Trashy (Take It Off #10)(49)
Author: Cambria Hebert

Of course, I knew time would be the real test. My relationship with Adam was just getting started, and I’d learned from bitter experience that things were always good in the beginning. Keeping what we had was going to be the hard part.

I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit Adam’s past marriages made me nervous. Holding on to a relationship seemed hard for him. Both of us had histories to leave behind, and more than anything, I wanted a future with him.

I loved him.

I truly wondered if I would ever again be able to let someone in enough to love them. Yes, I’ve always had a soft spot for Adam, and maybe it was our long-standing friendship and work relationship that made it easier to take the plunge. It made it easier to admit to myself.

How could I not love him?

I still hadn’t told him. He never pushed. He never held back his own declaration of love. He just simply accepted me, simply loved me.

I’d never been loved like this before.

A secret smile played on my lips as I walked through the parking lot toward my Mazda. The air-conditioning worked better than ever, and it had new tires to boot.

There was a cool breeze pulling through my straight hair today, the kind that reminded me it actually was fall. I loved days like these, such a welcome break from the heat.

I was going to have to swing by my place later and get my boots. It was great weather for them with a pair of jeans. I climbed into the car, adjusting the loose top I was wearing over my low-cut jeans. The sting of pain was constant, but I ignored it.

Adam was at work, and he thought I was too, so I pointed the car in the direction of the Mad Hatter. I had some paperwork and an order for some liquor to put in before we opened tonight. Harlow and Cam were both working tonight, and I wondered what Harlow would say when I told her where I was this afternoon.

The inside of the club was quiet and still, but it didn’t scare me. Adam told me about the restraining order and how Craig wasn’t allowed even in the parking lot. Of course, the restraining order I filed a week ago (at Adam’s insistence) to keep Craig away from me pretty much protected me everywhere I went.

But here at the club, I felt double protected.

I turned on the lights out in the bar and grabbed a water from the cooler before heading into the office. I laid my cell phone on the corner of the desk and started pulling out paperwork and the order form for the supplier.

I considered turning on the radio but decided to enjoy the quiet before the club opened and the place was filled with noise.

The silence was disrupted by the sound of the main entrance banging shut. I sat up a little straighter, staring out the office door but unable to see who it was. A smile broke over my face because I knew it was probably Adam.

I couldn’t wait to show him my surprise.

I left the desk and rushed out of the office. I made it two steps into the main room before I halted in shock.

It wasn’t Adam.

It was Craig.

And he wasn’t alone.

He looked horrible, the worst I’d ever seen him. His dark hair was greasy and unwashed, standing up around his head in great clumpy spikes. His T-shirt and jeans were dirty, ripped, and hung off his thinner frame. But what was most concerning was the state of his face.

It was battered and beaten.

Clearly, he’d been injured badly. Both eyes were blackened, one was slightly puffy, and there was an angry welt slashing through one of his eyebrows. His lips were cracked and dried. He had a huge yellowing bruise on his jaw. His nose was swollen and crooked like it was broken. Actually, he had a lot of ugly yellowing bruises on his face. I wondered what the rest of his body looked like under his clothes.

“You can’t be here,” I told him. “I have a restraining order.”

“First I’ve heard of it,” he said, giving me a squinty angry look.

“Leave.”

“Did you think I’d just accept the fact you didn’t show?” he said, stepping forward. The other two men hung in the background.

“The bouncer is going to be here any minute.” I lied. Maybe if he knew someone was on their way, he’d get out while he could.

“No, he isn’t.” Craig snarled. “I’ve been watching you, you stupid bitch. You’ve been shacking up all week with that guy who owns the place. I always knew you were screwing him.”

I gasped. “I was not.” I stayed faithful to him always, even when I shouldn’t have.

“We’ll see if he still wants you once you’re screwing on camera.”

I straightened my spine. “I told you. I am not doing that movie.” I wasn’t going to have this conversation either. I spun on my heel and went back into the office to get my phone. I was calling the cops. They could haul him in for violating the restraining order.

Craig moved fast, grabbing onto my arm and whipping me around. My knee caught in the chair that sat in front of the desk and it buckled. I didn’t fall because Craig yanked me up and dragged me back out into the bar.

“Look at me!” he roared. “All these bruises, the broken bones… you did this to me.”

“No,” I said, trying to steady myself on my feet.

“These people, they want their money. They want their movie. This…” He gestured toward his battered face. “This was just a warning.”

“You shouldn’t have made a deal with people like that.”

He slapped me. The sharp sound of his hand against my cheek reverberated throughout the room. I let my hair fall over my face and conceal me from view as I composed myself. Then I glanced up and looked at the men who were in the room.

How could they stand by and watch this?

I recognized one of them. It was the man Adam threw out of the bar over a week ago. It was the same guy I’d seen in here before, the one who was always watching me.

Oh my God, did he only come here to spy for Craig?

I glanced at the other man, wondering if I recognized him as well, but I didn’t. ‘Course, I could barely concentrate on his features when I was so distracted by the large camera in his grip. It had a large spotlight attached to the top of it and looked like it probably weighed about ten pounds.

A sick feeling wormed its way inside me.

“What do you want?” I whispered to Craig.

“I want what you owe me,” he growled. “And I’m here to collect.”

“No.” My voice wavered.

He motioned for the guy with the camera, and the man hoisted it up on his shoulder, and the blinding spotlight clicked on and shined in my eyes.

“What better place to film an adult film that on the stage of a strip club?” Craig mused.