Touch Slowly (Red Light: Silver Girls series) (21 page)

T
he grumblings from the other ladies of Red Light came through the locked door. Nova dove onto the floor and peered under the bed for her purse. Her five minutes of frantic searching the room turned into an outright panic attack.

Pounding on the door brought her head up. "I'm coming!"

She pushed off the floor and spun in place, searching every surface of furniture.

She carried her purse everywhere.

Inside the bag, she had her driver's license, her contact numbers in case someone murdered her, her medical records, and pictures of her mom, her aunt, and her cousins. She never carried cash, and instead lugged her past with her wherever she went.

"Come on, Nova, or we'll have Marci use the master key," yelled Tawny.

Nova wiped her forehead with her forearm and walked to the door, trying to catch her breath. She had to have left her purse in Emmett's car. That was the last place she remembered having it.

She opened the door. "I'm ready."

"Finally," mumbled Kathryn, pulling Nova out of the room and nudging her in front of her. "If we're late, we have less time to enjoy our day off."

She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Was there anything else in her purse that would even hint at her being a prostitute? What if Emmett decided to snoop?

If it was her, and Emmett left his wallet in her car, she'd look. But, maybe guys were different. Maybe she was different because she'd want to know every detail about Emmett.

"Hurry up, Nova." Tawny placed her hand on her back and guided her out the back door and into the alley. "What is with you this morning?"

"Tired." She exhaled slowly out her mouth.

Her heart raced with anxiety. Never one to panic, she'd seen the signs in other ladies over the years. She reached up and pressed her palm to her forehead. Clammy skin, fast heartbeat, hard to breathe, loss of concentration. Dr. Brandof was going to love seeing her today.

Everything would be okay. She had to believe that.

When she got back to her room, she'd get her phone, and call Emmett. That's all. There was no reason to panic.

She stumbled on the curb crossing the road. A groan escaped. The more she tried to convince herself there was nothing inside her purse that held answers to all her secrets, she freaked more.

Ever since she'd come to Federal, she'd kept everything under control. All the stories, all the fabricated excuses, all the misinformation. Shayla backed her up. Nick took her reasons and welcomed her back without any deep questions. He accepted her the way he always had as her older cousin. Interested, protective, and distant.

Shayla, God—she'd be lost without Shayla. Her cousin provided her with a means to get from Red Light to Bitterroot Trailer Park.

Marci opened the door of Dr. Brandof's office. Nova walked inside and promptly sat down. Putting her head between her knees probably wasn't a good idea in front of the others without causing alarm, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing.

"Nova?"

She opened her eyes to the nurse motioning her to the back room. If she didn't pass out on the walk down the hallway, the doctor would take one look at her and hook her up to an electrocardiogram that would detect a heart attack. She was sure she was having one.

"Go ahead and hop up on the table." The nurse waited until Nova sat and wrapped her upper arm with a blood pressure cuff. "Just relax."

Relax? She needed to get out of here.

The pressure on her arm increased to a tear-inducing level, and still the nurse pumped the inflation bulb in her hand making it tighter. Nova held her breath, and when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, the pressure on her bicep eased, and she gasped for air.

"It's a little high this morning. Are you nervous?" asked the nurse. "You seem a little on edge."

"God, yes. I don't know why, but I am." She had to shut up. "I didn't sleep well and then I hate coming to the doctor. Not that I hate Dr. Brandof, he seems nice and all. I think...well, I think I'm freaking out, but I'll be okay. I will be okay, right? My chest is pounding. No, I'm sure I'm fine or I will be once I can get out of here."

The nurse's face softened. "The bottom number isn't bad. Just the top number is high, which usually shows us how much pain, stress, or fear the patient is experiencing at the moment. It happens to a lot of patients when they walk in this room. The doctor calls it white-coat syndrome. You'll be fine, and Dr. Brandof is nice. Take some deep breaths through your nose and let it out your mouth. You'll feel calmer."

Breathing wasn't easy. She needed an oxygen mask and a Xanax. Half the ladies in the Network swore by the drug.

"Go ahead and get undressed. When you've got the gown on open the door a crack to let the doctor know you're ready." The nurse backed out of the room, shutting the door.

She stripped off her clothes. The air hit her overheated skin. She paced the room naked, feeling her body relax. Her shoulders straightened, and she planted her hands on her hips. Her next breath came easier naked, and her lungs expanded. The thrumming in her head slowed to a slight throb. In her element with her clothes off, she focused on the job ahead of her. She spread her legs numerous times a day, five days out of the week. Nobody had a right to judge her.

Not the men who paid for sex.

Not Dr. Brandof, who kept her occupation secret from the town.

Not Emmett, who at this moment could be snooping in her purse and hating her guts.

She slipped on the gown and opened the door. Climbing onto the table, she covered her legs and smoothed the gown down the front of her. Then, she waited.

Life ran on a schedule. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Men every fifteen or twenty minutes from four o'clock to eight o'clock. Once a week doctor appointments. Curfews. Rules. Payday.

Emmett, too, ran on a schedule. He worked. He came home. He spent time with her.

He'd realize her motive and why she'd signed on with the Network, and if he failed to understand, she'd show him how much he meant to her.

A knock on the door startled her. She jerked her head up at Dr. Brandof walking into the room.

"I hear you're nervous about the visit." Dr. Brandof wheeled the chrome tray next to the bed and extended the table. "You've been coming here every week for almost three months. Why is today different?"

She laid down on the table, extended her legs until the heels of her feet settled in the sock-covered stirrups. Then she lied. "I always get nervous at the end of the quarter. I never know where I'm going next. It could be a place that makes me miserable or the women I have to work with could be mean and nasty. I enjoyed my stay at Red Light. I'm not sure I want to leave."

"I've been seeing women come from the bordello for years, and haven't met one who couldn't wait to leave. Though I can understand your worries. Tiff runs Red Light with the utmost respect for everyone involved, including me." He slipped the speculum into her vagina.

Nova stared up at the ceiling. "Tiff is wonderful."

"I've known her since she was a little girl. Did you know that?" Dr. Brandof reached for the stick with the giant ball of cotton at the end.

"No, I didn't." She wondered how Tiff handled growing up in the town where she now ran an illegal bordello. No wonder she had the sheriff looking out for the business. They probably also knew each other forever.

The almost numb pressure circling her cervix signaled the end of the exam. She put her legs down and scrunched her stomach until she sat upright on the table.

"I'll have the nurse come in and take a vial of blood from you, and then you're done for another week." Dr. Brandof removed his latex gloves and put his bare hand on her gown covered shoulder. "That wasn't too bad, right?"

"Not at all." She smiled. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." He backed to the door. "I'll see you next week."

Her panic over, she let the nurse draw her blood and got dressed. Marci met her in the waiting room and informed her she could wait for the others or return to the building with one of the biker bodyguards. She chose the bodyguard.

Then she outwalked the guard all the way back to the Sterling Building. She'd have the upstairs to herself if she hurried. Tiff always left them alone after the doctor's visit and the other ladies weren't back yet.

She shut herself in her room and turned on her phone. One call would fix her worries and let her relax. Her purse had to be in Emmett's car. He probably hadn't even found it yet, and she'd pick it up tonight. She exhaled and calmed.

She couldn't wait for tonight. Her relationship with Emmett had grown from irritation to fascination to infatuation. She pressed the phone to her chest. Emmett was much more than anything in her life. She'd fallen in love with him.

He made coming to Federal a dream of a lifetime. Her days went faster knowing he was just as excited to see her at the end of the day. Her mood was unstoppable. He had her wanting so much more with him.

Days.

Nights.

Sex.

Touching.

Lots of touching.

She pulled up her call log and hit return call on his name. Everything would be okay. Emmett was Emmett. He loved simple things and probably would enjoy her calling during the day, something she had only done with him a few times before.

"Yeah?" His voice came over the phone low and deep.

"Hey, you." She smiled to the room. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your work, but I think I left my purse in the backseat of your car."

"Yeah, I saw it this morning," he said.

She lowered her chin. His monotone answers came out disinterested.

"That's good. I'll pick it up tonight when I come over, okay?" She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Sure." He paused. "I'll pick you up at the inn around nine o'clock."

"That's okay. Shayla already said she'd come and get me at ten. I'm going to be busy until then."

"Then I'll come at ten and get you."

She rubbed her forehead. "Well, Shayla wanted to look at a piece of art, so I already made plans with her. But, I'm definitely coming to your place later."

"Shayla's buying art?" he asked.

Shit. She wrinkled her nose. "Of course not. It's something I created. On a small board. For, uh, my boss. Shayla's going to give me her opinion."

"I'd like to see it."

She tapped the heel of her hand against her temple. "I would love that, but a promise is a promise. I need this time with Shayla. I planned to come here and spend all my extra time with her, and instead I've been with you."

"Right." He inhaled deeply over the phone, and his voice came back louder. "Okay. See you tonight."

The call disconnected before she could reply. She stood, walked out on the balcony, raised her face to the sunshine peeking over the abandoned building across the alley, and let the tears fall.

She hated lying.

Emmett deserved the truth.

Afraid her reality would kill their relationship; she couldn't stand to work at Red Light anymore. She wasn't strong enough to break up with Emmett, and she was too weak to stand before him and admit she worked in the sex industry. He was a man full of pride. He'd never lower his principles for a chance to love her knowing she'd used her body for money without a second thought.

She couldn't escape what she'd done, and the guilt made her miserable. She wanted to erase her past for Emmett's sake. For him, she wished she was a woman living in a trailer park and not a prostitute.

Her sobs hit her square in the chest. She doubled over and held on to the side of the balcony. The best thing she could do for Emmett would be to walk away and make his hurt less.

Except, she couldn't make herself stay away from him.

She gasped for breath, too weak to be the strong one.

F
or only the third time since he'd taken over the management of the park, Emmett sent everyone away from his lot with the excuse he had business to do. He dug the heel of his boot into the gravel outside his trailer. The confusion, concern, and annoyed looks on the faces of his community wasn't lost on him.

The swift change in attitude only made him more irritated. The disappointment when Nova called and continued to lie to him after giving her several chances to come clean had grown into a basketball-size lump in his gut.

No matter how much he was falling for her or how she fascinated him or how he walked around each minute wanting more of what she brought to his life, he wouldn't put up with a liar or a woman who played games. Even the genuine attention he believed she gave him could not override his need to have a woman who was honest. She left him doubting everything she'd ever told him.

He'd trusted her. Every kiss, every wish, every touch she'd given him, he'd held on to and tried to build up.

From the way she kissed him to the absolute enraptured look that had come over her when she painted the wall on the laundry facility and turned to him as if he'd given her something no one else had ever done for her, and he'd believed in her.

In an even more meaningful way, she'd slipped her hand in his and held on to him when she confessed she liked him. He'd held on to that thought and believed her.

That's what made tonight difficult for him. Everything inside of him told him there was something more going on and he was an afterthought. Not willing to come in second, he remained determined to get to the bottom of what she wanted from him. Tonight, he'd either find out she played him or she wanted to offer him everything he ever wanted in a woman—dedication, loyalty, and love.

But, something was going on, and it wasn't good.

All he could do was give her one last chance to come clean, or he'd tell her she could find her entertainment elsewhere. Hell, he'd tell Nick and Shayla if they wanted to see their cousin, they could go wherever Nova was hiding out because seeing her and knowing she wasn't the woman for him would kill him.

A car approached, and headlights lit the road. He shoved his hands deep into his front pockets and steeled himself.