn to. Was that why I had “Something About You” by Hayden James playing?
I tapped the edge of the plastic with my manicured nail. He was bad. Rotten. Exactly someone I’d try to use. It had been too easy to swipe his wallet. As we’d sparred, I’d expected better from him. Why it bothered me that I’d gotten away with it, I didn’t know, but disappointment niggled at the back of my brain.
He was infuriating. A pig. Rude. Brutal.
I glanced at the license again. Who the hell actually had a decent photograph on one of these things? Drew Harris Carter did, that was who. Yet another reason to hate him.
“You didn’t like him either.” Sam wagged his tail and blinked up at me. “Traitor. You ate whatever it was he fed you.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His tail wagged harder, and I stroked behind his ears.
“Let’s see what else we’ve got.”
I riffled though the wallet. Multiple American Express Centurion credit cards. An expired car insurance card for . . . a Ford pickup? I’d pictured him driving a Maserati or a Bentley. Definitely not a pickup. His suit probably cost as much as a truck.
A Visa. Discover. Mastercard. Another Visa.
The pile of plastic grew on the comforter beside me.
A Costco membership. With another impeccable photo. I tried to picture him warehouse shopping and couldn’t come up with the image to save my life.
I unfolded a photo, and my eyes were immediately drawn to him. This younger version of Drew still had a cocky smile, but it was carefree. His arms were slung around the two men who were at the shelter with him earlier today, both of them laughing. Even though the paper was worn, I felt the joy radiating from the photo. They weren’t the only three posing. Two women were beside them, but one had a crease through her face, making it impossible to see her features. Mother and sister maybe? The photo paper appeared to have been opened and closed so many times, there were white ridges in the crinkles.
Who was this man?
In the same slot I’d pulled the photo from, a baseball card peeked out. If possible, it was more worn than the picture and basically a solid rectangle of wrinkle. I could read Texas Rangers on the bottom, but like the woman in the other photo, the face on the card was too far gone to make out.
Weren’t baseball cards supposed to be treasured to hold their value?
Finally, I checked the long slot for bills. A twenty, a five, and three ones. I fingered the smooth leather of the bi-fold wallet. It was a two-thousand-dollar Tom Ford and housed not a single hundred dollar bill.
Who. Was. This. Man?
He wasn’t at Paths of Purpose by choice, and if he treated all women the way he’d just treated me, he shouldn’t be here.
I didn’t like him.
I especially didn’t like him seeing through my bruise, almost as if he knew the story behind it. I thrived on my marks buying whatever I chose to sell. Drew Harris Carter and I were more alike than I was comfortable with.
I touched my earlobe, but the earrings that were always there when I was between marks were missing. My neck and wrist twinged with the bare feeling in the absence of my other jewelry. That made me restless. Less grounded. Indecisive.
I should turn him in to Mrs. Quinn. Get him out of here before he caused problems for me. His threat to expose me wasn’t hollow. He’d been too . . . forbidding, as if he had the resources and the means to unmask me, and I couldn’t risk that.
Except . . . I didn’t really want him to go.
For every second he’d infuriated me, my interest had been equally piqued, which was dangerous. That made it too easy for him to get inside when I survived by keeping people out. The element of danger was what lured me into swindling men. There was always a risk of getting caught, and I liked pushing the envelope and seeing just how far I could go and still escape.