Overture (North Security, #1)

I stare at the tiny scrap of black fabric she’s wearing. Spandex. “Those are booty shorts. They go under my skirt so I don’t accidentally flash five hundred people after Brahms’s ‘Sonata No. 3.’”

“We can pair them with some stockings I saw in your drawer. That flash of thigh is going to be the sexiest thing these boys have ever seen.”

“They’re basically underwear. Why do we have to go to a club to help Cody? Why can’t we help in a library? Somewhere that we can wear regular clothes and go during the day?”

“Because this guy has incriminating evidence on Coach Price.”

“And he’s just going to give it to us?”

“That reminds me. Do you have five thousand dollars?”

“Oh my God.”

“Look, don’t freak out. People our age go to clubs all the time.”

“I’ve never been inside one.”

“Because Liam still acts like you’re twelve years old and watches your every move.”

In my mind I can see Liam’s stern expression. Say it back to me, Samantha. I need to know you understand. Imagine if I told him I wasn’t a virgin. I already know about condoms because I use them all the time. Well, maybe not all the time. Once would be enough.

Would he have been shocked? Probably. He might have tried to lock me up in a tower and throw away the key. Or maybe he finally would have seen me as a woman. He wouldn’t treat me like I was a little girl if I wasn’t a virgin. Would he?

“Fine,” I say, grabbing the clothes. “We can stop by the bank.”

She follows me into the bathroom. “I’ve been working on cat eyeliner.”

“A little privacy, please?”

That earns me an eye roll. “Okay, Ms. Concert Dress. I happen to know there’s no privacy in those backstage rooms. And no marble floors either. So stop complaining.”

Privacy? No. There’s not enough room for that. And any rooms with doors are taken by people having hookups before the show. It would have been easy to lose my virginity to someone playing the tuba or even a conductor, but I never wanted that. Being a so-called child prodigy has made me weird enough. I would like my first time to happen an ordinary way—with a man who cares about me, preferably.

Condoms are mandatory. The words come back to me in a humiliated rush, my cheeks heating with the memory. I actually said that to Liam North. The words came out of my mouth when I was only a few feet away from him.

Not only that, but I told him about condoms appearing on cave paintings.

Awesome.

The first attempt at eye makeup turns me into a raccoon.

The second one isn’t much better.

By the third attempt Laney achieves a somewhat smoky eye that tilts up at the side. I stare in the mirror, wondering how I look like a stranger even to myself. The ruffled silk blouse and black boy shorts look cute and sexy and completely un-Samantha-like. Maybe this is what it would feel like to be normal.

Laney stands back, looking pleased with herself. “You look so slutty right now.”

That makes me laugh. “Thanks, I guess.”

She’s an unconventional fairy godmother, transforming me into someone who can go to the ball. Some people think that Cinderella was weak because she needed help. Those of us who’ve been orphaned, who’ve been alone, who’ve been smudged in cinders, we know the truth. We can be strong every day of every year. The hard part is leaving it behind for even a night.


LIAM

Knock knock knock.

I’ve definitely learned to knock every single time I want to speak to her. Even if I hear voices coming from inside the room—Samantha and Laney. The door is too thick to hear what they’re saying, but they’ve been friends for a long time.

“Yes?” That’s Laney, sounding playful and defiant like she usually does.

It makes me wonder if Samantha told her about me walking in on her. I’m not sure whether I hope she does or hope she doesn’t.

She deserves to share something that’s bothering her. On the other hand, it feels strangely good to have a dirty little secret with her. Too good.

“Can I talk to Samantha?” I say through the door. Normally I would have opened it by now. It’s not like Samantha’s humping a pillow at this exact moment. Except I can’t bring myself to turn the knob. My fist tightens on the cool metal, but all I can see is small hands clenched on a white pillowcase.

“No,” Samantha says, too loud and fast. “We’re having girl talk. Very, very private girl talk.”

Very, very private girl talk.

Then she is telling her friend about what happened this afternoon. My cheeks feel warm. Jesus. How long has it been since I actually blushed? Certainly not when I saw her hips fucking a pillow. All I felt was pure lust. Now I’m wondering what she’s saying about me. He’s a fucking bastard who’s barely hiding his erection when I’m around him. No, she wouldn’t talk like that. It’s the truth, though.

“I’m heading out for the night. Call my cell if you need anything.”

“Okay,” she says through the door, her voice like a squeak.

Hell. “Leave her alone, North,” I mutter to myself.

The rest of the men are already gathered downstairs, wearing clothes other than fatigues for a change, laughter bouncing off the walls. I meet Josh by the wet bar, where he’s pouring himself a drink. He salutes me with a wry expression. “Thought I might not see you tonight. Figured you’d stay here and play nurse for the night.”

“Fuck you.”

Eyebrows go up. “Well, well. What crawled up your ass?”

Having to give a safe sex talk to the girl in my custody, a girl I’m responsible for. A girl I want to taste more than my next breath. “What are we doing tonight?” I ask, ignoring his question. “Because I already know it’s not a strip club.”

“Not when you threatened to kick my ass.”

“Sorry, but the stink of desperation and coercion really messes with my hard-on.”

“What about a girl who loves attention and dancing?” Josh says, challenging me. He likes fucking with me. And apparently, he also likes strippers.

“Are you really going to tell them apart?” I ask, my voice caustic. I can’t keep my employees from visiting a strip club on their off time, but I’ll be damned if I go with them.

“Or a college girl who’s paying for tuition on tips?”

“What about all the girls turning in their take to a pimp at the end of the day? The ones kicked out of their homes? Underage? What about the ones who don’t have a fucking choice?” I stop myself, breathing hard. Too late, I realize how much I gave away with my little speech. It’s too painful to think about what could have happened to Samantha without someone to look after her. Her violin fame might have given her some protection—or it could have made her a greater target.

He gives me a hard look, but his voice is light. “Okay, we can have a good time without the chance of human trafficking. If you insist.”

I wouldn’t be okay with strippers on a regular day.

Today is not a regular day.

After having the sex talk with Samantha, I have no desire to watch men reduced to animals over a pair of tits. Especially when all I can see is Samantha’s full lips forming my name, her eyes fluttering as she imagines me between her thighs.

“So what’s the plan?” I say, forcing my tone to be casual.

Josh pulls out his phone and texts me. The message contains only a photo of an ordinary brown rock holding down a one-dollar bill. The prize. “Jeff’s going to fly us over the desert,” he says, referring to our resident pilot. “We each get a parachute and a bottle of water. First one to find the prize wins.”

This is what happens when you put a bunch of over-muscled alpha men together. We have to compete to find out who’s the best, even if one of us has to die trying.

I glance down at my gray button-down and black slacks that I wore for a night in the city. “You could have told me before I got dressed.”

“There are a handful of not-quite-street-legal cars waiting for us at the rendezvous point. We’ll take them into the city. Drinks. Dinner. More drinks.”