A road trip, a misguided girl with dangerous habits, and a target on the loose. One trip to Las Vegas can change it all for two people on opposite sides of the spectrum.
A road trip, a misguided girl with dangerous habits, and a target on the loose. One trip to Las Vegas can change it all for two people on opposite sides of the spectrum.
God, she loved the dress, but damn was it annoying. If it rode up one more time, sheâd consider doing some damage to it. She didnât care whether she was in a bar or not. For the umpteenth time that night, she pulled the sides down as she scoured the tables for somethingâor rather someone.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome had been avoiding her all night, she suspected. Lyah wasnât dumb. She felt he wasnât particularly keen on her advances, but she refused to let him escape her sights tonight. She wanted something from him, and she was hell-bent on getting it. Never one to give up, she looked around for his dark curls before smiling to herself.
Ignoring the dirty looks from the female patrons and the suggestive looks from the opposite sex, Lyah hurried to the barâs dark corner where her brooding hero stayed hidden. He didnât see her approach from behind.
Throwing her arms around his neck, Lyah pressed herself against his back and whispered in his ear, âWhere did you go so fast?â
He jumped from her touch and yanked her off him a bit roughly. Oh, he was angry. Seething even, if the dark look in his eyes were any indication. He wasnât in the mood for her antics tonight. Ignoring his flare, she put on her best pout and tried to touch his arm, but he smacked it away. She let out an âouch,â not expecting the sting that came from it. Abusive much?
âWhat the hell does it mean to you when someone says to leave them alone? I donât fuck with prostitutes. Leave me the hell alone!â His words came out a lot harder with each sentence and catching the other customersâ attention at the bar. The bartender gave her a stern look as if telling her he wouldnât mind throwing her out. It wouldnât be the first time.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and left her cradling her hand as he walked out the bar. Lyah wanted to yell at him about his misinterpretation. She hadnât slept with anyone in over a year and a half, but she wasnât about to waste her breath. They always thought she was a prostitute, but she never gave them any reason to think otherwise.
âWell, that most certainly didnât go well,â she mumbled to herself. Giving up, she hopped on the chair he abandoned. It was still warm with his body heat. Most of the customers had already lost interest in her debacle and had gone on to nurse their drinks.
All except one.
He seemed a bit drunk by the way he was two-stepping his way over. Lyah giggled as she noticed he slipped off the chair as he tried to sit beside her. He wasnât exactly her type with a crooked nose and freckles plastering his face. His eyes were a black hole, and his hair looked like he never quite understood what hair care products were. He would have to do for the night.
Ah, Target #32.
âJust wanted you to know I would never turn down anythinâ from you,â he slurred as he appreciated the way the dress barely passed her mid-thigh. She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, she gave him a flirty smile. He seemed like an easy target. Why the hell not?
âNothing?â Lyah flirted. He was already scootingâor trying toâthe chair closer to her while still nursing his beer. His breath smelled awful and reeked of alcohol, which indicated he probably was drinking for at least a couple of hours already.
Lyah wrinkled her nose at his smell and proximity but forced herself not to comment on it. She needed to stay focused on the end goal. âNothinâ.â She couldnât quite place his accent or whether it was the liquor tuning it for him. Southern, perhaps?
It wasnât until a little after two in the morning she felt the urge to go back to her room at the motel down the street. After nursing two beers herself and trying to coax her unsuspecting drunken participant, Lyah felt like the night was a bust. If she had to hear him talk about himself anymore, sheâd consider drowning herself in her drink.
She got up to leave in the middle of him still yammering about some trip to Colorado he needed to take for businessâwhatever that wasâ and started toward the door. She turned around and noticed he had begun to follow her, unfortunately. A little annoyed, she stopped as he stammered toward her with a lazy yet unappealing smile.
âWhere you goinâ?â he slurred.
âHome. And Iâd prefer it if you didnât follow,â Lyah answered. Hoping he got the point, she turned away only for him to tug her arm.
âLemme come witchu,â he said. âOr at least drive me to your place to crash until I call my men?â
His men? She shook her head. No way in hell was that happening tonight. Or ever.
âMaybe you should call your âmenâ now. Or an Uber, perhaps?â
âWhatâs the matter, babe? You donât want me to know where you live? I promise Iâll take real good care of ya tonight,â he winked at her as he shuffled closer but took a misstep and fell to his face.
A pile of cash dropped from his pants pocket, catching Lyahâs interest. From what she could see, there were several hundred-dollar bills. Enough to get the hell out of the city and away from him. Realizing his mistake, he swiped it up quickly and stuffed it back into his pocket. Looking down at his pitifully drunken self, Lyah promptly devised a plan in her head.
With newfound interest, she offered him a hand, which he gladly took.
âYou know what? Letâs grab a motel room. Itâs getting late, and I may need someone strong to protect me,â Lyah offered, her voice dripping with honey.
His suggestive smile widened. âI can be all that and more.â
Lyah swallowed the sarcasm that threatened to leave her lips. âJust come,â she said as she made her way out of the bar.
âI can do that too.â
She ignored him and watched from the corner eye as he stumbled and tried to keep up with her with his eyes half shut. He was close to passing out. She needed to get him in a room. Fast.
The motel was a hole-in-the-wall but was a place to stay temporarily until her next move. If everything went according to plan, sheâd be out before he realized she wasnât a drunken dream.
Making her way to the dingy motel lobby, she turned to her target of the night and smiled. âA real man pays for the room heâs about to get laid in.â
At some point during the walk, Lyah decided to get another room for them. She wouldnât dare let him know where her room was or that she even had one at the motel. It only cost fifty bucks a night.
The motel clerk gave her a once-over look but said nothing as Lyah gave her the information she needed. Her target took the bait. Sloppily, he rummaged through his pockets for the cash as if he forgot where he put it. After checking the same pocket twice, he finally pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill.
The clerk took it and gave them a key without so much as a thank you.
The clerk mustâve been new because she wasnât there when Lyah checked in days ago. Not dwelling on it, she made her way to the room with her drunken guest for the night.
The room looked exactly like hers but reversed. It was small with a countertop refrigerator and a mounted TV above the desk in front of the bed. The pale pink wall color reminded her of something she watched on television that was depicted in the 1980s. It was gag worthy.
âYou donât mind if Iââ
Lyah turned to find him passed out in the single loveseat near the window. One shoe laid on the floor, and the other hung from his foot as he spread across the couch on his stomach.
âThis will be easier than I thought,â she mumbled to herself.
Quietly, she made her way to him to check if he was really asleep. A grunt followed by a loud snore confirmed her suspicions. With tentative fingers, she slid her hand in the pocket he had pulled out the hundred-dollar bill. Feeling a bundle, she slowly pulled it out to find a handful of hundreds.
Jackpot.
Mentally, Lyah danced, but she couldnât celebrate for long. She debated whether she should risk looking for more.
Might as well, she thought as she slipped her hand into his other pocket. She frowned when she pulled out a squishy package with what felt like hard sand. It took her a few moments of staring at the white substance to figure out what it was.
Eyes enlarged, Lyah pulled out two more bags from his pocket, each a little larger than a fun-sized M&Ms bag.
His pockets were deep; she thought as she weighed the three bags of drugs in her hand. Sheâd never done drugs minus a little weed, nor did she plan on it anytime soon. Sheâd never sold on the streets either.
What could she do with the bags?
âFirst time for everything,â Lyah mumbled. If she was going to steal it, she might as well profit from it.
Careful not to wake him, she slipped the cash and drugs into her bra, taking out the stuffing she had in there for looks. She knew it would come in handy someday.
Before taking off, Lyah decided to freshen up in the bathroom. No use in walking out shabby.
She closed the door behind her, splashed cold water on her face, and patted her cheeks to stay alert.
Taking advantage of people was exhausting.
It wasnât like she chose this lifeâokay, maybe she didâbut she had no other choice. Being on the streets for two years alone was enough to make anyone want to off themselves. But Lyah wasnât just anyone.
She was built differently.
Not a tear had shed since the last time she let someone penetrate her forces. She promised never to let anyone else take advantage of her. Thatâs why she did it to them first.
Lyah looked at the unkempt mirror and smiled. Tonight, sheâd leave the motel and find a better one across town after hitching a ride. The stack in her bra was at least two bands. It would last her about a week or two until her next target.
Finally, she could afford a good meal, maybe get a new wardrobe or two. The dress she had on was great for clubbing and catching targets, but frankly, she was tired of wearing it. Not to mention, it was irritating.
Feeling sticky just thinking about it, she made her way out of the bathroom and abruptly stopped as she stared at the barrel of a pistol in her face.
âYou thought chuâd get away with it, huh? I may be out of it, but Iâm not stupid,â her target said as he rubbed the sleep from his eye.
Couldâve fooled me, she thought. She didnât dare say it out loud.
âWho do you work for? Is it Presley, the little shit? Thatâs my load, and he ainât gettinâ it. Give it back now.â
Who the hell was Presley? Such a preppy name for a potential drug dealer.
Lyah knew it was dumb, but if his half-lidded eyes were any indication, sheâd guess that the barely standing man with the pistol in his hand was two seconds away from falling to the floor.
She decided to try her luck before her nerves got the best of her. Inching closer, Lyah put on a slightly uneasy smile. âI donât know what youâre talking about, but maybe we should have a seat. I didnât finish what I started before you fell asleep on me.â
Her answer earned her an unexpected blow to the side of her head with the pistol. Swearing to herself, she cradled her throbbing head. She needed an escape and fast. He had her with her back to the bathroom on the opposite side of the room. He stood right in front of the path to the room door.
âI donât play about my money and or my powder. I donât think you understand who the fuck youâre dealing with. Get on the bed.â He sounded soberer now than he did a minute ago. His slurred speech was almost gone, and his words were clearer. Was he playing her?
He motioned with the gun for her to move to the bed and sit, which she had no choice but to oblige. She gulped when he approached her, the gun pushing closer to her face, his eyes looking more alert. He licked his dry lips and appraised her body.
âI also donât play about sex. Now, I believe you owe me something. You want my money? Youâre gonna have earn it.â
If he were smart, heâd take the drugs and money from her now, but alas, he was thinking with the wrong head.
Lyahâs eyes carefully accessed the bulge staring at her face. She didnât make a move, nor did she flinch when he began to unbutton his jeans.
This part was familiar to her. She didnât have sex with these men; many have tried and failed to get her to do what she didnât want. Usually, sheâd take this time to âget comfortableâ in the bathroom and leap out of a window, or sheâd âforgetâ something outside and never return. Most of the time, they were high or drunk on their own accord, and sheâd walk right out the door with her âearningsâ for the night. But being caught wasnât her game. She always found a way out of it; this time should be no different.
Except it was.
It wasnât until the pistol had found its way under her chin and his hands began to skate across her chest did panic start to set in. Sheâs really done it now. She needed a plan and fast.
âWait!â Lyah exclaimed, momentarily distracting him. âIâll give it all back. I-I have it in my bra.â
If she had never seen a sinister smile before, she definitely did then. âOh, I plan to get everything thatâs mine. Take off your clothes before I rip it off.â
The pressure of the pistol hardened as she started to tremble a little. There was no escape at this point.
What had she gotten herself into? Her control had slipped, and now she was paying for it. This was supposed to be an easy job.
Still determined not to make him see her slight panic, Lyah slowly lowered the straps of her dress and halved it by her waist, her white bra the only thing still between them.
The baggies and money spilled into her lap as she undressed her shoulders. With her eyes still on him, she noticed his gaze had trailed to the baggies on her lap. His grip on the pistol faltered for only a second.
That second was her chance.
Saying a quick prayer, Lyah swiftly picked up the bags and threw them across the room, two of them bursting as they came in contact with the edge of the television.
He leaped for the bags, the pistol falling from his hand onto the bed beside her, but he was too late. White powder dusted the entire dresser and parts of the floor.
Lyah grabbed the cash and the gun and made a run for the front door, but a loud growl had momentarily paralyzed her.
Without notice, he grabbed the back of her head and slammed it against the closed door, causing her to fall to the floor. The pistol slid into the corner of the room. A burst of pain seeped through her head, and she struggled to lift herself from the ground.
âYou thought you could win one over on me, huh? Do you know how much fuckinâ money you just cost me?!â he shouted. His dark eyes were aflame. If she didnât get out quick, thereâd be nothing but trouble.
He lifted a boot and kicked her in her chest. She collapsed again and coughed up blood into her hand. He hurried to grab the pistol and pointed it at her head as she lay still on the floor.
âI shouldâve killed you when I had the chance,â he said as he stood over her.
Thinking quick, Lyah saw her opportunity to kick him in the groin with the heel of her shoe.
âFuck!â he yelled as he doubled over in pain.
Without thinking, Lyah grabbed the cash and tore through the door, running as fast as she could down the hall and ignoring the pain shooting through her body. She could hear him trying to catch up with her as she barreled out the motel gates and onto the street.
A fresh patch of air hit her chest, and it wasnât until she looked down at herself did she realize she was still half-naked. Pulling her dress up, she searched for a place to hide.
A shot rang out behind her, and she stumbled as she tried to see how far he was. She was in the line of fire though he didnât seem to see her as he looked in another direction.
âYou canât run forever, you thieving bitch!â
But she could damn well try.
Lyah dove beside a station wagon that was sandwiched beside another car when another shot zipped past her head and into the window. The bullet shattered the glass and her eardrum. She clutched her ears as they continued to ring for a while.
She covered her head as glass shards bounced off her head. The ringing finally settled in her ears in place of silence for a moment, and she wondered where he had gone. With a quick shuffle to the back of the car, Lyah craned her neck to see if he was close. She gasped when she realized he was on the other side.
âCome out, come out, wherever you areâŚâ he sang as glass crunched beneath his feet. âThisâll be a lot easier if you come on out now. You see, I coulda forgave you for stealing the money, but you fucked up my cash flow with the coke, not to mention my reputation. Youâre gonna pay for that.â
Looking across the quiet street, Lyah thought out a plan to dash as he got closer but stopped short when a shout from one of the motel rooms caught both of their attention.
âWhat happened to my car!â
Lyah could hear footsteps moving away and used that distraction to catch her breath. Should she run now?
âI suggest you find your way back into that motel room, or I blow that head of yours off!â
Lyah snuck a peek at the unsuspecting savior and saw him in front of an open room door, his hands slowly going up in surrender. If she werenât in such a panic, sheâd mentality berate his PRINCETON sweater and overly baggy jeans. He looked timid with an oversized pair of glasses perched on his face. The only thing that looked nice was his short golden-brown hair, although even that was pushing it as it sat haphazardly on his head as if heâd just woken up in a panic.
Not her type, but if she didnât make it through this alive, no one else ever would be.
But what was a guy like that doing in such a sketchy area? He certainly did not look like a local and seemed to stand out in his preppy-looking clothes.
âYou just blew out my driverâs side window! What is wrong with you?â He was bold, that was for sure.
âYou watch your goddamn mouth. Donât forget whoâs holding the gun here.â
âKid has balls,â Lyah said to herself in approval.
A shouting match ensued between the two, which bought her time to brainstorm her plan better. She could run across the street and be in plain sight and have more of a chance of getting shot orâshe looked at the station wagon in appraisalâshe could take her chances with the beaten old car.
Thankfully, she had learned how to hotwire a car when she was dating bad-boy Jason freshman year of high school.
With discretion, she opened the passenger car door and slipped in. The door creaked as she tried to close it, causing her to pause momentarily before closing it all the way. She hurried to the driverâs side, looked around the floorboards, found what she needed, and then sparked the wires.
The sound of the car huffing on made her heart leap with joy, but it was short-lived.
âHey! Get out of my car!â Preppy Guy yelled.
It happened so fast, Lyah could only watch in shock from the driverâs side as the gun swung in her direction, but he didnât get a chance to fire. Out of nowhere, a brick hit him on the back of the head, and he tumbled to the ground.
Preppy Guy rushed to the driverâs side, where she was. âGet the hell out of my car!â
Still paralyzed, she could only stare at him, which only seemed to anger him more. He opened the door and tried to drag her out, but she gripped the steering wheel tight. âI need this, please! Heâll kill me!â
âI just hit him on the back of the head with a brick. Iâm pretty sure heâll be out looking for the both of us. Now get out of my car!â
A loud groan caught both their attention as the guy rose from the ground with one hand still holding the gun and the other nursing his head. He looked up and saw the two and started toward them, the gun raised.
âFuck it, scoot over!â
Coming to her senses, Lyah finally let go of the steering wheel and crawled to the passenger side in time for Preppy Guy to jump into the driverâs side and punch the gas. Lyah fell back into her seat as a clink sounded against his bumper as they drove out of sight.
I received an Advance Reader Copy of The Artisan Way. I was intrigued by the concept, even with the short synopsis, and felt this was a book I had to read.
I was not disappointed!
Nandra Hoffman brought two compelling characters to life in The Artisan Way: Keith and Lyah. While I identified with neither character fully, I loved both of their unique and completely different lives.
Lyah is a young woman raised in a household devoid of love (at least from her perspective). She's created a life for herself by stealing what she needs from the targets she finds along the road.
Keith is a rigid college student who has his whole life laid out before him. His parents tell him what to do and when to do it. Except for now, when he's embarking on a cross-country road trip to crash his ex-girlfriend's wedding.
Keith and Lyah are thrown together outside a motel in Pennsylvania where they begin a week that will change both of their lives forever. The conversations and growth that happen along the way are wonderful, Hoffman building her story with plenty of nods to her romance days.
The action in The Artisan Way is easy and thrilling. It's a story that left me wanting more - not to mention that cliffhanger of an ending!!
For an action-packed book, there were two moments of serendipity that felt like they best belonged in a romance novel, but it wasn't a bad thing. Just moments that made me feel, "of course this is what's happened" in the entire United States.
The big thing for me in this story was how much both character's perceptions, priorities, and outlooks on life changed, however dramatically. It just goes to show that you can rise up from your past and choose to live a different life than you ever thought possible.
Hoffman has a way with words that made this not only an easy read, but one I wanted (and did) devour in a day. I genuinely, thoroughly enjoyed The Artisan Way.
I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a light-hearted action novel about two people who meet each other and change their lives.