Maurice moved out of his embrace and looked at him, his brows drawn into a frown. “What do you mean by escape? Are you not free to leave?”
“No. Dante’s make a lot of money from me. I am…popular. Some gentlemen enjoy a firm hand,” Sam said, and glanced at Maurice. He flushed. “Others like to experience overpowering a big lad like me. Making me take it. Some get carried away.” He glanced over his shoulder at the bruises, then back at Maurice. The owner and his right-hand man think that they can have me whenever it pleases them. He shuddered at the thought of Bill Mosely and Dante. “I can’t do it anymore.”
“Oh God.” Maurice ran his hands through his hair. He had lovely hands. “I’ve wondered often what your life might be like, what happens to you when I am not here.” Maurice looked lost for a moment, then a curiously hard resolve came into those blue eyes, and he spoke the words that Sam had been praying hard to hear.
“Let me help you.”
Sam’s heart beat fast. This was it.