Deliverance (The Maverick Defense #1) by L.A. Cotton, Jenny Siegel

toast to Beth.” His eyes narrowed waiting for my reaction.
    I didn’t give him one. Instead, I turned away and stared out across the room.
    The whiskeys kept coming. Between Sherri, Peter, and Sal, they kept Donnie with a permanent drink in his hand. Other people drifted in and out of our section. Business associates, a couple of the girls, Lyla.
    I was certain Sherri felt it too, and more than once, we shared a look.
    “When’s the new girl going to be ready, Sherri? We could use something new to look at in here. Am I right, Sal?”
    My blood boiled and I swung my head around to glare at Donnie. He was drunk. His eyes were glazed and he had a slight sway to him.
    “When she’s eighteen, Don. You know my rules,” Sherri said throwing me an apologetic glance.
    Donnie leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at Sherri. “Remember who pays your salary.”
    Sherri seemed unfazed by Donnie’s warning. She rolled back her shoulders and crossed one of her long legs over the other. “And you ought to remember who runs shit around here for you.”
    Sal clasped Donnie on the back. “The boss just wants to keep things fresh. Nothing wrong with that, Sherri.”
    She huffed and angled herself away from them. Donnie’s hand landed on my knee again and he leaned in close, his bitter breath lingering on my skin. “Joy, you look too good to waste tonight. You should be on display. I want everyone to know you’re mine and mine alone. Dance for me, baby.”
    “Wha-what?” The words just spilled out.
    Donnie had made me do some perverse things in the last two years but never had he paraded me in the club. I didn’t dance.
    “You heard me. I want you to dance for me, baby.” His hand gripped my knee like a vise. Sherri noticed our exchange and opened her mouth, but I shook my head slightly. Her eyes grew sad, but I didn’t need her pity.
    Turning to Donnie so that our mouths were almost touching, I said, “You don’t want everyone to see me, baby. This …” I glanced down at the space between us and back up again, “is only for you.”
    Something flickered across his face, and I thought I had reached him, but then it vanished taking my last remaining shreds of dignity with it.
    “Get on that fucking stage, Joy. NOW!” he roared, but only our little private party heard him thanks to the thrum of the music and rumble of chatter.
    I stood on shaky legs and ran my hands down my dress. Sherri stood up beside me and whispered, “You don’t have to do this, darlin’. Don’t do it.”
    We both knew I had no choice. If I didn’t succumb, Donnie would make me pay in other ways. I squeezed my eyes shut. My body craved a hit. That would make the shame and embarrassment less, but tomorrow, I had a shift at the diner. And I needed that job. More than ever, I needed it.
    I settled for vodka. Sherri fetched me a double vodka on the rocks, and I drank it down in one, welcoming the fire burning my throat. The walk to the center podium was my own walk down death row. Each step was heavy and laden, like fighting my way through quicksand. People had started to notice my intention, but I ignored their questioning stares. I was in survival mode now.
    A commotion somewhere behind me started, but I blocked it out, focusing on the music and the stage. All I had to do was climb the stairs and dance. That was it. I’d pick a point on the far wall and dance to it. For it. But I would not dance for any of the slime balls here tonight. Not even Donnie.
    My foot stepped up onto the first step, but the commotion grew louder, and a hand landed on my arm. A man’s voice perforated my bubble.
    “Joy.”

B y the time we left Aunt Marie’s, I was ready to get the hell away from Chancing. Everything was a constant reminder of what a failure I’d been as a son and a brother. All afternoon, I’d heard what a wonderful woman my mother was, which was the God’s honest truth, and how Mikey and I had kept her on her toes. But with every story, I felt a