The Arrangement Anthology (57 page)

Mel doesn’t wait for me to open the door. She busts into my room as I’m shimmying my dress over my head. It slips over my hair and I see her standing there, decked out for her client. “Ready to bang this guy?” She grins at me and hands me a white plastic bag.

I take it from her
, after I zip my dress, and look inside. “Really?” There’s a toy cap gun in there—the kind the Lone Ranger used, the kind you can’t buy anymore. “Where’d you get these?”

“Antique shop.”

“Shit, that makes me feel old. I played with these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, they’re the real thing—asbestos and
lead paint. They’re metal, baby. Perfect for straddling some strapping young man.” Mel grabs the guns and poses like Charlie’s Angels before doing her Yosemite Sam routine.

My lips cur
l into a smile as I watch her. “You seriously need to keep those. I’ve never seen you so happy over some toy.”

“I’ve got other toys that make me happy. We just don’t share those. It’s nasty.”

“Mel!” I make a face and slip my heels on. “You’re so gross.”

“So, you got a new bracelet from Black?” I nod. “And you
have no intention of skipping out on work and going after Love Buns?”

“No,” I say
, not meeting her gaze. “It’s over. Just leave it alone.”

“Fine. Well, have a fun fuck tonight. Use the guns in creative ways.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

I shove the guns back at her. “Seriously, keep them. You seem to have more uses in mind than I do, anyway.”

She shrugs, “Fine by me. I have that kinky guy tonight. He’ll love these.”

__

By the time Gabe drops me off at the hotel, it’s late. This client requested that I show up at his room at 9:00pm with a bottle of wine in hand. I approach the door in a daze. My heart doesn’t even feel like it’s beating anymore. Apathy has consumed me. I’m going to fuck this guy’s brains out and go home.

I won’t see Sean again.

It won’t matter what I do with anyone else. It won’t change the fact that I’m a hooker. It won’t give me a chance with Sean. That’s over. It’s gone.

Raising my hand, I knock on the door and wait. Usually the guy is eager and the door flies open, but this guy makes me wait. I shift my weight to the other hip and consider knocking again, when I hear the metallic scrape of the lock. When the guy pulls the door open, he’s standing in shadow. The lights in his room are off, save one light directly behind him. He’s taller than me, and well built. His sandy hair is tucked under a felt cowboy hat. The brim covers his face as he looks down at his boots.

“Hey,” I say, not really looking past his clothing.

But when he speaks, I recognize him immediately. My stomach flips as I look up into those familiar brown eyes. “Hey yourself, little lady.”

“Marty?”

3 SERIES, 3 BROTHERS,

1 FAMILY

SEAN FERRO

~
THE ARRANGEMENT
~

******

PETER FERRO GRANZ

~
DAMAGED
~

******

JONATHAN FERRO

~
STRIPPED
~

Let her know by leaving stars and telling her what you liked about

THE
ARRANGEMENT VOL. 8

in
a review!

The Arrangement

Vol. 9

H.M. Ward

www.SexyAwesomeBooks.com

Laree Bailey Press

COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by H.M. Ward

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

Laree Bailey Press

First Edition: July 2013

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

MORE FERRO FAMILY BOOKS

COMING SOON:

MORE ROMANCE BOOKS BY

H.M. WARD

CAN’T WAIT FOR H.M WARD’S NEXT STEAMY BOOK?

CHAPTER 1

After blinking several times, as if my eyes are broken, my brain finally catches up with the situation. My gaze narrows while I step towards Marty with malice in my eyes. Too many emotions clash together too fast. I can’t fathom what he’s done, what it means. My hands want to ball up into fists and find his face for ruining the fragile relationship we had left. I need him, and he goes and does something like this. Marty’s friendship is important to me and the guy’s flushed it away like a goddamn goldfish. Add to that the issues I’m having with Miss Black and my mind shorts out. There’s a big spray of mental sparks before my vision turns red.

Marty’s confident expression washes away. The smug smile on his face is gone as he steps back, holding up his hands—palms toward me—in a classic don’t-kill-me pose. “Avery, wait a second—”

“How could you?” I jam my finger into his chest as I advance. The door clicks shut behind me after I step into the room.

Marty’s voice is nearly shrill. It has that freaked out airy sound that people have when they’re about to get a stiletto shoved up their ass. “I didn’t! It’s not what you think. Give me a chance—”

“I already gave you another chance. I already did this with you! You couldn’t just leave it alone! You couldn’t just—” An aggravated sound tears from the back of my throat as my palms slam down on his chest as hard as possible.  My hands go flying, smacking and punching, without thought. I hate that he did this. I hate his stupid stringy tie and dumbass cowboy hat. I rip the hat off his head and throw it to the ground before snatching the bolo from his neck.

“Avery! Listen to me!” He has that nervous laugh he gets when something goes horribly wrong. Pleading, he smiles at me, and tries to explain. “You see, there were things, and none of them worked, so I—”

I’m not listening. I swear to God that I try. More than anything, I want this to make sense, but Marty buying me for a night and pretending to be the cowboy client makes me think he had plans to ride me all night. My jaw feels like it’s going to pop out of place, because the muscle is way too tense.

There are moments that make sense when they happen, and it makes perfect sense to me now. I have to punch a card with Black so she doesn’t skin my ass and hang it on her wall, and I have to manage to sleep with a guy—who I thought was my best friend. It’s not a problem. Of course not. “You want me so bad you’d buy me? Well, fine.” I laugh like I belong in a mental institution. My smile is too bright and my voice is too high. Arms spread wide, I say, “Here I am.”

Marty blinks at me. When he opens his mouth again, I don’t want to hear what he wants to say. I advance on him, tugging at his shirt, and ripping the front open. My foot stomps on his hat as I tear the shirt off his body. My foot crushes the felt and Marty stands there appalled.

“I think you have the wrong idea. Hey!” He tries to keep his shirt, but I grab hold of it and tug. Marty is talking, but it sounds like buzzing. This can’t be my life. It can’t be. There are so many things that I’d thought I’d be, so many things I thought I’d do, but none of them included screwing my best friend for cash. I jab, punch, and shove him as I rip his shirt off and toss it to the floor. I hurt so much. Sobs bubble up from my throat in an incoherent rage. “Avery, stop! This isn’t what you think! You’re too upset to see it now, but—” He tries to grab my shoulders, but I twist away.

“You don’t know what you’ve done! Do you know what she’ll do to me if I walk out of here right now? I can’t do this, but I have to.” Tears glitter in my eyes as I start laughing again. I can’t think. I know what I have to do even though I don’t want to. What else is new? I’ve been living a life that I’ve hated for the past few years. What’s another day?

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I can fuck him and leave. That’s what he wants. That’s what he paid for. Do it and leave.
The words repeat over and over again, drowning out everything, including Marty’s girly screams and bitchslaps.

Marty is bare-chested, standing in front of me in jeans and boots. His hair is a mess and his eyes flash with fear. He sucks in a jagged breath and works his jaw as his fingers flex at his sides. “This isn’t what you think. If you’d stop—”

I laugh, but it feels like someone drove a lance through the center of my chest. I want to fall face down on the bed and cry until I pass out, but I can’t. There’s no one left to pick up the pieces and I sure as hell won’t let Marty see me fall apart. Looking crazy is fine, but turning into a ball of slobbering snot will never happen.

I snatch at his belt buckle, doing everything in my power to force myself forward. The god-ugly thing is a big piece of brass with a bird on it that connects to a black leather belt. I have to do this, I have no choice. He left me no choice… I’m snapping like a piece of balsa wood. I can’t even form sentences any more. I’m saying things to him, half crying, slapping him and hugging him.

I can’t… I can’t… I can’t…

Pain flashes in his eyes, as he continues to try and talk to me, but his mouth moves and there are no words. My eyes twitch, flicking around the room, on his face and at the door. Gabe is out there, watching, waiting. They’re going to make sure I do it this time. I saw what was done to Henry. I can’t take a beating like that. I’ll end up with broken ribs and more medical bills that I can’t afford.

Every muscle in my body is tense, ready to snap. I want to beat my fists into Marty and scream until I feel better, but nothing will fix this—nothing will make it better. He’s gone too far this time. There’s no way to recover from this, so I’m not showing a shred of mercy. It’s me or Marty, and I’m not going to be the loser again. The past few times he pulled shit like this, I let it roll. The man pretended to be gay and went lingerie shopping with me. I didn’t drive his jewels into his skull with my knee then, but I should have—and God knows he deserved it.

I tried so hard, so fucking hard, to make things better with him. I spilled my guts and let him get close to me, closer than I should have, and all the time I was thinking that this guy cares about me and wants my friendship, he was just trying to get laid. Fury shines through me like a beacon in the night. I can’t control it. I can’t calm down and I don’t want to. Betrayal looks horrible on me.