The man nodded. He looked apprehensive, but then he grinned and asked, “Can I help you with something?”

My thoughts raced. I steadied myself and started speaking. “I wanted to … um …” I stalled. Whatever Kori’s business was with this man, I had to get him to believe I was in on it too. I dropped my chin and gave him a knowing look. “… meet with you?”

He looked me over, taking in the Kori-style sex-kitten-rock-star clothes on my body. Maybe he was a music producer. He looked like he could be. “You want to meet with me?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling, giving him another knowing look. “Meet with you. Work things out.”

He swallowed, nodded, then bent down to my ear, grabbing my wrist and squeezing it tight as he whispered, “If this is a setup, you’ll regret it, little girl.”

I pulled back just a hair, my eyes round and innocent as I lifted my chin. “It’s not a setup.”

He waited a beat, letting his grip stay tight on my wrist a few more seconds of warning, before it loosened. His fingertips grazed my skin, caressing. The sudden softness unnerved me even more. “So how much?”

“Um …” I stalled again. I’d never bought drugs. I had no idea what to say, how to word my order, or even what sizes they came in. “What?”

“Charge? How much do you charge? For the hour?”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t a music producer.

God, had Kori really turned tricks? It did explain the motel, though. “No. I’m not offering … No!” I snatched my hand back and took off.

I didn’t see Cole or Lexi, so I hurried toward the safety of the store. I couldn’t get there fast enough. I just wanted to be inside sharing Cole’s Slushee and pretending I’d never had this stupid idea. What did it matter anyway? Kori was gone. Who cared who she’d met or what she’d done in the past?

Just as I had the door in my sight, someone grabbed my arm. A guy’s voice came from behind me. “Kori?”

I was so wired from what had just happened with “the john” that I wheeled on him, swinging my book bag and hitting him right in the crotch.

Then something really random happened. And unlike my generation, I don’t use that word very often. But considering everything, I think this qualified as effing random.

Because before the guy even dropped to his knees, Kismet’s finest were hopping the curb in their car with sirens blaring. I looked at the person doubled over at my feet. He had slicked back white-blond hair and was wearing a wife beater that showed off the tattoos covering his arms. I’d seen him a few minutes earlier watching us from across the street. But I’d dismissed him quickly as a poser, which was so not Kori’s type.