KILLING INNOCENCE (Jack Fariel Denver Mysteries Book 2) by Merit Clark

Author:Merit Clark [Clark, Merit]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Whitaker Press
Published: 2021-09-29T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Why are you being such a baby?” Raven was too stressed and in too much pain to be patient with the new girl.

Willow’s cheeks were splotchy from crying. “I can’t touch people, it’s gross.”

A customer waited on a table in the center treatment room. That’s what they called it. Same way they performed holistic therapies for health and wellness. Total bullshit.

“No different from stuff you’d do with your boyfriend only this way you get paid for it.” Raven spouted the line from habit and then regarded the young girl shrewdly. “You’ve never had a boyfriend, have you?”

“Sure I have. And I’m not a baby.”

“Then no more crying, puhlease.” Her hip throbbed and she didn’t want to think what else Sahir would do if this little shit kept her from meeting her quota.

Raven pointed at a camera on the ceiling. “I know you’re scared but you can’t get me in trouble. They watch us all the time. All. The. Time. C’mon, get undressed.”

She tried to smile as if it was all no big deal and shrugged out of her robe, a dark purple one bought with Sahir’s last bonus. Miss Perkyprissy didn’t budge, held her robe closed with both hands, and stared at the floor. Raven didn’t get it; she’d been young when she started and never carried on this way.

Used another of Sahir’s lines. “You have a nice body and it gives joy. Not everyone can do what we do, you should be proud.”

“Of this? Yuck.”

“Don’t you want the tat so everyone’ll know you’re grown up?” Raven held up her own hair to show it off.

“When do you get that?”

“When you become one of us.”

Truth was Raven didn’t know because Sahir changed the rules constantly. Some magic combination of time, money, and customers and he took you to the tattoo place himself, like a proud daddy, and then out for a steak dinner as a reward. For her dinner he’d bought her an expensive dress and then ordered a glass of champagne so she could try it for the first time. Raven still guarded that dress like it was her child.

“The tat’ll look cool on you.” Raven forced another smile and Willow at least untied her robe. “Get a washcloth and a cup of water. Remember, that’s not for us so don’t drink it. And if they ask, how old are you?”

Willow answered in her childish voice. “Twelve-and-a-half.”

“Nooo. We’ve practiced this. You’re eighteen like me.”

“No one’ll believe that.”

“What these men believe,” Raven said, “is that we’re into them. For as long as they pay for.”

Her heart sank when she saw one of her regulars on his back on the table, a fat Russian who had trouble getting it up. He was ancient, like forty, with gray hair and lumpy brown moles.

He propped himself up on his elbows and stared. “Two for one? Sweet.”

As if he could handle one of them. Raven stuck to Spanish with Willow in front of the customer. “Set down the water and take that robe off.

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