Page 2 of Her Only Salvation
Chapter One
The tray wobbled precariously on Terri’s upturned palm as she maneuvered through the throng of gyrating bodies. Using her free hand to grab hold of the edge, she steadied it just as the brown glass bottles slid and tinkled together. Cursing under her breath, she weaved through a rowdy group of frats tipping back their fifth round of shots. Whoops and hollers surged up, groupies with make-up that looked like it had been applied with a trowel attached themselves like clinging vines, and Terri felt what she was absolutely positive was a hand palming her ass.
“Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name?” A young male voice cut through the din, entirely too close to her.
Count to ten, count to ten. Terri repeated the mantra to herself as she cut hastily through the thick of the group and into a calmer area of the club. The music pulsed in her head relentlessly as she climbed the single step and entered the VIP area. Even through the loud music and hiss of laughter and conversations merging around her, Terri could hear the distinctive clicking of her red, toe-pinching six-inch heels as they hit against the polished stone floor. This was so not where she had seen her life headed.
A year ago tonight, Randy was hauled off to jail. The judge had taken one look at his lengthy record of abuse and threw him in an eight by eight for a solid three to six for her attempted murder. Breaking it down, her lawyer explained how Randy would be out in less than a year if he managed to behave himself. The way she looked at it, she was on borrowed time.
Hoping to get lost in the crowd, Terri sold the house, taking a major loss, and relocated into the heart of downtown in the next city over where the streets were teaming with activity. The city was a veritable cesspool of bars, clubs, prostitutes; you name it. She had taken the job at Sunset Black because she needed the money and liked the anonymity the position provided. Luke ran a tight ship, answered to no one, including the IRS, and looked after the ladies who worked for him like they were his little sisters. Respect was the number-one thing he demanded from his patrons. Anything else, he could not care less—which meant prolific drug use abounded along with what Cathie, the head of the waitressing staff, called “escort services,” which, if you knew what to look for, could be seen in just about every corner, booth and available chair throughout the joint. It was an excellent way to get the money needed to make ends meet, which is why they did it, but Terri couldn’t bring herself to take part.
Sidling up to the table, Terri lowered the tray to chest level and began doling out beers to the leather-clad men with sly smiles on their bearded faces. She could feel their collective gaze focus on her chest as she leaned across the table, and it made her skin crawl. The uniform she was forced to wear offered about as much coverage as a well-placed Band-Aid. A strip of black leather hugged her hips like a second skin and landed just below the curve of her well-rounded rear. The red cotton tank left little to the imagination, cut high enough to leave her middle bare and low enough to leave the swell of her breasts exposed for all to see. Sunset Black in bold black letters was written across the center of her chest like a neon sign. She could complain for days, but the fact was, the tips were good and the pay was fair.
And it was the last place Randy would think to look for her.
“Will there be anything else, gentlemen?” Terri offered a pleasant smile as the four sets of eyes simultaneously rose from her cleavage to her face.
Shifting in his seat, the man to her right ran a calloused finger down her thigh. “I can think of something,” he said in a gruff voice.
Casually brushing his hand away, Terri stepped back. “Sorry, not a service I provide. You might ask Cathie.” She didn’t wait to hear his answer. Pivoting away, she marched back the way she came, using the tray to guard her backside as she crossed through the mass of college boys once again.
“Hey!” The voice sliced through the noise. Terri ignored him, determined to get back to the bar for her next order. A harsh hand gripped her arm, jerking her back against a firm male chest. “I asked your name.” Hot breath reeking of stale beer permeated her sinuses, making her stomach turn, as the tenor of his voice burrowed into her ear.
Fear gripped her. Memories of the way Randy would grab her, and where it always ended, slammed into her, making her head spin. Shaking it off, Terri narrowed her eyes and jabbed a red-lacquered nail into his powder-blue polo. “Back off,” she warned, snatching her arm back.
He advanced on her, his large frame towering over her. “Just wanna know your name, sweetheart,” he said with a sleazy smile. “No need to get testy.”
“You haven’t seen me testy.”
As she turned her back on him and continued on her way, he called out to her.
“Yet.”
A warm hand skimmed her back as she waited for the drink order to be filled. “Anything I should be worried about?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Terri smiled warmly. Cerulean eyes smiled back. “Nothing I can’t handle, Luke.” He gave her a speculative look. “Really, no problem.”
With a tight nod, Luke disappeared through a door leading to his office as well as the locker rooms.
Balancing a tray weighted down with an array of shots and beers, Terri slipped back into the fray.
***
Terri was unaware of the set of angry eyes that watched her from a shadowy corner. Randy noted sourly that she had changed her hair. Where pale blonde had once reigned supreme, jet black now resided, washing out her milky white skin, making her look like some Goth goddess. Watching her prance around in that ridiculous getup, seeing every male eye in the place skirting over the miles of exposed skin, pissed him off. He should have known that as soon as he turned his back, she would turn into the two-bit whore he always knew she was.
He switched his gaze to the child barely out of puberty that had his hands all over her moments before. The kid grinned ear to ear, flashing a set of perfectly straight pearly whites while girls with stars in their eyes fawned over him and his fool friends. Grabbing another beer, the boy tipped his head back and downed it like it was Kool-Aid.
Randy’s heart stuttered in his chest when he caught sight of Terri reentering the crowd. His eyes traced the long lines of toned legs to the flat planes of her stomach before settling on her chest then following up to her lovely pale green eyes, just as they narrowed on something within the crowd.
Following her stare, he clenched his fist around his beer. That pretty-boy asshole was back, shouldering his way toward her with a cheesy grin plastering his drunken face. He studied her, watching every minute movement and expression she made as she cut a path through the bodies. To her credit, she was trying to avoid contact, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to pluck those jade lovelies right out of their sockets for daring to look.
His jaw clenched tight when the boy gripped the length of Terri’s raven black ponytail and tugged her back to his side. She complied, returning to him with a coy smile playing on her cherry-glossed lips. Their lips moved in a conversation he couldn’t make out from his place in the darkened corner. He watched the boy brush his fingertips over her collarbone. A sudden, searing pain ripped through Randy’s hand as his beer bottle exploded in his grip.
“Damn it!” Sliding his chair back, he stood up and brushed the shards of glass from his worn jeans. A string of expletives rolled from his mouth as he took in the damage. Blood ran down his fingers, pooling into his palm and dripping from the back of his hand to mix with the golden lager spilled across the table.
“Oh my gawd, are you okay?” a high-pitched voice squealed. He looked up in annoyance as a slim blond hustled over to him with a wad of paper towels. “You poor baby,” she cooed, pressing them into his hand to stanch the bleeding.
“It’s nothing, just a cut.” He mumbled gruffly, pulling his hand away while closing his fist around the paper.
“That’s way more than a cut, sugar.” She bent over, quickly wiping the mess from the table while giving him an eyeful of her ample cleavage.
Randy cleared his throat and scanned the crowd. Not finding his object of obsession, he felt the immediate stirrings of rage build up inside his gut like a ball of fire threatening to consume him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear the blond prattling on about blood and stitches, but he wasn’t listening. He was more concerned with where his little vixen had disappeared to. But he wasn’t quite ready for a reunion. No, not yet.
Pulling the wallet from his back pocket, he snatched a bill and slapped it on the table, then disappeared out the side door. He jabbed his hands into his jacket pockets and trekked into the parking lot. The blue 4x4 gleamed under the glare of lights. Slipping behind the wheel, he twisted the keys in the ignition and felt the truck roar to life. He cranked up the heat, then settled back and peeled the bloody towels from his injured hand. His palm was riddled with cuts oozing blood. Crumpling the paper in his fist, he flipped on the radio with a huff. That woman was a pain in his ever loving ass. One thing he could always count on, there was never a dull moment when she was around. Resting his head on the back of the seat, he focused on the back of the building where she would be appearing shortly.