Page 11 of Wild (Chicago Underground 4)
She fell into the game so smoothly I almost cracked a smile and ruined the whole thing.
“So…you know her?” the guard asked, clearly a bit confused as to what he should do.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “We’re family.”
“You’re not my real mom,” she said hotly.
“But you’re stuck with me, darling,” I said with saccharine sweetness.
“Right, well,” the man stammered. “I don’t want to get involved with a domestic dispute.”
“Oh no,” I said. “It’s too late for that. She stole something. Isn’t that like, a felony?”
“I don’t know.” The guy flipped through the wallet, flashing several hundred dollars. “It looks like it’s all here. No harm, no foul, I say.”
Ella smirked. “Guess not every old guy falls for your fake boobs.”
“They’re not—” I clasped a hand to my very real boobs. “You can’t just let her go. Call the police. She needs to be locked up. She’s horrible!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said with glossy patience.
He seemed much more comfortable now, dealing with a bitchy guest rather than the lowlifes that we were.
“It’s hotel policy not to involve the authorities unless there’s been property damage, and since I’ve recovered the wallet, I’m afraid I’m going to have to release her into your custody.”
I turned to her, dismissing the man. “I’m telling Daddy. He’ll cut you off.”
“Bite me, mother.”
I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down a hallway. Who knew where it went, didn’t matter. I chanced a look behind us. The guard was shaking his head as he spoke into his walkie-talkie. Never mind. Silly rich people.
“You little brat,” I said, partly to complete the charade and partly because my face hurt like hell. “I can’t believe you hit me. I was helping you.”
She snorted. “Yeah, helping me whore myself. No, thanks.
”
Her words jolted me. It was one thing to accept the life for myself, but why would I ever have tried to ease her into it? Ah, right. Because we were both dead if we didn’t.
“Jail won’t be any better for you, sweetheart. Not if Henri’s pissed, and he will be once he hears you bailed on the VIPs.” A sideways glance showed her pouting profile. “Are you at least going to tell me your name now?”
“I’m Polly-fucking-Anna. Pleased to meet you.”
Oh good, because more sarcasm was exactly what my life needed. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m calling you Ella.”
She yanked her arm out of my hold. “Whatever you want.”
“Sweetheart, if you’d said that twenty minutes ago, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“What’s keeping you?” She crossed her arms. “Leave already. I don’t give a shit.” Her youthful hurt and depression were all too real now, like she knew better than to expect people to stick around and was pissed at herself for hoping it would be different.
“Come on. We need to get you out of here before Henri shows up.”
She winced at the mention of his name. “I’m not going with you.”
Her wide, slanted eyes shimmered with fierce anger and glassy hope. What a curious mixture of courage and vulnerability. She was a flower disguised as a weed, but Henri was a bulldozer; he wouldn’t care at all.
“We don’t have time for this.” Running out on the party like that would have been bad enough, but stealing from a client? We were both a lesson waiting to be taught. “Let’s go.”
