Helen hid her shaking hands inside her coat sleeves as she waited for the unnamed man to close the door, before he stepped closer to her. "Your cousin's name?" he asked, his eyes sharp with some sort of malicious delight as he scanned Helen's body from top to bottom.
Oh, I really wish Pat, Addy, and a troupe of police officers were here right now.
"Um, Katrina." She was pretty sure Katrina didn't give out a fake name, but she could only hope that she wasn't digging an even deeper hole than the one she was already standing in.
"Katrina?" he chuckled, reaching up a single hand to run through his (what most women would probably consider a sexy, 'just woke up' look) chestnut hair. "I know exactly where she is. She only got here an hour or so ago, but Dexter has taken quite a liking to her." He gave Helen another glance-over, and then nodded to himself thoughtfully. "I see beauty runs in the family."
Helen really didn't care what he saw.
"This way, Cecily," he said after a moment, moving past her and gesturing for her to follow. "They shouldn't be hard to find. You picked a good night—it's quiet."
Helen didn't want it to be quiet; she wanted it to be loud, with multiple pairs of eyes and many individuals available for hiding behind.
Instead, the large building was mostly empty, with only about ten men and their scantily-dressed companions milling about in the lounge and bar area. "I imagine your cousin and Dexter are tucked away in one of the private rooms."
Helen stumbled over her own feet at his words.
Oh, God.
"Uh, they're not, um . . ." how the heck was she supposed to word her question? "Having sex and agreeing on a contract in which Dexter will fund Katrina's expensive lifestyle for a few months or so?"
"In the middle of something?" the man filled in, an amused smile on his lips. "No, Cecily, I don't believe they've reached the fun point of their night yet."
Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't—
"What the hell are you doing here?" Katrina's furious voice snapped Helen out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find her cousin in the center of a lavishly decorated private lounge (complete with a private bar and something akin to a bed), sitting suspiciously close to a man probably twice her age.
Forgetting about the horrifying man by her side, Helen frowned and returned just as snippily, "Shouldn't I be asking you that? Katrina! You can't just leave in the middle of the night and expect me not to worry!"
"You're not in charge of me, you know." Katrina sounded every bit like a spoiled teen determined to get her way.
Helen, taking up the mantle of a frazzled and disappointed mom, set her hands on her hips and practically growled. "Doesn't matter! Someone needs to look after you; you're going to get yourself killed if you keep this up!"
"How about you deal with your own shit, and I'll deal with mine," Katrina huffed, turning her back on Helen and passing the man next to her—Dexter, Helen assumed—a sugary-sweet smile. "Did you want to go somewhere else?"
Dexter, to his credit, looked mildly concerned about the situation. "Well, I don't want to make you do something that you're not—"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Katrina crooned, dusting her lips against the older man's ear and making Helen cringe. "I know exactly what I want, and no one can make me do anything." The last sentence was definitely aimed at Helen, and said woman felt something inside of her snap.
YOU ARE READING
Patchworked Hearts {SAMPLE}
Romance"Crap, sweetheart," Pat's voice was tinged with regret, even as he cupped her face with both hands and began to dust kisses on all the available skin he could find, "I didn't mean to make you cry." Helen sniffled, bringing her hands up to wrap her f...
