FIVE

JANE

I heard the words leave my mouth before I could stop them. "It's only fair to end this with a little bit of crass, is it not?"

His eyebrows went up. Interest flickered across his face.

I stood, tucking the bills into my purse with deliberate slowness. Five hundred dollars. That was textbooks and maybe even groceries that weren't ramen. My hands weren't shaking anymore. I was Jailbird now. Fully Jailbird. Jane Puckett was locked away somewhere safe.

The music from outside pulsed through the walls. Something with a heavy bass that I could feel in my chest. I turned back to him, letting my hips sway to the rhythm.

"Stay seated," I said.

He obeyed. His eyes tracked my movement as I crossed the small space between us. The purple lighting cast shadows across his face, making him look older. Dangerous, almost.

I moved to stand in front of him, close enough that my knees nearly touched his. My hands found the back of the couch on either side of his head. I leaned in, not touching, just hovering. The heat between our bodies was evident.

"No touching," I whispered.

"Understood."

I started to move. Small movements at first, swaying my hips in time with the music. The Wonder Woman costume was ridiculous but it worked. The tight leather hugged every curve. I watched his face as I danced. I watched his jaw tighten, and his hands grip the edge of the couch cushions.

Power. This was power. Not the kind he had with his father's name and money. This was different. Primal in its own way.

I turned around, giving him my back, and lowered myself slowly. Not onto his lap, but close. So close. The chains on my mask clinked softly as I moved. I could hear his breathing change. I could even feel the tension radiating off him.

When I glanced over my shoulder, his expression had shifted. The casual amusement was gone. His eyes were dark, focused entirely on me. And there was something else. Something physical.

He was hard.

The realization hit me like ice water. Ace Monroe, the boy who made my life miserable, who looked at me with contempt in class, who treated me like I was beneath him, was getting hard for Jailbird. For me. Even if he didn't know it was me.

Something twisted in my chest. Satisfaction maybe. Or victory. Or something more complicated that I didn't want to examine.

I kept dancing, rolling my body in waves. His hands stayed on the couch but I could see his knuckles turning white from gripping the cushions. Good. I wanted him to want. He needed to ache for something he couldn't have.

I moved closer, my back nearly touching his chest. The heat of him was overwhelming. I could smell his cologne, something expensive and woody. I could hear the catch in his breath.

His hands left the couch and I felt his fingers brush my waist.

I spun and slapped his hands away hard.

"I said no touching."

"Sorry." But he didn't sound sorry. He sounded frustrated. Desperate even. "What if I pay more?"

I leaned down, my face inches from his. Close enough to kiss but I didn't. Close enough that he could probably feel my breath against his lips.

"Money cannot buy everything, Ace."

The moment I said his name, I knew I'd fucked up.

The temperature in the booth dropped. His entire body went rigid. When he spoke, his voice was different. Gruff. Almost menacing.

"How do you know my name?"

I froze. My brain scrambled for an explanation, any explanation, but nothing came fast enough.

"What are you talking about, Mister?" I tried to sound confused. Innocent. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over me. "Don't lie to me. I never told you my name. Nobody here knows my name. So how the fuck do you know it?"

My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. The booth felt smaller. No, it was suffocating.

"I... you…must have mentioned it. Yeah… When you are talking about your friend."

"All I told you was that my friend told me to ask for Jailbird. That's it. There is no way in the conversation that I would have told you my name." His eyes narrowed. "Who the fuck are you?"

I was cooked. I was not going to let this go to hell before I knew to quit. Fuck textbook and good food.

I grabbed my purse. "This session is over."

I pulled out the five hundred dollars and threw it at him. The bills fluttered through the air, some landing on the couch, others on the floor. I turned toward the curtain.

But his hand immediately closed around my wrist.

"Let go."

"Not until you tell me who you are." His other hand reached for my mask.

Time slowed down. I could see his fingers coming toward my face. I could see the intent in his eyes. I knew in that moment that if he pulled off the mask, everything would be over. Jane Puckett would be exposed. My scholarship. My job. My carefully separated lives would crash together and destroy everything.

My hand dove into my purse and found the pepper spray. I pulled it out and aimed at his face.

"Last warning. Let go."

He didn't. Not as quick as I needed him to anyway so I pressed the trigger.

The spray hit him directly in the eyes and he screamed. His grip on my wrist loosened but didn't release completely. His other hand was still reaching, blind now but determined.

I opened my mouth and bit down on his hand. Hard. So hard that I tasted copper.

He yelled again and his fingers opened. I wrenched myself free and ran for the curtain.

I almost made it.

"No you don't."

His hand caught the back of my costume. The leather pulled tight against my throat as he yanked me backward. I lost my balance and we both went down. My knees hit the carpet hard and pain shot up my thighs. But adrenaline was the drug I was on now and I turned to kick him if necessary.

It was however too late.

He was on top of me in seconds, his weight pinning me down. His face was red and streaming with tears from the pepper spray but he was forcing his eyes open. I could see the determination there. The anger.

"Get off me!" I screamed. "Help! Somebody help!"

His hands found my mask. I thrashed underneath him, trying to buck him off, trying to scratch at his arms, anything to make him stop. But he was stronger. So much stronger.

"Who are you?" he growled.

His fingers closed around the edges of my mask. I felt it shift on my face.

"No, no, no, please—"

He pulled.

The mask came away.

I was still screaming. Still fighting. His eyes were barely open, red and swollen and watering, but he was looking at me. Really looking at me. His expression went from anger to confusion to shock in the span of a heartbeat.

The curtain ripped open. Madam Fantasy was there with Keiko and Cammie and two of the security guys. Their footsteps thundered on the carpet.

But it was too late.

Ace's voice was hoarse, damaged from the pepper spray, but I heard every word clearly.

"Jane Puckett?"

The world stopped spinning. The music cut out. Everything went silent except for the sound of my own breathing and his ragged gasps as the pepper spray did its work.

I stared up at him. At his red, watering eyes. At the bite mark on his hand that was starting to bleed. At the shock written across his face.

He knew.

Security grabbed him, hauling him off me. He didn't fight them. He was just kept staring at me as they pulled him backward. His lips moved like he was trying to say something else but nothing came out or perhaps I was just in a state of daze that I did not catch it.

Madam Fantasy was kneeling beside me, checking if I was hurt, asking if he'd done anything else, but I couldn't focus on her words. Keiko had my mask in her hands, looking between it and me with wide eyes. Cammie was yelling at the security guards to call the police.

But all I could see was Ace. The way he was still looking at me even as they dragged him toward the exit. The way his mouth formed my name again, silent this time.

Jane Puckett.

He knew who Jailbird was.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that everything about me was about to fall apart.