Read Online Beneath a Blood Moon by R. J. Blain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R. J. Blain
Tags: Fiction, Urban Fantasy
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the parking garage. The blindfold wasn’t helping and added to the disconcerting sway of the world around me.
Danny was right; the booze did help settle my nerves. With another drink or two, I’d be so hammered I wouldn’t care what happened with a high chance I wouldn’t remember much the next morning. If my client was willing to pay seventy thousand to have me for a night, he could afford a few shots.
At least George kept his hands to himself while guiding me down into the parking garage. Thankfully, the club’s employee entrance was located near one of the elevators, letting me escape without drawing much attention to the fact I was blindfolded.
“Here she is,” George announced, letting go of me. “Have a good evening, sir.”
I heard the heavy thump of his departing footsteps. My client didn’t say a word. One hand took hold of mine, while his other lightly seized my elbow, pulling me forward several steps. I shivered. The click and creak of a car door opening warned me I was close to losing any chance to escape.
If I ran, I wouldn’t make it far, not with my bank account as empty as it was. My wolf would rapidly eat through what little money I had left.
Getting into the car blindfolded was a mix of luck, careful guidance by my client, and trust he wouldn’t bang my head into something. By the time I was inside, squirming on a leather seat, my shivers had strengthened to full-fledged shaking.
Someone sat beside me, the strap of a seatbelt sliding over my chest and stomach before it fastened with a click. When he next spoke, he was somewhere in front of me. “Thank you for agreeing to join us, Miss.”
I sucked in a breath, recognizing the smooth tenor. With the alcohol dulling my wits, I couldn’t remember who he was or where I knew him from. I slid my left hand off my lap to feel the seat. When my fingers brushed against the door, I determined the man was also the driver.
With twenty thousand on the line, I forced myself to draw a deep breath and remain polite. “You’re welcome, sir.”
“I hope you do not find the situation too disconcerting, Miss. I assure you this is new territory for both of us as well. A dear friend and associate of ours lost his wife earlier this year, and he has not found anyone new. The three of us are going to a dinner and a late-night show, and my wife and I decided it would be appropriate for him to have a companion for the evening.”
Usually, the husband wanted to bring another woman home for an evening of debauchery, though I had seen the reverse as well. But to want me enough to pay seventy thousand and give me to his friend? I flushed, wondering what I had gotten myself into. I had expected sex, not playing a sophisticate for a rich man needing a plus one. “Wouldn’t hiring from an escort service be more appropriate?” I blurted.
I clapped my hands over my mouth, horrified I had said what I was thinking.
A woman—my client’s wife, I presumed—laughed, her soprano pleasant and airy. “Oh, you’re adorable. What’s your name?”
I could have told them my stage name, but if I was going to be strutted out at some party, I didn’t want to be known as someone who took off her clothes for a living. “Sara, ma’am.”
“Call me Desmond,” the man stated. “My wife’s name is Wendy. We’ve hired you to accompany Mr. Sanders, who will be joining us shortly. He’s still in the club, likely hoping to see one more of your dances before joining us. He is unaware we have arranged for your company for the evening. He’s quite taken with you, Miss Sara.”
“I don’t jump out of birthday cakes, and I don’t do any weird stuff,” I declared.
My wolf was pleased with me and how I set limits before they could be set for me.
Wendy laughed. “I assure you, Miss Sara, you will not be asked to jump out of any birthday cakes or do, as you say, any weird stuff. All we ask is you remain with us—or with Sanders—for the entirety of the
Danny was right; the booze did help settle my nerves. With another drink or two, I’d be so hammered I wouldn’t care what happened with a high chance I wouldn’t remember much the next morning. If my client was willing to pay seventy thousand to have me for a night, he could afford a few shots.
At least George kept his hands to himself while guiding me down into the parking garage. Thankfully, the club’s employee entrance was located near one of the elevators, letting me escape without drawing much attention to the fact I was blindfolded.
“Here she is,” George announced, letting go of me. “Have a good evening, sir.”
I heard the heavy thump of his departing footsteps. My client didn’t say a word. One hand took hold of mine, while his other lightly seized my elbow, pulling me forward several steps. I shivered. The click and creak of a car door opening warned me I was close to losing any chance to escape.
If I ran, I wouldn’t make it far, not with my bank account as empty as it was. My wolf would rapidly eat through what little money I had left.
Getting into the car blindfolded was a mix of luck, careful guidance by my client, and trust he wouldn’t bang my head into something. By the time I was inside, squirming on a leather seat, my shivers had strengthened to full-fledged shaking.
Someone sat beside me, the strap of a seatbelt sliding over my chest and stomach before it fastened with a click. When he next spoke, he was somewhere in front of me. “Thank you for agreeing to join us, Miss.”
I sucked in a breath, recognizing the smooth tenor. With the alcohol dulling my wits, I couldn’t remember who he was or where I knew him from. I slid my left hand off my lap to feel the seat. When my fingers brushed against the door, I determined the man was also the driver.
With twenty thousand on the line, I forced myself to draw a deep breath and remain polite. “You’re welcome, sir.”
“I hope you do not find the situation too disconcerting, Miss. I assure you this is new territory for both of us as well. A dear friend and associate of ours lost his wife earlier this year, and he has not found anyone new. The three of us are going to a dinner and a late-night show, and my wife and I decided it would be appropriate for him to have a companion for the evening.”
Usually, the husband wanted to bring another woman home for an evening of debauchery, though I had seen the reverse as well. But to want me enough to pay seventy thousand and give me to his friend? I flushed, wondering what I had gotten myself into. I had expected sex, not playing a sophisticate for a rich man needing a plus one. “Wouldn’t hiring from an escort service be more appropriate?” I blurted.
I clapped my hands over my mouth, horrified I had said what I was thinking.
A woman—my client’s wife, I presumed—laughed, her soprano pleasant and airy. “Oh, you’re adorable. What’s your name?”
I could have told them my stage name, but if I was going to be strutted out at some party, I didn’t want to be known as someone who took off her clothes for a living. “Sara, ma’am.”
“Call me Desmond,” the man stated. “My wife’s name is Wendy. We’ve hired you to accompany Mr. Sanders, who will be joining us shortly. He’s still in the club, likely hoping to see one more of your dances before joining us. He is unaware we have arranged for your company for the evening. He’s quite taken with you, Miss Sara.”
“I don’t jump out of birthday cakes, and I don’t do any weird stuff,” I declared.
My wolf was pleased with me and how I set limits before they could be set for me.
Wendy laughed. “I assure you, Miss Sara, you will not be asked to jump out of any birthday cakes or do, as you say, any weird stuff. All we ask is you remain with us—or with Sanders—for the entirety of the
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