“How’d you get out?” Layne asked.
“She worked the foster home angle then, got me through that then I hit sixteen, too old for her clientele,” Marissa answered. “I made no trouble, I did my job, I didn’t complain, I gave good head, I did as I was told and she let me loose when she couldn’t use me anymore. Let me loose as in sold me, Tanner. She sold me to the producers who’d work me until I was eighteen. And I got outta that because I give great head, I’ve had enough practice and a lotta men get stupid when they get great head. I wanted a boob job, I asked right before I made him come, I got a boob job. When I wanted to move on, I asked right before I made him come, I got to move on. Then I took off some weight, changed my hair, gave more head to get a new identity… exit Anita Dewmeyer, enter Marissa Gibbons.”
Layne looked over her head and he did this in an effort not to touch her. It wasn’t his place. He didn’t know her. That was not where their relationship could ever go. But he reckoned she’d never been held in an act of kindness, not in her life. And knowing a lot more about her life than he ever wanted to know, none of it good, all of it the worst it could be, he felt compelled to kindness.
He beat back the urge and looked at her.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, he meant his words and her torso lurched like he’d punched her, sock to the gut.
Nope, Marissa Gibbons hadn’t experienced much kindness.
Layne ignored the look in her eyes that seeped into her face and went on. “If you gave me names, would your ass be out there?”
She sucked in breath and answered quietly, “They found out it was me, my ass would be in the White River.”
“Then get the fuck out of here, now,” Layne returned just as quietly and her look intensified.
“What?” she whispered.
“Go, now. And you let it be known to someone who talks that all you got from me is coachin’ to fuck over Astley. What you do not know is dick about what’s goin’ on in the ‘burg.”
“You…” she paused, took in another breath then asked, “you’re gonna leave it at that?”
“Right now, I’m spread thin. I don’t have the resources to watch your back, not in the short term and not in the long term should something blow back on you and anyone else in that business thinks to fuck with you. So, yeah, I’m gonna leave it at that.”
She held his gaze and she did it too long.
“Go,” he ordered then turned toward his truck.
“Nicolette Towers,” she called and Layne’s head turned to her.
Fuck.
“No more, Marissa,” he warned.
“She’ll be usin’ another name. Her rap sheet, though, will be under Nicolette Towers.”
“Go,” he ordered.
“She likes to play,” Marissa went on and Layne turned to her as his stomach churned.
“Go,” he repeated.
“That’s how you’ll get her. She lets her boy enlist but she’s hands on, Tanner. As hands on as she can get.”
“Honey,” Layne whispered, “go.”
“She buys immunity from local cops. Keeps ‘em happy with money but gets them under her thumb because they like to watch her play. She gets that shit on them, they’ll do anything but she keeps them fat and sassy by puttin’ them on payroll and givin’ them as much of their kink as they can stand. Just for that, they’d do anything for her.”
Layne swallowed the saliva that filled his mouth and growled, “No more, woman, go.”
“She’s got muscle and she’s got firepower. She even thinks you’re gettin’ close, she does damage but she likes a first warning. It’s about power, control. Someone thinks to fuck with her, she likes knowin’ they’re livin’ and knowin’ she got the best of ‘em. They come back after her, they’ll go down.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“How do you know this shit?” Layne asked.
“I did my job, I didn’t complain, I wasn’t fresh but I was a favorite. She knew I was a survivalist. She knew I would never do what I’m doin’ right now. So she didn’t hide her business from me when she was of a mind to keep me close. And, bein’ a survivalist, I learned to keep quiet and listen. So I did.”
Layne stared at her.
Then he made a decision.
“How tied to Indianapolis are you?” he asked.
“What?” she asked back.
“How do you feel about LA?”
Her lips parted and she stared back.
“Dev’s got a job today,” Layne said. “Tonight, he’s got another one. You make contact, you make a meet, you pick up your new identity tomorrow from Dev. You sell that fuckin’ car and you get your ass to LA. I got a friend out there, he’ll help you get set up and he’ll watch your back until he knows no shit is gonna blow west. You do not check in direct, you check in with him, he’ll get word to me.”
“I got school here,” she stated.
“They got universities in LA,” he returned.
“The Pacemates –”
“Are a memory. You are no longer visible. You do not veer from your path. This shit gets done, you find a decent guy, you give him great head, you get him hooked, you settle and you keep that shit from him. You put your ass on the line for me just now so in return, I’ll give it to you straight. Do not share with him, no matter how decent he is, about Anita Dewmeyer or Marissa Gibbons. You were in the system. You lived a shit life. You had a social worker who showed you the way but other than that, you don’t wanna talk about it. Ever. You wanna look ahead, never behind. You keep him facin’ forward, Marissa, don’t you, and don’t let him, ever look back. But you find you need to talk about that, work things out after this is over, you contact me or Dev. You do not lay that shit on your man. Yeah?”
“If I disappear, especially from the Pacemates, they’ll know –”
Layne cut her off. “I told you, I got a guy who’ll watch your back.”