Chapter 18

ASHER

“What are you doing?” Her whisper is so soft that if I weren’t anticipating her resistance, I might not have heard it. She struggles against me, pushing her body away, using her hands to maintain a distance between us.

I’ve never been this close to a woman without the intention of taking her to bed. But Maddison isn’t someone I want to take to bed.

I just want to help her, understand why she’s here, who else might be here.

So, when her hand lands on my cheek, the sting of her slap taking me by surprise, I’m taken aback. My grip on her loosens, and even though she’s been fighting for me to let go, she doesn’t immediately move.

Instead, she takes calculated steps, scanning the hallway in six or seven different directions as if checking for any potential threats in this ominous alleyway. Only when she’s sure we’re alone does she sidestep, keeping her body against the wall as she decides to leave without uttering a word.

A wave of shock hits me, and for some reason, I feel hurt that she would disregard me to continue with her job. So, I do the worst possible thing.

“I know your name, Maddison.”

That stops her in her tracks, causing her to stumble and trip over nothing. She falls to the floor with a thud and a yelp, and I rush to help her, crouching down to hold her and help her back to her feet.

“Leave,” she hisses at me. Her face is a mask of fear and betrayal.

A heartbreaking sight. “I can help you,” I tell her, gently rubbing circles on her shoulders.

My mama always says that a personal touch can soothe someone’s nerves, and I’m hoping that it will work now. But it doesn’t. She breaks free from my hold, walking down the hallway and turning toward the bar.

She’s been spotted by another camera, which complicates things. I run my hand down my face and head to the restrooms. She didn’t deny that her name was Maddison.

So, I’m certain that it’s her, and she despises being called that. Why? What happened that made her change her name, and why choose Hope?

Hope for a fresh start, of not being discovered. To live as a different person in a new city with new people and no past?

I don’t linger in the restroom. Exiting to walk back toward the bar alone, I avoid any eye contact with the camera despite the urge to stare it down.

But it wouldn’t be wise to give them a clear view of my face. No, Callum taught me better than that. Keep your head down; don’t give them a clear view of your lips, nose, and eyes.

Keep them guessing and obscure your face. Callum may not be the best father, but he’s good at his job and knows how to keep us safe.

In fact, thinking about him makes me wonder whether my detail is inside or out. I’ve lived with them for so long that I’ve become oblivious to their presence. Maybe they’d know a thing or two about finding someone who’s missing.

My evening is uneventful, and I don’t approach Maddison again. It’s too risky. I have no idea what her rules are, and I don’t know if she’s being watched, but I can’t bring myself to leave even though that seems like the kindest thing to do.

Instead, I sit and watch her escort men all night until the early hours of the morning. At two o’clock, the club closes, we’re ushered out, and I repeat my actions from the previous night.

I sit on the bench behind my car, and I wait. I wait even longer for her to leave than I did the night before. It’s nine o’clock in the morning by the time she leaves in a hoodie and sweatpants, white Nikes on her feet and her dark hair hanging loose.

I wonder if she lives here or if she just changes out of her uniform every night. Does she work every night?

She walks off in the same direction as yesterday, but at a slower pace, so I get in my car, start the engine, and follow her at a crawl. Rolling down my window, I call out to her.

“Maddison?”

“Hope,” she corrects me.

“But you are Maddison, right?”

“Was,” she retorts with a hint of disdain.

“Get in?” I question, but her reaction is as if I’m holding her at gunpoint.

“Who do you think you are, ordering me around? I don’t know you, and I don’t owe you anything,” she retorts, her words laced with a Southern drawl.

“Buzz off,” she snaps, quickening her pace.

I hasten my steps to match hers, rolling my eyes at the driver who honks at me as they pass by.

“Asher, please. Just continue down the road and pretend I’m not here. Forget my name, forget me, forget the club,” she pleads.

“No!” I refuse.

“Why?” she yells back at me.

“Because…’cause,” I stutter, glancing at the road. I halt the car as she stops, pondering why I can’t let this go. Why do I feel this need to ensure she’s safe?

What’s driving me to do this?

“’Cause I know someone just like you. I know you need someone to rescue you, and I want to be that person. I want to show you that life doesn’t always have to be…this.” I gesture toward her, even though I have no real understanding of her life.

What is her life like? Is it filled with pain? Is it devoid of hope? Does she find any joy in it?

Why did she flee? How did she end up here, working for what can only be described as pimps?

I’m at a loss; I don’t have a clue. I don’t know. I’m in the dark, and if she’d only shed some light, maybe I could empathize better.

“You have no idea what my life is like. Not now, and certainly not before I came here. I’m fine; you don’t need to worry. Just leave me alone and let me live my life,” she insists.

“I can’t. I have to report your location. There are people searching for you. People who love you and miss you, Maddison.”

“Hope. For God’s sake, it’s Hope.”

“Then help me understand. Come with me; let’s talk?”

“No, no, I can’t do that. Just please, Asher. Mind your own business. Go after one of the other girls. Find them, not me. I don’t need to be found. I mean, look at me, I’m fine, I’m happy… I’m fucking free.”

“Are you?” I question as a car pulls up next to me. It’s a dark-tinted Mercedes. The window rolls down to reveal a middle-aged man with oversized glasses.

“Is this guy bothering you, Hopey?” he asks, addressing her through my window.

Her body stiffens, but she maneuvers around my car and hops into his.

“He is. Can you take me home?” she requests.

“Sure, beautiful, just make sure to tell Johnathan. Get his membership revoked,” he directs the last part at me before revving his engine and driving off with Maddison.

Damn it!

I slam my fist against the steering wheel, frustrated with this cat-and-mouse game she’s playing with me.