I sit down on the cold metal bench and my hands tremble as I hold out the phone and wait for his message. I set it on my lap and tuck my hands beneath my legs to try and stop them from shaking, then I look around. Tommy’s car is within eye sight, but Lars is long gone from it. At least I have the safety net of the guys watching. Talon would never let anything happen to me. In that respect, I do trust him.
When the phone vibrates on my lap, I jump back so forcefully that it falls to the ground. Bending down to pick it up, I tap the app to open it and read the message as I lean back against the bench.
SugarDaddy11: You’re even more beautiful in person.
Ew. Gross.
SugarDaddy11: Look up. I want to see your eyes.
Holy shit. How close is this man?
I pick my head up and look around. Then direct my attention back to the phone.
SugarDaddy11: Are you ready to suck on my big cock before I fuck you in the ass?
My stomach turns. I draw in a deep breath, and suddenly, I’m not cold. I’m sweating so badly that my feet feel like they’re suffocating in these boots.
Play along, Marni.
SugarDaddy11: Two-thousand dollars should cover that and I’ll even suck your pussy in return.
NotYourAngel: If you’ve got the money, I’ll do whatever you want, baby.
SugarDaddy11: That’s my girl.
NotYourAngel: Obviously we can’t do that here. Tell me where to go. I can’t wait to finally touch you.
There’s a pause between messages that has me scoping out the park again.
SugarDaddy11: See the black Suburban with the tinted windows by the restrooms? That’s me. Why don’t you just walk on over here and I’ll lay the seats down and fuck you from behind.
My eyes shoot to the restrooms. Sure enough, there he is. He’s supposed to give me an address. This wasn’t the plan.
Fuck. What do I do?
I turn around to look at the bowling alley parking lot, making sure Talon’s truck is still there, but it’s too far away and there’s traffic on the road that separates us.
Swallowing hard, I take matters into my own hands.
NotYourAngel: Do I look like a cheap fuck? I want a bed and a shower to clean up after. Give me an address that will provide those things or the deal’s off.
Another brief pause and then it finally comes through.
SugarDaddy11: Hilts Landing Hotel. Take the elevator to the eighth floor. Room 811. I’ll be waiting for you.
Bingo.
NotYourAngel: Can’t wait.
Gagging, I screenshot the address and send it to Tommy’s phone. Seconds later, he responds.
Tommy: Alright, we’re heading out. Don't worry, this is almost over.
Must be Talon I’m talking to. Standing up, I keep my eyes on the Suburban. He still hasn’t moved. Before I even realize it, I’m practically running to the car. Slowing my steps once I’m closer, I look over and see that his brake lights are on.
Shit.
With an uncontrollable shake to my hands, I rip open the door, glancing behind me the entire time. Once I’m in, I slam it shut, start the engine and kick it into reverse. The Suburban inches closer and closer, so I toss the phone in the passenger seat, shift the car in drive and peel out of the parking lot. I don’t even know where the hell I’m going. My entire body is trembling, and my thoughts are a scrambled mess. Traffic is chaotic with cars coming from both directions, but when I look in the rearview mirror and see his face in the reflection, I pull out. Cutting off a minivan that begins laying on their horn.
White knuckling the steering wheel, I keep heading straight. My eyes migrate back and forth from the road in front of me to the mirror, and I’m pretty sure I lost him, which finally allows me to take a calming breath. I grab the phone and the entire screen is filled with text messages from Tommy’s phone. I need to turn around for Lars, but I’m scared he’ll follow. Instead, I keep heading straight.
Turning left down a side road, I turn into the back of a gas station parking lot. Twisting my head every which way, I don’t see him. I grab the phone and my finger hovers over Lars’ name. As I sit here—alone—with no eyes on me, it hits me that I have Talon’s phone. Only days ago, I went to hell and back trying to find out what was on this thing. And now I have it—unlocked. I could just trust that I know all I need to know. But as Talon mentioned, there are many aspects of trust, and in this aspect, he hasn’t earned it yet.
Starting with text messages. Nothing, just Tommy. Next, I go to his call log.
Fuck. Nothing.
Contacts. There’s about a hundred of them and I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Facebook? Nah.
Instagram? He doesn’t have one.
Damnit.
I almost give up, until I realize that the WatchMeNow app is what started this all. I open it up and, of course, it's logged in as me. But—RebelSin has his log-in information saved. I switch profiles and tap into his search history. Just NotYourAngel and one other. It’s a name I recognize, one of my clients: iPlayDirty.
Clicking on the private chat button, the screen fills with exchanged messages between Talon and this guy. Only it’s not just any guy.
It’s Josh.
Chills slither down my spine.
I scroll to the very top and sink into the driver seat comfortably as my eyes skim from the phone to the parking lot, just to be sure
