A little early! Big storm headed my way, so didn't want to take any chances of not having service to post. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Chapter 5

The next morning, I found a note from Kyle laying on my coffee table, along with a twenty, and an off-brand two-pack of gas station pain reliever.

Gone to work. I'll stop by after. No Johns. I've got us.

I scanned its contents more than once, knowing damn well I had no intention of following his instructions. Hell, I was going to extra not listen to him. Not only was I going to take a John, I was going to go out and knock on his door. Usually, Johns came to me. Never once had I ever needed to pursue them. They knocked on the back door three times, letting me know who they were. A safety precaution, though, a lot of fucking good that did me when some asshole just broke right in.

I closed my eyes as snapshots flashed to the fore. No face. Just a shape. A dark mass twisting my arms behind my back, pinning me down. The cold barrel of a gun against my cheek. He didn't speak. His scent was strong and familiar, but I still couldn't place what it was.

I stood. The odds of finding him were about as good as me making it out of this town. None. Not anymore. But that didn't matter. Mama had gotten worse, and a man across the road had clues as to who did it.

"You do your job, Kyle. I've got to do mine." My work-mode activated. Shower. Shave. A dab of perfume. Skin care. Hair. A touch of pink to my lips. I couldn't read him. All of my Johns had a thing, some fantasy, some kink. Martin Jones wanted sweet and innocent. He needed to feel like a big man. Frank liked his women trashy, red lips, tight jeans, and big hair. It was all an act. A part. The better I played it, the more money they gave.

How do you please a man with no emotion?

The only spark I'd seen from him had been fleeting, and it'd occurred right after he'd caught me digging a hole, screaming at the sky like a crazy person.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Short, summer dress. Mud-brown hair. My jaw was a little too hard. My cheeks a little too full. Not like momma. I was no angel. The only piece of her I'd inherited taunted me now. Sapphire blue eyes. The eyes someone had taken. They looked different in the aftermath of what I'd discovered, and a part of me itched to remove them from my skull.

I didn't deserve her eyes. I didn't deserve any of this. For years I'd been sitting, doing all the things she'd never wanted me to do. Taking in Johns, cursing her as the cause.

I ground my teeth and turned away from the sight. It couldn't be changed, but I'd be damned if the asshole who took her away from me continued to walk free.

With a determined gate, I slid on my shoes and stormed towards my target. The only man who could help me. The one who knew at least something about what'd happened, and he was going to give that information to me if I had to sell my non-existent soul to get it.

I stepped out into a gray world then walked across the hard, Tennessee ground. My hair blew wildly around me as storm clouds brewed on the horizon. It seemed too fitting. Perhaps I was my daddy. Perhaps I was a twister too, and I'd only just touched ground.

Before my knuckles could even touch his door, John yanked it open. "Joy," he rumbled, voice just as hoarse and rough as it'd been the night before.

But his eyes. Those hollow eyes. They didn't fight to scare me away the way they had. No. He looked ready to hog-tie and force me to submit to his questions.

Desperate.

I smiled. "Someone's eager."

John stepped aside as slinked past him like a cat begging to be caressed. A look over my shoulder revealed nothing but calculation from him.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions." His eyes didn't scan, regardless of the amount of skin I'd left visible. He didn't swallow or stare. Hell, the man didn't even seem to notice. He looked at me how a detective looked at evidence.

"Do you think you're up to questioning now that you've had some time–"

"I'm up for all sorts of things." I smiled. "But first, I want to see what evidence you have so far."

If possible, that stone face solidified further. How could he be so blank? I understood that cops were trained to keep composure, but this was more than that. It gave me a chill, the deadness in his eyes.

"Like I explained before—" His voice was even, controlled. "—That's not how this works."

"Well, see, that's the thing." I took a seat on his couch, crossed my legs and leaned back in a less than formal position. I could have laughed at the absolute steel I got in return. If I didn't know better, I'd have been offended. "I'd prefer to see it myself."

John continued to clutch the door, body stiff and face blank.

I propped my temple onto two fingers and grinned. "You want something from me. Isn't it only fair you return the favor?"

An explosion couldn't have filled the silence. Seconds ticked by, becoming minutes, and with each new moment, I doubted my tact more. It was a blow to my ego. He was too damn impenetrable. Too damn. . .nothing.

He slowly closed the door and stepped over to the same chair he'd sat in the night before. "Do you always do that?" It scratched the floor as he pulled it over, positioning himself two-feet in front of me. He flipped it around and straddled it backwards, folding his arms atop the back.

"Do what?" I asked.

Those hollow eyes seemed to sink right into me. "You know what I mean. This." He flicked a hand up, motioning across the length of me. "This show. Does it usually work? To get what you want?"

Will you look at that? He's thinking with his big head. "Usually." I shrugged. "Then, again, I usually have more to work with." I sat up and leaned forward, giving him a better view of exactly what I was selling. "What is it you like, Detective Winters?"

"I like it when witnesses answer questions."

I bit my tongue. It wasn't working. None of it was working. Why was this so hard? I stared at his set expression, his hollow eyes. Formal. Professional. "Are you gay?"

His jaw twitched. "I'm not sure what that has to do with–"

I placed a hand onto my chest and slouched back with a relieved laugh. "Oh, thank God. I thought I lost my touch."

"I'm. Not. Gay." He bit out each word, and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of a reaction from him. Annoyance.

I lifted a brow. "I see."

"You know, I don't think you do." His tone slipped, volume grew. "This is a serious investigation. Women are dying. Your own mother was one of them, and you have the audacity to come over here and. . .what? Play seduction?" The accusation in his gaze, the disgusted curl to his lip. "You're acting like a child."

I flinched. He was right. Too right. Just like that, the act fell away from me. It wasn't working, and his blatant observations coated my skin in a sensation I'd been numb to for years. Shame. My skin heated, my neck, my cheeks. My chest tightened and stomach rolled. "Fine." I gritted my teeth and clutched my hands in front of me. "But you don't understand."

John stared at me, jaw tight and lips a straight line across his face.

"I have to help you." There was no seduction in the statement. Just the desperate sound of a heart too shattered to beat. It was the plea of a girl who had nothing; a girl digging her own grave. "I—" My voice broke. "—I can help you." I took a deep breath. "I know this town, every man in it. I know where she frequented, and I can tell you, they won't talk to you. Not one of them."

For the first time since I'd arrived, John appeared to listen to what I was saying.

"You show me your evidence—" I held up a hand to stop him from objecting. "—And I'll help you."

John stared at his hands. "It's dangerous."

I snorted a laugh that made him look back up. "No fucking shit? Well, here's the deal, John. I'm going to find out who did this, whether it's with you or not."

He scanned my dress again, clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his hair. It took a long, drawn out moment for him to speak, and when he did, it was borderline a growl. "Fine."

"Fine?" I sat up and lifted my brows. "So, I can see the evidence?"

He clenched his jaw and stood so abruptly, the chair hit the floor with a loud clatter. "Follow me."

John is not an easy man 😏 See you next Wednesday!