Dear Diamond

Club Swank was anything but. It wasn't in the best area of town; the clientele was sketchy, and the girls all had secrets-most of which included drugs, money, and sex. The owner was a known ringleader for a local gang, and the place looked like bangers ran it. I hated to even step foot inside. As soon as I opened the door, I'd be accosted by smoke, lousy music, and women who'd hang on me in an effort to make a few measly bucks. It wasn't my scene. I pulled on the heavy wooden handle, and as soon as I did, a cloud billowed out like Puff the Magic Dragon welcomed me, and pink-neon lights illuminated the abundance of black tables and chairs. Once I stepped inside, the same bouncer who'd been there for years greeted me. "Ryker. My man. I wondered if you were going to show." Hank was a solid guy. Great as security. He looked the part-muscle-bound, thick neck, and a crew cut. His deep voice created the auditory intimidation needed to keep drunk customers in line. And he kept the place

Fury was easier to manage than fear, and that was the emotion I'd clung to while I took off my clothes for the likes of a bunch of losers who thought running the streets was more productive than lucrative jobs. I'd do what I had to in order to keep my mom safe, even if it meant sacrificing my dignity to people who didn't matter. They couldn't touch me on the stage, so that was where I'd stayed. And as soon as I'd finished, I hadn't bothered to get dressed.While I waited for Sam on the corner, I pulled the zipper on my corset, securing my breasts back in a cage one size too small. The wind picked up, and my hair tangled with the breeze. It dawned on me that to any passerby, I appeared to be working the street. The last thing I needed was to get propositioned for sex. I dug a pair of black shorts from my bag, slipped them over my stockings, and slid my arms through my black, leather jacket. It wasn't much, but at least I wouldn't be arrested if a cop came by before my ride showed.T

I folded my arms across my chest and waited. He held what he believed to be the position of power in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head to see him. But I was as naively arrogant as he was confidently cocky. "You're a beautiful girl, Nikki. There's a reason I gave you the stage name Diamond."I kept a straight face. "It wasn't because my nipples could cut glass?" "Cute, but no. You're a precious gem. We both know you have no business being in Swank, much less on the stage. Unfortunately, you were born to trash who doesn't mind letting you pay her tab. I just want to give you the opportunity to do that as quickly as possible.""By allowing me to suck your dick? How thoughtful.""Don't be so quick to dismiss the offer. There are perks to being in the service of a Silvano."The guy was old enough to be my grandfather, literally. He was a grandfather. I wouldn't have considered the offer if he were twenty-five, but I sure as hell wouldn't entertain saggy, old man balls. "

My meeting with my parole office had been status quo. I had answered his questions, peed in a cup, and made an appointment for the following month. I couldn't wait to be out from under that fucking requirement. It was like having a damn babysitter. Each one left me pissed off, and afterward, I always went back to work to take out my frustration on an automobile instead of in the streets. Yesterday had been no different. I'd gone back to the shop. By the time I had finished the car I worked on, it was late, and I was beat. It never failed. My monthly meetings with a PO ignited a flame of irritation and anger that stayed with me late into the night. Jeff wasn't a bad guy; I just resented being forced to meet with him, and the drug tests were a joke. I'd never done drugs-despite what people believed based on my appearance-and I never would. I'd merely been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and I would pay the price for the rest of my life. Maybe that was what infuriated me so badly. E

It was possible I assumed far too much based on what I saw, but I'd learned a lot being locked up. The most important being to read people. The notion that eyes were the window to the soul wasn't a misnomer; it was absolute truth. I'd studied more people than I cared to admit, most of which weren't worthy of the air they breathed. Once a person figured out how to identify evil, innocence was easy, and rage was an emotion no one hid well. This girl was living and breathing that animosity. All in my direction. Her three minutes ended faster than I cared for them to. The music stopped, the crowd erupted, and she stood there in nothing other than a strip of fabric-that couldn't legitimately be considered panties-and sinful boots. Seething, she looked into me. Clearly, I wasn't the only one who could see beyond appearances and into the heart of who someone was. Her eye makeup accentuated the piercing stare aimed solely at me. I had only hated my association with Chase Silvano one other t