Page 37 of Secret (Chicago Underground 6)
The car bounced along the potholes in the parking lot, and I winced. When the car rolled to a halt, I sighed in relief.
“I’ll get you,” Luke said, coming around the car.
He opened the door and held out his hand. Gingerly, I stepped from the cab, careful not to jostle my leg. In an annoying twist of fate, the cut caused more complications and more pain than my old gunshot wound had.
“You wait here.” I could see from his face that he was about to refuse. “I have to do this alone. She won’t talk to me otherwise. Claire deserves to know, and so do I.”
“Damn it, Shelly. You can’t trust her.”
“She’s the only one in there. And you’re right out here. I’ll be fine. She was never the type to use force anyway.”
“This is not comforting.”
“Trust me,” I said and won the argument. Trust was a slow climb for us both, but we had our eye on the peak.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right out here. If anything goes wrong…”
I kissed him. “Love you.”
He still looked startled when I did that, which was probably the best incentive to keep doing it. It touched my heart that he understood what a big step this was for me. It broke my heart that some part of him believed himself unworthy. I wanted to see the surprise fade, turn to acceptance.
“Hurry back,” he said. His voice had taken on that slightly hoarse edge that meant arousal and approval. It wouldn’t be long before he took matters into his own hands, finding us a quiet moment, a private space, an intimate touch.
I climbed the steps, glancing at the darkened window. The THAI MASSAGE sign was off, the waiting room empty and eerily silent.
Jade wore her customary loose-fitting clothes that seemed to hang on her rail-thin frame more than ever. I sat down in the chair while she got me a small glass of flat soda. Rituals were important.
Sitting across from me, she stared sightlessly at the calendar on the wall. It had a picture of a laughing family and a logo of some home insurance agent on the corner.
“I must thank you for telling me about the raid. I don’t know why you did.”
I had warned her beforehand. Most of the broth
els in the area had been raided, but her house had been empty. Luke told me about the raids in advance, with a look that said he knew that I’d pass the information along. It had been a compulsion, one I would probably always have to some degree.
“I don’t know why either,” I admitted. But now that I had done it, I wasn’t above taking full advantage. “Maybe now you’ll tell me. Tell me the truth about Claire. I know you can.”
“Yes. You deserve to know, after all this.”
It took her several minutes to begin. I wondered if she had ever told this to anyone before and guessed that she hadn’t. She wasn’t the type to unburden herself to others. How lonely it was in that place of secrets and smoke. No one could hurt her there; no one could help.
“We have more in common than you think, you and I,” she said. “When I was a girl, my parents sold me to Henri. I had six brothers and sisters. I sacrificed for them, like you sacrifice for your friend.”
It didn’t surprise me that she had got her start as a prostitute, working her way up to madam. It didn’t even surprise me that she had been with Henri. It explained why she had so much hatred for him…while at the same time she couldn’t help but obey him. He had that effect on people, and years of that abuse would make anyone a little crazy.
There was one big difference between us, though. She had forced other girls to whore themselves. I had been faced with the same choice once, and I had chosen to protect Claire instead. The thought didn’t fill me with triumph or superiority, because I remembered how hard it had been. I knew well the trouble it had caused me to protect Claire instead of use her.
I spoke quietly, respect still lingering despite everything. “Somewhere along the way, it changed. You stopped sacrificing and started forcing others to sacrifice for you.”
“Yes. I did that. They need to sacrifice for me when I give so much. One day, you will do same thing.”
No, I wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t believe me. “Tell me why you really called me.”
“I lived with Henri for years. I was his girl.” Her lips pinched together. “You know what that is like.”
I knew. The scars I bore from those experiences weren’t on my skin. Much deeper, in the darkness of my soul. I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone. “I’m sorry.”
“Then I got pregnant.”
