Desperate Measures

Standing frozen on the concrete steps, Cora forgot how to breathe. Common sense told her to scramble backward and find somewhere to hide, yet sheer panic kept her shoes glued to the stone slab beneath her. Dom was staring straight at her, and she couldn't move a muscle.

Blood roared in her ears. Every detail around her sharpened to a painful degree, right down to the steady tap of the men's dress shoes hitting the steps as they descended toward her.

Nash moved past her first, barely sparing her a second glance. A heartbeat later, Dom followed right behind him.

His shoulder brushed lightly against hers as he passed, and Cora finally released a long, shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She cast a quick look back at their retreating backs before turning her gaze up toward the landing ahead.

For a brief second, she wondered what the Mercer brothers were even doing in an establishment like this. Had they shown up to buy the company of women just like her, girls pushed into selling themselves for one desperate reason or another? And if that was true, she wasn't sure how it made her feel.

Giving her head a slight shake, she pushed the thought aside. She couldn't afford to dwell on it right now. What mattered most was that despite bracing herself to be caught red-handed, Dom hadn't recognized her at all. Her mask and disguise were actually doing their job.

Still, a small voice in the back of her mind questioned if crossing paths with Dom and Nash was an omen. A final warning that she had no business being in a place like this. That single thought nearly convinced her to spin around and walk straight home while she still had a shred of self-respect left intact.

Then her mind flashed to her mother. If the worst happened to her mom, Cora knew she would never be able to live with the guilt. Letting her mother slip away when she had a chance to pay for her treatment was unthinkable. Even if her mother didn't make it through this in the end, Cora needed to know she had exhausted every possible avenue to get her the medical care she deserved. If their positions were traded, her mother wouldn't hesitate to move heaven and earth to keep her alive.

Steeling her resolve, she climbed the remaining steps and headed down the corridor toward the last door at the end of the hall, just as she had been told. Stopping outside, Cora drew in a steadying breath and swallowed past the tight knot in her throat before reaching out.

Her fingertips barely grazed the handle before the door was yanked open from the inside. A lanky man stood in the threshold leering down at her, carrying a heavy stench of stale cigarettes and unwashed bedsheets. The foul odor hit her all at once, making her head spin slightly as he stepped back to wave her into the dim room.

“Come on in, Cora,” he said with a sweeping gesture of his hand.

She had to work hard to keep her expression neutral. She had never given this man her real name, and though she badly wanted to demand how he knew it, she bit her tongue and scanned the space instead. The room featured dated, historic-style decor mixed with a few modern touches. A single suitcase sat atop the bed. Overhead, a lone yellow bulb cast a weak, sickly glow across the room, barely illuminating the corners—a detail she suspected was entirely by design, much like everything else in this club.

“I’m Gordy. And you and I, Cora, we’re about to have us an unforgettable time. Just the two of us.”

Drawing in a trembling breath, Cora forced herself to look at Gordy and take in the man standing before her. He was tall and gangly, with a head that looked far too heavy for his thin neck to support—an impression made worse by the awkward way his posture leaned to one side. Beyond the sour smell clinging to him, his crooked teeth were stained a deep yellow as he gave her a leering grin, a cruel gleam sitting flatly in his eyes.

There was no sugarcoating it: Gordy was a thoroughly repulsive man. Then again, appearances didn't count for much behind closed doors like these, especially when a client had cash to burn. Cash that she needed more than anything right now. Every instinct inside her screamed at her to bolt for the exit, and God, she wished she could. Nausea churned heavily in her stomach, threatening to rise, yet she reminded herself that the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could walk out of here and return to whatever was left of her normal life.

She swallowed hard as a violent shudder worked its way down her spine. Try as she might to shove the creeping terror down, it refused to budge. Her hands began to shake and her heart hammered wildly against her chest, yet she forced her lips to curve upward. Men like Gordy wanted sweet, agreeable girls, so she had to put on a polite smile. She had walked in here with her eyes open, after all, and she knew full well what was expected of her tonight.

“So tell me, Cora. Why are you doing this? Is this what rich girls do when they get bored? Or do you need money because daddy refused to get you a new handbag?” Gordy asked, that nasty glint never leaving his eyes.

Her mind went completely blank. The question came out of nowhere, catching her entirely flat-footed. She hadn't anticipated him prying like that, just as she hadn't expected him to greet her by her given name. Clearly, this stranger knew far more about her background than she was comfortable with. She had walked into the building intending to use a fake name—something simple like Sugar or Penny—and already, every single part of her plan was falling apart.

“I need the money,” she replied in a quiet voice. The answer sounded foolish and painfully obvious to her own ears, yet she couldn't come up with a better excuse on the spot, and Gordy had no business knowing her personal affairs anyway.

Gordy stayed quiet for a beat, his gaze dragging slowly up and down her frame before he sauntered over to the mattress. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he cleared his throat and pulled his shirt off. “I guess this interview will be fun for me then, Cora. Take off your dress.”

There was no question in his tone; the flat authority in his voice made it clear she was going to strip whether she wanted to or not.

The moment had arrived. It was time to go through with what she had come here to do. A fresh wave of sickness surged up her throat, sharper than before, and she forced herself to swallow the sour taste back down. With trembling fingers, she slowly reached down toward the bottom of her black dress, and with every inch her hands lowered, the grin spreading across Gordy's face grew darker.

Her fingers finally closed around the hem, and she was just starting to tug the fabric upward when the door behind her flew open and crashed violently against the wall.

Cora jolted in pure shock and spun around to find Dom Mercer standing in the doorway, with Nash right at his back.