The Reclamation (The Club Trilogy Book 2) (17 page)

Inside the bar, two big guys stand up from their table, blocking my view of Jonas and Stacy. I move to the next window, just in time to see Stacy bat her eyelashes at something Jonas has said to her. Obviously, he just paid her a compliment.

What the fuck is going on here? He’s up to something, yes. But cheating on me with Stacy the Prostitute? No. What the hell is he doing?

Think, Sarah, think. Think like Jonas.

Stacy reaches across the table and puts her hand on Jonas’. He jerks his hand away like her hand burned his skin. He tries to make it seem like he’s grabbing his beer, but oh my God, it’s plain as day he can’t stand to be touched by her.

I smile. Oh, Jonas. Sweet Jonas. Stupid-Lying-Idiotic Jonas. You’re-In-Such-Big-Trouble Jonas. But, yes, undoubtedly, Faithful Jonas.

What could he possibly be saying to her?

Think, Sarah, think.

He had the iPhone out this morning during his conversation with Josh. When I asked about it, he said he wanted to handle The Club on his own, with Josh, and leave me out of it.

I roll my eyes. Oh good God. He’s here to get information out of Stacy—and he’s charming her to do it. He’s complimenting her, telling her what she wants to hear—all so he can gather information for his highfalutin
strategy
, whatever the hell it is. I wipe my eyes. He’s just trying to protect me, the big dummy.

Relief ripples through every muscle of my body.

I’m still pissed, though. He may not be a cheater, but he’s still an idiot. A big, fat idiot. And a liar through omission. He should have included me in his plans from minute one. What does he think—I’m too fragile and innocent, or maybe not smart enough, to handle his stupid strategy? That I’m going to come undone? I’ve been doing research and investigations professionally for the last three months, buddy! I figure shit out, man! Who tracked you down tonight like a hungry crack whore looking for her baby daddy on payday? Me! And, anyway, I’m the one who was employed by The Club, for the love of all things holy—doesn’t he think I might have an idea or two to contribute to his stupid
strategy,
whatever it is
?
God, I hate Strategic Jonas! Strategic Jonas makes me want to punch him in his beautiful face.

I take a deep breath and watch them, my nostrils flaring.

Whatever he’s saying, she’s buying it hook-line-and-sinker. She’s nodding vigorously. She stands, smiling at him like she expects him to get up with her.

But he doesn’t move.

She sits back down, perplexed.

Oh, Jonas.

I smile.

I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not here to fuck Stacy. If he were, they’d already be fucking up a storm somewhere. My sweet Jonas is a lot of things, including a dumbass, apparently, and a liar, and an idiot, but a man who sits around drinking a beer and chatting with a prostitute when all he wants to do is fuck, he is not. I can’t help but laugh out loud. For a smart man, my sweet Jonas is such a big dummy sometimes, I swear to God.

Chapter 14

Jonas

“Jonas?”

Oh God, no.

Panic floods me like a tidal wave.

This is my worst nightmare.

And my own damned fault.

It’s Sarah.

Her eyes are red and wet. Tear tracks stain her cheeks.

“Sarah.” That’s all I can eek out. This can’t be happening right now. This is my worst nightmare. My heart explodes in my chest.

Stacy lifts her wineglass to her lips, a smug smile spreading across her face.

“Sarah,” I say again. “Please—”

“There’s nothing to say. I know exactly why you’re here.”

“No, you don’t. Please listen.” I glance at Stacy. She’s grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You had ‘something you needed to do,’ huh?”

My stomach leaps into my mouth. My tongue isn’t working.

“
Sarah
, is it?” Stacy interjects. “Jonas was just telling me about your problem with emotional attachment—”

“Shut the fuck up, Stacy,” Sarah hisses. Her eyes are laser beams.

Stacy smirks, apparently unfazed.

“Stacy, will you excuse us for just a minute, please?” I say, my voice sounding much calmer than I feel.

“No, Stacy, stay here, please,” Sarah says. “I want you to hear this.”

I stand and grab Sarah’s arm. “Sarah, listen to me.”

She jerks away from me. “Sit down. I have something to say to you both.”

My mouth hangs open. I’m going to have a fucking heart attack. I can’t lose her. Not like this. Please, God, no. I’m officially in hell. “No, listen, I’m—” I reach for her again.

Sarah jerks away again. “If you don’t take your hands off me right now and sit the fuck down, I’m walking out that door, Jonas.”

Shit. Oh God. This is a catastrophe. I’m light-headed. I sit.

“All I’ve ever heard from you since day one was Stacy this and Stacy that,” Sarah begins, seething.

What?
What the fuck is she saying? Yeah, during our very first phone call, I told her about my horrible fuck with Stacy, but—

“And what a ‘smokin’ hot body’ she has . . .”

Oh my God, no. This is crazy. Last night I said Stacy has a smokin’ hot body, yes, but only so Josh and I could compare notes about his Seattle girl—

“All I ever hear is Stacy, Stacy, Stacy—how great Stacy is in bed.”

Wait, what? Have I had a psychotic break and I don’t know it?

Sarah glares at Stacy. “Do you know how many times he’s said to me, ‘Why can’t you fuck me the way Stacy did’?”

The universe warps and buckles and slows to a screeching halt.

Sarah flashes me her patented I’m-smarter-than-you smirk.

Holy shit. She knows. She understands. Oh my God. How the fuck did she figure this out? How did she know I’d be here tonight? And why does she know exactly what line of bullshit I’ve been slinging to Stacy? A smile threatens my lips, but I suppress it. She’s the most amazing woman in the world. Holy shit, she’s the woman of my dreams.

Sarah whips her head and glares at Stacy again. “Well, guess what, Stacy—or Cassandra, or whatever your name is—you’ve fucked with the wrong woman. Jonas Faraday is
mine—
my territory, my score—and I don’t need anybody making a play for my sloppy seconds.” She leans right into Stacy’s face, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t fuck with me, bitch.”

I can’t speak. She’s magnificent.

Stacy rises to her feet, ready to rumble.

I get up, too, ready to intercede.

But Sarah doesn’t back down. She grits her teeth. “I’ve written a detailed report about The Club and I’ve addressed it to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the U.S. Attorney’s Office, and, given The Club’s roster of members, the U.S. Secret Service, too.”

Stacy’s eyes widen. Sarah just called her bluff.

There’s a long beat.

“Take a seat, asshole,” Sarah says firmly. “Please.”

Stacy sits.

And so do I. I’m not sure which one of us she just called an asshole.

Sarah takes the seat next to me and leans forward across the table.

“I’ve got a message for whoever’s running The Club, and I want you to deliver it for me.”

Stacy clenches her jaw.

“Tell them I’m not currently planning to send my report to anyone. Frankly, I don’t care what The Club does and I’d take no pleasure in publicly humiliating members or their families. But if anything happens to me, or to my friend Kat, or to this man here, or to anyone I care about, if The Club fucks with me or my people in any way, then each of those law enforcement agencies will
immediately
receive that report. I’ve already made detailed arrangements through multiple resources. It’s all set.”

Stacy leans back, her face flushed.

“My report is some damned good reading, too, lemme tell you. We’re talking hundreds of counts of prostitution and sex trafficking and money laundering under both state and federal laws, plus Internet fraud, wire fraud, racketeering—jeez, I’m guessing a good federal prosecutor could come up with at least a hundred counts under RICO alone—and then there’s good old fashioned theft and fraud under state laws, too.”

Stacy’s nostrils flare.

“I realize it’s gonna be hard for you to convey the specifics of my message to the powers that be, Stacy, so just give them the gist and tell them to give me a call. I’d be happy to explain everything in explicit detail.”

I’m transfixed. I’ve never witnessed such an erotic blend of power and beauty and brains in all my life. She’s stunning—a goddess—a fucking superhero. Orgasma the All-Powerful, indeed.

“And I’ve also got a personal message for you, too, Stacy—woman to woman. Fuck you.” Sarah smiles. “Whatever you and Jonas talked about isn’t gonna happen. He’s
mine
.” She looks at me. “Tell her you’re mine.”

“I’m hers.”

“I’m not gunning to take you down, Stacy. A girl’s got to make a living. You can have anybody but Jonas, any lonely moneybags-wack-job in the greater Seattle area—in the whole world, for all I care. I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is this man right here. You got that?”

Stacy swallows but doesn’t speak. Her eyes are chips of blue granite.

Sarah smooths an errant hair away from her face and juts her chin in my direction. “Jonas?”

“Yes, Sarah?”

“I’m going to fuck you now—and you don’t even have to pay me to do it.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t do it the way Stacy did it, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But I’ll give it my best shot.”

I almost burst out laughing.

“Jonas?”

“Yes?”

“Say goodbye to Stacy.”

“Goodbye, Stacy.” I stand and pull my wallet out of my jeans pocket. I throw six hundred-dollar bills onto the table in front of her. “Your usual fee plus a twenty-percent tip,” I explain politely. I wink.

Stacy’s eye twitches.

I grab Sarah’s hand and pull her to a stand beside me. “Come on, baby. Let’s go fuck each other’s brains out.”

Chapter 15

Sarah

“So. Fucking. Hot. So. Fucking. Hot. So. Fucking. Hot.” Each word he barks at me is accompanied by a zealous thrust of his body.

He’s fucking my brains out against the filthy wall of the men’s bathroom.

I’m so mad at him right now, I don’t even want to speak to him. But fuck him? Yes. As mad as I am, when he said, “Come on, baby, let’s go fuck each other’s brains out,”
right in front of Stacy the Faker,
holy moly, the moment was too scorching hot not to capitalize on it. Every so often, a girl’s gotta treat herself to a little I’m-so-pissed-at-you sex. There’s nothing quite like it.

“Oh, baby, you fucking killed it,” he groans. “So. Fucking. Hot.” His thrusts are wildly enthusiastic. “Did you see her face when you told her about the report? So. Fucking. Hot. So. Fucking. Smart.” He punctuates each word with another beastly thrust. “So. Fucking. Smart. Oh, Baby. My baby. Oh, Sarah.”

His lips devour my mouth.

I’m dangerously close to completely letting go and losing my mind in a whole new, dirty, dirty way. But, no, I’m so mad at him, so hurt, so betrayed, I’m not going to come this time, just to prove my point. It shouldn’t be hard to stop myself, for Pete’s sake—this bathroom is utterly disgusting. What the hell am I doing in here? I cannot believe I’m having sex in the men’s bathroom of a bar. I’m such a dirty, dirty girl. Oh, wow, I just made myself hot. Dirty, dirty girl. Oh God, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, this feels so good. Dirty, dirty girl. Ow, my head just slammed loudly against the wall.

He stops abruptly, wincing. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop. Come on. Yes, yes, yes.” I growl my words loudly and Jonas responds with vigor. “You’re in so much trouble,” I snarl at him. “You’re in so much fucking trouble.”

“I know,” he says. “I was so bad.”

“So bad. Fuck me harder.”

“You want it hard?”

“As hard as you can give it to me. Is that all you got?” I stifle a scream.

His hand gropes my breast. His lips suck on mine. His face is covered in sweat. His body heat is palpable.

“I’m gonna get you off and I’m not gonna come myself,” I growl. “Just to punish you. You were bad. So. Bad. So. Bad. I’m. Not. Gonna. Come.”

“Oh, you’re gonna come, baby. Oh, fuck, you feel so good. You like it when I fuck you, baby?”

“That’s all you got?”

“You want more?”

“I want all you got.”

“Oh God, Sarah. So fucking smart, baby. So. Fucking. Smart. You’re a fucking genius.”

“And you’re a fucking idiot.”

He laughs and groans at the same time.

“Turn around,” he orders.

I don’t obey.

He forcefully turns me around and spreads my legs like he’s frisking me. I place my palms on the nasty bathroom wall. He continues fucking me from behind as his fingers reach around and touch me. I’m so wet, so fucking wet, I should be wearing rain boots. Holy mother of God.

“You’re not gonna come, huh?” he asks. He bites my neck.

“No.” I shudder and moan.

“To teach me a lesson?”

I can’t verbalize a response. His fingers are working me with too much skill. I’m delirious.

He growls loudly. He’s close.

“Say it,” I moan loudly.

He knows exactly what I want. “I’m yours.”

Tell her you’re mine,
I said to him in front of Stacy.
I’m hers,
he said, as if we’d rehearsed it.
I’m hers,
he told her—and her face turned bright red.

That’s right. Fuck you, Stacy. He’s mine.
Mine, mine, mine, mine.
Oh, God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I’m fluttering, rippling, close to the edge. I groan loudly.

“Again,” I order him. This wall is disgusting. I’m a dirty, dirty girl.

“I’m yours.”

“Again.” I can’t breathe.

“I’m yours. Yours. Yours. Yours. Oh, Sarah. Yours. Yours. Oh, God, Sarah. I’m  yours.”

“Jonas.” The sound that emerges from me is quite similar to the sound I’d make if I were in this filthy bathroom praying to the porcelain gods after one too many mojitos (a comparison I’m unfortunately able to draw through actual experience). I’m splitting into two with my ecstasy. My body is rending, wretching, heaving in painful pleasure—or maybe my body’s just reacting to the foul bathroom wall.