Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (best books to read fiction .TXT) 📗

buyer. They were both middlemen. Now they’re in a panic. Lazinski is awfully calm for a man who’s in as deep dog doo-doo as he is.

He shrugs. “Like I said, I take good care of my girls.”

I nod slowly and draw in a breath as I push myself to sitting more upright, hands on my knees. “Can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a shot. How many people you got working on this?”

“A few of my bouncers. I want to keep this quiet. Don’t want the other girls worrying.” He waves a hand through the air. “My bouncers went to her place earlier, but they came back empty-handed. I also sent several texts and left messages. No answers. That’s why I’m even more concerned.”

Went by her place? That’s a joke. They tossed it.

“Time frame?” I ask.

“ASAP.”

Shit. That’s not enough information. I’d rather know exactly when the buyer is expecting Lazinski to deliver. I’m sure Lazinski is hoping the man never becomes aware his purchase was missing. I stand and reach for the folder. “I’ll do my best.”

He reaches into his desk, pulls out a folded stack of cash in a rubber band, and tosses it across the desk. “I’ll pay the rest upon completion,” he says.

“Understood.” What I understand is that this man is probably strapped for cash and needs Britney to get himself out of debt, in which case this is the sum total of the money I’ll ever see. Then a darker thought comes on its heels. He’s so afraid of the buyer that he’ll toss out good money on a gamble that I’ll find her. I wonder how many other girls he’s sold and shudder inside.

He hands me his card. “You can reach me here if you have any information. Please update me often.”

“Will do.”

How I manage to walk out of that office and down the stairs without steam coming out of my head is a miracle. I aim straight for Blade. “Let’s go.”

He rises without question and follows me outside.

“Meet you at the office in five.”

He nods and heads for his own car. We’re not having this conversation here in the parking lot. I’m certain Lazinski is watching me. I’ll fill Blade in when we get to a safe location, and it goes without saying that we’ll both make sure we are not followed.

Chapter 7

Britney

I wander around Davis’s house for a while, enjoying the silence. I’ve rarely enjoyed such silence in my life. A vast house with no one in it? Unheard of. Even my apartment isn’t quiet. The walls are thin. I can hear the specific words coming from my neighbors on both sides. The people above me must be running a dance studio too.

I don’t want to be nosey, so I don’t open any cabinets or drawers or even closed doors. Most of them are open though. I can see that he has a modern office with a glass desk and a state-of-the-art computer system. His gym is also impressive. Expensive equipment. Not unusual for Seattle where running outside is often a challenge. Many people own treadmills.

The master bedroom door is also open. I spend a few minutes in the doorway of that room too. Black furniture and bedding. Hardwood floors—the same that run throughout the house. He doesn’t have many personal touches, but there are a few pictures of him with a group of guys on the built-in shelves in the living room. There are no pictures of him with women or kids, but as I move to another shelf, I see some pictures of him at various ages with people I assume are his parents.

I don’t have pictures like that. I sigh as I wander back to the guest room he’s assigned to me. The moment I enter, I feel calmer. Something about it calls to me. I can’t figure out why. It’s youthful, I guess. Even more so now that I’ve chosen the pink bedding. I have no idea why I did such a thing, but I smile as I put the sheets and comforter on the bed.

I head for the bathroom next. It’s also white—tile, vanity, counter. There is no color in this room yet, and when I hang up the hand towel and bath towel, I’ve only added a splash of pink. I smile again. Pink?

It feels… God, I can’t explain it even to myself. If I were a kid, if I had ever been a kid, I would want a room like this with a bathroom like this.

I drop the fluffy pink rug Davis left behind on the floor in the bathroom and then notice there is actually more pink—several bottles in the tub. I lean over to pick up the shampoo bottle.

A giggle leaks out when I see that it’s baby shampoo. What the hell? The soap is too. The conditioner is in a white bottle that indicates it’s powder-scented. I set it down and pick up the last bottle, which makes my eyes widen. It’s also pink, but it’s not for a baby, that’s for sure. It’s hair remover.

My brow is furrowed as I set it back down. Maybe men think that’s how women prefer to shave. There’s no razor in the tub.

I turn to check the vanity and find an assortment of hairbands, a brush, an unopened toothbrush, and toothpaste. I chuckle again when I see that it’s bubblegum flavored.

Either Davis has a niece, his previous girlfriend was a fan of baby-scented items, she was a fan of pink, or he simply has no idea how to buy toiletries for an adult.

Right now, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m dying to get into this tub, soak for as long as I want, and climb into that bed afterward. I usually work six nights a week. The fact that I didn’t work last night or tonight is like a vacation. The kind where I’m not getting paid and I’m not going to be able to pay the rent. I sigh and ignore