Fighting for Alexa - Jennifer Ann

FIGHTING FOR ALEXA A FALLEN HEROES NOVEL

JENNIFER ANN

CONTENTS Eleven Years ago Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Epilogue Fighting for Alexa Playlist Also by Jennifer Ann

Brooklyn Rockstar ONE Inferno Glory MC ONE About the Author Acknowledgments

Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Naumann All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Wordmarks: Andes Chocolate Mints, Honda, Patrón, Lifesaver, Beretta, Victoria’s Secret, Pop-Tarts, Jeep, BMW, Harley Road King, Taser, Deadpool, Converse ISBN: 9781386728252 Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs Cover image © Eric Battershell Photography Library of Congress Control Number:

For all the badass women I know (like Bethany Lopez, Alejandra Bruce, Chelsea Sonnek, Tamara Rosa, my sister, and her sister-in-law) who have stepped up and served our country.

ELEVEN YEARS AGO ALEXA

Multiple footsteps creak over my head, causing all the invisible little blonde hairs on my body to stand on end. Through the rays of the small lamp on the floor next to the mattress, I watch particles of dust from the floorboards rain down around me. Before a sneeze can slip out, I slap my hands over my mouth and pinch my nose. It’s late. Too late for anyone to be walking around unless…

Terror squeezes my insides so hard that I’m certain I’d throw up if there was anything in my stomach. They left hours ago to drink at the bar again. I had hoped they’d passed out at their friends’ house or somewhere on the beach and forgot about me like the last few times. It was a blissful, though rare escape, so I should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Nothing good ever lasts these days. Then again, I can’t remember a time when it ever lasted. At least when I was younger I had a wild imagination that took me to better places. I might’ve convinced myself that the footsteps belonged to someone coming to save me from my personal hell like the hero in one of the stupid books I often stole from the school library. But by now I know better. No one cares enough to stick their neck out for someone like me. There aren’t actual heroes in real life, just people trying to survive any way they can. I shove the well-read paperback novel under the stained mattress before they take it away and

shut off the light. I curl into a ball and screw my eyes shut, hoping that if they think I’m sleeping, they’ll leave me alone, though it’s never worked before. I try to slow my breathing, but it’s a hard stone of air wedged inside my lungs, ready to burst free. The door to the basement creaks open and my chest cinches tight around the lodged ball of air. Heavy footsteps fall on the rickety stairway with the gait of an elephant. The stink of booze and stale cigarettes float down the steps and gather around my frozen limbs as sinuously as snakes. My fingers curl into my ratty blanket. I hold my breath, counting down the number of steps before they reach the bottom. Five… A tear rolls across the bridge of my nose and into my hair. Four… My knees push into my chest as though I could crawl through my skin. Three… A whimper rushes up my throat and squeezes

through my clenched lips. With the rumble of two voices—one I know all too well, and the other I’ve never heard before— my heart tries desperately to escape through my throat. Not again. “She’s a bit shy at first, but she’ll warm up to ya.” “You made the right decision, Jeremy. We’re both getting a good deal outta this.” The beating of my heart roars in my ears. Their staggered breaths become louder at my back, and I cover my ears. I try to escape into a happy memory. My mind draws a giant blank.

1 ALEXA

ands clasped together on the table and one knee H dancing beneath my pencil skirt, I desperately try to control the hummingbird that has taken residence inside my ribcage as I wait for the secure prison door to open. Despite a small air-conditioning unit humming from the ceiling, the small, sterile room is considerably warm and stuffy as the state of Florida doesn’t find it necessary to cool the rest of the facility. As trickles of sweat roll through the

valley of my breasts beneath my blouse, I begin to question my sanity with bile rising in my throat. This isn’t my first time representing an inmate on an appeal. And I’ve dealt with low-life criminals since birth. However, this is the first time I’ll be face-to-face with a murderer. Alleged murderer, I correct myself firmly. When I glance at the file I brought along, recalling the facts of the case that I’ve reviewed dozens of times, coldness seeps into my bones. The victim was stabbed to death in his sleep. And repeatedly stabbed more than a dozen times postmortem. Although they never found the murder weapon, my client’s hair was found on the victim, and he couldn’t produce any reliable witnesses to substantiate his weak alibi. It clearly wasn’t only a murder, it was an act of uncontrollable rage. If my client is truly guilty, he’s undeniably dangerous. But even if he didn’t commit this murder, he still possesses an extensive criminal history of considerably violent crimes. As the enforcer for a notoriously dangerous biker club, his reputation can’t afford to be anything less

than savage. Once again, I question myself for requesting this case. Aside from my legitimate reasons, a part of me worries that my best friend Tatum is right. Maybe I really do spend too much time trying to prove that I’m not a worthless foster care case unworthy of adoption, or that I’m nothing like my parents who were too strung out on heroine to raise a child. Or maybe I’ve finally lost my shit. My eyes drift over to Officer Smith, the stout guard who brought me back to the private room. He stands rigid at the doorway with an assault rifle held firm in his hands. Although not much taller than my five foot nine inches, his big-boned frame swallows up any resemblance of a neck. Aside from the slight graying at his temples, he looks to be considerably young and slightly naive, possibly due to a pudgy baby face. Thankfully he’s the only one witnessing my bout of insecurity since security cameras aren’t allowed in attorney-client rooms. When he catches me studying him, his thin lips bend with a tight-lipped smile. “You can relax,” he assures me with a cocky

wink. “No one will hurt you in here. I won’t let the bastard lay a finger on you.” Snapping my gaze back to the plain white door separating me from the inmates, I mentally roll my eyes. The warden insisted that I have guards present when I first meet with my client. Like I’ve ever needed a man to protect me. When I was young, the only men I knew were intent on harming me in one way or another. And when I entered the Army as an officer, I had to work alongside sexist assholes who didn’t think I deserved my ranking. If I didn’t enjoy a real cock so much, I would’ve given up the fight ages ago and become a lesbian. With the sound of a short, irritating buzz, I jolt in my seat. There’s no time to recover from the jarring noise when the door clicks open. At first all I can see is a guard and two massive arms the size of my thighs handcuffed together. Fuck me, this guy is larger than I could’ve imagined. Then my client shuffles inside the room, the chains around his ankles jingle, and the hummingbird in my chest slams into a brick wall. Time stands still as my breath becomes lodged in

my throat. In the flesh, Michael John Harrison, known to his club as “Mad John,” is even bigger than the reputation that precedes him. He’s easily six foot five, if not more, and a solid two hundred fifty pounds of blinding muscle. Though the two guards flanking him look to each be around six feet tall, they appear child-like in his mammoth shadow. The way his prison-issued shirt stretches across his chest, exposing slivers of skin around his buttons makes me wonder if he’s put on more bulk since he was first issued the uniform. Then again, maybe he’s just that massive. My brain struggles to process everything about the giant standing in front of me all at once. Crooked nose that’s been broken a time or two. Hulking, square jaw. Dark, wavy blond hair hanging down to his chin. Smooth, rosy lips that are nearly as thick as they are wide. Angular eyebrows with a natural arch as if raised in perpetual question. Sharply intense green eyes that are impossible to look away from once they lock with mine.

A tingling warmth stirs in my lower regions. He’s every bit as beautiful as he is terrifying. And dangerous, I quickly remind myself. Don’t forget dangerous. He’s been in prison less than six months, but there’s something off in his dark gaze and his shoulders slump forward like he’s already given up hope. The desperation of his situation sucks me down a path I hadn’t anticipated. Suddenly, for whatever insane reason I may have after seeing the guy for a whole ten seconds, I’m not solely in this for my own reasons. I’m one hundred percent vested in proving his innocence. As he captivates my open stare, his wide lips twist with a smirk that sends a flush shooting down the back of my damp neck. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” he says with a snarl in a deliciously low, rumbling voice. “Tell me this is some sick joke.” I don’t react in any way, only hold his annoyed glare. I’m all at once irritated with myself for letting a convicted criminal get under my skin, though a little voice in my head insists that I’d like

him to do other things to my skin. “Sit down and shut up, Harrison,” the Latino guard tells him, nudging him in the side. “You have fifteen minutes. Best not be wasting time.” My client slumps into the chair across from me, slamming his cuffed hands onto the table and snickering. Why can’t they lock his handcuffs to the table like they do in the movies so I don’t feel so unnerved? Thankfully I’m already clutching the sides of my chair and manage not to jump with the loud clank. If this guy thinks he’s going to intimidate me, he has another thing coming. Squaring my shoulders, I offer my hand over the table. “Alexa Darrington. I’m with the Not Guilty Initiative. I’ve been assigned—” “Are you even old enough to be in here without a chaperone, baby girl?” Dear God above. The sensual way he says ‘baby girl’, although obviously intended with malice, has my heart racing and other parts of me way too excited for the situation at hand. And there’s something about his scent—clean and undeniably masculine—that coils along with the

confusing sensations already taking residence in my stomach. But everything about his smart-assed comment has my insides vibrating with irritation. Collecting myself, I narrow my gaze and lean over the table, stabbing the center of it with my pointer finger the way I’d like to poke him in the chest. “I’d suggest you take me seriously, Mr. Harrison. Considering you’ve been sentenced to spend the rest of your life here without parole, you should be grateful that I was asked to investigate your case. I’ve already filed a notice of appearance. If you have a problem with me, you’ll have to file for a substitution of counsel, and that will use up precious time that you quite frankly don’t have. I may be your only option, but I was at the top of my class in law school and I’m a damn good attorney. I’m not going to give up until I find a way to prove your innocence.” Harrison’s shoulders lift with a silent chuckle as he leans back in his chair and pushes a strand of dark hair behind one ear. “Well shit. If you’re my only hope, I may as well go back to my dorm and

hang myself with a bed sheet.” “Fourteen minutes,” one of the guards growls out. I grind my teeth together before continuing, barely containing myself from chewing out his gorgeous ass. “If you’re done acting like an immature asshole, I’d like to go over some of the facts of your case with you.” “That’s a considerably dirty word for such a pretty mouth. You talk to all your clients like that?” One corner of his lips tilts upward as he waits on my answer. “Only those unable to appreciate a good opportunity when it’s sitting in front of them,” I snap. His eyebrows rise higher and his lips part, but I don’t give him a chance to say anything more as I open his thick file, scanning the legal documents spread out before me. “The night the victim was stabbed, two officers found you breaking into the Four Brothers clubhouse in Tampa, correct?” “Are you asking because you don’t know?” he sneers, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “Did

you even bother going through my case before you came here?” His button-down pulls open enough to expose an eye-full of artwork near his collarbone. I pause for a moment, lost in the detail of his ink. I got my first tattoo at twenty during a near blackout, and the second after I was promoted to Major. They’re both relatively small, and were nothing more than a minor skin irritation. I can’t imagine sitting through something as elaborate as the thick black lines running all the way up to his shoulder. In his file it said he served nearly five years in the Marine Corps, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the symbols were somehow a representation of his former life. Pretty much everyone I know who served caught the tattoo fever at some point while enlisted. When Harrison clears his throat in a way that makes it clear he caught me ogling his chest, I splay my fingers over the paperwork and take a calming breath. He’s clearly determined to push every last one of my buttons until I break. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. “I know every detail of your case like I know

the back of my hand, Mr. Harrison. I’ve spent countless hours pouring over your file. I’m asking because I want to hear the facts from your point of view.” “I didn’t do it,” he states plainly, shrugging one shoulder. “How do you explain the strands of your hair found at the scene of the crime?” “I’ve pissed off a lot of people. This time I pissed off someone with deep connections.” I roll my hand through the air, irritated that I’m forced to prod him to elaborate. Does he really not take this appeal seriously? “And who might that be?” “Forget it. I’m not going to tell you anything that will put your pretty little ass in danger, baby girl.” It’s easy to let the dig roll off my back because it’s the same type of derogatory comment I’ve heard a thousand times. Leaning forward, my eyes volley back and forth between his beautiful pools of green. Up close they’re surrounded by a thin haze of brown, reminding me of a reversed Andes

mint. Dark and delicious. Just like the rest of him. “How can I help you if you’re not going to be straight with me?” He meets me halfway over the table until our faces are uncomfortably close, making a point of holding my gaze as if letting me know he’s in charge. The insane idea of his lips covering mine sends a not all-together unwelcome shiver rippling down my spine. Holy shit, I have to get a grip before I leave a wet spot on the chair. “That’s the thing, sweetheart,” he whispers harshly. “You can’t help me.” Then a borderline vile sneer settles over his features as the veins in his neck stand out. “So you may as well march that sweet little ass of yours back to your cushy office and tell your boss that from now on he should assign you to shoplifters and delinquents skipping school. Someone like you has no fucking business in a place like this.” One of the guards snickers behind him, but I don’t bother throwing them a glance. I can’t see anything beyond the red haze coating my vision anyway. My hands dart out on their own accord to

grab the lapels of his shirt and Harrison’s lips part with a sharp gasp. Despite being fed up with his behavior, my heart races when I get a real whiff of his scent. Why the hell can’t he stink like B.O. and cigarettes? “Let me make myself perfectly clear,” I snap. “I get that you’re skeptical of someone who looks like me having any sort of intelligence worth putting your faith in, because all my life I’ve run into Neanderthals who apparently share the same brain cell as you. But I’ve worked my ‘sweet little ass’ off to make it this far, and I’m not going to let some repeat offender from a biker gang treat me like I’m some cocktail waitress in a strip joint. “I plan on devoting myself to your case, whether you like it or not. I found some discrepancies in the DNA offered as evidence at your trial that your attorney completely overlooked, and I’m eager to expose them. If not for your sake, in the name of justice, because I believe in doing what’s right. So either start showing me the respect I deserve or shut your goddamned mouth. Because if you mention my ass

one more time, I’m going to help you set that crooked nose of yours back into place.” Harrison and I glare wordlessly at each other, his eyes laced with a silent warning, until one of the guards snaps, “That’s enough, Miss Darrington. Hands off the inmate.” When I release his shirt, Harrison’s lips turn up with a slow, gorgeous grin. “We’re done here,” he calls to the guards over his shoulder. “You can take me back to the dorms.” “Think carefully before you make any hard and fast decisions,” I warn without backing down from the intensity in his sharp stare. “I could be your only hope of getting out of here.” “Hard and fast,” he repeats in a monotone voice, bobbing his head. “Got it.” The hidden implications of his comment send a shiver through me as he’s escorted from the room, stopping to throw me a wink before he’s out of sight. With a deep exhale, I reach up to touch my military-regulation bun and realize my hands are trembling. He unnerved me in so many ways that I’m not sure my legs will cooperate when it’s time

to walk away. As I’m stuffing the file into my satchel, Officer Smith closes the distance between us. “Don’t let that smug bastard get to you. There’s a good reason guys like him are in here. They don’t know how to act appropriately in society.” “I can take care of myself,” I promise, flashing a confident smile. But it’s a miracle I make it out the prison and into the safety of my car without spewing the crab salad I ate on the long drive over. “Mad John” most definitely got to me, and not necessarily in a good way. He was an arrogant prick with no manners. I should’ve slapped him after the crude things he had to say. But instead of removing myself from his case, I made him a promise to “devote” myself to him. Er—his case. Without a doubt, I’ve lost my mind.

NEARLY FIVE HOURS LATER, as I’m tipping back a shot of whiskey on Miami Beach in my favorite bar down by the water, my meeting with Harrison still

occupies my predominant thoughts. With the flip of a switch he had gone from coy and playful to disconcertingly angry. Though it should’ve proved his instability, I was mostly intrigued by his determination to protect the name of whomever he claims set him up. And in addition to the warm burn of booze spreading across my belly, there’s still a lingering want that formed the moment I first looked into those beautiful green eyes. Slamming the empty shot glass down, I motion for another. There’s a snicker behind me before the familiar scent of designer perfume reaches my nostrils. “Rough day at the office,” my oldest friend asks, “or just building up the confidence to ask the cute bartender for a quickie out back?” “Just because you have a hard-on for the guys in brown doesn’t mean everyone gets turned on by guys in the service industry.” Spinning around, I flash her a mocking smile. Tatum cackles, whipping her golden mane over her shoulders and crinkling her freckle-dusted nose. “A quick romp with one guy in brown

doesn’t make it a thing.” As always she’s impeccably dressed in a trendy suit that accentuates her curves, making my outfit resemble a potato sack. Sometimes her natural beauty irritates me, even though her bubbly personality makes up for it. She works out but doesn’t watch what she eats and still manages to maintain a perfect size zero. And since her tiny body couldn’t grow a decent pair, she also has the best breasts money could buy. I, on the other hand, have a naturally large chest that sometimes gives me back aches, and in addition to hitting the gym on a regular basis, I’m forced to count every calorie to keep from becoming overweight. I quickly learned that the first year out of the Army when I gained 20 pounds. On paper, we shouldn’t be friends. She was raised by rich, loving parents in southern Florida while I pin-balled my way through the foster care system in the Midwest. I went through hell and back before I pulled myself together and accepted a partial scholarship to play volleyball in Miami while almost literally working my ass off to pick

up the rest. Tatum and I met one fateful night our freshman year, and have become inseparable since. Though she should’ve been appalled by what she saw, I guess her heart was too big to turn away. Our personalities just naturally mesh, becoming as comfortable as an old pair of sweats. “Hey, be-otch, sorry I’m late.” She bends in to kiss my cheek. “For real, though. The new bartender is cute. You should get his number.” “Be my guest,” I offer as she’s waving him down. “He’s not my type.” “What exactly is your type, ‘Lex? I swear every guy I’ve tried to hook you up with since you got out of the Army has some minuscule flaw that only you can see. They’re too short, or too pretty, or can’t give you a proper orgasm. Can you maybe admit for just a second that you’re single because you’re too much of a perfectionist? I mean what kind of guy is it going to take to float that boat of yours?” When an image of Harrison comes to mind, I break out in a full body flush. For the love of God, I can’t be having these kinds of thoughts about a

man sentenced to a lifetime behind bars. Even if I’m somehow able to overturn his conviction, he lives the kind of reckless lifestyle I’ve spent years trying to avoid. I need continuity. Order. The only thing Michael Harrison has to offer is total chaos. I wave my hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Can we get some drinks over here?” “What’s this about?” Tatum asks, cocking her head to the side. “Are you…blushing?” “It was hot as hell in that prison. They don’t have central air.” I pull on the neckline of my sleeveless blouse to accentuate the half-lie. “I need a frozen drink to cool off.” “Hmmm…would it have something to do with a cute guard, perhaps? Or maybe the warden? You impossibly serious military types always seem to flock together.” I quietly wince to myself. Like Harrison, having served in the Marines. “It was just hot, okay?” I snap. Relief sweeps over me when the bartender finally comes to take our order with an expression similar to that of a hopeful puppy. I give him a

thorough once-over. He’s probably a few years younger than me and possibly not going any further in life than this shit-hole bar, but he is considerably cute. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything to have a little fun with someone like him. Innocent. Uncomplicated. Safe. I’m done fantasizing about someone as dangerous as Michael Harrison.

2 MICHAEL

y the time I’m back inside the dormitories, my B insides are ready to explode like a shaken can of soda. I slam my fist into the short concrete wall beside my cot to let out the aggression scratching beneath my skin. My contact with this initiative organization was always with some old-sounding dude, so I had expected them to send someone with gray hair and a round stomach. I sure as shit wasn’t prepared for the hot little brunette with captivating

blue eyes that was waiting in the conference room. It’s not the fact that I’m hard-up for a taste of pussy that’s eating me alive, although her pretty little tulip-shaped mouth and perfectly sized handful of tits made me the hardest I’ve been since being locked up. And visions of sucking on her graceful neck were impossible to push out of my head. Hell, I don’t even want to know what she was hiding underneath that table. The way it is I’ll be jacking off non-stop for months to come with the memory of her. But none of that fucking matters. It’s her relentless determination to see my appeal through that grated on every last one of my nerves. That foolish, though undeniably beautiful, girl is going to get herself killed. Someone as wet behind the ears as Alexa Darrington has no business poking around in club business. She has this innocence about her that belongs in a sorority, not a fucking prison talking to a hardened con. And if Dryden gets word that she’s helping me, he’ll put a hit out on her. She’d disappear without a trace. It’s just another day of

business for the Four Brothers. But for someone as naive as this woman who didn’t ask for it… I’m jarred back to the present when Callisto, my only friend—if you can really call anyone in here that—enters my cubical with a crooked smile. I initially sought him out because he’s my height and the size of a grizzly bear, so no one messes with him. Turns out the guy was decent enough, and only landed in here because he was dumb enough to trust his older brother in a burglary gone wrong. Long story short, two men ended up dead and Callisto took the fall. This isn’t my first time in prison, though I had never served in a level one before. The last two times it was because of club bullshit, and Jack was able to get me out after collecting on favors owed by the governor. This time, I wasn’t so lucky. Jack has left the club, and the new Pres wants my blood. I wasn’t lying when I told the pretty attorney that no one could get me out of this mess. “Someone piss in your oatmeal this morning, MJ?” Callisto asks, chuckling. “Someone sent a young girl to appeal my

case.” I fall down to the mattress and throw an arm over my face. “Just met with her.” “Boo-fucking-hoo. What’s your deal, man? It’s what you want, isn’t it? To get out of this cage?” “My shit’s complicated. I don’t need someone like her getting involved.” “Ah,” he sings in a knowing tone. “So was this lady attorney of yours hot?” “Hot-fucking-headed. And she looked too young to even be in law school.” She looked more like a cartoon princess…from a XXX movie. Callisto leans back against the wall with a bent knee. “Who the fuck cares? If nothing else, at least you’ll have a sweet visual to beat your meat to. Was she a blonde or brunette?” “It doesn’t matter,” I snap, rising from the cot. I’m not about to give him or any of the animals in here any details about her. I have to get a message to Jack, tell them to have someone reassigned to represent me. This shit can’t happen with a woman like Alexa. Callisto goes on and on about some old girlfriend, and what he’d do if she were allowed a

conjugal visit. We shoot the shit for a while before my bunkmate Chuck returns and we’re locked down for the night. Chuck’s an okay guy for the most part, keeps to himself and doesn’t give me any shit. As soon as his steady snores begin, I reach into my boxers and fist my aching cock. The memory of Alexa’s piercing gaze quickly eases me into a release so intense that I have to bite down on my arm so as not to wake Chuck. Without a doubt, Alexa Darrington has to go away.

WHEN I RECEIVE NOTICE a few days later that my attorney has returned, I’m ready to bash in the skulls of everyone who approved her visit. I called Jack the other day and told him I didn’t want this woman involved, but I guess that did a lot of fucking good. What’s it going to take to make this stubborn woman and everyone else understand that she doesn’t belong in my business? This time as I’m escorted into the special

visitation room, it takes a shit-ton of willpower not to let out a moan with the sight of Alexa. Big, touchable curls fall over one shoulder all the way down to her fucking elbow, making her look like one of those Victoria's Secret models. Between that and the little bit of makeup she wears, drawing out the alluring blue shade of her eyes, she’s ten times sexier than her last visit. The fire behind those eyes could eat me alive. The urge to fist a handful of her thick curls and draw her close has me rock hard even before I’m able to register her nearly see-through blouse beneath a suit jacket. The lines of a lacy black bra stand out against the ivory material, damn near begging to have a thumb swept across them. When she bolts to her feet, my thick file held tight to her chest, those sapphire eyes the color of the deepest parts of the ocean light with amusement and her lips twist in a smirk. “It’s so nice to see you again, Mr. Harrison. Please, have a seat.” Then she motions to Smith, the CO on duty. “Gentlemen, you may wait outside the room this time. I believe that’s standard procedure when an

attorney wishes to speak with their client.” “I doubt your past clients have had his kind of record,” Smith barks back. My chest burns with the need to make him apologize to Alexa for being disrespectful. Alexa sets a hand on her curvy hip, staring at him in a challenging way. “If you’d prefer I speak to your superior about the laws in the state of Florida, I’d be more than happy to do so.” Smith’s entire head turns a vibrant shade of crimson. In my time here, I’ve learned the guy doesn’t like being outranked by anyone. Apparently a gorgeous woman is no exception. I hold my cuffed hands over my mouth, pretending to scratch my cheek so he won’t catch me smirking. Can’t give that prick any reason to have it out for me. He’s known for mind fucking inmates who have shown him disrespect. I’ll die before I let him put me through that shit. Finally Smith squares his shoulders back and replies with, “No ma’am.” After a tilt of his head, the other two follow him from the room. As Alexa watches them

intently, waiting for the click of the door to signal our privacy, I take a minute to commit every last one of her delightful curves to memory. Because if I have any say in the matter—and I sure as shit better—this will be the last time I have the pleasure of laying my eyes on her. Her ass is every bit as juicy as I’d imagined while jacking off the past couple of nights. She’s so tall that it seems like her legs go on forever beneath a gray knee-length skirt, calves lean and tight like those of a runner. This time I take note of the fact that she’s not wearing a ring on her left hand, although it still doesn’t necessarily mean she isn’t with some lucky bastard. Either way, I’ve never felt the primal need to bend a woman over and slam my dick into her until she’s numb, even if that isn’t exactly my style. At least not with someone as poised and polished as Alexa Darrington. “Something’s different,” I say, waiting until she looks my way to add, “Did someone fuck you since the last time you were here, baby girl?” “As a matter of fact, they did,” she replies

smartly, her lips curling with a smirk. “Nothing like a good lay to clear your head.” Blown away by her cheeky response, I allow my jaw to drop, forgetting that I’m supposed to be exhibiting a repellant personality. She’s clearly not the type to take anyone’s shit. Jesus, I didn’t think it was possible to be more turned on by this woman. Her heels click against the cement floor as she maneuvers around the table. When she stops at my side, dousing me in whatever floral scent she’s wearing, I lick my lips. Goddamned she smells like heaven. My fingers twitch with the overwhelming desire to hike her skirt up to her waist and make her pouty lips plead for my cock. I scan her curvaceous body and snicker. “Is this the part where you beg me for an unforgettable goodbye, sweetheart?” Running my tongue over my lips once more, I inwardly cringe. My momma would’ve slapped me upside the head if she caught me treating a woman with such outright disrespect. But as much as I hate it, there doesn’t seem to be any other way to go about this. There are only so many resources a man

has when in prison, so I’m hoping the tongue of an asshole will do the trick. “Enough with the bullshit womanizer act,” she warns, tossing the file down on the table. It makes a loud, jarring noise in the small room, but I’m the only one who flinches. “I had a nice little chat yesterday with Jack—you know, your former club president. He said he’s never heard you speak to a woman the way you did in my last visit. In fact, he told me that one of the assaults on your record was because you found it necessary to teach a dirt-bag a lesson for saying similar things to a female bartender. He also seems to think there’s more going on than you’re willing to share, considering how you begged him to get me off this case. He wants me to do whatever it takes to uncover the truth.” Arms crossed beneath her tits, her eyes narrow on mine. “So what do you say we move past the pathetic theatrics and get down to the real reason you’re so desperately trying to push me away?” My cock twitches in my pants while watching her speak. I’d give my left nut to see those cherry-

red lips wrapped around my dick as I shoot cum down her throat. I imagine someone as confident as Alexa is capable of all kinds of freaky shit in bed. Jesus Christ, I really need to get the hell out of here so I can think with something other than my dick. What did she ask me again? As I’m attempting to swallow the lump in my throat, she blurts, “Who set you up, Harrison?” “I can’t tell you that,” I mumble, glancing down at my hands. “You do understand that whatever you tell me won’t leave this room, right? As your attorney, I’m bound by an oath to keep whatever you tell me confidential.” “A fucking oath isn’t going to protect you. They’d come after you if you knew the truth.” “Why do all men assume that I’m fragile and in need of protection?” she asks. Smirking, I lift my chin to look at her. “Do you own a mirror?” “Yeah, and the reflection I see is pretty badass. I’ve been on my own all my life. If you don’t believe that I can properly defend myself, hand me

an M16 so we can put this argument to bed once and for all.” Once again my jaw lags, hanging open for a split second before I have the sense of mind to snap it back shut. “What would you know about M16s?” “One was issued to me when I was a Major in the Army. Any other pointless questions or can we get down to business?” “Fuckin’ hell,” I blurt, no longer worried about censoring myself. It’s like every one of my wildest fantasies has come to life in one tight little package. “Are you for real?” When she reaches up to cup her tits in her hands and squeezes, I nearly come on the spot. I’d give anything to be the one touching her that way. “Feels like it,” she confirms with a nasally laugh. “Seriously, Harrison, we’re wasting precious time here. Let’s agree to respect each other and move on.” “It’s MJ,” I reply, praying to the gods of mercy that she can’t hear the desire embedded in my voice. “No one calls me Harrison. Call me MJ.”

“No thanks.” She waves a hand through the air, cringing. “That nickname reminds me of Michael Jackson, and I’d rather not associate you with a pedophile. So about this set-up…” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. This is not how I planned for things to play out. “I’ll only tell you because they probably know you were here to see me the first time, so you’re already in danger. But you have to promise me that you won’t go digging into this shit. These guys are worse than mafia gangsters. They’ll fuck you up before sending your body parts to your family, one piece at a time.” “Too bad for them, I don’t have a family.” She rolls her eyes. “I can handle whatever comes at me. I even have a conceal-and-carry license.” I lean my head back to look at the ceiling. She’s stubborn alright. She won’t stop prodding until I tell her what she wants to know. “Does it mention in my file that I was sleeping with the vice president’s daughter?” “You mean the victim’s daughter.” My extremities twitch with the twisted truth

behind my history with Rambone. He was no victim. “That’s where all this shit started.” With a shake of her head, she laughs mockingly. “You’re telling me you were set up because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants?” As I glare back at her, my insides harden. “There was more to it than that.” “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I didn’t mean to—” “Forget it. I’m a biker in prison for a violent murder. I have a good idea what you must think of me.” “I don’t assume to know anything about you, except that you earned a silver star while in Afghanistan. By definition that makes you a hero.” Closing my eyes, I grunt. I’m no fucking hero. When I feel her hand on my shoulder, I gape down at her slim fingers. They’re exceptionally smooth, and her nails are painted a shiny black. Has she lost her damn mind? How can she not know what a woman’s touch does to a man after being locked up behind bars for months on end? I can’t remember the last time anyone touched me, let alone a drop-dead gorgeous brunette with killer

blue eyes. The contact of her skin sends a bolt of pure adrenaline shooting through my cock. Imagining those dark nails wrapped around my dick gets me hard enough to dent iron. I drag my eyes back up to meet hers, finding her completely motionless. The way she’s looking at me is probably just a combination of my overactive imagination and the blood rushing from my head, but it’s almost as if she wants me to kiss her. The air around us crackles with electricity as I imagine what it would be like to pull her into my lap and taste her sweet little lips while she rode my painfully hard cock. Suddenly she’s clearing her throat and withdrawing her hand to touch the back of her head. Well I’ll be damned. She’s flustered too. Maybe what just happened between us wasn’t my imagination after all. “So…ah…you’re saying you pissed off the victim by getting involved with his daughter? That’s it?” “It was a bit more complicated, but that’s the

reason him and his brother Dryden started to hate me. They were like my uncles. You probably already know my old man and Jack were the other half of the Four Brothers. They all served together in Desert Storm and started the club once they got out.” As she crosses her arms, I try to ignore how it pushes her tits together, but prison life has made that kind of chivalry impossible. “Just like you joined the club after you got out,” she says. “Yeah, except I changed my mind about being there after some of the shit I saw go down.” “What exactly did you see?” I stop to swallow the lump in my throat. “Young women being…held…against their will.” Alexa’s expression remains cool and steady, but something dark flickers through her eyes. Hit with a rush of shame, I snap my eyes to the other side of the room. I did nothing to help them that day. They were chained to the wall like animals. Crying. Dirty. Terrified. And the way they looked at me…fuck! I couldn’t sleep for weeks after. My stomach churns with the memory.

“They were locked in the basement of the club’s warehouse,” I continue. “The Four Brothers run a strip club down on St. Pete’s Beach. I’d heard rumors that some of the girls dancing there are minors, but when I once asked the Pres about it, he said they had legit IDs. There was also talk that for the right amount of money, you could sleep with them. I poked around, tried to dig further into the truth without making it obvious to the Pres or let anyone else know what I was doing. It was only a couple of days after I was caught breaking into the lock on the warehouse that I was arrested for Rambone’s murder. And from what I know of the arresting officer, he’s in the Four Brothers’s back pocket.” I press a cuffed hand against my forehead. “I should’ve tried harder, been more careful.” Alexa lets out a long, slow breath. Once I’m quiet and I’ve successfully calmed the dark thoughts racing through my mind, she squeezes my shoulder. “Harrison, look at me. I want to make sure we’re on the same page here. Are we talking about sex trafficking?” Drawing my hand away from my face, I meet

her blue stare and nod repeatedly. “I think so. Everyone in the criminal world knows that shit has become more lucrative than dealing.” “So I’ve heard.” The nervous shake of her voice doesn’t match the steady calm of her expression. As her eyes flick up to the ceiling, she starts withdrawing her hand, but I grab it. Slightly chilled from the stream of air conditioning over our heads, her fingers quiver inside mine. The connection of skin-to-skin reminds me of the time as a kid when I stuck my hand inside a bonfire on a dare. Sizzling hot. An electrical surge sweeps through my gut. “None of this information was in your file,” she says, her breath tight. “Didn’t you tell your trial lawyer?” “No way. The Pres would put a hit on me if that information had come out.” “Why are you telling me this now?” I drop my chin, sneering. “Because I’ve had time to realize just how badly I royally fucked things up. I didn’t say anything to anyone, which means those girls are probably still there. They

need someone to save them.” “I’ll look into it. I’ll—” “No. Not you.” “Why not?” Her voice comes out breathy as if she’s equally entranced by the connection of our hands. The words because I can’t fucking stand to see you get hurt in this fucked-up mess stick to my throat as I hold her gaze. It’s a ridiculous thing to say when we don’t know each other, but someone like her doesn’t deserve to get sucked into my dark world. “Harrison, if that’s what’s really happening, I can’t simply stand around with my thumbs up my ass while it continues.” Gently squeezing her hand, I shake my head a little harder. “I told you, the cop that arrested me was dirty. He’s paid to protect the club. Hell, the entire police department is probably on their payroll. The Brothers are known to get by with a lot of illegal shit. Once I dug around, I found some evidence that suggested the club was working with an ICE agent too. Any way you look at it, it’s too

dangerous.” Shock flickers across Alexa’s expression. Then a sudden pounding on the door breaks us apart. Cheeks turning a pretty shade of crimson, she hustles over to her side of the table. “Time’s up,” Smith grunts as he steps into the room. “Let’s go, Harrison.” I rise to my feet, unable to look away from Alexa. Though she appears perfectly composed, her pupils are dilated. Her chest rises and falls with short, stuttered breaths. “I meant what I said,” I warn. Eyes hard, she nods. “So did I.”

3 ALEXA

y gut’s a mess as I start the long drive back to M Miami with an overwhelming desire for a cigarette —something I haven’t craved since basic training when smoking wasn’t an option. If I had a therapist, they’d be working overtime to work out the complicated mess of emotions going through my head. No matter how many miles come between me and the prison, I can’t stop thinking about those girls locked in that basement. They probably think

no one cares enough to save them from their hell. If Harrison knew of his club’s involvement in the heinous crime and he didn’t approve, it would add a whole new layer of complexity to his case. Before taking the case, I did extensive research on the Four Brothers MC. On paper, it’s a noble organization, dedicated to serving their community and charities. Ninety percent of their members are veterans, and they almost all hold respectable dayjobs. Harrison had worked his way up to becoming a construction manager for a reputable company in Tampa that specialized in high-end retirement communities. When I called his supervisor, the man offered nothing but praise, saying he couldn’t conceive of someone like Michael Harrison committing a crime quite so violent. My insides twist into knots as I maneuver my rusty Honda Civic through downtown Miami traffic. There’s no denying something monumental happened between me and Harrison today. When he touched my hand, it was like being struck by a bolt of lightning. The charge of energy traveled all the way down to my toes. For a fucked up moment,

I forgot that he was in chains or that I was there on a professional basis. The severe yearning to have his large hands and wide lips all over my body made me feel faint. And since there was no hiding the enormous hard-on pushed against his pants, I’m positive he felt it too. Part of me knows it would be wise to withdraw as his attorney before everything goes to shit. Before I lose my head and fall for the whole tortured inmate bit. Not only would it be morally wrong for us to mess around, but it would be asinine to get involved with someone serving a life sentence. No matter how irresistibly hot he may be. And I would undoubtedly lose my job if we were caught. It’s not my dream career by any means, but it pays the bills and gets my foot in the proverbial door of my career. The mere idea of being blackballed from practicing law after I worked my ass off to get to where I am is terrifying. But I’ve come too far to turn back now. I can’t back out now. By the time Tatum joins me, I’ve bummed three cigarettes off the friendly, albeit unattractive,

middle-aged man sitting uncomfortably close. In addition to being a little tipsy from $30 worth of mojitos, I’m also sporting a serious nicotine buzz. She slips into the open stool saved with my bulky handbag, nose scrunched like she smells fish guts. “I’m sorry, is that a cancer stick in your hand? I thought you decided that you despise that shit. Did someone forget to inform me that hell has frozen over?” “Tatum, this is Ricky,” I say, motioning to my enabler. When Ricky’s eyebrows lift with blatant appreciation, Tatum raises her hand. “Forget it, Tarantino. I don’t mess around with guys who smell like ass.” “Ignore her,” I tell Ricky, shaking my head. “She’s just bitter because the last guy that dumped her was a smoker.” Ricky mutters, “Smart guy,” before turning away to talk with the guy on his other side. Tatum rolls her eyes and grabs my arm. “Seriously, ‘Lex. What’s with the dragon lady bit?” “I went back to the prison today,” I admit,

blowing smoke out my nose. The sharp crackle through my lungs is almost soothing, as if it’s a reminder that I’m not the one in prison, or being forced to do things against my will like those poor girls. I’m free as a bird. I’m the only one who can do something. “Hmmm, you have it bad for someone there,” Tatum decides. “I can hear your vagina quiver every time you say prison.” “You must need your hearing checked.” Snuffing the cigarette into the ashtray between me and Ricky, I push it away while absent-mindedly motioning for the bartender. “My client told me some shit that forced me to walk a fine line between the attorney-client privilege, and the oath I took to protect my country from domestic enemies.” Tatum snickers. “Well one pays your salary while the other could get you thrown in jail since you’re no longer on active duty. The decision seems pretty clear to me.” Eric, the cute bartender I made out with the

other night, appears with my beckoning. He plops his elbows on the bar top right in front of us, two deep dimples popping into his cheeks. The way he smiles directly at me, I fear he thinks we’re going to hook up again. Even though he’s cute in an obnoxious, boy-band kind of way, I only messed around with him because I was trying to convince myself that I could be attracted to someone other than Michael. “Another mojito, Alex?” he asks. Annoyed that he doesn’t even remember my name after his fingers had ventured between my legs, I close my eyes and shake my head. “Stop looking at me like you think we’re going to get it on, because that’s not happening again. We’ll take two shots of Patrón, please.” By the time I open my eyes, Eric’s walking away, grumbling to himself. “So you did give the cute bartender a try,” Tatum says with a snicker. “You know, even if it wasn’t everything you had hoped for, you could’ve let the poor kid down a little easier.” Then she nudges me with her bony elbow. “This really must

be something serious if it calls for tequila.” Leaning close to her, I whisper, “My client thinks someone from your agency has their hands in something dirty.” Tatum cradles her head in her hands. “Fuck me, Alexa. You can’t simply tell a federal employee that kind of thing. You know I’m bound to investigate any foul play.” “Well shit. Guess that means we’re in this together.” “You sneaky little bitch,” she mutters, draping her arm over my shoulders. “Just for that, I’ll let you pick up the bill while you tell me everything you know.” “Not here,” I say quietly. “This is the kind of conversation that can’t be overheard. We’ll go to your place.” “I knew you were trouble the day I found you.” She lets out a deep sigh in a way just mocking enough that I know she still loves me, as if I would ever have any doubt. At least someone does, I think to myself as I catch Eric casting a poisonous look my way.

AFTER TWO DAYS of investigating the Four Brothers through courthouse records, newspaper articles, and neighboring businesses, I’ve hit enough brick walls to give myself a concussion. Everything I’ve uncovered shows the biker club runs both a legitimate repair shop and a gentlemen’s bar. But considering the handful of luxury cars parked outside their clubhouse the one afternoon I took a road trip over there, it’s a guarantee that something illegal is making them serious dough. The kind of lowlifes that frequent Spinner’s Row don’t have the money to spare in order to make the seedy strip a financial success. And as Tatum said, these days a human can be sold for up to $50,000…over and over again. I was cautious about giving my friend an overabundance of details, knowing I’m putting her position on the line as an ICE agent, but still wanting to get her advice on how to proceed. It honestly felt good to let someone else feel the burden of those girls’ fate along with me. As many

times as I’ve contemplated confiding in my boss, Harrison’s warning has made me overly paranoid. What if the Four Brothers caught word that I’m representing him, and had our office bugged? And my boss has a close relationship with several law enforcement agencies. It’s not worth the risk. For the same reason, I’ve asked Tatum not to say anything to her supervisor until we know more, even though she was ready to go over his head to report foul play. I convinced her that at this point, it’s all here-say. Soon I’m on the phone with the warden, arranging a longer meeting with Harrison. At first he bucks me on the extension of time until I throw out a bogus statute, inviting him to look further into my client’s rights. When he doesn’t call my bluff, I quickly thank the powers that be before preparing myself for the visit. I’ll be the first to admit that I spend a little too much time perfecting my hair and makeup, but during out last visit, the added effort seemed to encourage Harrison to open up. From my time in the military, I know that I’m less intimidating when

my hair isn’t pulled back. And I’ll do whatever it takes to hear every last detail of what he saw in that warehouse, and gather more information on what he was able to uncover before he was arrested. I won’t be able to rest until I’ve done everything I can to help those girls. Although the clock on Harrison’s postconviction motion is already ticking, there are still months to go. I’m confident that if I can find a thread holding the Four Brothers’ illegal empire together, it will prove his innocence once it’s unraveled. Besides, I wouldn’t have left my paralegal in charge if I didn’t have the upmost confidence in her ability to keep things in order. Once again, as I’m being patted down by a female officer at the visitor’s entrance, I’m met by Officer Smith. He touches his fingertips to my lower back, motioning for me to lead the way. The chilling smile pressed to his thin lips gives me the willies, especially when I notice he’s not wearing a wedding band. “You’re becoming a regular here, Miss Darrington. Harrison’s lucky he found himself an

attorney willing to come down here so often.” Convinced he only made that comment because I’m a woman, I let his comment go unrequited. As we near the visitor’s room, it occurs to me that I’m more nervous than I was the first time I came here. I’ll be alone with my client for an entire hour. I was hardly able to last a mere fifteen minutes before. And now that my traitorous body seems to want him, it’s going to be impossible not to worry about whether or not I’m sending him mixed signals with every move I make. “You really think this dirtbag has a chance of getting released?” Smith asks as we step into the room. “Everyone has a right to a fair trial,” I snap, irritated by his crude nickname for Harrison. Taking my place behind the table, I slap the file down in front of me. “As far as Mr. Harrison is concerned, I’m not convinced that was the case.” Smith crosses his arms with a hmph. Then his demeanor changes with a smirk and a flicker of mischief lighting his eyes. “Ever heard of Stormbringer? They’re a seriously kickass cover

band, sound just like the originals. They’re playing over at Jimmy B’s tonight. If you’re not busy, you and I could grab dinner and a few drinks, maybe share a dance or two.” “So you’re assuming that a, I’m single, and b, I’m interested in dating,” I reply in a sharp tone, raising my eyebrows. “Well…are you?” “No.” Responding with a much louder hmph, Smith moves to the corner of the room just as the door reopens behind us. The second I meet Michael’s beautiful green eyes, my underwear dampens, and my legs take on the consistency of ramen noodles. His wavy, chin-length hair is gone, replaced with a near military-regulation cut. I’m finally able to get a real glimpse of Harrison the Marine rather than the carefree biker turned tortured inmate. If he wasn’t wearing the prison garb, he could be mistaken for a high fashion model in an ad for expensive cologne or luxury vehicles. Are you fucking kidding me? How am I expected to sit across from someone this attractive

for ten minutes without giving in and climbing him like a tree to ravage that gorgeous mouth? Then I remember it’s not ten minutes. I’ll be alone with him for an hour. Great planning, Alexa. Why couldn’t I have invited my paralegal along? Because you want him all to yourself. “Good afternoon, counselor,” he greets me in a low, rumbling tone. A warm buzz strikes me right between the legs with the delicious sound. When his thick lips bend with the first genuine smile I’ve seen since we met, my heart grinds to a screeching halt. Knock it off, Alexa. He’s off limits. Clearing my throat, I motion to the other men in the room. “Thank you, officers. I can take it from here.” Smith hangs back a minute as the other two shuffle out. He meets my gaze with an insidious little smile that sends shivers spiraling down my back. “Let me know if you change your mind about tonight. Drinks would be on me.” Before leaving the room, he throws Michael a smug look. Nostrils flared, Michael meets my annoyed

expression, waiting for me to explain. It’s disconcerting to see his features hardened and his muscles wound tight. All at once I get how he earned the nickname “Mad John.” If this side of him made an appearance during his trial, I don’t imagine that he would’ve had a snowball’s chance in Hell of winning. The laugh that slips out of me sounds like more of a squeak. “He asked me to catch a band with him tonight, and I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t interested. You really think I’d go out with that douche?” “I hope the fuck not,” he bites out, plopping into the chair across from me. “Give me some credit,” I scoff, shivering. Is he being possessive? Jealous? Either way it’s hot as shit. If he succeeds in getting me any more excited, I’ll be humping his leg like a Chihuahua. Hoping to lighten the mood, I motion to his hair. “Planning to re-enlist sometime soon?” “Decided it was a pain in the ass to keep it long in this place.” Lifting his cuffed hands, his gaze falls to the floor as he runs his fingers through

the slightly longer stuff on top. “Are they treating you decent in here?” I ask quietly. “Yeah.” When he looks back upward, his features have softened. Another toe-curling smile spreads across his kissable lips. “I’m glad you’re here. After what you said last time, I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. You seemed determined to dig into the club’s business.” Oh, shit. If I tell him what I’ve been up to, his untamable anger will undoubtedly resurface. Standing, I shrug my suit coat off and set it on the back of the chair before moving over to his side of the table, just like last time. Though I know it’s dangerous to put us in a position that would once again allow for physical contact, it’s like my body is drawn to him in a way I can’t control. Like the old cliché of a moth drawn to a light. “I need you to tell me every last detail of what you saw in that warehouse. Did the girls look American? Did they have any markings or features that made them stand out? How many men were keeping an eye on them? Were they all armed?”

And just like that, his nostrils resume flexing. “We already had this conversation. I’m not getting you involved in this shit.” “You’re right, we did have this conversation. And that’s exactly why I’m not going to go another round with you.” I raise both hands to my sides. “You can’t expect me to sit on this kind of information! Those girls are someone’s daughter! Someone’s little sister! The kind of shit they’re probably making them do—” “The night I was arrested I was trying to break them out of there! You don’t think I already torture myself, wondering what they’re forced to do?” He bolts to his feet, glowering over me. “Why don’t you just do your job and get me the hell outta here so I can take care of it? I won’t let you get yourself killed!” My God, he’s irresistible when being protective. Add in the noble bit and it’s enough to send me over the edge. Brain lost in a fog of lust, I reach up to grab his square jaw in my hands, pulling his face down to my level. For a minute we stare into each other’s eyes, our shared desire

palpable. His breaths fall down on my face, warm and heavy. Then my lips press to his for a firm, tangling kiss. When he releases a sharp gasp, I slip my tongue inside his mouth, stroking his warm tongue until it springs to life. His fresh, clean scent surrounds me like an embrace. He tastes sinfully dark, like the danger flowing through his veins is palpable. Just when I’m worried that I made a mistake and somehow read his signals all wrong, he begins to kiss me back. Hard. As expected of someone who has been locked away for too long, his enthusiasm becomes rough and bruising. The mashing of tongues and lips with an occasional scrape of his teeth is almost more than I can handle. The room tilts on edge. I’ve never been kissed with this degree of fervor and want. Hell, I’ve never had a guy even look at me the way Michael does, like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Maybe it’s just due to the fact that he hasn’t seen many women in general lately. Because he’s in prison.

What the fuck am I doing? I withdraw a fraction, panting against his soft lips. “We shouldn’t do this.” “You’re sexy as fuck,” is his garbled response. Then our mouths reconnect, all reasoning lost with the delightful sensations filling my core. He kisses the way I imagined someone his size would: powerful while sparing no mercy. Reason wrestles with desire as I alternate between pushing at his chest and tugging at his shirt. I know we have to stop, but I want more. I want him in every way possible. The overactive burn between my legs demands it. But I know this is wrong. In infinite ways. Eventually I manage to untangle myself from him, pulling away with a regretful sigh. “We can’t do this.” “Why not?” The way he looks down at me, pupils dilated, shoulders slack, lips parted, eyelids hooded, anyone who would walk in would think he was drunk. It’s a good reminder that anyone could walk in at any moment and catch us doing… whatever the hell it is we just did.

“Because the guards could decide to walk in at any moment. And we have to talk about those women.” Before he decides to start up again, I shuffle back until I’m out of reach. “You and I may be their only hope of getting out of there.” He nods, regret flashing across his expression. Just like the other day when he told me about the girls, I can see the weight of his actions dragging him down. He’ll never forgive himself for not saving them, and now the burden is mine to carry. “Yeah, you’re right,” he mutters. Slipping back into the chair, he splays his fingers out on the table and stares down at his handcuffs while blowing out a long, unsteady breath. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

4 MICHAEL

illfully behaving for the remainder of Alexa’s W visit is a torture worse than anything I’ve had to endure since I was brought to The Glades. Even worse than knowing I can’t kiss her again is the fact that I wasn’t able to touch her—to run my fingertips over the swells of her breasts, and cup her juicy ass in the palm of my hand. Her needy lips were heavenly soft, and her tongue tasted as sweet as candy. Her body writhed against mine,

eager and ready. No woman has ever kissed me with that kind of hunger. There’s no denying that I was attracted to her the first time I walked into this room and saw her waiting. But this was something more powerful than a mere physical attraction. It wasn’t the average one-night stand type scenario that follows when meeting a hot woman in a bar. It was like a fucking gale force of nature that couldn’t be stopped. And although I know it can’t happen again, I’m confident that it will. I’d bet my life on it. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to record our conversation,” she says, tapping the screen on her smart phone. She’s sitting perfectly poised across from me, but our kiss has left her lips a slightly darker shade of red than usual, and I can hear a small quiver in her voice. “It would be inadmissible in court, but at least we’d create a foundation for the authorities to start with.” “As long as you don’t share the recording with anyone until I give the go-ahead.” “Fair enough.” She offers a gentle smile. “Start

from the beginning. How long had you been seeing the victim’s daughter?” Grunting to myself, my eyes fix on the table. I know it’s necessary to start from the beginning, but the very last thing I want to talk about with this irresistibly gorgeous woman is when I first started fucking my ex. “Kerissa and I had known each other most of our lives. We spent a big part of our childhood hanging out together at the club, but didn’t really stay in touch after I joined the Corps. Once I got out, we didn’t reconnect until the night I earned my club patch.” I skip over a handful of information, including the part where I took Kerissa back to my place just minutes after we were reunited to go at it like rabbits, and how I was worried that I’d break her because she was almost literally half my size. Alexa scribbles something onto a notepad, her mouth pressed in a tight line. Then she stops to look my way. “How long before the victim learned about your relationship?” Holding back a smirk, I answer, “I think it was something like a few months.” I’ll never forget the

day Rambone walked in as I was buried ballsdeep in his daughter. I was especially pleased to see the look of horror that nearly brought him to his knees. He was ready to kill me for touching his little girl. Nothing had ever felt so good. “When did you discover the girls in the warehouse?” “A few weeks after that.” I rub my hands together when a spike of anger fills my chest, nearly suffocating. “I wasn’t officially placed on probation, but Dryden and Rambone blackballed me from club business once they knew about me and Kerissa. I’m pretty sure they assigned me to watch over the girls as a sort of punishment. Those fuckers knew I was too much like Jack and my old man. They knew I wouldn’t agree to that kind of illegal shit.” Guilt clenches my stomach as I ball my hands into tight fists. Reliving that afternoon is fucking brutal, even if it’s vital to my ticket out. But why does this have to be happening with the first woman to make me feel…something? “Michael, it’s okay. Take your time.”

Her voice is gentle and encouraging as she reaches across the table to take my hands in hers and rubs her thumbs over my knuckles. When her fingers twist around mine, I have all I can do not to yank her across the table and get another taste of her sweet mouth. I clear my throat and continue. “There was always a padlock on the door to the unfinished basement, but I figured it was because it’s where they kept valuable motorcycle parts. When I followed Rambone down there the first time, I heard them crying before I saw anything. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out crudely made bunkbeds lined up against the walls. There must’ve been dozens of them. It was the middle of the afternoon so they were empty. But there were three girls huddled together in the furthest end of the room.” “Can you guess their ages?” “I’d say sixteen, maybe seventeen. Like I said it was dark, so it’s hard to say for sure. None of them looked familiar, so I guessed they were new. But they looked like they had been down there for

a while…they were wearing filthy underwear, chained to the wall by their ankles. Rambone pointed a gun at them, said if they didn’t shut up he’d quiet them another way. They were scared to death. I was ready to rush him and bust them the hell outta there when three other guys from the club joined us.” “So you didn’t do anything?” Alexa assumes. My teeth grind together. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? I was outnumbered and Rambone would’ve shot me on the spot if I had given him a reason!” “No judgments, Michael.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m just trying to get the timeline straight. If we’re able to bring them down—” “If that was possible, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?” Yanking my hands free from hers, I lean back in my chair and scowl. “From the information I gathered, I figure they’d been trafficking for years, and no one has done a damn thing to stop it. You’re an attorney, Alexa. Not a PI, not a cop. What makes you think you can bring them down?”

“Because I’m not stopping until I expose their operation!” I’d adore the fuck out of this woman’s determination if it wasn’t putting her life on the line. “How are you going to do this without getting the cops involved?” “I have my connections. And I won’t go to anyone in law enforcement until I’ve uncovered indisputable evidence to corroborate your story. If you come forward with everything you know before then, it’ll only give them the motive the prosecutors were missing during your trial.” Jesus, she’s right. But she’s going to get herself killed. Why did I let her get involved, and why do I have to be so fucking helpless to protect her? “Alexa—” “Michael. Enough is enough. This is happening whether you’re on board or not.” “Goddamn, you’re sexy as hell when you boss me around,” I finally concede, shaking my head. “Do you have any fucking idea what these visits are doing to my head? My cock?” Her lips part with a silent sigh. “Michael…”

“Alexa. Enough is enough.” I chuckle when she looks annoyed by the mockery. Eyes fixed on mine, her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “We should probably talk about what happened.” “Yeah, we should. I may be physically stronger than most men, but I don’t have the kind of willpower it would take to stay away from someone like you. I know I don't have anything to offer. And I’m a fool for thinking this could actually go anywhere. But that kiss…that was something else. Look me in the eye and tell me it didn’t blow your fucking mind. Tell me you’ve felt a kiss like that with any other guy and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” With a breathy sigh, her fingers brush over her throat. “I…ah…” “You felt it too.” Cheeks pinched with pink, she nods. Warmth floods through me with her admission, and my cock practically bursts from my pants. “Good. Now that we’ve established that the kiss was one for the records, what are we going to do

about it?” Her lashes flutter, almost making her appear shy. “I’m your attorney. I think it goes without saying that I could lose my job.” “Only if anyone other than the two of us were to find out, and I’m sure as shit not going to be one to kiss and tell.” I reach across the table to reclaim her hands in mine. The familiar buzz from her touch draws my balls tight. “We’ll be careful. We can block the door. If the guards ever catch us, I’ll say I forced myself on you.” She glances away. “I need time…to think. I can’t seem to form a clear thought when you’re touching me.” “You’re not the only one, baby girl.” Stretching my torso over the table, I bring her fingertips to my lips. Her mouth opens with a silent gasp, and her shoulders relax. “I’ll give you however long you need.” Watching her lips lift with a small smile fills me with the kind of confidence that will get me through this nightmare. She knows this is happening whether she’s ready or not.

Alexa Darrington is all mine.

THREE DAYS DRAG by without a word from Alexa. As much as I try to keep myself busy, nagging thoughts that she’s gone for good and has rejected me refuse to keep quiet. On the fourth day, Callisto stands against the wall beside my bunk, thumbing through the worn detective novel I’ve been trying to get through for weeks. Fiction just doesn’t do it for me anymore. There’s enough excitement in my life to make it seem dull. Plus I’m pretty sure the hero of the story is about to ask his girl to marry him, and I can’t deal with that kind of shit when I can’t even take Alexa out for a fucking burger. “How’s that lady attorney of yours?” Callisto asks. “Rumor has it one of Sweeny’s crew saw a leggy brunette being led down the hallway toward the special visitor’s center last time you were gone. They’re saying she was a total knockout.” The knowledge that there’s another man who’ll be jacking off to the memory of Alexa sends a rush

of uncontrollable tremors through every last one of my muscles. When the hour was up, she left me with a short, professional goodbye. Then she held my gaze just long enough to confirm what I already knew: there would undoubtedly be another kiss in the near future. So why the hell hasn’t she come back for another visit? “Sweeny’s crew can go fuck themselves,” I growl. Chuckling, Callisto tosses the paperback onto my cot. “You got it bad for her, huh?” “She’s my attorney. That doesn’t mean she deserves to have a bunch of animals jacking off while thinking of her.” “Harrison!” Smith steps into the entrance of the dormitories, his features drawn tight like he smells something rancid. “You have a visitor.” Thank fuck. I pop to my feet, all at once feeling rejuvenated. It’s about time she came back. Callisto chuckles again, swatting a paw-sized hand through the air. “Attorney, my ass,” he mutters quietly. Smith leads me outside of the dorm before

slapping chains on my hands and feet. Then he grabs my elbow and yanks me forward before I have a chance to prepare myself. I nearly fall on top of the slimy fucker. “You must think you’re the shit, having that fine piece of ass come to visit you all the time now,” he says without having the balls to look at me while saying it. “But we all know she’s not going to give a low-life criminal like you the time of day. Best give up the fantasy, Harrison. All you’re going to get out of this deal is a sprained wrist and a broken dick. Someone that fine needs a man who can provide something beyond the promise of a marriage license and conjugal visits.” Biting back a smirk, I huff. “You mean a man like you?” “Damn straight.” He finally turns to face me, eyes narrowed. “While you’re in here, surrounded by the scum of the earth and beating off in your cot, I’m going to find a way to tap that sweet pussy.” A deafening ring fills my ears as I envision beating his ass down to the concrete floor. The only thing that keeps me from doing it is the fact

that Alexa sees him for the prick that he is, and wouldn’t even take him up on free drinks. Outside the visitation room he stops to look at me, lips pulling back with a sneer. “While you’re in there with her, picture those sweet lips wrapped around my cock, because it won’t be long before it becomes a reality. It’s happening, Harrison, and there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it.” Then he snickers like a stuck pick. “Enjoy your visit.” With tunnel vision, I stumble into the room at his side. “You have one hour,” Smith bites out behind me. I hear Alexa’s voice say something in response before the door slams shut, but I can’t process anything over the rapid thud of my heartbeats. Once I’m a free man, I will beat that fucker Smith into his grave. I don’t care if I end up back here for murder. He doesn’t get to talk about my Alexa that way. All at once I’m surrounded by the comforting scent of flowers as her cool fingers wrap around

part of my bicep. “Michael? Are you okay?” My eyes snap onto hers and her full lips tilt upward in a gentle smile. The sides of her hair are held back in a complex braid that somehow makes the blues of her eyes clearer. For the first time I notice a little dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. How does she continue to become more fucking gorgeous with every visit? “I tried to come here sooner to see you, but the warden has limited us to once every four days. I’m looking into the legality of his restriction, but I think he has the ultimate say in the frequency of your visits, even if it’s with your attorney.” Lifting both hands, I brush my fingertips along the fine line of her jaw. She whimpers, closing her eyes with my touch. Letting her into my world has opened her up to threats from all directions. She may be strong, but what if the shit being thrown at her because of me is the reason she finally breaks? An uneasy laugh sticks in her throat as her eyes flip back open. “You’re freaking me out. Why are you like this? Did something happen? Did one of the guards hurt you?”

Swallowing carefully, I shake my head. “I know I should let you go, but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my every thought whether awake or in my sleep. Your voice, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, your beautiful lips, the way you refuse to back down. And that sweet, sweet body…you have no idea what I’ve dreamt of doing to it.” I drag my gaze downward to appreciate the ivory skirt hugging her shapely thighs. Her spiked heels bring her closer to my height and seem to round her tight calves. Then I admire her soft waist and the swell of her big tits beneath her matching ivory jacket before dragging my eyes past the flush spreading across her neck, finally staring at her parted lips. Both of our breaths come out loud and unsteady as her hands rest on my hips. I bend my head, touching our foreheads together. “You can’t possibly comprehend what it’s like to want something so fucking badly, and know it can never be yours,” I say quietly. “Never say never,” she whispers. “I am going

to spring you out, Michael.” “The people that put me in here…the people that watch over me, they’re ruthless. If they knew I cared about you, they’d hurt you to get to me.” I brush my fingers along her graceful neck and become hard when she releases a throaty groan. “It’s selfish to put you through this hell. I should walk away.” Her warm breaths come out in little huffs. “It’s selfish to walk away when I want you this badly. I’ve been thinking about you too, day and night. I even touch myself when remembering that kiss, fantasizing that you’re the one coaxing me to come.” I growl with her confession, becoming painfully hard as I imagine her with her fingers inside her tight little pussy. Hooking a hand around my neck, she pulls until our lips are almost touching. Her hips dig into mine, placing unbearable pressure on my aching cock. Then her lips part and the swell of her breasts heave against my chest. “Stop worrying about things that are out of our control and kiss me, Michael.”

I don’t think about how her request is wrong in so many ways. I’m driven by the uneven staccato beats of my heart when I reach my chained hands up to awkwardly cup the back of her head and draw her close. Though I merely brush my lips over hers a few times, knowing the guards could burst in at any moment, Alexa grunts and pushes her tongue into my mouth, just as hungry for me as she was the last time. Becoming lost in every detail of her, I commit the moment to memory in case this is our last opportunity for whatever reason. The soft brush of her eager lips. The quiet hum lost in her throat. The gentle strokes of her tongue. The persistent way her fingers caress the back of my head. The urgency of her body pressed up against mine. Fuck. I’m not going to last if she keeps rubbing up on me like that. Moving my hands down so I can grip her thigh, the veins in my neck strain as I try to get my shit together. I need to drag this fan-fuckingtastic moment out for as long as possible. Who knows when the hell I’ll get another chance like this?

When she pulls away, she’s grinning in a somewhat dazed manner that’s sexy as fuck. Every last part of me wants to kiss the shit out of her again until her lips are swollen and chapped, even though deep down I know it can’t happen. She’s so damn beautiful, and I can’t contain myself. Can’t stop from running my fingertips along the inside of her smooth thigh. I wish I wasn’t wearing these goddamn handcuffs so I could properly explore each dip and valley of her soft, tanned skin. When her lips part in a silent sigh, my cock aches as I picture her on her knees, wrapping those beauties around it. The sparkle in her sapphire blues fills me with the kind of hope that I thought I’d never know again after they locked me up in this shithole. Whatever forces brought Alexa Darrington to me knew exactly what I needed. She’s unlike any other woman I’ve met. Strong. Bold. Unwilling to let anything or anyone get in her way. She’s also too eager, too gorgeous, and feels way too damn good as she starts sucking on my neck, grinding into my cock with a tantalizing rhythm.

“We can’t do this,” I say, hoping it doesn’t come out sounding too demanding. Of the few things I know about Alexa Darrington, the fact that she doesn’t like taking orders is high on the list. Still, I doubt I could ever stop myself from worrying. “You were right.” “We’re doing this, Michael.” Her bright blue eyes, all at once drowning with want, flip between me to the door numerous times before she says, “And we have to be quick about it before Smith decides to check in.” She leaves me long enough to carefully lodge a chair beneath the door handle. When it really hits me that she’ll be walking away soon and who knows how long it will be until I see her again, something foreign solidifies in my gut. But is it hope? Longing? Whatever the fuck it is, it’s something new. And I’m not so sure I like it. I don’t know how the fuck it’s possible when I still know jack-shit about her, but I think I may be invested in more than just her smokin’ hot body.

5 ALEXA

ichael’s mouth seals over mine, and I M completely lose myself in its blinding intensity. When I left the prison after our first kiss, I was slightly confused and a lot horny. In the following days, it became clear that I don’t have it in me to walk away from Michael anytime soon, no matter the cost. I realize it’s fucking insane when I hardly know anything about the guy, not to mention I’m putting my career on the line. Whatever it is about

this mysterious man, it has a hold on me too deep to question. Too extreme to ignore. With pent-up frustration from the past few days coming to a head, I kiss him back. I need more than just his mouth on me, but unfortunately for both of us, there’s only so much he can do with his hands chained together. Deciding it’s up to me to take control, I shove him back down onto the chair. His eyes bulge when I hook a leg over his lap, mounting him like I’m conquering Mt Everest. Our lips and tongues mesh once again for a sharp, needful kiss filled with the things left unsaid. My fingers tangle in his short hair as his thick, warm fingers yank on the bottom of my shirt until it’s free of my skirt. He wastes no time in pushing both hands underneath the silky material, drawing the cool metal chain over my skin as he works at releasing a nipple. Thick, calloused fingers pinch my hard bud, and I helplessly whimper into his mouth. I’m so wet they’re going to need a mop to clean up after us. Even if I try to stay quiet, they’re still going to know what we’ve been doing the way his

unrelenting lips attack mine, probably leaving them red and swollen. But I want to give him this. He’s unlike any convict I’ve ever met. And from what I can tell he’s a decent, honest guy who’s only here because he tried to do the right thing. Desperation claws at my throat. What if I can’t get him out of here? If I can’t give him freedom, I want to make him feel something good. Give him something to hold onto. Maybe even give him something to fight for. I slip one hand down between us, reaching past the elastic waist of his pants and band of his underwear to fist his rock-hard cock. Fucking hell, he’s ginormous down there too. The strangled growl he releases when I move my fingers over the silky head is way too loud. “Shhh,” I warn, licking up his jaw until my lips are pressed to his ear. “We don’t want visitors.” “If you make me come in my pants, they’re going to know what we were doing. Smith’s a mean fucker. He’ll make sure they revoke my visitation rights.” His hungry lips suckle at the skin

on my neck before his tongue swipes a line beneath my jaw. “But hot damn, baby girl, you are too fucking hot to resist.” “I won’t let you come in your pants,” I promise, arching my neck backward. “I have better plans for you.” Michael growls in response. Still moving my fingers up and down his shaft, I become drunk on the way his mouth caresses my skin, working his way down to my breasts. I help him by leaning back and pulling my bra back just enough for him to pluck my nipple with his teeth. This time I’m the one who releases a strained yelp. “Shhh,” he mocks with a dark chuckle. “We have to be quiet, remember?” “There are too many layers between us,” I pant, tugging on his shirt. Though I normally insist guys use a condom, I didn’t think to bring one, and there’s no way in hell I’m backing out at this point. “I’m on birth control. Am I going to catch anything if I ride you bare?” “I’m clean. They tested me after I was sentenced.” His voice is dark and husky when he

draws back, holding my gaze when he asks, “Are you sure this is what you want?” Fuck. Am I? Of course I’m not. How can I be? I nod anyway. I doubt anything could stop me at this point. I want him to fill me. This time as I kiss him with no intention of stopping, too many damn warnings ping through my head like a pinball machine. I could lose my license for doing this. He could get sent to the hole for God knows how long. But I can sense how badly he wants me in his eager touch, and the way his hard body grinds with mine. And if he doesn’t make it outta here…fucking hell, all I can think about is how good his rough fingers feel on one of my nipples and the monster trying to break free from his pants. My head’s spinning as I maneuver his cock from his pants and slip my underwear aside while repositioning myself over him. This is really going to happen. Having his hands and feet chained together is like some crazy S&M kind of shit. As much as I want him to grab my ass and slip his

fingers inside me to see just how ready I am for him, his hands are only able to alternately toy with my nipples until they’re both hard and tight like peas. He’s completely at my mercy. When I impale myself over his massive cock, I slowly slip down around him with ease, biting through the intense pain as he spreads me wide. I watch him intently as his eyes close and his neck tilts backwards. The pleasure drawn on his slack mouth and the quiet little growl lodged at the base of his throat make him unbearably sexy. Once he’s all the way inside, reaching a limit no man has gone before, his lips pop wider. Thinking he’s going to release a roar, I quickly slap a hand over his mouth, locking my eyes with his in warning. His eyes open, filled with savage hunger. Holding his stare, I rotate my hips as I rise up and down, milking him from varied angles. If this is the only chance we get, I want to make it memorable. As my body adjusts to his girth, pain is replaced with a burning, delicious pleasure that sweeps through me like a riptide. His hips rise and fall

against mine, causing a mind-blowing friction that rocks me to my core. Tipping his chin, his gaze beckons me back down to his lips. I grip what’s left of his hair and release a whimper that’s lost in his mouth. Our wet tongues slide and tangle, mimicking the enthusiasm of our hips, elevating me to a sensational high as I ride the beautiful giant of a man. I’ve had my share of men over the years. Many that I wish I could forget, but they always manage to creep back in through nightmares in the middle of the night. None of them—not even the good ones —were able to fill me like Michael Harrison. We fit together so perfectly that it scares the shit out of me. But there’s no time to dwell on the thought as I’m overcome by a bright, scorching vibration bursting between my hips. The warm, delicious start of an orgasm sweeps through me, chasing away any doubts or second-thoughts. Suddenly the tendons in Michael’s thighs begin to tense beneath mine. “You feel too good,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Come inside me, Michael,” I taunt, watching him intently. “Let it all out, big guy.” A series of grunts vibrates in his throat before he twitches among one last thrust and becomes still. Since I normally don’t let guys touch me without a condom, it’s a shock to the system to feel a jolt of his warm cum shoot inside. It’s such a turn-on that the final ebb of my orgasm rolls through me with the force of a runaway train. “Oh, Michael…” I pant, arching my back and palming one of my breasts. A second hardly passes before he’s running the pad of his thumb over my throbbing center, helping me ride out the crest of a glorious wave. “Is this what you fantasized about?” he asks quietly. “Yes, don’t stop…I’m almost there.” Then his teeth bear down on my nipple and I’m a goner. Threading my fingers through his short hair, I’m forced to bite down on my lips as I’m struck with the mother of all climaxes. It explodes in my groin and ricochets throughout the rest of my body with the force of a bullet. Michael releases my nipple and leans away as

I’m trying to collect myself. Among the aroma of sex and everything that makes Michael so irresistible, I sigh and bend to touch my forehead to his rigid chest. The remainder of the orgasm continues to pass through me in smaller waves, trumping any high or drunk I’ve ever experienced. “Jesus,” I whisper. “That was…wow. I don’t suppose you have a smoke I could bum?” “Get off me,” he says with a dark growl. When it seems he’s trying to pull his still partially hard cock from me, I slip off and put my underwear back into place before trying to meet his gaze. When he refuses to look my way, I almost regret what just happened. But I get that he’s scared. The idea of Smith walking in on us alone is terrifying. “So this is how it’s going to be now?” I ask, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “I show you a good time, and you’re back to being the moody asshole I met in here over a week ago? You know the decent thing would be to say ‘thanks’.” “The decent thing would’ve been to stop you,” he replies, gently pushing me away. “This never

should’ve fucking happened.” “You’re right. But it did, so now we have to deal with it. I’d prefer to go about this like a couple of mature adults. I’m still your attorney and we still need to formulate a plan to get you the hell out of here.” I swing one leg behind me to stand, then straighten my skirt and bra until I feel halfway presentable. There’s nothing I can do to calm my tingling body, however, and the reminder of what we just did leaves a strong odor in the air every bit as much as the puddle in my underwear. “Sorry you’re unhappy, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself.” Appearing to accept that I won’t allow him to feel guilty about what happened, he quietly chuckles and shakes his head a few times. “How is someone like you single?” I lift one shoulder. “I’m a slob and a shitty cook. And that’s just the tip of the fucked-up iceberg.” “Both relatively tame traits.” The severity of his gaze grows, becoming something painfully serious. “You have better things to offer. A guy would have to be certifiable to let you slip through

his fingers.” With a strangled laugh, I retrieve the chair from the door and take my place across from him, opening his file like I don’t already know wordfor-word what the documents say. I’m accustomed to guys telling me that I’m a good lay, or that I have “nice tits,” but I have no idea what to do with a sincere compliment. The only person who has ever truly made me feel good about myself is Tatum. “Now,” I say, clearing my throat, “we need to continue where we left off last time. I looked into public records, and unfortunately, everything about the warehouse and Spinner’s seems to be legit. Is there anything you came across that I could work with? Anything you remember about the dancers that I could use so they’ll trust me?” A flash of anger crosses his features, drawing everything tight. “If you keep poking around, someone’s going to take notice.” “I know, and I’ve been careful.” Lifting his hands, he begins to methodically rub at his jaw. “I don’t like this, Alexa.” “No one said you have to. But you should learn

to accept it, because whenever you fight me on this, we’re only wasting more time. And we already used up enough of it getting each other off.” His lips twist with a sly little smirk. “I’ve never met a woman with so much determination.” “Yeah, well, when you get out I’ll introduce you to my friend Tatum.” “I’d like that.” Damn it, the way he says it with complete sincerity makes me insanely excited. The idea of bringing Michael to my world has me giddy. I don’t know what to do with these feelings. I don’t know how to let a man past my carefully constructed walls without falling too hard.

THE END of my hour-long visit arrives way too soon. As I scribbled notes during our conversation, I obsessively checked my watch until there were five minutes to go. The way Michael kept looking at me sideways and continuously rubbing his palms together, I was sure he was dreading it just as

much. There wasn’t any weirdness between us while he told me everything he uncovered about the dancers and waitresses at Spinner’s—which was pretty much jack squat—but it’s certainly here as I put my notepad away. Do I tell him that I had a good time? Do we go on like it never happened? Do I tell him the truth, that I’d like to fuck him again every chance we get? Do I tell him how badly I want to feel him come down my throat with my lips wrapped around his cock? “Promise me you’ll be careful with the information I gave you,” he says. “I will,” I answer, hoping he can see the honesty in my open expression. Then I saunter back to his side of the table and lean over him. When I press my palm over his heart, I feel it thumping like a jackrabbit. “And one way or another I am going to get you out of here, Michael. Now kiss me quickly before they come to take you away.” Without protest, his lips cover mine. I push my tongue inside, lapping him as I cup his hard-on.

When I back away, his eyes are heavily lidded. “Remember that when you’re alone in bed the next couple of nights,” I say. He seems incapable of speech as I collect the file and slip into my coat. I may be cool and collected when the door swings open and Smith barks that our time is up, but my legs are like jelly and paranoia clenches my throat. I feel completely transparent when Smith glances from me to Michael, holding his gaze as if suspicious of what went down between us. Is the lingering odor of sex obvious, or is it just me? It makes me nervous as hell considering what Michael said about Smith liking to make waves with inmates. “I’ll see you again in a few days,” I tell Michael, squaring my shoulders with confidence when he meets my gaze. My smile may be restrained, but I’m certain he can see the sparkle in my eyes that he singlehandedly placed there.

6 MICHAEL

nce I’m in bed a few hours later, staring at the O bottom of Chuck’s cot and listening to his deep snores, the cold fingers of guilt wrap around my mind. What have I done? Alexa doesn’t deserve this shit. Fucking a prisoner in secret. Having to walk past the guards with my cum trickling down her legs. Being with someone who can’t even take her out for a drink after. Any of it. I’m a dick for not stopping her.

But the pressure in my balls built to epic levels when she rode me. And the way she claimed my mouth, consuming my groans as intense trickles of pleasure filled my body…I was as desperate to keep it going every bit as much as I wanted the torture to stop. Then I climaxed with a blinding explosion. I haven’t felt anything as glorious as shooting my cum deep inside Alexa. When I decide on her next visit that I’ll throw her on the table and stick my tongue in her sweet pussy, I’m rock hard all over again. Sighing, I pull my dick from my pants and close my eyes. It’s never going to let me rest now that I’ve gotten a taste of Alexa.

AFTER THREE FITFUL nights of sleep, both worried what Alexa is doing about the Four Brothers and constantly turned on by the memory of her body, I’m told I have a visitor. About fucking time. I don’t know how much longer my wrist can go without seeing her again. The tight band of excitement in my chest sizzles

with the sight of the Four Brothers’ former president waiting in the standard visitor’s room. My dad’s oldest friend has aged considerably in the past couple of years with graying hair and deep wrinkles set around his eyes, but the sight of him and the smell of his chewing tobacco never fail to take me back to the memories of being a kid. Feelings of hopelessness and despair from my childhood return whenever I look into his steely gray eyes. “Hello, son.” He stands as I take the chair across from him to shake my hand. Even though Jack Matthews is a head shorter and half my size, nearly skinny as a rail, his reputation never failed to demand respect from everyone he encountered. At least until he left the club. Now, without the leather cut, he almost looks…frail. “You’re taking this prison thing to a whole ‘nother level with that sharp haircut.” “Good to see you, sir.” “Don’t sound like it,” he answers with a chuckle as he sits. “You look like you were hoping to see someone else. Maybe a certain blue-eyed

attorney?” A swell of irritation rises in my throat. “About that. I told you to have her firm find someone else to represent me. Someone like her shouldn’t be stopping by for visits, surrounded by these animals. She shouldn’t be involved.” “You need her, son. She’s supposed to be one of the best around for this kind of thing. Came highly recommended by an old Army buddy. Figured you’d like the fact that she was a veteran, too. Didn’t know she’d be easy on the eyes until she paid me a surprise visit a few days back.” Trying to wrangle a dark surge of anger, I reach up to scratch the top of my head. If he knew the whole story behind my arrest, the reason I was determined to join Four Brothers and get close to Kerissa, maybe he’d understand why I’m so weary. “You could’ve at least warned me that they were sending a woman. I was expecting the man I had been talking with on the phone.” “Listen to you bellyache about how you don’t want a woman involved.” With a shake of his head, he releases a low, rumbling chuckle. “Sorry, son,

but we all know there’s no way in hell I’ll let you rot in this place. Your momma’d be spinning in her grave if she knew the reason why you ended up in here. Don’t you dare fight me on this.” “Yessir,” I answer with a guilty bob of my head. “Now that we got that nonsense out of the way, I came by to see how you’ve been holding up.” “Got moved from laundry to maintenance.” I shrug one shoulder. “Sometimes this place isn’t all that different from boot camp. Work hard, do as the man says, mind my own business. Most guys in here leave me alone. They’re more concerned about the pedophiles and rapists.” His gaze moves down to my arms. “Looks like you’ve been keeping in shape. You’ve gotten bigger since I seen you last.” I lift one shoulder. “I lift and do cardio as much as possible. Keeps my mind clear.” “Good, good. You need to keep a positive attitude. Alexa will get you out of here, son. There’s a look of sheer determination in those big blue eyes that I’ve never seen in a woman.”

Looking down to my hands, I brace myself for what’s coming next. “You been down to see my old man?” “He’s…not doing so well.” I look up to see Jack scratch at the patch of white stubble along his jaw, seeming hesitant to continue. His eyes move beyond me for a moment before returning to meet my gaze. “They’ve been keeping him heavily sedated, and don’t allow for any visitors.” Leaning back in my chair I grumble to myself, wiping my face and swallowing back a flash of rage. In addition to inheriting my dad’s sense of duty to our country, his tendency toward episodes of blinding rage was another trait he so graciously passed down. But maybe he got what he deserved. Whenever I think my situation couldn’t be any worse, I remind myself that I could end up like my old man—an invalid with no hope for a future. Jack leans over the table, pointing at me. “Stop that shit right now, MJ. You’re not your old man. You’re brave, and you’re stronger than he ever was. You’ve never hurt another soul unless they had it coming to them. They still making you take

those anger classes?” “Yessir,” I answer quietly. “Good. Don’t need you having any issues that will get you sent down to solitary.” If he only knew that since my incarceration, the most worked up I’ve been was because of Alexa. Knowing she’s willingly putting herself in danger made me realize just how little control I have over the situation. And hearing Smith talk shit about her has kept me awake every time my head hits the pillow. Now that I’m interested in her well-being, it’s a whole new ballgame. “You all right?” Jack asks, drawing his eyebrows down. I firmly set my hands back on the table, making a loud clang with the cuffs. “Can you do me a favor?” “You know I’d do anything for you, son. I’d trade places with ya if I could.” “Check in with Alexa every now and then, make sure she’s okay. I just…worry. Someone that beautiful and stubborn is a bullseye for assholes.” Jack breaks out in a smile that makes his eyes

shine. “So you have grown sweet on her.” “I’d have to be fucking blind not to,” I answer truthfully. “Well in that case, I’m especially glad she’s on your side. I imagine it’s hard to be locked away from the rest of the world without having something to brighten your day.” If he only knew just how bright she has made things. Jack crosses his arms and dips his chin. “You aware she was a Major in the Army?” “She told me. Doesn’t mean someone her size is any less vulnerable. And she’s too damn confident. I don’t think she believes that anyone could hurt her.” “Sure, son. I’ll check in with her often, maybe even take a trip to Miami to take her out for lunch.” “Thanks. It’ll help me sleep better at night knowing someone’s keeping track of her. She mentioned she doesn’t have any family.” Before the memory of my last visit with Alexa makes me uncomfortably hard per usual, I decide it’s time to focus on something else. “Heard anything from the

club?” “Word has it they’re still uneasy about Kerissa’s disappearance. Dryden has a hundred thousand dollar reward out for anyone who has any information on her whereabouts.” He rubs at his wrinkled forehead. “He still thinks you had something to do with it.” A painful tightness spreads across my chest. I look away when I’m not able to tell him the truth. “She’ll turn up.” “Dryden’s a dangerous man, MJ. We both know he went behind my back after your old man was hauled away, made decisions I couldn’t stand behind. If I hadn’t stepped down when I did, they probably would’a killed me eventually. You should’ve left the club with me. You wouldn't be sittin’ here, tryin’ to figure out how to avoid spending the rest of your life locked away from the people you love.” Though I want to confess everything to the man who has been the kind of father figure my old man could never be, the danger of getting him involved isn’t worth the risk. The only way I’ll fill Jack in

on the truth is if something happens to Alexa, and that shit’s not going to happen. It fucking can’t. Besides, Jack’s the kind of stubborn, honorable man that would go after the Four Brothers with guns blazing if he knew the whole story. And Dryden’s too much of a sick fuck not to come out of the battle on top. He’d kill me and destroy everyone I care about if he knew the truth about Kerissa.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON when Alexa finally arrives, the hunger in her eyes is so evident that I’m surprised Smith doesn’t make some smart-assed comment before leaving us alone. Mere seconds after the door has clicked shut behind him, she’s propping a chair against it then putting her clever mouth on mine, clutching me like a life preserver. Tasting her again is better than winning the damn lottery. Her lips are sweet, soft, and as determined as her warm little tongue stroking through my mouth. I’m ready to throw her to the floor and taste all of her around the time she stops

for air, breathing heavily. I awkwardly fist a chunk of her soft hair and growl against her lips when breathing her in. “God, I missed you like fucking crazy. This four days business is total bullshit. Couldn’t you have found an exception to the warden’s rule? A reason to visit sooner?” “I’ve been busy looking into your case. There were several sets of fingerprints on the victim’s body, one that was perfectly intact. Your trial attorney didn’t push to have it investigated any further, so I did. The prints weren’t a match with anyone already in the system, but I have someone trustworthy looking deeper into it. I almost looked over the print—it was buried deep beneath a pile of circumstantial evidence in the lead investigator’s file. It’s almost like someone didn’t want it to be discovered. The judge granted a hearing based on the motion I submitted.” I pull back to meet her gaze. “When?” “In two weeks.” Her expression is as bright as the sun when she smiles. “The prosecuting attorney opposed granting an evidentiary hearing, but Judge

Kespohl said she’s inclined to hear me out.” “I fucking love you,” I blurt. Lips slack, she steps out of my reach. Fuck. I didn’t mean to say that. Or did I? What if I only feel something for her because she may actually get me out of here? But I know that’s bullshit. I’m a lucky bastard for having her around. There’s no one else like her, and I’m not letting her slip away. I can’t say with certainty that I actually love her this soon, but whatever I’m feeling is fucking intense. “I just mean…you know. I’m glad you’re on my side,” I say with a flippant shrug. She slowly shakes her head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Michael. It doesn’t mean she’s ruling in our favor. There’s still the question of your hair—” “Like my trial lawyer said, it could’ve been planted.” “I believe you, but in a court of law, they’re bound by circumstantial evidence. We can’t count on the court to see the bigger picture.” “Are they letting me out for the hearing?” “I’ve filed a request. The decision is up to the

warden.” The way she looks beyond me, I worry that I’ve lost her. She’s had too much time to think about what we did. “I need to be with you outside of this place.” I stalk toward her, reaching out to cup her face. “I’ve been dying to touch you again, baby girl.” “I think I lost a little of my mind waiting to see you again.” Then she leans into my hand before turning to take one of my fingers in her warm, wet mouth, and I know my girl is back. Balls drawn tight, a moan gets stuck in my throat. She’s fucking exquisite. As she releases the digit, leaving a trail of her saliva on my skin, her blue eyes lock with mine. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you the next time we were alone.” All at once she lowers to her knees in front of me, drawing my pants and boxers down along with her. Holding my gaze, her pretty little tongue darts out for a taste of my throbbing tip. I grab a fistful of the hair on top of her head and growl, closing my eyes with my head tipped back. Then her mouth is sinking down around my swollen cock, those dark nails are wrapping

around my shaft, and she’s creating a suction with her lips unlike anything I’ve felt before. This woman is completely un-fucking-real. She’s all soft and velvety, dedicated and determined to satisfy me in every way imaginable. The eager rasp of her tongue and strokes of her fingers beneath my ball sack sends me on a one-way ticket to total nirvana. Prison has gradually stripped me down of my manhood, made me feel like nothing of any significance. I’m just another mouth to feed, another body to occupy a cot. But being with Alexa has begun to rebuild what the system has taken away. She makes me feel whole again. I’ve never felt this good about anything. As her mouth is draining me of all reason, giving me the kind of pleasure I never thought I’d know again, I want to fill her once more, make her lose control. I want to taste her, and own her in every way, branding every inch of her tight little body as mine. The tension in my balls is borderline painful when I tug her hair just hard enough to get her

attention and make her stop. “Climb onto me, baby girl. I want to make you feel this good too. And I want to be kissing that sweet little mouth when I come inside you.” She rises to her feet, leaning into me with a dizzy little smile pressed to her lips. Her fingers wrap around my wrist, bringing my hands up beneath her skirt and past the lace of her panties. I moan when she guides a finger inside her warm, slick opening. “You already made me feel good,” she whispers. I kiss her hard, pulling her down to the chair on top of me. Her hands align things between us before twinning around my neck. Then I enter her hard and unrelenting, and we both hiss in satisfaction. It’s been too damn long, and I’m already dreading the next three days when we’re apart. She grinds into me, taking on a rhythm that’s every bit as painfully slow as it is delightfully fast and hard. I can’t get enough of her slick heat, or her soft mouth. I manage to palm one of her full tits, eliciting another hiss from her that’s absorbed by our greedy mouths.

The way her muscles grasp my cock has me ricocheting off the edge of reason. Everything about the way we move together, despite my hands and legs being chained together, it’s like our bodies were made for this. Made to move together. Made to provide each other with mind-blowing bliss. With her eyes closed, her mouth jerks away from mine and she pants, “Michael…holy hell you feel amazing.” “You gonna come for me, baby girl?” I tease, thrusting into her with a twist of my hips. Watching the elegant curve of her lips as they pucker, the graceful arch of her neck when she arches her back, the final build of my own release comes to a head. It’s raw and real, the sensation of her tight walls contracting around me numbing both my body and mind. She’s rendered me helpless to a degree I never thought possible, and yet at the same time, I’m totally conscious and in total control. I pump into her a few final times, wishing like hell that I could hold her in my arms as she violently shudders against me. I come seconds

behind her, huffing and groaning against her smooth neck as she’s gently stroking the top of my head. I have many regrets, things I should’ve said and done differently. But when it comes to Alexa, there’s no going back at this point and righting what’s wrong. I’ve fallen too fucking deep for this woman to tell her the truth.

7 ALEXA

fter giving into my desires for Michael yet A again, I’m buzzing from the sensation of his cock inside me, exhausted from not being able to soundly sleep at night since we first met, missing him in a severe way that I have no idea how to process, and worried about his future to the point of making myself physically ill. I’ve become a junkie in need of a fix. It seems I’ll never get enough of Michael Harrison.

More than that, however, I’m tortured by the helpless look he gave me before Smith escorted him from the room. I’m seized by guilt whenever it dawns on me that I’m free to do whatever I want while he’s locked away. And every time I close my eyes, I see his gorgeous face and hear his deep, rolling voice saying that he loves me. I’m convinced he meant it in jest. How could he truly feel that way when we’ve known each other less than a month? Aside from Tatum, no one else has said those words to me. Whatever I’m feeling for him also runs deeper than a strong physical attraction. But there’s no way it could be love. How in the hell am I expected to label what I’m feeling after everything I’ve been through? The threat of a panic attack consumes me whenever it seems I’ve reached another dead end in uncovering the dirty secrets kept by the Four Brothers. Which is all the damn time. Not only do I lose sleep at night thinking about those poor girls, but I’ve promised Michael that I will get him out of there.

What if I can’t save those girls? What if I can’t save him? Allowing myself to get involved with Michael on a personal level is hands-down the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I’m too far down the rabbit hole to go back. My happiness is dependent on his freedom. What happens from there is anyone’s guess, and the uncertainty of it all makes it difficult to breathe. Regardless, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove his innocence. Following my visit with Michael, I arrive back at the office long after everyone else has left. As I’m going over the notes of our conversation an hour or so later, there’s loud banging on the office door. Quietly pulling open the top drawer on my metal desk, I reach for my Beretta. I’m instantly at ease with the weight of it. Our office isn’t in the safest area of the city. What if the Four Brothers know what I’ve been up to? Would they have followed me back to Miami? Bang! Bang! Bang! I nearly jump from my damn seat with the racket. Despite the hours clearly printed on the front door, someone seems pretty determined to be

seen. They must’ve seen my office light from the street to know someone was here. When my cell phone vibrates in front of me, skipping across the desk, I nearly crap myself. Then I see the alert of a message from Jack Matthews and release a long sigh. That’s me at your door. Rolling my eyes, I stick my Beretta in the waistband of my dress slacks and head through the sadly outdated office for the front door. The nonprofit organization doesn’t have the funds to replace the shag carpet or nicotine-stained walls. And as much as the lingering smell of the place has raised my monthly dry-cleaning bills, I should be asking for a raise. But I consider myself lucky to be employed and able to keep a roof over my head after a lifetime of depending on the grace of others. Jack’s slim figure is clearly visible through the frosted glass door, but I curl my fingers around the handle of my weapon just in case. Swinging the

door open, I smile kindly at the old man standing in the hallway, wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I’ve only met with the former president of Four Brothers in person one other time, but his love for Michael was plain as the hooked nose on his face within minutes of our introduction. When he started referring to Michael as “his boy,” I assumed they were father and son until I learned that Michael Harrison Sr. has been in a mental institution for several years. Regardless of their official connection, I immediately understood they were exceptionally close. “Good evening, Jack. What brings you all the way to Miami?” He responds with a wry smile that sets deep wrinkles around his eyes. “Seems my boy is worried about you.” Excitement sparks in my belly. Michael’s been talking about me with Jack? I pull my suit coat back to show him the Beretta. “Like I told him numerous times, there’s no need to worry. I can take care of myself.”

Chuckling, he steps inside the office. “I don’t doubt that. He’s concerned all the same.” He tips his head back to my office. “Care if we sit for a spell? Have some things I wanna talk to you about.” Oh shit. Would Michael have told him what’s been going on between us? Is this the part where he tells me to stop messing around with Michael? “Actually, I was just heading out for the night,” I say with a dismissive shrug. “Can I buy you a drink at the bar across the street instead? I need to get the hell out of this place, and I could use a bite to eat.” “As long as there’s a spot that would give us a little privacy.” “It’s a Tuesday night, the place will be dead. We can grab one of the booths in back.” “All right then. I’ll meet you there.” Dipping his chin, he gives me a warm smile that makes me glad Michael has him as a friend. Since we first met, Jack has been nothing but kind and thoughtful. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to wonder what it would be like if Michael was released and

we were a couple. With Jack around, maybe I’d finally have the kind of father-figure I’ve always dreamed about. But it’s ridiculous for me to dream about anything when my life has proven to be one neverending nightmare.

NO MORE THAN ten minutes later, the old biker and I are situated in one of O’Brien’s musty booths with green vinyl seats and tall, intricate oak backs that do a decent job of secluding us from the few patrons sitting at the bar. The usual music, heavy on bagpipes, floats through the air, keeping our conversation to a low din. From the way Jack keeps looking at me, I already know he’s ready to push the attorney-client privilege to new heights as soon as we’ve put our orders in with the new waitress. “What is my boy hiding?” he blurts the second we’re alone. “What kind of shit did he get himself into?” “You know I can’t repeat anything Michael has

told me.” Taking a deep breath, my fingers trace the outline of the metal logo hanging from my purse. “Whatever he’s keeping from you is his business.” “Didn’t figure you’d be an easy one to crack.” He chuckles to himself. “MJ clearly likes you, although I don’t know why he wouldn’t. If nothing else, I’m glad he has you to sort things out with. You really think you’ll be able to get him outta there?” “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it happen,” I say, inwardly kicking myself for making the promise yet again. “But it’s not going to be easy. I might be in over my head with Michael’s situation, and I don’t know who I can trust.” One of his eyebrows quirks. “You trust me?” “Yes, but—” “That boy is all I have left in this life, Miss Darrington. Eats me up to see him there, knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to help. You probably already know that when he was sixteen, MJ’s momma was strangled and dumped to rot in their front yard. But you probably didn’t know

MJ’s the one who found her. Messed him up good. The cops never really figured out what happened, and they never arrested any suspects. The night she died, MJ started sleeping in the clubhouse, and he never went back home. Eventually I started to suspect that something wasn’t right, and invited him to live with me. Wasn’t until after MJ enlisted that the truth came out and his old man tried ending his own life. “Turns out Michael Senior was a violent son of a bitch. Not because he was unkind, but because he was haunted by his past. We served an especially brutal tour in Iraq, saw three of our brothers get blown to bits. I didn’t know at first that kind of thing was going on, or I would’a done something about it. He was clever enough to avoid giving MJ bruises or broken bones. Should’ve known the way he always stuck around the clubhouse whether his old man was there or not. Poor kid just wanted to get away from it all. MJ’s convinced his daddy didn’t kill his momma even though the cops planned to arrest him. Shot himself when he heard they were comin’.”

My heart clenches with the horrifying truth behind Michael’s story. I knew the part about his mom being murdered from reading his file, but there wasn’t a mention of abuse by his father. Damn it, I care about Michael enough already the way it is. Hearing his story has me yearning to wrap my arms around his broad chest and never let him go. I almost choke on an unexpected wave of tears that, thankfully, I’m able to hold back. But it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Watching me with a knowing look, Jack folds his arms over his chest. “I’m telling you this so you can understand how badly I want him out of there. You should understand that there isn’t anything on God’s green earth that could stop me from making it happen. MJ doesn’t seem to understand this. You, on the other hand…you have the exact same lovestruck look I saw in my boy’s eyes earlier today when he asked me to keep an eye on you. I don’t know what’s going on with you two kids, but it’s obvious you care about each other. And if you care about MJ even half as much as I do, then you’re ready to do what it takes to make him a free

man.” The slow burn of a blush fills my cheeks. Guess I can add “smart old man” to his list of favorable traits. But it’s also a harsh reminder that I have to be more careful about wearing my heart on my sleeve, or letting my emotions get in the way of being Michael’s best hope. “You’re asking me to put my career on the line, as well as Michael’s trust by telling you what he confided in me. If he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you by now.” The old biker bobs his head. “Guess I am. S’pose that means you have to ask yourself how far you’re willing to go in order to bring him into your life without guards and barbed wire fences in your way.” When the little blonde waitress returns with two mugs of beer and a tray of chips, I blurt, “We’ll take two shots of Patrón, too.” Although I haven’t agreed to anything, a slow, pleased smile slides onto Jack’s face. Crafty fucker.

I MUST LOOK on edge when Smith leads me back to the visitor’s room, because he keeps throwing me these skeptical glances. My conversation with Jack kept me up long after he left for his motel. He made me promise to carefully consider his offer to get involved with whatever secrets Michael has been keeping, and get back to him as soon as I made up my mind. As I weighed the pros and the cons of my options, I realized I’m ready to go the extra mile for Michael. Oddly enough, by doing what’s necessary I’ll betray his wishes, and could end up losing him. So, being the selfish bitch that I’ve apparently become since Michael Harrison came into my life, I decided that I had to be with him one last time in case he can’t forgive me once he learns what I’m planning. Luck was on my side when I was able to convince the warden that I needed a special meeting with my client to prepare for his upcoming motion hearing.

“Everything all right?” Smith asks, pulling his pants up higher. “If you’re worried about being alone with Harrison, I can stay this time.” “No,” I answer, stopping myself before I add way. “I need to be alone with my client.” Smith grunts, “Have it your way.” The second Michael steps into the visitor’s room, my body becomes alive with the memory of him inside me. Though we’ve been with each other several times by now, his eyes still consume me like a man who’s gone his whole life without a drink. Then his lips tilt with a sexy grin and I’m at his mercy. As badly as I want to run to him and kiss the shit out of those full lips, it’s a miracle my feet stay firmly planted. “Afternoon, counselor,” he greets me with a dip of his chin. Oh how I’ve longed to hear the deep roll of his voice, and feel the rough touch of his fingertips on my nipples once more. What few dreams I’ve had whenever I’ve actually slept since we first met have been fueled by those very things. “Are the handcuffs absolutely necessary?” I

boldly ask, turning to Smith. “He hasn’t done anything to make me fear him, and the last time I was here, I noticed they were cutting into his wrists.” When the guard that accompanied Michael casts a weary look Smith’s way, I add, “With you right outside the door, I don’t see why it would be a problem.” Michael’s eyes flash wide, then he bites down on his lips to hide a smirk. “Go ahead,” Smith grunts to the other guy. I’ve practically soaked through my underwear in anticipation by the time they’ve removed the cuffs and Michael is rubbing his thick wrists. Finally. He’ll be able to touch me without any restrictions. “Thank you,” I say to the guards, wishing they’d hurry the hell up so we can be alone. I’m not even positive I’ve heard the sound of the door closing behind them before I’m rounding the table to Michael, throwing myself into his massive arms as he stands. He hugs me tight to his hard chest the way a child clings to their favorite toy. I dig my fingers into his back, swooning with

the mixture of his masculine scent and powerful muscles flexed around me like a python. It feels like it’s taken a lifetime to get to this moment. Despite first wanting to pretend sex with Michael didn’t mean anything, and having been through a good share of one night stands to have easily dismissed it, we’ve forged an unspoken bond. Or maybe our bodies did it for us, having perfectly fit together and created a deeper connection. Whatever the reason, I’ve never felt safer or more at ease when encapsulated in his arms. “Fucking hell,” he mutters with his lips pressed to the top of my head. “I can’t believe I finally get to hold you. You have no idea how badly I want to walk out of here with you today.” “I think I do.” “You can’t,” he answers with a harsh bark. “It should be total hell whenever I don’t get to see you, but remembering what it’s like to taste you, to feel you wrapped around my cock has made me stronger than I’ve been in months. You have no idea what you’ve done to my head, baby girl. The

mere memory of your voice pulled me out of some pretty dark thoughts from my past.” Agh, again with the mention of his heartwrenching childhood, my eyes pool with tears. Wriggling away from his chest, I cross the room to block the door before returning to his arms. I rise to my tip-toes to meet his hungry mouth and tongue, matching them stroke-for-stroke. One of his hands cups my ass while the other tangles in my hair, tilting my head back while making it clear that I belong to him. Having him freely touching me, claiming me in a way that I’ve refused every man before him, feels phenomenal. Normally I prefer to be the one in control, the one calling the shots in and out of the bedroom. But with Michael…for some fucked up reason, I want him to brand me as his. Soon he’s lifting me into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. I’m so lost in our kiss that I hardly notice as he reaches around to flick my underwear to the side until he slides a thick finger into my slick opening. Soon one finger becomes two, and his thumb joins in to swirl

against my clit. I mewl into his mouth, finding euphoria in his light, teasing strokes. “My gorgeous girl…so wet for me,” he growls just before his touch becomes more insistent. Then he’s setting me on the table and drawing back with a dark gaze that has me even more wet than before. “I’m going to fuck your sweet little pussy with my mouth. Can you promise to stay quiet?” I blanch with his sexy declaration, hardly aware when I nod. I unfurl slowly as he nudges me down to my back on the cold table. For a split second I worry what would happen if Smith were to barge his way in and catch me with my legs open. But within seconds, Michael has my skirt around my waist and he’s ripping my underwear off my legs. We both make feral noises when his raspy tongue first dips into my wetness. It’s been so long since a guy was down there with his mouth that it feels like the first time, only Michael’s strokes are so calculated and talented that it basically is the first time. And as he continues to twist his tongue around, stopping every so often to let his lips suck and nip,

I’m certain it’ll be the first time a man has made me come with only his mouth. He suckles like he doesn’t want to waste a single drop, like he’s discovered the nectar of the gods. I’m teetering on the most epic of climaxes when one of his hands extends to a nipple, pinching it under my bra and essentially shattering my control. I break under him, digging my nails into his arm as if it will keep me from falling to the floor. Michael quickly pops to his feet in time to cover his mouth over mine, consuming my whimpered cries and filling me with my own bitter taste. I wrap one arm around his thick neck and reach for his pants with the other, wanting to feel him before the severe buzz from the intense orgasm leaves my body. But his kisses slow to a languid pace, and he captures my hand to lace our fingers together. It’s almost like he’s getting ready to make love to me. “Please fuck me, Michael,” I plead, pulling away from his lips. “I need it hard, and I need it rough. I want to be reminded of you every time I move.”

His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “And I want to take my time…make it last.” “We don’t have that luxury,” I insist, taking his thick jaw in my hand. “And I can’t wait any longer.” As his mouth returns to mine, I feel him pull his cock from his pants between us. I shiver when its smooth tip makes contact with my overlysensitized opening. “Yes, God…oh please,” I whimper. “Slide it inside of me. Michael…I need to feel you.” Grunting, he pushes his way inside. With the first thrust, again it’s as if he’s splitting my channel in two with his massive flesh. The metal table jumps, screeching across the tiled floor. We both freeze, waiting a few seconds for a knock. When it doesn’t come, I urgently whisper, “Chair.” Without having to be told again, he scoops me into his arms and falls back, giving me no choice but to once again straddle him as he settles back in the chair. His hands grip my hips, guiding me as he slips inside until I swear I’ll explode. I don’t understand what voodoo can make something with

his girth fit all the way into me, but I’m not about to question it when it taps every last of my nerves still dancing from when he made me come. As our eyes lock, an intensity builds that’s almost too much to take. It’s like we’re making the kind of connection that can’t be undone. Accepting each other for who we are. Fusing our souls. “When I get out of here, I’m going to take care of you the way you deserve,” he promises. “Michael—” I begin, wanting him to take it back even though I like the sound of us having a future together. I should tell him the truth. I should tell him the plan Jack and I devised. But his cock taps the most vulnerable part of me, winding me up like a bottle of fine champagne about to be opened. “Promise you’ll be there for me when I get out,” he pleads. “Say you’re mine.” “I am yours, Michael.” Then his mouth is over mine, once again swallowing my whimpered cries as fireworks burst throughout my chest, and a violent shiver rips from my womb down to my toes. With a dark growl, he pushes into me one final

time until his warm release fills me to the core. As his strong arms wrap around me and he continues to ravage my lips in a life-altering kiss, it’s like being caught in the world’s sexiest bear trap. I’m completely relaxed for the first time since we’ve met. The reality that we may never have the opportunity to do this again seeps into my soul— whether because he won’t offer his forgiveness when I betray him, because my plan goes exactly as I hope, or because something goes terribly wrong. When a crippling wave of sorrow crashes into me, there’s no stopping the confusing rush of tears that follows.

8 MICHAEL

he first time Alexa shakes in my arms, I figure T she’s still feeling the aftereffects of her second orgasm. It seemed more intense than the first the way she was thrashing above me. But then I taste the bitterness of tears in my mouth. Pulling away, I grab onto her hips. “Hey. What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to get her to look at me. “Shit, this is embarrassing.” With her chin

tucked to her chest, she carefully wipes at her eyes. “I never cry.” “And I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what I feel when I’m inside you,” I offer. “Guess we’re even.” She laughs in a beautiful, trickling noise. Then her watering eyes flip upward to hold my gaze. “What if I can’t get you out of here? I made you a promise…and I’ll do everything I can…I have an idea that I think will work…but what if that isn’t enough? You don’t deserve to be in this place. You deserve a better life.” Then she buries her face in my neck and her tears saturate my skin. “I’m falling for you, Michael. I care too damn much. The way everything is happening…it’s all wrong. You shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t have to be together like this. We deserve a real shot at making whatever this is work.” I tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear and kiss the top of her head. Damn, I adore the hell outta this woman. It makes me angry as hell to think that this could really be the end of the line for us. She deserves better.

“I have faith that you can make it happen, Alexa. But if you don’t, we’ll find another way. There’s always another way.” Holding her close with one arm, I rub her back with the other, and drop kisses in her hair until she’s calm and drawing lazy circles with her fingertips beneath my shirt. The ragged beats of her heart pound against my chest until I swear my heart has taken on the same pace. “We’re going to be okay,” I promise, squeezing her tight. The fact I’ve suddenly become optimistic of my situation is laughable considering I had lost hope a couple months back that I’d ever be a free man again. But since meeting Alexa, I’ve become more determined to break out of here than I have been about anything else in my life. “I should move in case Smith decides to pay a surprise visit,” she decides after a few minutes of silence. Though I know she’s right, I grunt in dismay before releasing her. First thing I’m going to do once I’m free is spend an entire week with this

woman in bed, refusing any interruptions. I couldn’t give any less of a shit if I don’t do anything more than hold her. Before she slips off my dick, she presses one last soft kiss to my lips. The cold, brutal absence of her body when she stands stings like a motherfucker. She goes to work in fixing her hair and clothes until she appears as cool and collected as when she entered, only with rosy cheeks and glossed-over eyes. Between the evidence on her face and the faint odor of sex in the air, it’s always possible Smith could catch on to what we’ve been doing. But with any luck, everything will fade over the next forty minutes. As she releases the chair from the door, the reminder that she’ll be gone again in less than an hour all at once becomes crippling. The days between our short visits are becoming unbearable. We need more time. “The other day you told me you don’t have any family,” I say as I’m straightening my pants. “No parents? Siblings?” Arms crossed beneath her lush breasts, she

returns to my side, leaning back against the table. She seems annoyed by the idea when she sighs. “I was an only child, thank God. I was transferred to state custody at the age of five. My parents died together from a heroine overdose five months later. All my grandparents were deceased long before I was born, and the only other blood relative I had was an aunt in New Orleans who wanted nothing to do with her sister’s child. I spent the next twelve years in ten different foster homes. I was finally emancipated after my seventeenth birthday.” “Shit, that’s rough. Didn’t the state try to have you adopted?” Her thick lashes flutter when she looks away. “No one wanted a kid that was born premature to a junkie.” The idea of a young Alexa being raised by druggies has my stomach churning. And who the fuck wouldn’t want to adopt someone like her? It’s inconceivable that she was either a brat or unattractive at any point in her life. I imagine she was cute as hell when little, full of vinegar with beautiful blue eyes too big for her face. The fact

that she became an attorney despite being dealt a shitty hand from the start speaks volumes to her determination and character. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” I say. “You didn’t.” She offers a smile, but I can see right through it. She’s lived a lonely life, a lot like mine. “I survived. That’s enough.” Fuck! I want to kill every last asshole that caused her the amount of pain reflected in her eyes. Relieved that she’s at least close enough to comfort, I run my fingers along the inside of her thigh. Leaning into my touch, she hums and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe that’s part of why we’re so drawn to each other,” I suggest in a gentle voice. “I didn’t exactly have the best upbringing either.” “At least you had Jack. He seems like a good man.” I nod, unable to dispute the fact. I’m still bothered as shit that she doesn’t have anyone to call family. “You keep in touch with any friends from the service? Law school?” “I met my best friend Tatum our freshman year

of undergrad, and we’ve been like sisters ever since. We get together almost every night for drinks. For awhile we considered getting a place together, but in the end decided it’d be too awkward whenever one of us was dating.” A boulder drops in my gut as I imagine her bringing guys back to her place. Not just because it makes me jealous as fuck, but I don’t like the idea of her being vulnerable to anyone. “Any old boyfriends I’ll be competing against?” “I don’t really make time for dating.” She clears her throat as her fingers work on massaging a knot from my shoulder. “What about you? Any sibling-like friends? I imagine you’re pretty tight with the other guys in your club.” “When I was younger, maybe, but most of them were older and more like uncles.” I lean back and close my eyes. Her magical fingers have me so relaxed that my hand slows on her thigh. “I keep in touch with a few guys from my Recon unit, but they’re scattered all over the country.” “Do you think you’ll return to the Tampa area when you’re released?”

I look up at her in time to catch the tail-end of her hopeful expression. “I’m willing to go anywhere I’m wanted. I can find work in Miami.” “Michael…” Her fingers move up to the back of my head. “I don’t know that it’s practical for us to plan a future together when all of this is still new. This could be nothing more than mindblowing sex.” “Bullshit,” I growl. “We both know there’s more going on here.” I hook my arm around her waist, drawing her near. “Do you always do the practical thing, baby girl?” “Well no, but—” “Then let’s follow our gut instincts. Throw caution at the wind or whatever the fuck that saying is. I’m not suggesting that we live together or anything remotely permanent—at least not yet. I just think we should see where this thing will go. Give each other a chance.” I nuzzle my face against her stomach and stroke my fingers over her panties. “Do you want that?” Her lips part with a soft pant. “Yes. But…” I apply a little more pressure, sinking a finger

into her beneath the lace. “Will you wait for me, Alexa?” “I want to,” she answers in a throaty voice that’s thick with desire and sexy as fuck. “Oh God, I really do. But—” With a series of rapid bangs on the door, she lets out a noiseless gasp and springs around to the other side of the table. Not a second lags after she’s sitting before the door opens and Smith steps inside. “Everything all right in here?” he asks, narrowing his eyes on me. “There’s no need to check in,” Alexa snaps in an authoritative tone. I imagine it’s reminiscent of her days in the Army when she ordered grunts around. “The warden allotted us an hour, and I need every minute of that alone with my client.” Pretending to cough, I cover up an unexpected chuckle. Yeah, I’m undoubtedly in love with this woman. Nothing she could do or say at this point could make me change my mind. The way Smith’s lips press flat as his gaze jumps between us, I’m certain he’s onto our secret,

knowing something’s off. But then he grunts and turns back to the door. Alexa rolls her eyes to the ceiling the second he’s out of sight. “We’re going to have to be more careful with Captain Ass-wipe on guard.” Then she sets her open palm out on the table, smiling when I set my hand in hers and squeeze. “He won’t be our problem much longer.” As she launches into attorney-speak about an upcoming motion and her professional plan of attack, I begin to fear what will happen if her plan doesn’t work and I’m forced to let her go. Worse yet, I’m terrified what she’ll do if my walls crumble around me and she stumbles across the truth.

THE NEXT TWO days I somehow survive once again without hearing anything from Alexa. I’m granted overtime in maintenance, working on repairing a series of holes in the dining hall created by a frustrated inmate, and time slips away like it’s nothing. But being without Alexa is everything.

She’s never far from my thoughts. Last time she left me with a lingering kiss and a downward gaze, almost if she was afraid it would be the last time we were alone. There wasn’t time to ask what was bothering her before Smith returned, but I could feel her reluctance electrifying the air. And that shit made me uneasy. I jolt when someone barks my name like it’s a fucking swear word. Smith stands over me, a sneer on his face. “You have a visitor.” My heart skips around in my chest like a little kid’s on Christmas morning. But any chance of it being Alexa disappears when he adds, “Clean up this mess and get your ass down to the visitor’s center.” Unless she’s forced to visit me as a civilian because they revoked my attorney visits for some reason—and I hope to shit they didn’t find one—it won’t be her. Several minutes later, as I shuffle into the stuffy room filled with sniffling family members and a handful of kids excited to see their pops, I nearly drop to my knees.

Dryden Hayes, the current president of Four Brothers and uncle of my former girlfriend, sits waiting for me at a table near the back of the room. He’s perfectly calm and collected as if waiting for an old friend. He’s always been a smooth looking son-of-a-bitch—the kind that turns women’s heads. Even with his temples peppered in gray, his steely eyes and smooth features are that of a movie star gracefully aging into their golden years. He’d look more at ease in a suit and tie than the black t-shirt and his club’s leather cut he’s wearing. Planting myself in the doorway, I growl to myself, ready to tear the vindictive man apart. I’d give my left nut to have five minutes alone with the bastard. “Move it, Harrison,” Ryks barks at my side, wiping a line of sweat from his brow. He’s normally one of the most passive of the guards here, but for some reason he seems especially impatient, shifting his weight back and forth. “I didn’t approve of this visitor,” I reply, shaking my head. “There must be a mistake.” “Take it up with the warden.”

“You can’t make me go in there,” I tell him with a dark sneer. He huffs impatiently, stretching his neck back. “What’re you, ten? I can make you do whatever the hell I want.” Though he’s a good fifty pounds heavier than I am, mostly as his belly is round with fat, I could easily take him in the outside world. Here, where I’m bound by rules and the threat of more time in this cesspool, he’s absolutely right. Turning, I look him in the eye. “What do you care if I see this guy or not?” As expected, he squirms beneath my stare. “I don’t. I’m just doing my job.” “Bullshit,” I mumble to myself. I’d be willing to bet all my commissary stash that Dryden bought his way in to see me. Knowing Ryks barely gets paid over minimum wage and has three kids to feed, I can’t say I really blame the guy for taking a bribe. Just wish I could’ve helped him out some other fucking way. When Dryden catches me coming in his direction, his lips quirk with a maniacal smile. “Well, well. The mighty Mad John Harrison,

reduced to little more than slavery. How you likin’ the company here, boy? You find yourself a strappin’ young man to keep your bunk warm at night?” The rumbling baritone of his voice has my stomach churning as I sit across from him. “Why the fuck are you here?” He pretends to balk. “Now what would your momma say if she heard you using such foul language?” Heat spikes my veins as I picture leaping over the table to strangle the life from him. It takes all the willpower I can muster to stay seated. “Don’t you dare talk about her,” I warn, nostrils flickering uncontrollably. “What the fuck do you want, Dryden? I’m not in the mood to play your bullshit games.” “Fine, we’ll do it your way.” His lips tighten as he leans in with a gaze as hard as steel. “I’m here because there are rumors goin’ around that you hired someone to dig into my club’s business ventures.” I’m suddenly sick, concrete coating my insides.

What in the hell has Alexa been up to? Since Dryden seems to be gaging my reaction as he continues, I attempt to at least look stoic. “Now I know you’re not that stupid, boy, or I would’ve taken care of it by now. You, Jack, anyone who’d be of any importance, could simply…disappear in the blink of an eye. You know how that works, don’t you, MJ?” My veins run ice cold. If he discovers there’s an attorney trying to bust me out, even if he doesn’t know that she means the world to me at this point, he wouldn’t bat an eye at including her in the threat. What if he also bribed someone into giving him a copy of the visitors log? Now that I know he’s watching me, it’s too fucking dangerous for Alexa to return. I suddenly want to scoop the asshole’s eyes out for taking away the only thing I have to look forward to in this dump. “I haven’t hired anyone to do shit,” I sneer through a clenched jaw. “That’s interesting, because I know you were digging around in club business right before they

arrested you for gutting my brother.” His eyes narrow, overflowing with poison. “What did you think you were going to accomplish, MJ? And what the fuck did you do with my niece?” Without breaking his hard stare, I say, “Look at me. I’m in prison…for life. How could I have done anything with her?” “Don’t play dumb with me. We both know she went missing right after you killed Rambone.” His lips bend with a scowl. “I’m only going to warn you this one time to keep your nose out of club business. You’ve destroyed my family. I’ll be damned if I let you destroy everything I’ve worked for too. Everything your father worked for…at least up until he tried to take the coward’s way out.” My entire body vibrates with hatred as I hold his stare. “Your family broke mine first.” I rise to my feet, taking slow in-and-out breaths until I’m certain that I won’t be throwing the old man through a wall. “You wasted your time by coming here, Dryden.” He holds my gaze. More threats aren’t

necessary since he made himself perfectly clear. My stomach surges as I’m led back to the dormitories. How the hell am I going to get a message to Jack without Dryden intercepting? I know what needs to be done, even if it hurts like a motherfucker. One way or another, I need to let Alexa know it’s no longer safe to visit.

9 ALEXA

he morning after my last visit with Michael, T Tatum paces the wooden floor in my small apartment living room. Both her hands fist in her blonde hair at the back of her head, and whenever I catch her pinched expression, I inwardly cringe. After I brought her up to speed on everything that’s happened with Michael, and how I plan to accept Jack’s offer to help me go after the Four Brothers, she spent ten minutes reaming me a new asshole,

telling me she was sure I had lost my mind. Until I saw the situation from her point of view, I hadn’t realized how badly I had romanticized my relationship with Michael. It’s really freaking me out, because I’m not that kind of girl. I’ve never believed in happily ever after. Being an unwanted kid buried in a system where overworked children’s advocates and underpaid social workers were my only constant role models didn’t allow for those kinds of fairytales. I grew up cynical, cautious of anyone who showed even the smallest bit of kindness. The only real relationship I’ve ever had with a man involved a fellow officer during the last year I was enlisted. Despite being together for several months, the word “love” had never been exchanged. It was more of a sexual relationship that formed out of convenience. I never imagined there’d be a “someday” that involved us planning a life together. But for some reason, the idea of a future with Michael falls into place naturally. Taking in the view across a public parking-lot of the clear blue water, I slump back into my fake

leather love-seat as I try to imagine Michael living here. I keep the decorating simple, almost nonexistent. Maybe it’s almost too prison-like and could use a splash of color beyond the taupecolored walls. The conservative set of couches was my first purchase after signing a lease on the one-bedroom apartment a mere two weeks into my new job. It was a gamble to assume that Vaughn would keep me on long enough to afford my own slice of heaven, but I had always wanted to live close to the ocean. Hearing the waves beating on the sand at night almost always lulls me to sleep. At least it did before I met Michael. I’d like to think the sound would be comforting to him as he readjusts to civilian life. Now that I’ve felt his arms around me, I often lay in bed at night and imagine I’m cuddled up with him, listening to the swoosh of water lapping against the sand. In just over a month’s time, I swear I know Michael better than I’ve known anyone in my entire lifetime. And he’s trusted me enough to place his fate in my hands. Whether planning a future with

him is ridiculous or not, I have an obligation not to let him down. “Are you hearing a word I’m saying?” Tatum asks, stopping directly in front of me. I cross my arms with a great sigh. “Are you done acting like a raging schizo so we can talk this through?” Her eyes become wild. “I don’t think you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into! You’re going to end up alongside this guy in prison, ‘Lex!” My eyes roll to the ceiling. “They don’t house women in the Glades.” “Smart-ass! You know what I mean!” Throwing her hands out at her sides, she collapses at my side. We both stare up at the ceiling for a moment. Then she asks, “You really had sex with this guy behind an unlocked door?” “Several times.” “And how many orgasms did he give you again?” “Too many to count.” Tatum buries her face in her hands. “Christ on a

cracker, Alexa Mae. Did you even bother checking for security cameras, or can I expect to see an encore on some new prison reality series?” “It’d be a breach of inmates’ rights if the prison recorded anything in the attorney conference rooms.” I click my tongue. “Give me a little credit, T. I haven’t completely gone over the deep end.” “Are you sure? Because the Alexa I know wouldn’t give convicted felons unlimited access to her vagina.” “Have you heard a word I’ve been saying? He’s a war hero, not a felon. He’s only in there because the Four Brothers wanted him to go down for what he knows. He could singlehandedly bury that club.” “Again, I really wish you wouldn’t have gone quite so far into the details of his case. We’ve both crossed so many professional lines that I’m beginning to feel vertigo.” “I’m only telling you this because you’re my person,” I say, nudging my ankle against hers. “My lobster. Remember?” “Okay first of all, there was an overabundance

of tequila involved that night. We both know my cousin shouldn’t have legally or ethically accepted us as customers. Secondly, we’re both lucky we still managed to score professional jobs after you tricked me into getting that horrid tattoo. And, I feel it’s necessary as your person to point out that from the sounds of things, I may no longer be your lobster. It seems there’s a new one in town with more muscles…and tattoos.” With a dreamy smile, she turns to me, a funny little expression pulling at her pink lips. “Couldn’t you at least have gotten a selfie with this guy so I could see just how hot we’re talking?” The idea of getting a picture with Michael had once crossed my mind too, but I decided it would be too painful to see his face again if we can’t be together. It’s hard enough whenever I come across the cold, hardened expression he’s wearing in his mug shot on file. The man I’ve come to care about is nothing like that persona. “Again, you’re going off on a tangent,” I tell her. “We need to remember that those young women in that basement and Michael’s freedom

are what’s most important. My sanity can be taken into question later.” Tilting her head back on the couch, Tatum pulls a pillow into her lap and hugs it to her stomach, huffing with another deep sigh. “So let me get this straight. You’re getting Michael’s surrogate dad involved even though you know it’s not what Michael would want. You won’t let this go to the local sheriff because Michael’s convinced they’re dirty. You want me to go over my supervisor’s head and get him a deal that would protect your boyfriend if he’s released. Oh, and you’ve decided to go undercover in a strip club to expose these dangerous criminals, and you want me to somehow help you on the down-low the same time my office will be launching an investigation into Michael’s claims. Did I miss anything?” “I won’t let you get into trouble for this.” I pat her leg, trying to calm the anxiety building in her tone. “You’ll simply be on the sidelines, making sure I don’t get in too deep over my head.” “You have to trust in the system, ‘Lex. My agency knows what they’re doing. We can help

those girls.” With narrowed eyes, I shake my head. “You mean the same way someone helped me?” Tears spring to her eyes, but she doesn’t say a word. She’s well aware of the painful truth behind my reasoning. She knows the motivation behind my decision to do this my way. “I won’t sleep until I have tangible evidence that proves Dryden is up to no good.” I lean against her shoulder and sigh. “I know you have good intentions, T, but you know why I have to save those girls and can’t leave it up to someone else.” Setting her head against mine, she whispers, “How could I forget? It’s the same reason I chose this line of work.” The plan is probably more dangerous than anything I faced in the Army, and could very likely get me killed. But with Tatum and Jack backing me up, it just may work.

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, Tatum and I are at Jack’s. He stands squared in front of me in the

living room of his little house, scowling at my tacky mini skirt in a way that reminds me of Michael when we first met. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this idea of ours. If MJ knew what you was plannin’—” “He doesn’t,” I remind him curtly. “And he won’t, because no one is going to tell him. We need him to behave in there so there aren’t any setbacks to his release. If my motion isn’t granted, we’re going to need something else to fall back on, and I have a feeling the truth of what happened to Rambone is tied in to the club’s trafficking business.” “Don’t even try to talk her out of it,” Tatum tells him, waving a hand through the air. “I’ve tried, and I’m normally the only one she ever listens to. There’s no changing her mind once it’s been set.” With one hand on my hip, I give Jack a flirty smile just like Tatum had me practice a hundred times. After countless hours of listening to her go over every possible scenario that could go wrong, I’m eager to put the plan into motion. “What’s the

matter, sugar?” I ask Jack in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Don’t I look like I’d belong in a strip club?” The old biker rubs at his wrinkled forehead. “Ya look pretty enough. No offense, but I liked you better as a brunette. But I don’t think they’d ever suspect you’re an attorney, especially dressed like that.” “That’s the point.” I run a hand through my freshly straightened hair while trying to calm my nerves. As much as I’ve always loved my naturally dark hair, it was painful to have it bleached and cut shorter. Still, I knew going undercover would require more than a simple change of clothes even before Tatum set it up, and Dryden seems to have a thing for blondes based on his three ex-wives. Anyways, it’s just hair, and mine grows quickly. I kept it above my shoulders in the Army for awhile, and when I decided to grow it out again, it was down to my elbows in no time. “How’re you gonna explain the new look to MJ?” Jack asks.

I draw my eyes away from him, guilt-ridden for failing to disclose all the details of the agreement made with Tatum’s agency. My heart twitches painfully, knowing there’s a slight chance I won’t ever see Michael again. “I’ve arranged for someone else to represent him at the upcoming hearing,” I say quietly. “I still don’t know.” Jack shakes his head slowly. “If those bastards get rough with you…or try anything…how’re you gonna protect yourself?” “You and I will be keeping a close eye on the situation,” Tatum assures him. “I’ll be staying in a motel down the street from her, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting anything happen to her.” I shrug and wave my hand at them both. “No one has to worry. I’m applying as a waitress at Spinner’s, not as one of their dancers. Once I can get the girls at the club to trust me enough to let me into their circle, I’ll be out of there. Besides, I have the burner phone to use in case of an emergency.” Jack shakes his head again, apparently refusing to accept my plan. “Dryden’s men will follow you

around and dig into your past, make sure you’re really who you say you are. When it comes to their business, they don’t let anything fall through the cracks.” “We’ve already covered that,” Tatum tells him in a reluctant tone. “I pulled some strings with a few of my most reliable contacts. Valid credentials have already been put in place. She’ll be staying in a safe house. Neighbors will attest that she’s been living in the area for several months if questioned. I’ve done these types of operations before, and believe me, I’ve thought of everything. The last thing I want to do is put my best friend’s life in danger.” “Until this is over, Alexa Darrington is out of state visiting ill family members,” I tell Jack. Then I link my arm with Tatum’s. “It will all work out, and we’ll bury these fuckers.” Jack’s frail hands run through his thinning hair. He mutters something to himself before meeting my gaze once more. “We have no idea how long it’ll take. Could be weeks, months…hell, even up to an entire year. Are you sure you’re that committed?

What do I tell MJ? He’ll lose his damn mind if you don’t come to see him.” A tumultuous wave of guilt and sadness crashes into me, almost bringing me to my knees. Taking a deep breath, I answer with, “Tell him I’m doing everything in my power to clear his name.” And, I silently add to myself, if things go as planned, tell him I said goodbye.

THE INSIDE of Spinner’s Row isn’t quite as rundown as the outside would indicate. It’s clean and modern despite the stench of cigars and cigarettes that clings to the crisp, overly cool air. State-of-the-art speakers blast gangster rap as the hostess leads me on a path through the round tables gathered around the small stage. As it’s late morning, only a few customers occupy the seats, their focus glued to the small redhead shaking her g-string covered ass on the stage. I try not to openly stare as I try to assess the girl’s age on our way through. The hostess continues leading me down a dark

hallway, past a set of bathrooms to a third door. She pauses, giving me a once-over before rapping her knuckles against the door. The shapely brunette is easily ten years older than I am, possibly more when considering the bags underneath her eyes. Though she’s pretty, she’s obviously exhausted. At least I don’t wonder if she’s one of the young girls Michael told me about. “Archer, there’s someone here to see you,” she calls out. The door swings open a moment later. A man nearly as large as Michael looms in the doorway, dragging his dark eyes up and down my body. I consider aborting my mission with the all too familiar feeling of being objectified as his lips pull back to reveal a row of crooked teeth. “You brought me a present?” “Fuck off, Freddie,” the hostess snaps. “She’s here to see Archer about a waitressing job. Let her in.” “Sure thing.” His dark, suggestive gaze doesn’t leave my body when he steps aside and licks his lips. “Come on in, sweetheart.”

Normally I’d shake it off, being used to assholes like him, but knowing it’s likely he’s part of the human trafficking ring, I shiver. These creeps should be taking Michael’s place in prison. The hostess spins on her heels, calling out over her shoulder, “Good luck!” The confidence I started out with is knocked down a notch as I step into the dark room. It’s warm and carries the stench of body odor mixed with tobacco. There’s a dim, yellow light shining on a desk at the far end of the room where a relatively slim, middle-aged man sits. “Brought you some fresh meat, Archer,” Freddie announces. Every feminist bone in my body pleads with me to knock the disgusting man on his ass, but somehow I hold it together as Archer rises from behind the desk. He comes around the desk, ogling me in a lewd way that has me suddenly longing for a shower. Archer’s around my height, dressed relatively classy in a sport jacket and slacks, and not necessarily too hard on the eyes. But there’s something about the glint in his beady eyes that has

my skin crawling. “You looking for a job?” he asks in a tenorpitched voice. When he steps up right in front of me, I swallow down a lump of fear and hold my chin up higher. “Yeah.” “You ever dance before?” Oh hell no. “I—ah—came to apply for the—” “No matter,” he snaps. “Someone as hot as you could bring in a lot of money on the stage. What’s your name, sugar?” “Brandi, with an ‘i’.” I answer, inwardly cringing at how easy it is to turn on the bimbo act. “Hmmm, I like me a good glass of brandy.” He leans his head in close to my neck, inhaling my scent. “And you smell every bit as good as you look.” When he stands straight again, his lips twist in a menacing grin. “How about it, Brandi? You ready to make us both some serious money? Why don’t you lift up that pretty little shirt and show us what you’re hiding underneath?” If Michael was in this room, he’d completely lose his shit. I quickly shake the thought from my

head, knowing it’ll only make me weak to think about him in this moment. I have to be strong if I want to be with him one day. I have to be strong for the girls who are being forced by these ratbastards to do things against their will. With shaking hands, I reach for the end of my tank-top and lift it up over my head. Archer and the bouncer pull in a sharp breath once my red bra is exposed, barely containing my nipples. “My, my!” Archer sings as the other man whistles. He circles around me like a vulture ready to pick apart its prey. The fighter in me secretly wills him to do something that will warrant a throat punch. “It would seem you were born to get men hard, sweetheart. What do you say we get you set up in something nice and see what you can do on that stage? If you have even the slightest ability to properly shake what looks to me like a fine ass, you have yourself a job.” Sickness surges in my stomach. It’s not the stripping part that worries me, because dancing alongside the others could have serious advantages, providing me with a sure ‘in’. It’s the

fact that if Michael ever discovers what I’ve done, I doubt he could contain the rage that would follow. And if these men even attempt to pimp me out like Michael suspects they’re doing with the others, Archer and his bouncer are as good as dead. “I can dance,” I assure Archer. His thin lips spread with a disgustingly pleased grin. “Then let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

10 MICHAEL

ith the close of the fourth day since Alexa’s W last visit, I’m unable to get even a minute of sleep. I stew in my cot all night long with scenarios of what could’ve happened racing through my mind. I called Jack the day before to let him know of Dryden’s visit and threats. He caught on to the implications immediately and in a roundabout way he let me know that Alexa was busy preparing for the upcoming motion.

I’m still unable to stop fearing that something is seriously wrong. On our last visit, Alexa was just as desperate to see me as I had been to see her, but there was something off when she said goodbye. She almost looked regretful. Could Dryden have already gotten to her somehow? I’m raring to go by the time we’re lining up for breakfast. Callisto stands beside me, hiding a chuckle behind his paw-sized hand. “Brother, I’ve never seen you this worked up about anything. You expecting another visit from that lady lawyer today?” “She won’t be coming around anymore,” I growl out before looking around to see if anyone is paying attention. “You think there’s any way you could get a message to your cousin in Little Havana to check up on her?” “Why not call her yourself?” “Because I’m being monitored by someone dangerous,” I mutter under my breath. “At this point I don’t think he knows she was assigned to my case, and I need to keep it that way. My motion hearing is coming up soon, and I don’t need

anything to jeopardize her ability to represent me. They’ll find out soon enough, but hopefully by then, I’ll be free to protect her.” My mammoth friend bobs his head, making his double chins bounce. “Sure, sure. I get it, you have it bad for this woman. I’ll contact D-bag and have him check in on her. You know her number?” Peering beyond the inmates filing out of the dormitories, I discover Ryks and Smith pushing their way through the crowd, headed straight for me. Smith’s lips curl with a righteous smirk, while Ryks’s face seems paled. When they stop within mere feet of me, I can see sweat lining the younger guard’s brow. “You’re coming with us, Harrison,” Smith barks. A bolt of fear nails me in the gut. Could Alexa be here? Without question, I follow them into the hallway, ignoring the inmates harmlessly jeering at my back. The two guards escort me beyond the library and dining hall, continuing on past the attorney visitation rooms until we’ve reached a

dead end by the janitor’s closet. I turn around, frowning at Smith. Ryks passes his weight back and forth between his legs like a little kid who has to pee. Something’s up, and I don’t think I’m going to like the outcome. “What the fuck are we doing here?” I ask. “Were you expecting that hot piece of ass attorney?” Smith asks, his smirk widening. “She must’ve finally wised up, realized you’re too worthless to give a fuck about. Don’t imagine it’ll be long before she’ll come around so I can get my dick wet.” Mother. Fucker. Throwing a solid fist into Smith’s face, I enjoy the snap of the cartilage on his nose before Ryks comes at me, attempting to tackle me down. Though I don’t want to hurt the guy, I’m unable to stop the instinct to fight back. I may not be of much use to Alexa in here, but I’m sure as shit not going to stand back without defending my girl’s honor. Smith recovers, placing an uppercut to my jaw seconds before I feel the blunt blow of a stick against my lower back. I falter, wheezing in pain,

but I don’t fall down. “Let’s go, you spineless fuck!” Smith taunts with blood flowing from his swollen nose. He motions for me to come at him with his fingers, bouncing on his feet. I heard rumors that Smith once held some heavyweight title in high school, and he appears to know what he’s doing. It’s a good thing I learned a thing or two about Jujutsu from a buddy in my unit while we were stationed overseas, because his next blow would’ve knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t been prepared to deflect him. “Did Dryden pay you two clowns to attack me?” I ask, bouncing on my toes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Smith sneers. But the truth is plain as day on his ugly mug. Maybe Dryden has finally put a hit on me. Maybe this is the end of the line, where I’m forced to either defend myself or give into the inevitable. I refuse to give up without a fight, knowing Alexa is waiting for me. When Smith strikes again, I bend in half and

catch him in the side. He crumples to the floor, coughing and wheezing. One down, one to go. As expected, Ryks comes after me like a bull in a China shop. I easily step aside to avoid his fist, catching him by the arm and bending it back. I pull him close so his back is facing me. “Come on, Ryks. I expected this from Smith, but not you. How much is Dryden paying you?” The crackle of a radio comes behind us. “Staff needs assistance in the visitor’s wing!” Smith yells from the floor. Shit. No matter what comes next, he’ll make me look like the bad guy. Knowing I’m defeated, I release Ryks. He immediately pins my arms behind my back as Smith jumps to his feet, coming at me for the beatdown of a lifetime. My nose snaps with a blinding blow before he moves down to my chest, likely cracking a rib. His fists pummel into my flesh again and again until there’s mass hysteria with the arrival of more guards. I struggle to fight back through the blinding pain, refusing to let Smith win. Then someone releases pepper spray. I roar

when the intense burn covers my face like the worst sun-burn of a lifetime. Closing my tear-filled eyes, I breathe out a raspy cough. Suddenly I’m pinned to the ground and my hands are cuffed over my stomach. I’m only able to open my eyes a fraction of an inch in time to see Smith kneel over me, wiping his hand over his bloodied face. “You just earned yourself a solid week in the hole, you piece of shit.” Spittle covers my scalding face before I’m pulled to my feet. I’m royally fucked.

DAYS ON END of total darkness can do irreparable damage to a man’s head. After being treated by the prison doctor, I’m left to wrestle with my inner demons, evaluating every decision that led me to this point. Would I join the Four Brothers a second time? Without question. Should I have started something with Kerissa just to get revenge? Hell yes. Would I beat that fucker Smith again? Without

a doubt. Would I put my freedom on the line for another chance to be with Alexa? Abso-fuckinglutely. Whenever painful memories of being raised by my abusive old man resurface, I push them away by recalling every last detail of my visits with Alexa. The way those beautiful blue eyes widened the first time I stepped into the room. The way she seemed eager to kiss me already by our second visit. The way her body reacted to my tongue and cock, like I’m the key to unlocking the gate to her personal paradise. There’s no fucking questioning it anymore: I’m in fucking love and would lay my life down to keep her safe. But what if she doesn’t feel the same? She said she’d wait for me, yet she hasn’t come back or done anything to get me out of the hole. Maybe she gave up. Maybe she realized I’m not worth her misery. I try not to think about it too hard, because it makes me feel like a whiny little bitch. The idea of losing her is a torture worse than being locked in the hole. I spend hours—days—imagining how things

will change if I’m released. With any luck, my last employer has connections in Miami and I won’t have to rely solely on Alexa to provide for us. I made good bank by selling my motorcycle to an old Marine buddy who had run into some trouble, and I started a reasonable savings with whatever income I didn’t use on expenses over the past few years. It’s not enough to provide for Alexa indefinitely, but it'd be enough for a decent down payment on a mortgage. I’m only able to count the days that pass by the choice of cardboard meals passed through a small opening in the door. Scrambled eggs and rubbery meat mean breakfast. Lunch comes in the form of peanut butter and jelly on dry white bread. Anything else that appears to be leftovers from another day, tasteless and still slightly cold from refrigeration, signals the end of another torturous day. Seven of the recycled meals pass without any signs of reprieve. By the time I’m waiting for

another P&J on the eighth day, I’m paranoid as shit that Smith will find any excuse to keep me down here until I die. When we reached the end of that hallway, I was sure he was executing a hit ordered by Dryden. I’m certain the Four Brothers’ president had bribed Ryks into letting him see me the other day. Is that why Ryks was sweating when they came to get me—because he knew whatever they were about to do was bullshit? As solitude seeps into my veins, paranoia over my situation becomes stifling. What if no one comes for me? What if I finally take my old man’s place after spending so much time alone in the dark? What if Alexa’s in trouble? “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.” I don’t realize that I’m talking out-loud until the little opening for my meal is lifted up and someone asks, “What’s that, Harrison?” I recognize the voice as belonging to Lopez, one of the more decent guards. From what I’ve seen he goes by the rules and doesn’t give inmates any shit unless it’s deserved.

“Hey, man, what’s going on?” I ask in a voice cracked from dehydration. Licking my dry lips, I move closer to the door until I can see his dark eyes staring back at me. “Are they letting me out today?” “Sorry, I don’t know how much longer you’ll be in here. Warden said to let you know that your hearing was this morning. The judge took it under advisement.” “Hold on. They didn’t let me out for the fucking hearing?” I slap my open palms against the concrete walls at my sides, furious they didn’t let me see Alexa. “I want to speak to the warden!” “Relax, Harrison. Your rights haven’t been violated.” “My rights have been violated! Smith said I’d be down here for a week, and it’s been longer! I want to speak to my attorney!” “Smith won’t be vying for you anytime soon, my friend. You really messed him up good. They had to surgically realign his face so he could properly breathe.” I hit the wall again, this time hard enough to

feel a satisfying jolt of pain to my wrists. I’m desperate to feel anything real at this point. “I want to speak to my fucking attorney!” “All right, Harrison, calm down. I’ll put a request in with the warden, but I can’t promise you anything.” After shoving the sandwich through the opening, I’m once again submerged into total darkness.

A DOOR SQUEAKS on its hinge, and a ray of light burns against my eyes. Am I dreaming? Five torturous days have passed since Lopez told me he’d speak to the warden. The other guards that were on rotation in the following days claimed they knew nothing about my request, and refused to let me speak with anyone. After having an epiphany that Alexa needs me to come out of this strong, I started kill time by conditioning my body with as much vigorous exercise as the small cell would allow. It still didn’t shut out the voices that are convinced I’m

being kept down here because the Four Brothers knows about Alexa. “On your feet, Harrison.” This is real. I spring to my feet, holding a hand over my eyes to protect them from the harsh light. Lopez stands with the door open, shoulders hunched, shifty gaze flickering from me to the hallway. “What’s going on?” I ask calmly. I’ll be damned if I let it be known how much these past days of isolation have gotten under my skin. “Did you talk to the warden?” “They’re letting you out.” “Out of solitary?” His dark eyes lock onto mine. “Out of prison.” I gulp past the heaviness in my throat. “What?” “The judge granted your attorney’s motion. I don’t know the details of your case. I only know you’re a free man.” Feeling unsteady on my feet, I slap a hand on the concrete wall. A slow, delirious laugh rises from my chest. It comes on so suddenly, without warning, that I’m not convinced my mind is all

there. She fucking did it! “Are you sure?” I ask, wiping at tears that spilled with my hysteria. “I mean…this isn’t something you tell someone unless you’re absolutely certain.” “Yeah, man. I was told your attorney came to give you the good news. But since you looked so broken, I just figured…” I suck in a sharp breath. “Is she still here? My attorney?” Lopez dips his chin and releases a slow smile. “As far as I know. I was just told to bring you up to the conference room.” Thank fuck. The thought of seeing Alexa again creates the first boner since I was brought down here. I don’t know how the hell I’ll keep my hands to myself until we’re safely off prison grounds, even though I know I have to be careful. She could still lose her job for messing around with a client. Once we’re safely behind closed doors, I plan on spending an infinite amount of time showing her my gratitude.

I burst from the room, throwing my arms around Lopez and clapping him on the back. “This is the best day of my fucking life,” I say with a grand chuckle. “I can only imagine.” He gives my shoulder a friendly pat. “Let’s get you outta here.” I’m floating higher than a damn kite as we ascend from the bowels of the prison and head for the room where my girl will be waiting. The halls are quiet. It’s somewhat bright—much brighter than the hole I was locked in—and I’ve lost all sense of time. If I had to guess, it’s early afternoon and everyone’s out on work duty for the day. I’m ridiculously giddy knowing those days are far behind me and I’ll be walking out the doors shortly with my woman by my side. But when Lopez opens the door to the attorney room, a sudden cold clenches my core. A graying man with hipster glasses sits in Alexa’s place, a stiff smile spread over his pale lips. “Congratulations, Mr. Harrison. You’re a free man. Judge Kespohl granted your motion, as well as your request to be admitted into the Witness

Protection program pending further investigation.” Witness Protection? What the actual fuck? Every last one of my veins pops out from my neck as I search the small room, as if expecting Alexa to be hiding in plain sight. “Where is she?” Desperation garbles my words. “Where’s my fucking attorney?” I roar. Holding his hands out, the main rises to his feet. “My name is James Halsrud. I took over as lead counsel for the purpose of your motion hearing. Alexa has taken a leave of absence.” “Leave of absence? What the fuck does that mean?” His eyes dart between me and Lopez as he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “She…uh… took some time off. To be with an ailing parent in Cleveland.” Everything becomes hazy as my body warms to impossible temps. Her parents are dead. “Get me the hell outta here,” I tell the man, curling my fingers into fists at my sides. When the man nearly nods and doesn’t move, I roar, “NOW!”

Flinching, the man takes a step backwards. Lopez hooks my arm through his and hauls me back into the hallway. “You need to calm your ass down, man,” he tells me with a stern stare-down. “You don't want to do anything to jeopardize your freedom. You’re already in hot water after what you did to the guards. There’s chatter going around that they’re charging you with felony assault and battery. I’d hate to see your ass wind up back in here.” I grind my teeth together. He’s right but it’s hard to fight against the tornado of rage in my chest. I half expect my heart to bust out of my ribs. “You don’t understand. My attorney’s parents died when she was little. The fact that she wasn’t here today can only mean she’s in trouble.” With a sigh, Lopez glances into the visitor’s room before his gaze falls back on me. “Listen. Whoever this woman is, you won’t be any good to her if you’re thrown back into jail. So I suggest you pull your shit together long enough to check out of this place, and then you go find her.” Staring back at him, I dip my chin with a single

nod. If Dryden has gotten his hands on Alexa, he’s a dead man.

11 ALEXA

tepping out onto the stage in a shiny pink gS string that hardly covers my recent wax job and a matching triangle-bikini top meant to cover nothing more than my nipples, I’m painfully exposed. The “outfit” was custom made to fit me, courtesy of Archer. Every last one of my nerves are worn thin when I saunter into the spotlight in sync to the slow and sexy R&B melody. After two weeks of shaking my naked ass in

front of strange men, you’d think this shit would get easier. But the crowds have continuously grown since word got out about the newest dancer, and most nights I’m performing for a packed house. Plus I’m waiting on pins and needles for a glimpse of the club’s owner. The first few days after I was hired were rough as hell. Every move I made was analyzed, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified that I’d crack under the pressure. I was cautious around the girls as I tried to assess their ages without asking too many questions. It didn’t take long to sort out the girls who were working under their own will and those who were afraid of everyone and everything. Once I eventually formed a bond with a few of the dancers, it seemed I was “in” and had gained everyone’s trust. But all the girls remained tight-lipped and skittish when I first asked in a roundabout way how they wound up at Spinner’s. I’ve asked what they’re doing after work or what they have planned for the weekend, but I learned to stop probing as it only makes them more distant and paranoid when

I’m around. I’ve tried following them home, but someone’s always watching us, even after our shifts. Tatum managed to track a few of the girls in question back to the clubhouse, but once they were inside the fortress, there wasn’t much she could do without a warrant. I hold on to the hope that it’s just a matter of time before someone slips and says something I can use, before I run across evidence of foul play, or I find a way into the MC’s clubhouse. With the exception of coded messages sent to Tatum via the untraceable phone, I’ve cut all traces to my old life. And there’s an ever-present, raw ache for Michael always weighing me down, making it difficult to maintain an upbeat persona. Even though it’s driving me insane, wondering if he’s still in prison, I trust Tatum is keeping a close eye on his situation. I’ve been watching the local papers closely since his motion hearing. As there haven’t been any reports about his hearing, I can only assume it means one thing: the judge granted my request to admit him into the Witness Protection program. Knowing I may not ever see

him again unless he willingly reaches out at some point—and I hold on to hope that he will because he can’t live without me any more than I can stand to be without him—is almost enough to make me want to quit this mission and run to him. I sashay my way across the low-lit stage in 4” stilettos that lace up my calves before tying beneath my knees. My well-practiced moves solicit hollers of approval from a large group of business men, still in suits and ties, most who look to be in their fifties and up. With the familiar odor of their Cuban cigars wafting around me, my stomach churns. These are the same guys who tend to get exceptionally handsy. A few of them have even developed a fascination with trying to get inside my g-string before Freddie, the club’s bouncer, catches them. As I’ve done since I first started dancing at Spinner’s, I close my eyes and get lost in the melody, imagining that I’m dancing solely for Michael. Imagining his fingers are dusting up and down my sides as I grind into him. Imagining those thick lips bending with a sexy smile, and those

intense green eyes shining on me. Then the song transitions into a more upbeat tune, causing my stomach to plummet. This is my signal to remove the bikini top, and mingle with the audience. It never fails to bring tears to my eyes when I pull on the string, knowing Michael would be disappointed to see me this way. Beyond the men in suits, Archer and Freddie watch from the barstools. My eyes catch on an attractive gray-haired man at their side, and I stumble over my heels. Oh God, it’s really him. Dryden. Holding in a surprised cry, I wait for the floor to drop from beneath me. Suddenly I’m a vulnerable fifteen-year-old girl again, stripped of the confidence I gained in the Army. I hold my breath, waiting for a flicker of recognition in the hard gray eyes staring back at me. Nausea burns in my throat when his lips bend with a sly, satisfied smirk. Does he know it’s me? How can I possibly continue this charade around someone who almost broke me?

Tatum asked me several times just how far I’m willing to go to save these girls, and somehow I could never formulate a solid answer. But regardless of what happened in the past, Dryden could be my best hope of exposing the club and rescuing the other dancers from their private hell. Even if getting close to him could also be the beginning of the end. I have to be strong for those girls. For Michael. Gathering my confidence, I dip and grind to the beat, giving it everything I’ve got. Eyes locked on Dryden, I pretend I’m solely dancing for him, knowing he’s observing my every move. The stress of being under a microscope since the very beginning has begun to take its toll, however, and I can literally feel my confidence drain under the club president’s gaze. When I try to toss him a sexy smile, my lips quiver from the pressure. By the time I’ve finished my set, I’m shaking and covered in a sheen of sweat. Once backstage I’m met by Sasha, the stage manager. I’ve started to suspect she has a hand in trafficking the girls as

they’re especially jumpy when she’s around. With short, dark hair spiked around her head in an eighties style, arms and chest covered in tattoos, a large rack, and a cigarette constantly dangling from her lips, she’s the no-nonsense type who commands respect. From the disgusted way she scowls at me as I grab a towel and pat myself down, it’s clear I won’t be classifying her as a friend anytime soon. “Is that sweat?” Clicking her tongue, she flicks her cigarette off to the side, sending ashes to the floor. “Dryden wants to see you ASAP.” “Just let me grab my top,” I say, starting for the dressing rooms. “Not happening. He pays for those goods. He wants to see them.” Although I’ve taken a lot of orders from my superiors over the years, not telling this woman to go fuck herself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Instead I follow her down the hallway with my arms crossed over my chest, tongue firmly held between my teeth. We come upon Vee as she’s getting ready in

one of the dressing rooms to take the stage. Though quite stunning, she’s also small and meek, making her an easy target for Dryden. From the way she’s built, especially slender without much for hips, and the way she’s always asking me basic things that make her sound exceptionally naive, I’ve guessed her to be around sixteen or seventeen. Of all the girls working at Spinner’s, I’ve had the best luck getting her to open up with my questions, and she seems most likely to be one of the girls Michael saw in the club basement. I’m eager for the chance to get her alone one of these nights, to see just how much she’ll spill. “Hey, Vee!” I call out, pausing in the doorway to give her a friendly smile. “You want to catch a drink after our shifts? I’ll buy!” Her giant brown eyes snap to where Sasha looms behind me, making the older woman’s control over her crystal clear. “Uh, maybe another night,” she mutters. “I’ve been feeling a little queasy since lunch.” “Better hurry your ass up—you’re up in ten minutes,” Sasha snaps at her before grabbing my

elbow. “Let’s go, Brandi. He doesn’t like waiting on his girls.” “See you later!” I call over my shoulder to Vee. Fear trickles down my back as we near Archer’s office. Jack and Tatum were right. My plan is dangerous and incredibly stupid. How am I going to avoid taking this charade too far? How hard can they push me before memories of my dark past become too much and I snap? “There’s the new star of my club!” Dryden sings as I step into the dark office. “Come on in, sweetheart. I won’t bite. Let me get a better look at my newest investment.” As I take another wobbling step, it’s suddenly as if my feet are made of cast iron. The door clicks shut behind me, and I almost vomit on my stilettos. I’m completely alone with Dryden. Trapped. Déjà vu strikes me so hard and fast that I worry I’ll collapse to the floor. I never needed anyone to protect me before, but I suddenly want Michael to rush in on a white horse like something out of a fucking fairytale.

“I must confess, I like what I saw out there,” Dryden says, starting toward me with a predatory smile. “You’re a natural up on that stage. It’s no surprise our numbers have gone up since you started. Move your hands down, sweet cheeks. Are those tits real?” Remembering the first time a strange man touched me without my permission, I swallow back a whimper as I nod. My upper lip breaks out in a sweat as I hold my chin up high. I refuse to allow myself to be victimized that way again. “One hundred percent.” “Hmmm, and confident, too.” He cuts around me, touching the inside of my arm with his fingertips from behind. With the familiar odor of Cuban cigar and leather licking at my nostrils, my stomach begins to heave. His cold lips brush over my ear, releasing memories of all the men before him who whispered comforting words, promising they weren’t going to hurt me or telling me that I was a beautiful girl and they were going to take care of me. “I like a woman who can stand up for herself.”

A great tremor ripples through my body as I’m assaulted with flashback after sickening flashback. Unwanted touches. Cruel fists. Sweaty bodies crushing me. The walls close in. Raw fear settles across my chest. I welcome the darkness surrounding me, wishing it would swallow me whole. Then Michael’s voice enters my head, as loud and clear as if he was standing right next to me. You’re stronger than this, Alexa. And you’re safe this time. Fight. Back. Counting to four, I draw in a steady breath the way the Army psychologist taught me as Dryden hums in a deep, primal sound. He takes his time making a circle around me, his stare burning against my skin. “I have a proposition for you, Brandi. It would involve extra time outside of the club, but you’d bring in a substantial amount of cash under the table. Tax free.” Fearing what’s coming next, that he’s going to suggest I sleep with the patrons, I remind myself

that I’ve come too far to back out. The last two weeks would be for nothing if I were to run. “I could always use extra cash,” I say in a wavering voice. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.” Standing directly in front of me, he crosses his arms. “As you’ve probably heard by now, I’m the president of an MC in Tampa. My club’s putting on a little party at our warehouse tomorrow night for some of the dignitaries in the area. I’d like to class it up a little, have some of my best girls come to put on a little show for the boys. You’d make a hundred dollars an hour for doing nothing more than what you already do here. How’s that sound?” I swallow hard. It’s the “in” I’ve been waiting for. “Sounds like it would be a great opportunity.” “Good girl,” he answers, chuckling. “Be here tomorrow night at five. Sasha will find you something special to wear and make arrangements for your hair and makeup. The only thing you have to bring with you is that smoking hot body.” Rather than using one of my curled fists, I force a smile. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

Taking one of my hands, he lifts it for his dry lips to brush over the back. “No, Brandi. Thank you. I look forward to us gettin’ to know each other better.” Releasing my hand, he winks. “Always do enjoy myself a blonde.” There’s no question left in my mind. He wants all of me. I’m fighting back against a surge of bile when someone knocks on the door. A minute later, Freddie’s square head pokes through the door. “We came across some new information regarding Kerissa’s disappearance.” My ears perk with interest. Kerissa, as in Rambone’s daughter? Michael’s ex? He didn’t mention that she had gone missing. Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe it happened after he went to prison. In a flash, Dryden’s demeanor changes, becoming borderline murderous. “Hold on, I was just showing Brandi out.” His warm, wrinkled hand rests between my naked shoulder blades as he guides me to the door. It’s all I can do not to recoil from his unwanted touch.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for anything you may need, sweetheart,” he tells me with a stiff smile. “You’re part of our family now, and we go out of our way to take care of our girls.” Everything becomes a blur as he kisses my cheek before releasing me back into the hallway. Once I’m around the corner and out of his sight, I vaguely hear Vee calling out after me as I make a mad dash for the bathroom, barely holding it together long enough to dry-heave over one of the toilets. I got my wish—I appealed to Dryden’s preferences. And from what he was insinuating, it won’t be long until he tries to stake his claim on my body. My stomach cramps as I picture myself at that party, dancing for a warehouse filled with important men. Stop being a baby, Alexa. You’re going to be exactly where Michael said they house the girls. Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? Once my stomach has settled and I’m convinced that I won’t actually be throwing up any time soon, I rise to my feet and check my

reflection. Although I hardly recognize the blonde staring back at me, inside I’m still the girl who survived druggies for parents and abusive foster families. I can do this. Even if Dryden pimps me out, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had strange men touching my body and doing things to me without my permission. But as I stare into the mirror, I promise myself it sure as fuck will be the last. I head back to the dressing rooms where Sasha lingers near the stage. She throws me another one of her irritated glares. “You’re running the floor in an hour. Clean up and change into that silver gstring with the rhinestone chain.” “Yes, ma’am,” I mutter. My skin crawls in anticipation of those business men foaming at the mouth for the opportunity to grope me. After showering and drying my hair, I go through the routine of curling my blonde locks and applying a borderline whorish amount of makeup just as one of my foster mothers once taught me to look what she considered “desirable.” Then I slip

into the slinky outfit paired with thigh-high stockings and a pair of red stilettos before giving myself a once-over in the mirror. The urge to spit at what I see has my stomach in knots. If Michael could only see me now…he’d lose his fucking mind, and not in a good way. Thinking about seeing him again makes me weepy, so I push memories of his stunning face to the back of my mind. Far before I’m ready, my time to work the floor arrives and I’m busy hustling drinks. Since I’ve started dancing here, I’ve learned to expect a lot of insanity on Friday nights, and this one is no exception. Bachelor parties. College jocks fresh off the court. Married men who probably told their wives they’re going to a game. All varieties of horny men who can’t get laid otherwise all present and accounted for. It’s a madhouse, and for that I’m grateful. A busy club means less of a chance for the assholes in suits to grope me. I’m headed back to the bar to put in another order of drinks for a frisky group of frat boys when thick fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me

dead in my tracks. There’s something about the way they feel against my skin… “How much for a lap dance, baby girl?” My heart slams against my ribs. Michael? Sucking in a sharp breath, I spin around to meet the intense green eyes I dream about every night, and nearly collapse. Oh. My. God. It’s really him! He’s free! But what the hell is he doing here? With an overwhelming tremble, I bite down to hide the joyous smile twitching against my lips. My gorgeous man sits hunched over at a small table, wearing a Buccaneers baseball cap pulled down to his eyes, and a fitted black leather coat over a black t-shirt and jeans. There’s discoloration around his eyes like they had been black and blue recently, and a red gash stretches across one of his cheeks in what looks like a healing cut. I wouldn’t have recognized him if I hadn’t heard the deep rumble of his voice, or

felt the electricity of his touch on my skin. The blinding need to fling myself into his arms fizzles when I realize that (1) I’m undercover, (2) he’s putting himself in grave danger by being here, and (3) he’s several levels beyond pissed. The telltale signs of a corded neck and flared nostrils paired with tight lips and widened eyes make my stomach drop. Oh, shit. I’m in serious trouble. “How. Much?” he repeats in a venom-laced tone. I glance over my shoulder, making damn sure that none of my coworkers are watching before I swing my attention back to Michael. Even when coiled and ready to strike like a cobra, he’s breathtakingly handsome. And seeing him in something other than the usual prison uniform has me soaking through my g-string. “Meet me around the corner beyond the bathrooms,” I plead under my breath. “I’ll explain everything.” Still scowling, he releases my wrist and dips his head in agreement. The elation of seeing him

out of prison evaporates with the absence of his touch and the coldness in his narrowed eyes. Every muscle in my body resists when I try to walk away, and a tsunami of tears springs to my eyes. How can I leave him behind? This is not how it was supposed to go. Once he was free, we were supposed to finally be together without any restrictions. My heart jolts with unbearable sadness. “Go before you draw attention,” he growls out. I regretfully turn my back to him, subtly dabbing at the corners of my eyes before I make it over to the bar. Once I’m finally able to wrap my head around what just happened, elation flutters in my stomach. One step at a time, Alexa. He’s free, and that’s all that matters…for now. “Something wrong, Brandi?” When I look up at Teddy, the weekend bartender, he’s standing on the other side of the bar, studying me with his dark blond head tilted to the side. Out of nowhere, it strikes me just how much danger Michael would be in if Dryden knew

he was out of prison and in his club. Time to pull my shit together before someone alerts Archer or Sasha that I’m acting out of character. “Ah, no…I just have allergies,” I say, sniffling dramatically. “They always act up when it gets overly smoky in here.” Then I rattle off the frat boys’ orders from my scribbled notes before telling him, “I’ll be right back to deliver these drinks. I have to hit the ladies’ room.” Teddy doesn’t pay any attention as he goes to work on the order. I practically skip back to the bathrooms with my heart trying to burst from my chest. When I round the corner, a set of massive arms lock around me and I’m met with a wall of muscle. Before I can release a surprised yelp, Michael’s mouth is crushed to mine and I’m catapulted into heaven on earth. We simultaneously make a noise, mine sounding like a whimper and his more of a territorial growl. Tears freely stream down my cheeks when I wrap myself around his muscular body, driven to kiss him hard by the array of feelings blasting through my chest. One strong arm wraps around my

waist as he buries a hand in the thick of my hair, holding on like his life depends on it. Our hot mouths and tongues slide against each other at a dizzying pace, equally desperate to make up for lost time. With the exception of Tatum, it’s become normal to have people come in and out of my life. To accept the sting of abandonment. I’ve never felt like I truly fit anywhere or with someone until this moment. No matter what happens from here, I belong with this man, in his arms. All too soon his lips stop, and he’s scowling like he’s ready to rip someone apart. The dismay conveyed in the whites of his eyes sends my stomach rising into my throat. Yeah, he’s livid all right.

12 MICHAEL

hen I first discovered Alexa taking drink W orders from a group of men who were ogling her in a way that made me want to crack their skulls, I was hit with a rush of intense feelings that I can’t quite put into words. It was like my heart had grown two sizes and twisted inside out before being cut from my fucking chest. As badly as I needed to see her again, another part of me wished I hadn’t set foot inside Spinner’s so I wouldn’t

have seen her like this. This is not the reunion I envisioned once I was released. Though I’ve never been abusive with a woman, and I sure as hell don’t plan to start in this lifetime, the sight of my girl transformed into a smoking hot blonde, wearing little more than nothing in this shitty club—Dryden’s club—has my insides vibrating with rage. I want to shake some sense into her pretty little head just as badly as I want to shove her up against the wall and fuck her senseless. She’s mind-blowingly sexy. Worst yet, it almost feels wrong that my dick is hard because she’s transformed into a completely different woman. “How did you know where to find me?” she whispers. “I told you not to get involved in this,” I grumble, running my thumb across her jaw. We’re short on time, and she’s smart enough to figure out on her own that I made Jack confess to their asinine plan. “Do you have a death wish?” “Do you? You’re supposed to be underground with the government’s protection. If Dryden

discovers you’re out, and you're here—” “I’ve been following him all night,” I say, shaking my head. “He left a good twenty minutes ago.” Twisting my shirt in her fist, she bounces on her toes, grinning. “I found a way in, Michael. They’re having a big party in the warehouse tomorrow night with some important guests, and Dryden asked me to be part of the entertainment.” A twitchy sensation rips through me, and her face becomes hazy before my eyes. Dropping my hands from her jaw, I lace my fingers behind my head and step away before I completely lose all control. No way in hell I’m letting my girl shake her naked ass in a building filled with Dryden and his men, especially when I’ve never even seen her completely naked. And I know damn well how those kind of parties end. “It’s okay,” she insists in a gentle voice, moving in closer and running her hands along my rib cage. “I’ve planned for this kind of scenario with Tatum and Jack. If I find tangible evidence of what they’re doing, Tatum will have her team there

to bust the Brothers’ asses on the spot.” Then she reaches for one of my hands and wraps our fingers together. A wave of tension leaves my shoulders with her warm touch. “I promise I’ll be careful.” “I don’t like this one fucking bit. Jack told me you were going to waitress for these scumbags.” “That was the plan.” Her free hand twists around a section of her bleached locks before her eyes flitter around. “But now is probably as good of a time as any to tell you that I’ve been through some…shit. This isn’t my first gig in a strip club.” The fuck? My pulse pounds inside my ears. “Please tell me you’re joking.” “It’s not something I’m proud of.” Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip when she looks down. “Michael, there are…other…things you should know. Stuff I should’ve told you—” I pull my hand from hers to hold it up between us. “I don’t want to hear any more. You did whatever you thought you had to at the time…I get it. But I don’t want the fucking details.” With a sigh, she leans into me, snaking her small hands underneath my shirt to stroke my chest.

“Please don’t be mad at me, babe. Seeing you just now, knowing you’re out of that prison…it’s the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t think I could survive if you left me.” “I’m not going anywhere, baby girl,” I promise, pulling her closer. She cuddles against my chest, her soft curves molding to mine in a way that would make it seem we were made to fit together. I drop a kiss in her hair and release a deep breath. “I love you too fucking much to walk away.” Just as she draws back, her beautiful blue eyes wide and glowing from my confession, there’s a loud commotion around the corner. “Shit, I better get back to work before someone finds us back here,” she whispers. Her fingernails dig into my waist beneath my shirt as she pins me down with a heated look. “I get off at one. I swear, Michael John Harrison, your ass better be at my place, naked and waiting for me, or—” “I’ll be there,” I promise, massaging the back of her head. “Jack gave me the address. Sounds like Tatum has done a good job of keeping an eye on you from a distance.”

“You know as well as I do that Jack wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “There’s a key under the blue rock by the backdoor. I don’t think Dryden’s men are watching me as closely as they were at first, but it still doesn’t hurt to watch your back. Promise you’ll be careful.” I growl, feeling ready to crawl out of my skin. “I should be the one telling you that.” She drags me close for a long, lingering kiss. Then she’s walking away, her perky little ass cheeks shifting back and forth beside the tiny strip of material separating them. I don’t have any fucking clue how I just stand there and let her walk away without throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her away from this hell. I’ve never felt so helpless. But knowing we’ll be alone in a few hours, free to touch each other without having to worry about guards walking in, I’m able to leave the club with a slow smile.

EXHAUSTED from the bullshit I’ve been through in

the past twenty-four hours, I fight sleep on the hard couch, my eyes fix on the little clock barely visible on top of the TV in the dim light. When 1:30 comes and goes, I’m ready to storm Spinner’s. Though I didn’t come directly to the safe house from the club just in case someone saw us together and I was being tailed, it’s no more than a ten minute walk. Fuck. Where is she? After being released the day before, I went straight to Jack’s house against the hipster attorney’s warning. There were federal agents waiting downtown to take me into hiding, but I wasn’t going to take the coward’s way out without my girl when she could be in danger. Jack broke down pretty easily, worried that I’d lose my temper and end up back behind bars if he didn’t tell me the truth about Alexa’s disappearance. At first I wasn’t sure which of them I was more angry with—him for convincing Alexa to let him in on all the details, or Alexa for putting herself in danger while doing everything to protect me. I almost destroyed his house in trying to keep my rage in check.

Then Alexa’s friend Tatum showed up, I guess because Jack messaged her. After chewing my ass for avoiding the federal officers that were assigned to take me into custody from the prison, she somehow managed to make me see the bigger picture. Getting angry about the situation wasn’t going to help Alexa. Neither was storming into Spinner’s and demanding that she leave. Tatum pointed out that I had to weigh the consequences of everything I did carefully, or I could be putting my life in danger as well as Alexa’s. It was immediately clear to me why Alexa and Tatum were close. Not only is Tatum a total knockout like her best friend, but she’s confident and bold, unwilling to take my shit. Plus I could’ve kissed her when she brought burgers and a 12-pack of beer—two of the things I missed most while locked up. “First off, you should know ‘Lex has always been the type to do what’s right, no matter the consequences,” she told me in an authoritarian way that reminded me of how Alexa spoke to Smith. “And as much as she wants to help save

those girls for her own reasons, she’s also doing it as a way to find proof of your innocence. She’s never fallen this hard for a guy before you, so I suggest you watch yourself, buddy. I’m the only one she’s ever let into her life, and I don’t take that privilege lightly.” I took an instant liking to Tatum. She’s easy enough to talk to, and made it clear she’s pulling for me and Alexa to be happy together. I decided that I was fortunate my woman’s best friend was going to be painless to have around, so long as she doesn’t find out I went against her strong warning not to reach out to Alexa while she was undercover. Another ten minutes have passed by the time I glance back at the clock. Maybe I should’ve gone back to follow her here. The neighborhood feels ten times more dangerous than Jack initially let on. Almost every house has an angry dog that snarled when I passed, and the alley is completely unlit. Half the houses look like they should be condemned, and junk fills most of the fenced-in yards. It’s a total shit-hole—not somewhere I want

my girl staying alone. I’m on my feet, ready to head back to Spinner’s when the back door creaks on its hinges. I press my back up against the partial wall separating the living room from the kitchen, waiting to make sure it’s Alexa. Though I wanted to carry a gun after discovering what she was up to, Jack reminded me that it would take awhile before my record was cleared, and carrying a loaded weapon would only get me in deeper shit. But I’ve worked out enough in the past few months to effectively fight my way through almost anything. “Babe?” Alexa calls out in a quiet voice. “Are you here?” I rush around the corner and gather her in my arms, all at once feeling whole and safe when our lips connect. I kiss her hot mouth hard enough to bruise. It’s raw and needy, driven by days on end of yearning for this moment. It’s the single best kiss of my existence, but it’s still not enough. I need all of her. Her purse thuds on the floor next to our feet and her arms twist around my neck. She hops into

my hold, wrapping her legs around my waist. Gripping her little body, I fall back against a wall, savoring the way she dominates over me, thrusting her tongue into my mouth, grinding into me like we’re already fucking. Like always, she’s hot and eager for my touch. It’s one of many reasons why I could never let her go. I yank up on her little t-shirt until she stops to wrangle it over her hair, tangling it in her blonde curls. Laughing, she pushes the stray strands from her face with one hand before staring down at me with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I study the delicate features of her face as if committing them to memory. The gentle curve of her button nose. The flush of color running along her defined cheekbones. The way her graceful lips are dark and puffy from our kisses. Unable to draw in a breath, I’m dumbstruck by her beauty every bit as much as I was the first time I laid eyes on her. As much as I know I should’ve left her alone instead of dragging her into my fucked-up mess, the overwhelming need to make her mine clawed at my insides, leaving me with no other options.

“Fuckin’ A, I missed you, baby girl,” I blurt. Her eyes shine bright in the soft light from the other room as she releases her lip and smiles. “I fucking missed you.” One of her hands gently rests on the side of my face and she frowns. “What happened?” “Smith and another guard gave me a goingaway present.” Her tulip-shaped lips pop into a circle. “That son of a bitch!” “I think he had a feeling something was going on between you and me, and he couldn’t handle it. It’s also likely Dryden paid him to mess me up. But it doesn’t matter…Smith can’t hurt me anymore.” Taking a strand of her bleached hair between my fingers, I growl quietly. “This is hot as hell, but I like it better dark.” “I promise I’ll fix it when this is over.” Her eyebrows wiggle as she tugs on my jacket. “Until then, maybe we can experiment with a little role play.” With a heaviness in my limbs, I carefully set her feet down on the floor. “No fucking way I’m

pretending I’m with someone else.” I pull my jacket off my arms and let it fall to the floor with a thud before grabbing the back of my shirt with one hand and yanking it over my head. “I want an uninterrupted night alone with my girl.” Her breaths come out hard and fast as she holds my stare while reaching for my zipper. I help her push my newly purchased jeans down my thighs before kicking them off my feet. Her eyes drag down to my chest. I watch her fingertips as they gently trace the jagged flames of my tattoo, sending a shiver bolting down my spine. Eyes closed, I let my chin drop, ready to come in my boxers from her touch. It seems like forever ago that my dick was this hard because I was with her. “Your body is unreal,” she whispers, her voice thick. “I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look this perfect without being digitally edited.” A chuckle sticks in my throat when her fingertips run along the elastic on my boxers. Within seconds, cool air whooshes against my ass as she drags the cotton down to my ankles. I groan when she takes my swollen cock in her hand,

giving it a firm tug. “And this…holy hell, Michael. You make my favorite dildo look ridiculously small.” When I open my eyes, she’s staring down at her moving hand and licking her lips. “Keep doing that and your hand is going to be covered in cum, baby girl.” Her gaze draws up to meet mine and she laughs. “I sure hope you’ve been building up your stamina, big guy, because I have serious plans for you tonight.” “Those plans better start with you completely naked, because it’s my turn to get a good look at what I’ve been missing out on all this time.” Yanking her back to me, I toss her over my shoulder. She squeals before breaking out in a high-pitched giggle. It’s a light, girly sound— something I hadn’t heard her make before. Nothing I would expect from Alexa. My heart thumps joyously, pleased I’ve made her ridiculously happy. Having already scoped the place out, I easily find my way back to the bedroom. It’s barely large enough to fit a double bed, and vaguely stinks like

stale cigarettes. With a pang of sadness, I can’t imagine it’s anything like she’s used to. She shouldn’t be here. It’s all my fault she isn’t safe and sound in her own place. Carefully setting her down on her back, I go right for her yoga pants. At the same time I hook my fingers in her panties and tug forcefully, rendering her naked except for her lacy bra. I lean back, both thrilled and shocked with my discovery. My mouth goes completely dry. Fuck me, she’s completely waxed. I press the pad of my thumb to her smooth lips, pleased when her arousal soaks my skin. “That’s my girl…so fucking wet for me.” She sucks in a sharp breath, pulling her bottom lip back in-between her teeth and watching me with the kind of look that could destroy a man. Ready to devour every inch of her tight little body, I climb over her and bend to lick her bellybutton. I reach up to unhook her bra before trailing my tongue upward, landing between her freed breasts. Seeing the soft, full swells with rosy nubs hard like a pencil eraser, completely exposed

for my pleasure, has my balls aching. “My gorgeous girl,” I mutter, running my fingertips underneath her generous curves. I look into her beautiful eyes, captivated by their unusual shade of blue. “I can’t tell you how many nights I laid in my cot, dreaming about the day when I would finally get to have you all to myself, naked like this, without any interruptions. When I saw some fucker touch your ass earlier tonight, I wanted to gut him. It’d be well worth another life sentence to punish him for touching what’s mine.” Her hands grip onto my face. “This will all be over soon,” she says softly. “I promise once I’ve taken care of those girls, I’ll never let another man touch me like that again. But you should know that when I’m up on the stage, you’re the one I’m dancing for. I imagine your hands are all over me, and make myself sopping wet for you. I can’t go that long again without seeing you, Michael. You have to promise me that you won’t do anything to put your freedom at stake. I mean it. Don’t you dare leave me again.” “I can’t promise I won’t do anything if you get

hurt.” With a sullen expression, she leans in to kiss me. It’s sweet and gentle, yet there’s a silent plea of desperation behind the movement of her lips. Then her hands wrap around me and she forces me down on my back so she’s the one on top. As she continues to kiss me, her tight little body moves against mine, teasing my rock-hard cock. I slip one hand between her legs, finding her wet and ready, and reach out to tweet a hard nipple with my other hand. When I begin to move my fingers against her clit in light, taunting circles without providing her with the pressure I know she wants, she whimpers helplessly inside my mouth. Two can play at this game. “I need you,” she gasps, fisting my cock. Tilting her hips, she slides her pussy down around me, hissing when I’ve filled her to the hilt. Before Alexa, I’d always worn a condom, and I still can’t get over the sensation of her bare walls clenching my cock. The skin-on-skin contact is almost too much, making it hard not to cum the second I’m inside.

“Damn, baby girl,” I wheeze, grabbing onto her hips. “Nothing has ever felt this good.” She sits tall above me, gathering her bleached hair in one hand and arching backward as she rides me hard, tapping every last one of my neglected never-endings. Her sweet, puckered tits bounce with each thrust, begging to be sucked. She’s as beautiful as an angel, but as dangerous as they come. This amazing creature is going to be the cause of my mental undoing. I’ve never wanted to consume a woman in this way, somehow leave my mark on her for the whole world to see. It slays me knowing she’ll do whatever the hell she wants, whether I’m on board or not. How far is she willing to let Dryden push her? How the hell can I protect her when she’s reckless and unafraid of anything that doesn’t concern me? Letting Alexa into my life is like hitching a ride on a runaway train. I don’t know where we’re headed or what kind of shit we’ll encounter on the way, but it’s clear we’re getting there one way or another, together. I just hope like hell there aren’t too many obstacles that try to separate us.

13 ALEXA

aking in Michael’s arms to the bright light of W day, the smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air, is every bit as phenomenal as the mind blowing sexa-thon that continued until the break of dawn. Even though his body is as warm as a furnace against my back, his muscles are coiled so tightly that any attempt to escape would be futile. His steady breaths fall over my ear in a sound barely above a whisper, almost lulling me back to sleep. If this is

a glimpse into our future together, color me thoroughly satisfied. Until I was finally able to distract him with my body, I was afraid that he was going to ask me to quit Spinner’s and this undercover mission. To be honest, I probably would’ve caved in and agreed. I can’t begin to imagine how much it pained him to see me dressed like that, parading around other men. Especially when we’ve both been looking forward to the day when we’d finally see each other outside of that dreadful prison. I’d give anything to go back in time and ensure our reunion took place under different circumstances. I tried my best to convey my feelings for him with something more meaningful than words. But as much as I wanted to make the night all about making him feel good, I ended up getting lost in the way he pleasured me, and found myself having three orgasms. I’ve never had that many in one night. Then again, I’ve never experienced a highly charged emotional bond with any of the men I’ve slept with until Michael. Since my parents abandoned me, I’ve met

hundreds of people through school, work, the military, and the foster care system. Many of them were nice enough to be considered a casual friend even if they weren’t someone I could fully lean on for support. None of them were there to save me from my cruel stepparents, or the men they forced me to sleep with. After I got my life back together and started college, I messed around with a few guys here and there, but none of them stuck. None of them were worth the effort required to sustain a relationship. None of them were someone I could count on. Tatum is the only one who feels remotely close to real family. But even she doesn’t touch my soul the way Michael does. Ever since I laid eyes on him in the club the night before, I’ve embraced the fact that he’s the real deal. The last man I’ll ever sleep with. The one who will forever hold my heart. Flashes from the long, sweaty night of lovemaking return, sending a thrilling shiver down my spine. Without having to move, I can already feel a delicious ache between my legs from Michael

slamming into me. Every one of his touches and caresses was aggressive, as if he was desperate to make up for lost time. It’s a good thing I don’t have to be to work until five, because I doubt I could properly shake my ass for hours. All at once he’s moving behind me, gently pressing his stiff cock into my back. I snuggle into him more, humming. “Good morning, baby girl.” His voice is gruff and cracked, making the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard aside from when he was roaring my name in the dark. His arms flex around me for a delightful moment, and he presses a kiss to the back of my head. “Did you get any sleep?” “The best of my life. I could sleep all day wrapped up in you like this.” Yawning, I stroke my fingertips over his thick bicep. “But I am kinda hungry. What do you want to eat?” “Besides you?” His deep chuckle tickles my ear with a delightful sound that has me all achy for him to touch me. “Word has it my girl’s a shitty cook, so I’m making her something. You lay here and rest that sexy ass a little longer so you’re ready

to go another round.” I twist around in his hold so I can look into his beautiful eyes, finding him grinning like a cat that just devoured a canary. “You cook?” I ask. “I had to teach myself since my old man was always at the club and my mom wasn’t around much.” A brief cloud of anger passes through his eyes as he looks away, as if pained by the past. Then he looks back at me and chuckles. “It’s a good thing I was a fast learner, because Jack couldn’t heat a bowl of soup if his life depended on it.” “Thank God. I was worried we’d spend the rest of our lives racking up restaurant bills. I’ve been able to provide for myself pretty well up to this point, but with two of us—” “I’m getting a job,” he growls, suddenly scowling. “No way in hell I’m mooching off you. I’m not some fucking freeloader.” I brush my lips over his, desperate to erase his sour mood. “Hey, there’ll be none of that this morning. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I just

meant until we’re situated somewhere safe.” Exhaling a deep breath, his eyes close. “Jesus, I don’t mean to sound like an asshole. But when I discovered that you wanted me to hide under the government’s protection like some kind of coward, it really got under my skin.” “I only wanted you to be safe,” I whisper, dusting my fingertips over his thick jaw. Tilting his head into my touch, his eyelids open to reveal an intense gaze. “You already did more than enough by getting me out of that shit-hole, baby girl. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.” He begins tracing my spine with his fingers as a timid smile appears on his lips. “I have a decent savings account set aside. I was thinking maybe we could use it on a down payment for a place somewhere. It doesn’t have to be in southern Florida. We could start wherever we want. I’m willing to go anywhere in the world so long as you’re with me.” My heart flutters excitedly with the idea of starting somewhere new. It’d be hard as hell to move away from Tatum, especially when we’ve

made a habit of seeing each other almost every day. But purchasing a little house where I’d have Michael all to myself is the closest I’ve ever come to living out a fairytale ending. Of any kind. After going through a childhood feeling used and unwanted, having a good man ask me to settle down with him seems overwhelming. “What if we went into the Witness Protection program together? If they aren’t able to pin this trafficking ring on Dryden—” “Either way I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in hiding. It’d be like I never left prison. That’s not the kind of future I want to plan with you. We’ll nail that fucker to the wall, then we’ll be free to live our own version of happily ever after.” My insides become all melty with every new declaration he makes. I don’t want to live in hiding either, but I don’t want to spend every day fearing that Dryden will be coming for him. Or me. “Okay,” I concede with tears thick in my throat. “Once this is over, I’ll go with you wherever you want.”

Joy flashes in Michael’s eyes as he bends in for a long, hard kiss. Eventually he pulls away, breathing heavily and giving me one hell of a tempting smile. “I’m going to spend every minute of the rest of our lives making you happy, baby girl.” As he kisses me again, there’s not a single doubt in my mind that he will make good on his promise. But no matter how many times I tell myself this is real—Michael’s love for me is real —I can’t shake the feeling that nothing good in my life ever lasts.

AFTER CALLING Tatum to fill her in on the party at the warehouse and review the plans we made when this kind of opportunity finally came, I soak in a blissfully long, hot bath that loosens my muscles and makes me feel halfway human again. My body has been sore and broken countless times in the past, but with Michael, it’s different. With Michael everything is different. When I’m as shriveled as a hundred year old

woman, I slip into my robe before following the heavenly aroma of baked bread. Discovering Michael’s tight, naked ass cheeks exposed in the shitty little kitchen has me teetering on a narrow ledge of wanting to either laugh hysterically or drag him back into the bedroom. The most amusing part is the white apron he wears over his naked body, tied at his waist and neck. Since I’ve never owned one, it must be a staple provided by the safe house. I observe him for a minute as he pours white gravy into a pan of cooked sausage beside a tray of golden biscuits, joyfully whistling what I think to be an old Aerosmith song. It was enough simply to discover this gorgeous man, but now that I know he has a big heart and he’s domesticated? If this is a dream, someone better pinch me. Hard. “Oh, I definitely could get used to this,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “Where did you find all that stuff? I haven’t bought much for groceries since I moved in.” Michael tosses me a sexy grin over his shoulder. “So I noticed. There wasn’t a whole lot I

could do with Pop-Tarts and crackers, so I made a quick run to the market.” “I hope no one saw you. Especially if that’s all you were wearing.” “Relax, gorgeous. I learned a thing or two about watching my back while in the Corps.” Chuckling, he moves over to the cupboards beside the sink and starts pulling doors open. “Any plates in this place?” I move in next to him, brushing my hip against his as I open the next door to grab a couple of plastic plates. He spins into me with a predatory look that takes my breath away. I almost drop the plates. All at once his hands are on my hips, tossing me up to the countertop, and he’s wedging himself in between my thighs. “You’re sexy as fuck with wet hair, baby girl.” He cups my face with one hand, growling. “How am I expected to keep my hands off you?” “Says the one parading around the kitchen with the world’s hottest ass on display.” With one tug on my robe’s belt, he’s exposed my breasts. He takes one in his hot mouth while

caressing the other. I set the plates down at my side and arch into him, tangling my hands in his soft hair. My breaths come out in hot, heavy bursts. It’s unbelievable how much I missed this man and his skilled touches. When he slips a couple of fingers between my legs, carefully stroking me until I’m slick and beyond ready, my quickened pulse throbs against my throat. I’m always ready for Michael, even when he isn’t touching me, taunting me to come. My body responds with the mere sound of his deep voice, or the intensity in his gaze. I spread my thighs wider, inviting him home. Without warning, his fingers are replaced with the warm, wet rasp of his tongue. Eyes rolling back into my head, I get lost in the blissful feeling of Michael’s mouth orchestrating my body like a fine instrument, coaxing it to play for him. He sucks and licks with a determination unmatched by any of my past sexual experiences. There’s already so much to love about Michael Harrison, but the fact that he can take me to a total euphoric high I’ve never known before takes the cake.

Then his finger and thumb clamp down on a nipple, and an explosion bursts behind my eyelids. But just as suddenly, his touch is gone. Once I’m past the jarring feeling of being stopped midorgasm, I register the sound of a phone ringing. I open my eyes as Michael reluctantly reaches for the flip phone he bought from a drug store on his way to Spinner’s. He had programmed his number into my burner phone in between our sex marathon, making me promise to call him right away if anything were to go wrong while I was at the club’s warehouse. Eyes swirling with lust fix on me. “Jack and Tatum are the only ones who know this number.” After he answers with a gruff “hello,” he says, “Hey, Jack. What’s up?” With a resigned sigh, I slip from the countertop and cover myself up before dishing two plates of biscuits and gravy. Michael slips in behind me, nuzzling his face into my hair and grinding up against me, getting my motor running all over again. Then I feel his body tense. “What? When?”

I turn around to watch the muscles in his face twitch as he listens to Jack carry on. Even before I touch his chest I know he’s burning with anger. The veins in his neck strain, and his eyebrows pull down so low that I can hardly see his eyes. He jerks away from me, the warmth of his presence instantly replaced with a cold, alarming unease as he pulls the phone away from his head and curses loudly. Once he seems to have gained control of his fit, he barks into the phone, “Hold tight, I’m on my way,” before snapping the phone shut. Something’s off when he turns back to me. It’s like my Michael has been replaced with someone else. “I’m sorry, baby girl, I have to go.” “You’re not going to tell me what that was about?” I say in a playful tone. “Jack heard Kerissa’s back in town.” Terror squeezes my windpipe. He didn’t have much to say about their breakup. Would he take her back? Jealousy flutters in my chest as I’m plagued with the one question that refuses to go away. “Do you still…I mean….would you take her back?”

“No fucking way,” he growls, pulling me into his arms. “When I was with her, I never felt anything even remotely close to how I feel about you. I never wanted to buy her a house. I never wanted her to have my babies.” His clear green eyes begin to water with unshed tears. “She wasn’t The One, baby girl. You’re the only one I can see my future with. You’re the only one I want.” Lost in his beautiful gaze, my breath hitches with the mention of his babies. The idea of starting a family hadn’t crossed my mind until now. Honestly, I hadn’t given the idea of having children in general much thought, even before Michael came along. I could never put another human through what my parents did to me, discarding me and throwing me into a broken system. Could I let go of my worst fears to have Michael’s baby? A sudden warmth flutters through my stomach, resonating with the truth. Hell yes. “Then why do you care that she’s back?” I whisper. “She’s not…she shouldn’t be here. And I don’t trust her. She’s…unstable.” He comes at me,

slipping his hand inside my hair to rub my neck. The sudden stone-cold intensity of his gaze has my stomach flipping over itself. “There are some things I need to tell you…things I should’ve admitted to you straight up before we ever decided to get involved. I’ve always tried to do the right thing, but sometimes I have a hard time controlling my temper. Sometimes the need to make things right makes me do stupid shit.” “Like what?” I ask, my voice pinched with worry. “What have you done?” “Now’s not the time for this conversation. I promise I’ll tell you eventually, but…once you know the whole story, you might not look at me the same way. And I’m scared shitless that I’ll lose you, Alexa.” I don’t like the way he flexes his jaw and hardly breathes as he stares down on me. I don’t like the fact that he’s keeping something big from me. I don’t like that he’s leaving. There isn’t a damn thing I like about the situation, or how it’s put me on the verge of tears. I suck in a tight breath. Will there ever be a day

when the sight of him doesn’t send my heart into a frenzy? For a moment I stand with my bottom lip wedged between my teeth, having no idea what to say to the man I love. Then I brush my lips across his before I whisper, “Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.” He stands tall with a dark, broken look. “You might regret saying that.” Fearful of whatever he’s hiding, for the first time since we kissed that fateful day in the prison, I’m truly afraid that I’ve made a mistake. My life has been hard enough without needing more complications. And I’m terrified whatever Michael’s keeping from me will shatter the life I spent years re-building.

LONG AFTER MICHAEL LEAVES, I push my biscuits around with a fork, dreading the evening ahead. No matter what, I’ll still do whatever it takes to help those girls locked in the Four Brothers’ basement, because I know all too well the terrors they’re facing, and no one should have to endure that kind

of abuse. But knowing Michael and I may not be together when it’s over because of whatever he’s done? My stomach curdles and I almost hurl all over my plate with the possibility. While I’m getting dressed, the doorbell rings. Michael made me lock the doors after he left, so it could be him returning, although I doubt his “meeting” with Jack would’ve gone that quickly. I cross the living room to make sure my Beretta is still tucked inside my purse on the couch before peering out a window. A short woman with long, dirty-blonde hair down to her perky breasts stands on the step, bouncing on the balls of her feet, glancing over her shoulder in a paranoid way that one would do when being chased. Would Dryden send one of the dancers over to check up on me? I’ve never seen her at the club before. More than a little curious, I decide to answer the door. The girl’s dark eyes drag down my body before her plump lips bend with a shy smile. “Hey. You must be Brandi.” Nodding, I pull on the belt holding my robe in

place. “Who are you?” “Kerissa. Sasha sent me. I’m…ah…supposed to take you to get ready.” I bite down on a surprised gasp. Michael’s words come back to me like a slug to the gut. “I don’t trust her. She’s…unstable.” Shit. What’s she doing here? Deciding to play dumb and see where this goes, I pull my eyebrows down. “Dryden told me I didn’t have to be at the club until five.” She shrugs. “Change of plans.” A ball of disappointment hits me square in the gut as I take a full minute to study her. Black T-shirt with an eagle print, cut off just above her flat belly, shorts that almost don’t cover her underwear, she could be around my age or even a little younger. When she sweeps a chunk of hair behind her ear, I’m given a full view of her striking features. With stunning, wide eyes and severe brows that demand attention, it’s suddenly like I’m in the presence of a movie star. Of course Michael’s ex would be freaking gorgeous.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, pulling a sincere expression of concern. Realizing that I’m scowling, I put on a bright smile. “It’s fine. I just need a minute to…uh… finish getting ready.” “No problem. We have a little bit of extra time.” She tries to glance over my shoulder before throwing me another sincere smile. “Would it be okay if I wait inside?” “Yeah, of course. Come on in.” She slowly shuffles in past me, leaving behind a mystical cloud of tangerine and honey as she glances into the kitchen. “Something smells amazing. Did I interrupt your lunch?” “No. I was expecting someone, but they had to cancel.” Her dark brown eyes pop wide when she reaches the kitchen doorway. “Oh my God. Biscuits and gravy are my favorite. Did you make those from scratch?” Closing my eyes, I push my fingertips against a sudden sharpness in my temples. At least Michael had a good head start before she arrived. But

knowing he made me his ex’s favorite dish twists my stomach into knots. I’ll never look at biscuits and gravy the same again. “Help yourself,” I offer with a forced smile. “I made more than enough to share. Plates are on the counter, and forks are in the drawer under the microwave. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” As she digs into the first meal ever prepared for me by the love of my life, jealousy pierces my heart. How many times did Michael cook for her? How many times did they spend the entire day in bed, making love? How many times did he tell her that he loved her? And what the fuck does she want with me? I run to the safety of my room, forgetting when it’s too late that I didn’t grab my phone…or my Beretta. Although I know that I have to go with Kerissa just in case Dryden truly did send her, I can’t stop the little cloud of fear that has cast a shadow over me.

14 MICHAEL

he second I grabbed a taxi a good dozen blocks T down from the safe house, I knew the day had turned to shit. After I gave the driver the address to Jack’s, he simply stared back at me through the rearview mirror, unmoving. Throwing him a hard smile, I asked, “Something wrong?” “You’re that man,” he answered in a thick Hispanic accent. “The one from the newspaper.”

Bracing myself against the plexiglass, I snarled, “What’d the newspaper say?” “That you were released after being wrongly accused of murder. It’s not every day I meet a man who escaped a life sentence. If I were you, I’d be in a hurry to play the lotto, amigo.” I was raging, ready to go postal against the guy. The hipster who had stepped in for Alexa at my hearing had promised that my release wouldn’t get leaked to the press per the judge’s order. I knew once Dryden got word that I’m free, he’d be coming for me with guns blazing and no holds barred. I may have escaped his wrath once, but there won’t be any mercy a second time. I offered the guy an extra twenty if he broke the speed limit. The ride passed by in a fucked-up blur of anger toward those who didn’t do their goddamned job by following the judge’s orders, fear that I’ve already scared Alexa off without even telling her the whole story, and paranoia that Kerissa is back with a vendetta. When Jack called, he said our club brother who had served as secretary under him stopped by

with the news of Kerissa’s return. My guts got all twisted up with memories from the last time I saw my ex. Mascara ran down her eyes as she told me she loved me, and would do anything I asked. But when I called her bluff, she became irate. I know she was scared of me—by me, and what I was capable of doing, so it hadn’t made sense that she still wanted to stay with me. She promised she wouldn’t come back. What if she returned to destroy me? But I have even bigger problems. It’s only a matter of hours before Alexa goes to the clubhouse party. It’s one thing for her to dance in next to nothing at Spinner’s where she’s protected by the threat of customers walking in on Dryden’s business, but knowing she’ll be in the warehouse where he has teenage girls locked in the basement awakens my darkest fears. What if Dryden pimps her out to one of his guests? Or what if Dryden decides to claim her body himself? There’s no fucking way I’ll hang around and wait for something to happen to my girl, even if she wants nothing to do with me after she learns the

truth about how I ended up in prison. When the cab pulls up to the curb in front of Jack’s little rambler on the edge of town, the sight of my old bike parked in the cracked concrete driveway has my stomach lurching almost as much as the handsome fucker standing next to it with his arm slung around a tiny, dark-haired woman. Jace Daniels isn’t my relation by blood, but he’s one of my brothers from the Corps, and those bastards are the closest thing I have left for family other than Jack and Alexa. I arranged for him to buy my bike when I heard he was in a bind, shortly before I went to prison. But what the fuck is he doing here now? As good as it is to see him, his timing couldn’t be any worse. I slip the driver a fifty dollar bill. “Thanks, man. Keep the rest.” I’m not the least bit surprised when Jace comes rushing at me for a bear hug. Though he’s a couple inches shorter than me, he’s equally as strong and briefly lifts my feet off the ground without any problem. “Holy shit, man! I can’t believe you’re out!” he shouts in my ear. “When Jack told me you

were getting out soon—” “What are you doing here?” I ask, prying him off me. “Where’s Jack?” His sharp blue eyes narrow. “Good to see you, too, brother. Thought I’d check in on you and see if you wanted to buy your bike back now that you’re a free man.” I shake my head, wishing there was a way to skip past having to explain myself. But I don’t know how else to make him understand my desperation. “Sorry, but I’m right in the middle of a fucked up mess and don’t have time for any bullshit. I have to talk to Jack.” “You just missed him. He was getting ready to ride out right as we pulled in, told us to make ourselves at home. We were just heading out for a bite to eat.” He tilts his head as if trying to get a better reading on my pinched expression. “He said something about a woman needing his help. Told me if he didn’t come back by dark that I should call the number on his kitchen counter for someone named Tatum O’Connor, and let her know that he’s run into some trouble. Any of that make sense to

you?” Dropping my chin, I scratch at the back of my head as I dial Jack’s number. When the call goes directly to voicemail, I’m ready to break something. Jack had to have been talking about Alexa. But why would she call him for help when she had my number? Cold fear trickles down my spine when I consider the alternative. Maybe it wasn’t Alexa who told him she needed his help. Maybe it was Kerissa. Jack once cared about her like an uncle, although he was never as close to her as he was with me. What would she want from him? Why should she ask for his help? I call Alexa’s phone, but she doesn’t answer either. With the sound of a roaring engine, I look up as Tatum’s black BMW tears around the corner, wheels squealing against the pavement. She slams on the brakes at the end of the driveway, meeting my gaze with a furious scowl through the windshield. Guess there’s no question whether or not she already knows that I’ve been in touch with Alexa. I’m in for a real fucking treat.

Jace nudges me with his thick elbow, chuckling. “Only twenty-four hours outta the slammer and you’re already pissing off hot women? You always were a sly fucker.” Tatum bursts from her car and stomps my way, blonde hair flowing around her shoulders like a centerfold posing in front of a giant fan. In tight jeans, a white shirt beneath a short-sleeved dress jacket, and high heels, she’s undeniably badass. Then the wind catches the bottom of her jacket, revealing a handgun shoved into the front of her jeans. Jace lets out a surprised noise before I hear him shuffling back to the woman. “What’s going on, MJ?” he asks behind me. “What exactly have you gotten yourself into?” Twisting around, I meet his pinched expression. “You should go. Shit’s about to go down with my old club, and I don’t want to see you and your woman caught in the cross-fire.” “It’s gonna take more than that to scare us off,” the woman says, cozying up to Jace. “If you need help, we’re not going anywhere. Oh, and by the way, I’m Phoebe…the fiancée, I guess. God, that

still sounds so weird. Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you.” “She’s right,” Jace agrees with a dip of his chin. “We’ve been through some pretty bad shit ourselves recently. If it weren’t for Zimmy and Big Rob saving our asses, there’s a good chance we wouldn’t be having this conversation. No fucking way I’m bailing on a brother in need.” “I need a minute alone with you,” Tatum barks, stopping in front of me with her arms folded over her stomach. “Yeah, give me a second. This guy traveled across the country to see me.” As much as I fucking hate sending Jace away, I hand him the burner phone. “Give me your number. I’ll give you a call if I find myself in a bind.” As he types his digits, Phoebe twirls the ends of her hair dyed a bright blue in her fingertips while giving Tatum a side-eyed glance. “So…are you like a cop or something?” “Or something,” Tatum snaps in reply, refusing to look the dark-haired woman’s way. She’s too busy glaring a hole through me.

“Okay then,” Phoebe mumbles. “Guess it makes it easier to catch the bad guys if you’re gorgeous.” Jace returns the phone, his gaze hard. “We’ll stick around for a few days. You sure as shit better take my offer seriously.” I nod in reply and give him a fist bump. “Nice to—” Phoebe begins, then meets Tatum’s pissed off expression and shakes her head. “Right. We’ll go on our way. Now.” A minute later Jace’s walking my bike into the street with Phoebe close behind. I’m admittedly jealous to hear the familiar roar of the engine before they disappear down the street. When I turn my full attention to Tatum, she jabs a finger into my sternum. “You dumbshit!” Spots of bright red splotches pepper her cheeks. I always figured she’d have a temper, but it’s worse than I imagined. “Are you capable of thinking with something other than your dick? You may have put this entire mission in jeopardy by going to see her! You have no fucking idea what Alexa has been through! Are you trying to get her killed?”

“No fucking way!” I yell back, swatting her finger away. Stopping myself, I suck in a deep breath, needing to keep my anger at a reasonable level. Fighting with Alexa’s best hope of getting her out of Dryden’s clutches in one piece would be asinine. Then I grumble, “How’d you know I was with her?” “Are you shitting me? I’ve been tailing her at all times, Michael!” I half expect her to knock me out when her hands ball into little fists at her sides. “I just got notice that you were seen leaving the safe house a short while ago! Your ass is lucky it wasn’t one of Dryden’s men trailing you! Do you not understand what’s at stake?” So much for watching my own back. “Who the fuck else do you have tailing her?” “An old partner!” She shakes her head. “Someone I trust more than you at this point! I had a video call from my supervisor and had to put someone else on watch—didn’t dream I’d have to protect her from you!” I hold up my open hands to her. “Before you finish reaming me a new asshole, there’s something

you should know. Jack called me less than an hour ago, said my ex is back in town. I told him I was coming over, but the guys who just left said Jack tore out a little bit ago to help a young woman.” I look down, scratching at the back of my head. “I don’t think it was Alexa who called. My ex— Kerissa—she’s…dangerous.” “Son of a bitch,” Tatum mumbles, pulling a small walkie-talkie from her hip. Her eyes lock with mine as she speaks into it with the button pressed. “Smalls, you there?” There’s a brief crackle, then a man’s voice replies with, “Ten-four, OC.” “Checking in to make sure everything’s all right. Did the target make a call on the burner phone in the past couple of hours?” she asks. “Negative. Target left the safe house with a blonde woman just minutes ago. I’m tailing them now—headed eastbound on two seventy five.” My nuts draw tight. A blonde woman? Kerissa. “Ask what the blonde was driving,” I growl out through clenched teeth. When Tatum asks and the man on the other end

replies with, “A white Jeep,” I kick the tire on Tatum’s BMW and let out a roar. What the fuck is Kerissa planning to do with Alexa? I grab Tatum’s arm. “It’s her…my ex. They’re probably on their way to the clubhouse. Tell your guy to stop them.” When Tatum’s head lulls downward and she grumbles to herself, I squeeze my fingers to get her full attention. “Someone leaked word to the press about my release. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Kerissa came out of hiding today of all days. I think both Jack and Alexa are in serious trouble.” “Fuck!” She presses the button on the radio again, telling her man, “Don’t let that Jeep out of your sight for a fucking second. Do you understand? Blonde woman is potentially dangerous. I’m enroute to the Four Brothers’ clubhouse.” “Ten-four,” he responds. I start for the passenger’s side of the BMW and pull on the handle. “If we haul ass, we can probably beat them there by taking ninety-two.” Tatum pushes against the door before I have a

chance to swing it open. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You’re supposed to be in hiding! If you’re seen with me, it’ll blow this operation wide open! If my supervisor hears what I’ve been doing, he’ll nail my ass to the wall! And not in a way that will give me any sort of pleasure!” With a shake of my head, I bare my teeth. “You can’t expect me to stand back when her life could be on the line! I know Dryden and his niece better than you and anyone else on your team. They’re both sick fucks! If I’m right about this, and they know the truth, you don’t want to know the kind of things they’re capable of doing to Alexa. They’ll do whatever it takes to get my attention.” Tatum’s eyes narrow. “What did you do to piss them off so badly?” “It’s a long story. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get Alexa the hell out of there. I’m going with you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” I pull on the door hard enough to knock her hand away, then look her in the eye with my jaw set. “I love her, Tatum. I’m ready to fight

these bastards in any way necessary to get her back in one piece.” Tilting her head back, she releases a throaty moan. “Why the shit couldn’t ‘Lex have found herself a reserved banker, or a nice kindergarten teacher?” “Because nice guys wouldn’t know how to pleasure her the way I can.” Quietly chuckling at Tatum’s wide-eyed response, I slip into the passenger’s seat. But the fleeting humor evaporates the second she’s jumping into the car at my side, throwing me a deep scowl. “You have to promise you’ll let me handle whatever situation we might stumble into down there, Michael. I know all about your anger problems, your history of violence, and the fact that you were once the enforcer for the club. You won’t be any help to Alexa if you’re sent back to prison.” “You do your job, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe,” I promise, leaving it at that. If push comes to shove, I won’t show any mercy.

THE SUN HAS ALMOST SET by the time Tatum parks her BMW on a hill overlooking the club warehouse. The well maintained concrete building stretches the length of two football fields, housing much more than illegal dancers and drunk bikers. After Jack left, the Four Brothers got in the business of stealing anything on wheels and stripping it down to sell on the black market, operating under the guise of an auto body shop. Who knows what the hell else they’ve started storing in that building since I was sent to prison. Every illegal thing they did over the years made me fucking livid, knowing they were singlehandedly destroying everything my old man and Jack had helped them build, but I was waiting for Dryden and Rambone to get involved in something extreme. Something monumental that would put them away for life. Like this. Tatum’s one step behind as I spring from the car and head over to the chain-link fence. There must be somewhere in the neighborhood of a

hundred bikes parked in the lot, as well as dozens of vehicles, and countless people. Tatum hands me a pair of binoculars. “If Jack’s here, think you could pick his motorcycle out from the rest?” I first scan the lot for Kerissa’s Jeep since Tatum’s guy said the girls were close to the warehouse. When I don’t see it, I take my time in studying every Road King in sight. Jack’s had enough custom work done on his bike over the past couple of years that I could easily distinguish it from any others, but nothing in the lot looks familiar. Studying the crowd, I come across a group of dancers grinding up against each other, giving the guys a real show. A trickle of anger overtakes my body until my blood is boiling hot. I never should’ve agreed to let Alexa continue with this charade, even before Kerissa came back into the picture. Several members of the Four Brothers stand around one of the entrances of the warehouse, engaging in what appears to be a somber

conversation with important-looking men in suites. My hackles rise. No one wears suits for simple club business. “Hey, come over here,” I call to Tatum over my shoulder. “Alexa said there’d be important people here tonight, but some of these guys look like they could be rich fuckers.” Once she’s by my side, I hand the binoculars back. “Check it out…garage door on the far left.” Adjusting them to her eyes, she hums. “Shit. I think—one of those guys looks like a senator I know.” She lowers the binoculars, turning to me with a little frown that sets a deep crease between her eyes, making her look 10 years older. “This is bigger than I anticipated. It might be time to fill my supervisor in, even though it’d piss Alexa off.” I grunt in response. Unless she calls her entire fucking agency in to help right this second, it’ll already be too late. Whatever’s going on down there is monumental, and I can’t shake the sickening feeling that Alexa is right in the center of it all. “Put your fucking hands up where I can see

them, MJ, or I’ll blow your pretty head off,” a deep voice growls from somewhere in the darkness. “You too, blondie.” Butcher, the MC’s current VP, comes up behind us holding an uzi up against his thick chest. He’s an ugly son of a bitch, having been attacked so many times that his face is little more than a pattern of raised scars, and he’s every bit as relentless as he is revolting. Tatum moans, her head titled back. She meets my gaze as she holds her hands up, silently willing me to do the same with her eyebrows raised. “Welcome back, brother,” Butcher says with a sneer. “Dryden is going to be happier than a whore on payday to see you.” As I slowly lift my hands into the air, I struggle against the urge to tear his throat out. I’ve fucking failed Alexa.

15 ALEXA

erissa seems preoccupied the moment we K leave the safe house, always glancing into the rearview mirror of the white Jeep and looking over her shoulder. She immediately fires off questions that feel especially invasive, especially in the way she looks at me sideways when she throws them out. Where did I go to school? How long have I lived in my neighborhood? Do I have family in the area? Have I stripped before? Am I

seeing anyone? I’ve tried not to meet her gaze too often, and not just because it’s sickeningly easy to see why Michael would be attracted to her in the first place, but because I’m afraid she’ll see right through me. What’s with all the questions? It’s not like she has any reason to be suspicious because I didn’t leave her waiting long at the safe house. Once I realize we’re not headed for Spinner’s, my breasts become slick with sweat despite the warm wind whipping my hair around my face. I pull it to one side and glance over at Kerissa. “Where are we going?” “We have a few…errands to run,” she says. Then she twists around to look at me, smirking. “So tell me, Brandi. What made you want to work for my uncle?” I hold my breath and stare straight ahead, trying desperately to swallow. She knows. “Is it the exotic location?” she asks in a singsong voice. “The way my uncle treats the dancers? Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’re fucking MJ now that he’s out of prison.”

All the blood drains from my face in a cold rush. Turning to face her, I blink rapidly. “What?” “It’s too late to play dumb. I talked to Archer this morning. He had his suspicions about you the minute you walked into Spinner’s.” She laughs in a bitter sound. “Girls who look like you don’t come in off the streets, asking for a waitressing job. Everyone who walks through that door begs to dance because they know stripping’s good money. And my uncle said there was something about you that was too familiar. Told Archer you were acting all modest around him…covering your tits and blushing.” As my pulse quickens to a dizzying speed, I dig my fingernails into my thighs. “How did you know about Michael?” “I’ve never had biscuits and gravy that taste exactly like his momma’s recipe, and he has this weird thing about lining up the biscuits on the pan in a diagonal pattern. I used to give him shit about being mildly OCD. Guess half a year in prison didn’t change him.” I reach for my purse by my feet, comforted by

the weight of my Beretta. A semi passes in the next lane, blowing my hair around my face. Tatum told me that if I got into a sticky situation while in a car with anyone, that I should jump and roll into the ditch. But if I were to jump on this highway, I’d be run over in a matter of seconds. What if I somehow signaled to a car for help? “What’s the matter?” Kerissa purrs. “You seem a bit nervous.” Watching her lips curl in amusement, I attempt to calm my racing heart by taking a deep breath through my nose. “What do you want from me?” “How deep are you into this thing with MJ?” Her eyes shift from the road to me, and I see something dangerous flicker to life behind her eyes. “Has he told you he loves you? That he wants you to spend the rest of your lives together?” My heart thumps so hard that it shakes my entire chest. “No.” “Bullshit. I may not know you, but I can tell you’re lying.” Eyes fixed on the road, she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re not the only one to fall for his bullshit act. I was once in

your shoes. That guy can be a real charmer. He sought me out the same way he did with you. Fucked the shit out of me once he knew he had it in with the club, and made sure my father knew we were doing it. Only rather than wanting me to get him out of prison like with you, he hooked up with me because he wanted revenge on my father.” Oh god oh god oh god…this can’t be happening. Surely she’s elaborating because she’s jealous. Michael wouldn’t use me like that, would he? Holding my hair behind my head, I scowl over at her. “Revenge for what?” “That’s the only piece of the puzzle that remains missing. I don’t know what my father ever did to MJ, but it became clear that’s the game MJ was playing when he fucked me in the middle of my folks’ living room and told Rambone to stop by. MJ was in the best mood I’d ever seen him in after my father stormed out of there afterwards. MJ went out of his way to push every last one of my father’s buttons. When I told him that I killed my father because I loved him, he simply told me that I

should run before the cops came. He used me to get what he wanted. Just like he used you. If I had known what he was planning—that he wouldn’t stop until my father was dead—I would’ve walked away.” I shake my head, deciding she’s unstable just like Michael said. “He didn’t kill your father.” Tilting her head back, she laughs with a maniacal sound. “I didn’t say he did, did I? It was much more complicated than that. MJ played me like a charm…made me channel all the hatred I felt for my old man all my life and made sure it festered. I did the dirty work so MJ wouldn’t get his hands dirty.” She pauses to study me over her shoulder. “He played you too, girlfriend. He had you believing he was totally innocent.” I suck in a mouthful of warm air and plead with myself to stay calm. What if she’s telling the truth? What if Michael only told me she was crazy because she’s the only one who knows the story of what happened the night Rambone was murdered? What if he used me to get him out of prison so they could run off together?

Bending over, I try to calm my racing heart. How the fuck could I allow myself to have been so easily manipulated? I knew from my dark past that people are only kind if they want something. That they’d promise a place to live for giving their friend a blowjob, or they’d offer something to eat other than wet dog food to sit naked on the bed with a man in a suit who has wandering hands. As the forgotten memories resurface, my stomach roils. I was so fucking weak when Tatum found me in that alley, beaten within an inch of my life by an angry john. If she hadn’t come along that night, it’s likely I’d be dead. I know for damn sure I wouldn’t have turned my life around the way I did to become an officer in the Army and a licensed attorney. I never used to think there was anything good in this world until she came along and took care of me like a bird with a broken wing, helping me turn my life around and using part of her inheritance to make ends meet. I allowed myself to believe in that kind of goodness once again when Michael came into my life. It seems unlikely I let my guard down enough

to get duped by a man. I’ve spent the last eight years holding men at an arm’s length, unable to let anyone get any closer unless it was to have wild, unattached sex. But if Michael was truly only using me to get his conviction overturned, why did he come looking for me at Spinner’s? Why would he come back for me when he could’ve disappeared through Witness Protection? Is it because he wouldn’t have been able to disappear with Kerissa? Maybe because for whatever reason he wanted revenge on Rambone, he’s not finished. He told me by sleeping with Kerissa it made both Rambone and Kerissa’s uncle angry. Maybe he’s after Dryden too. I refuse to let myself be a fucking victim ever again, whether by Michael, Kerissa, or that fucker Dryden. “If you killed your father, then you’re the one who should be in prison.” I whip my Beretta out and point it at her head. “Pull the fuck over.” Glancing out the corner of her eye, Kerissa laughs. “Like you’re really going to shoot me? The

vehicle would crash, and we’d both die. Doesn’t sound very…safe.” “I’m known to be a little reckless every now and then.” I release the safety and raise my eyebrows. “Go ahead and try me. See how far I’m willing to go in order to nail your crazy ass.” She jerks the steering wheel. We sharply veer off to the right, cutting off several vehicles and creating a sea of blasted horns. Then she cuts onto the highway’s shoulder and my heart leaps into my throat. This crazy bitch is going to kill us both! The gun’s jolted from my grip when we hit a lip on the exit. Before I’m able to recover, Kerrisa snatches it from the seat. I spring toward her to wrestle it back and she backhands me with my own gun. Unbearable pain ricochets through my skull. A bright flash flickers before my eyes. My ears ring and everything turns black.

SOMEONE’S MOANING.

It takes my brain a minute to process what’s happening before I realize the sound is coming from my own lips. Red-hot pain ripples across my forehead where Kerissa struck me, and my entire head throbs. When I inhale deeply, the metallic tang of blood stings my nose, and my body feels as if it’s floating on the edge of losing consciousness. “Oooo…that’s going to leave a mark!” the crazy bitch sings from close by. Prying my eyes open, I find her hovering over me. I’m bound to one of several chairs in the center of a dark, damp room. A basement. I quickly assess my surroundings, hoping to find the bunkbeds Michael had mentioned. But the place is empty, and we’re completely alone. Where has she taken me? “What’s the matter? Looking for your little ICE friend that was tailing us on the freeway?” Kerissa asks, licking her lips and parting them with a loud smack. “He’s the one who tipped me off and told me where to find you, you dumb bitch. I figured you would’ve heard by now the club has their fingers in everything in this town.”

Did Tatum ask someone she trusted to follow me? I know with the upmost confidence that there isn’t a damn thing my best friend would do to put me in harm’s way. She proved that when she literally scraped me off the ground and saved my life. “What do you want?” I mumble, wincing when my head throbs even more. “Same thing MJ wants.” Her lips curl. “Revenge. If he thinks he can fuck with me and my family without there being any consequences, he’s wrong. Dead wrong.” “So what? You’re going to stab him in his sleep the same way you stabbed your father? You think someone MJ’s size is going to just stand by and let you attack him?” I laugh, sending a bolt of pain shooting through my head. “Hey, there’s no contest here. You win the dumb blonde contest, hands down.” “I’m not the one who basically handed my captor a loaded gun, Alexa.” I pry my eyes open a little wider to discover that she is in fact holding my gun. Great.

“How’s the star of the evening?” a deep voice asks from somewhere in the darkness. “I hope you’re not messing her up too badly, Kerissa. She’s not going to bring in as much money if she’s all bruised and battered.” My fingernails dig into the chair as my heart flips against my rib cage and bile burns against my throat. They’re planning to sell me? I’ll die before I relive another experience anything like my dark past. A hulking figure comes into view and my skin crawls. Freddie’s teeth glow bright when he sneers. “It’s a shame Dryden doesn’t pay his bouncers more. I’d give anything for a taste of that fine ass.” That son of a bitch has been eyeing me like a fine steak ever since I first started working at Spinner’s, and it enrages me that I sit here helpless, his for the taking. Knowing he’s worried about my appearance, I decide to stand up for myself. “Your stupid ass could never afford the kind of cash I’d bring in,” I snarl. “You’re hardly a step

above cleaning the shit stains off Dryden’s toilets.” Kerissa laughs with a cackle as Freddie stomps toward me, his gait incredibly light for someone his size. I’ve already braced myself for the slap before it cracks across my face, stinging almost worse than when Kerissa hit me with my gun. My lip burns where I’m guessing it split in half. Maybe he’s not as worried about my appearance as I thought. “You’re still in the running for that dumb blonde competition,” Kerissa says, still laughing. Then she turns to face Freddie. “Where’s my uncle?” “He’s ensuring your ex is taken care of,” he replies, flashing me a satisfied smirk. “He wanted to make sure MJ had a front row seat to the auction.” A dizzying array of emotions sweeps through my chest. Above all, I feel an overwhelming surge of guilt. While I doubt it’s possible to simply unlove a person once they’ve found a way into your heart, the idea of Michael getting hurt isn’t as crippling as I would’ve expected. Wouldn’t it be

natural to want vengeance after learning he may have conned me all this time? Is it so wrong that I can’t shed a tear for the man I thought I wanted to spend my life with when everything that came out of his mouth was a potential lie? “Dryden must’ve been real excited to hear I’m back,” Kerissa growls in a quiet voice, as if to herself. “He had a six-figure bounty out for anyone who knew where you were,” Freddie tells her. “He was convinced MJ had killed you too. Once he hears you were laying low without letting him know you were okay, I wouldn’t expect a warm welcome. Why were you hiding, Kerissa? What kind of secrets are you keeping from your uncle?” Something heavy creaks behind me. A moment later the room fills with soft cries as young girls are herded in beside me by Sasha. As they’re forced to sit in the open chairs, I only recognize one staring back at me. Vee. “Brandi!” she yells out, her voice a mixture of shock and relief. Her big brown eyes glisten in the dim light. “Oh, God! What’s going on?”

“It’s all right, Vee,” I promise, smiling despite a surge of vomit rising in my stomach. “We’re going to be all right.” “Jesus Christ!” Sasha snaps, taking my chin in her tobacco-laced fingers. “What’d you do to her? There’s blood everywhere! She’s going to need a fucking bath!” A sharp response burns against my tongue, but Kerissa speaks first. “She put up a fight. What did you expect?” Sasha whirls around on her three inch heels, giving her a dangerous look. “I expect you to do your fucking job so your uncle doesn’t have all our asses on a platter for fucking up his investments! Take her upstairs and hose her down before the hair and makeup people arrive!” “Don’t tell me what to fucking do!” Kerissa spits out, shoving her chest into Sasha’s. “Have you forgotten who the fuck I am?” “How ‘bout the two of you shut the fuck up and I’ll take her upstairs and hose her down,” Freddie offers. He saunters my way, eyes lidded and tongue flickering over his lips. Vomit coats my throat.

“You and I could have ourselves a real good time.” “Lay one finger on me and I promise I’ll rip off your tiny little dick and shove it down your fucking throat,” I snarl at him. Freddie’s dark expression is murderous as he starts for me, but Sasha steps in between us, shoving him back. “Don’t even think about it! She’s already been man-handled enough!” “Dumb blonde for the win!” Kerissa roars, clapping her hands together. Sasha’s face turns a dark shade of red. “Untie her and take her upstairs! I’m not telling you again!” “Yeah, yeah,” Kerissa answers, still cackling as she comes at me. A black, overwhelming vibration of revenge ripples through me as I watch her go to work in loosening the rope fastened around my body. Though I feel incredibly weak and dizzy, I’d rather die trying to escape than let these assholes treat me like an animal any longer. And I refuse to let Dryden break me again.

16 MICHAEL

early everyone in the club parking lot N recognizes me as Tatum and I are forced at gunpoint toward Dryden’s office on the far end of the warehouse. The greetings thrown at my back are a mix of surprise and anger with a few offers to meet up later thrown in by club whores I’ve hooked up with in the past. As I walk down a path I haven’t traveled since my incarceration, my veins sear with pure hatred

for the men that drove Four Brothers into the ground. My old man would hate everything Dryden and Rambone have done to his beloved club. What was once an organization devoted to helping people has become an illegal operation dedicated to the sole purpose of making its members filthy rich. If I had a match, I’d burn everything in sight to the ground. Tatum’s cool and collected attitude grates on my frayed nerves even though I know she’s trained for this kind of scenario and has plenty of field experience. Hopefully she has a plan to get us out of this shitstorm. I’ve never been so on fucking edge, anxious as hell what will happen to Alexa if I’m unable to save her from this nightmare. I sure as fuck better be able to fix whatever Kerissa has done to her at this point. Once we step into the dingy office occupied by the club president, Butcher tells us to take a seat. The memory of catching Dryden and Rambone talking about my parents in the very same room— triggering my decision to join the Marines—has my insides roiling with rage, and I’m unable to move.

It all comes back to me in a fucked up rush, as real as if it were happening all over again. Butcher turns to me and rolls his eyes. “Sit your ass down, MJ. Best do as you’re told or Dryden will take it out on that new fine piece of ass you sent to dance down at Spinner’s.” Then he chuckles with a sneer taking over his ugly mug. “I’d like to personally thank you for that, by the way. That pussy was the best present you could’ve sent the club.” Even though the uzi is still pointed my way, I lurch for him. Before I’m able to take a step, Tatum hooks her arms though mine and pins them against my back. “Be smart,” she hisses behind me. “Alexa needs us in one piece.” Grinding my teeth together, I snarl out at him, “Where’s my girl? What the fuck’d you do with her?” Butcher’s amused expression is suddenly blanketed with a blinding rage that matches mine. “Let me give you a sound piece of advice, brother. Everyone here knows you gutted Rambone, and

every last one of us is out for your blood. I’d take you out myself if I wasn’t worried Dryden would have my hide for stealing the opportunity he’s been looking forward to since the day they hauled you off in handcuffs. Whatever trick that hot little attorney of yours had up her sleeve to save you from a life in prison isn’t going to save you from the hell about to rain down on you here, so I wouldn’t be demanding a fucking thing from anyone. Either way, you’re not walking away from this. Your girl, on the other hand, may have a chance if you don’t fuck things up too badly for her, so I would suggest you calm your ass down.” Knowing he’s right, that I’ll only hurt Alexa’s chances of getting out alive if I don’t control my anger, I shake Tatum’s hold to sink into the ratty old chair behind me, soliciting a satisfied grunt from Butcher. “Sit tight for a second,” he says, pointing a crooked finger my way. “I’m going to check in to see if everything’s set. If your ass isn’t still in that chair when I get back, I fucking promise you’ll never see your woman again.”

As he leaves the room, Tatum lowers back into the other chair and sets her little fingers on my arm. “We’ll save her, Michael. I promise.” Staring at one of the faded centerfolds pinned to the wall, long ago put there by Jack, I become lost in the old days…before my mom was murdered…before my old man failed to kill himself with a shotgun, instead feeding the dark demons constantly at battle in his head and leaving him paralyzed. The club was once my sanctuary. I trusted the three men who stood alongside my father and saw them as my family. I was even naive enough to call Dryden and Rambone my uncles for a time. Their betrayal was not something I could ever take lightly or cast aside considering they singlehandedly destroyed my family. The blinding hurt and confusion over what they had done nearly tore me the fuck apart. The only response I had at the time—as a twenty year-old with no clear path or plans aside from working construction—was to run. But the Corps made a man out of me, and that’s

when I realized it was time to stop running. I knew the only way I could rest soundly at night was to plot a slow revenge against the two men who I wanted to see suffer as much as I wanted them dead. “That asshole killed my mom,” I blurt. I hear Tatum gasp at my side. “Who? This Butcher guy?” “No, Dryden.” “How do you know?” she asks in a soft voice. Still staring at the poster, I flex my jaw. “I overheard him and Rambone talking about it…in this same fucking room. It was right before my old man tried to kill himself. Rambone was pissed Dryden hadn’t fed my mom’s body to the gators. He was worried my old man was on to the truth, and knew my mom had been fucking Dryden for years. During their conversation, it came out that she wanted to leave my old man so she could be with Dryden without having to hide anymore. Rambone was worried she wouldn’t stop there, that she’d tell my old man about some of the criminal deals they were running under the club’s

name without Jack and my old man knowing. So… he convinced Dryden to kill her.” “Jesus Christ. Did Jack know about any of this?” “No. He still thinks my own man snapped and killed her. It wasn’t until a few years after I enlisted that Jack stepped down as president. He discovered Dryden and Rambone were running guns to the mafia. They must’ve started human trafficking shortly after he left. He was mad as hell when I came back and joined the club, but I couldn’t tell him the real reason I wanted in. The truth would’ve sent him over the edge, and I needed time to plan a way to get back at the two men who destroyed my family.” “Michael.” She waits until I look her way. “Did you kill Rambone?” A loud commotion outside the doorway— strangled women’s screams and the sound of a scuffle—springs both Tatum and I into action. Once in the hallway, the sight we come across slams my heart to a stop. Alexa being thrown against a wall by Kerissa.

Alexa’s head covered in blood. With a burst of adrenaline, I shove my way past Butcher as he comes across the scene, slightly satisfied by the sound of him crashing into the wall. I peel Kerissa off Alexa and fling her aside before taking my girl by the arms. She collapses against me, appearing too weak to stand. “What happened?” I demand in a gentle but desperate tone as I try to look her over. The blood caked to the side of her face and across her blue tank top has dried, and a gash in her forehead looks to have started congealing. Stitches would’ve been a good idea, but at least she’s not in danger of bleeding out. “Did she do this to you?” I snarl. The look Alexa gives me when she tilts her chin up is so broken that I consider handing her off to Tatum to go after Kerissa. What the fuck has she done to her? I glance down at my ex, unsurprised to find she hasn’t changed any since I sent her away. The sight of all her skin exposed for the world to see reminded me why I despised the shit out of finding Alexa in that club. Kerissa has always known she’s

hot, and gets off on showing off her goods. When she was with me, it was a big fucking problem— one that put me in the position of having to fight for her on more than one occasion. It’s a stark reminder why I got off on seeing Alexa in the style she wore whenever she came to visit me in prison: sexy skirts that go down to her knees but still allow for easy access, classy blouses that show a hint of her lacy bras. The fancy clothes fit her personality and gave me just enough of a tease of her beautiful body to get hard every time I walked into that room, without fail. “Skank” will never be a term to describe the woman who’s etched a place in my heart and has become almost limp in my arms. Suddenly Butcher commands in his deep voice, “Step the fuck away from her, MJ. I’m only telling you once!” I look his way to find him holding Tatum under one arm and pressing the tip of his gun into her temple. Coiling my arms around Alexa, I jut my chin out and look him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere without her.”

“Give me a fucking break!” Kerissa squeals from the floor, scrambling to her feet. “Are you going to stand there and pretend you’re really in love with that skank? Like your cold, black heart could really feel anything for a woman?” “You shouldn’t have come back,” I warn her, grinding my jaw. “When your uncle learns what you did—” She shakes her head slowly. “What we did, MJ. You and me. Don’t lie to yourself. You had everything to do with what happened.” Then she lifts a handgun and points it at my face. “I’m onto your game. I know you used me as a way to get to them, the same way you used that bitch you’re holding to set you free.” “What the hell’s going on here?” Dryden’s voice booms behind us. “Kerrisa, put the goddamned gun down. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Though Kerissa lowers the gun, her fingers stay curled around the handle. “Good to see you too, Uncle,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, I expected more of a homecoming.”

Dryden cuts her a warning glare. “Shut your mouth, Kerissa. If you want to make yourself useful to the club, go with Freddie to Spinner’s and make sure everything is under control since Sasha and half the dancers are here. I’ll deal with you later.” Kerissa balks for a moment. “But—” “Now, Kerissa!” he barks. “I don’t have time for your bullshit!” She’s finally smart enough to shut her mouth. As she turns for the last exit, she gives me one last deadly glare. Once she’s out of sight, Dryden’s gaze lands on me. “Guess I should be pleased to see you out. Saves me the trouble of finding someone reliable on the inside to do my dirty work. I must say it was a bonus once I discovered you were involved with one of my biggest investments.” Lips twisting with a sick grin, his eyes drag down to Alexa. “Almost didn’t recognize you at first, sweet-tits. Becoming a woman has done wondrous things to your already fine body. You’ll bring me more money than ever.” Though I want to floor him for talking about her like that, I’m motionless from his words. Why

would he recognize her? What’s with the “becoming a woman” comment? Did they know each other before she started dancing at Spinner’s? All at once I feel as weak as Alexa and almost drop to the floor. “Fuck you!” Alexa barks, her words garbled. Dryden laughs with a dark, menacing sneer. “That will come later, sweetheart. I’ve waited too long for a taste of that fine ass to let the opportunity pass.” With a bout of rage rippling through my core, my stomach surges. Locking my arms around Alexa, I pull her back with me a few steps. “You touch her and I will fucking kill you,” I promise. Shaking his head with obvious disappointment, Dryden releases a deep sigh. “MJ, my boy, you’ve lost your touch.” There’s a loud pop behind me, then pain pulsates across my back and my body stiffens. Alexa gasps as I release her, and she spins around in time to see me fall from the electric current. Tito, one of my old club brothers, stands over me with a Taser in hand. His ugly mug twists with

a satisfied grin. I try to yell and make my body function, but I’m fucking helpless as Dryden and Tito drag both Tatum and Alexa away despite their best efforts to scream for help and break free. Right before Alexa disappears from sight around the corner, the horrified look on her face shatters something deep inside. No fucking way I’ll let this be the end for both of us.

HANDS CUFFED BEHIND MY BACK, mouth gagged, heart trying to burst from my fucking chest, I drag my tunneled vision away from the father figure also bound and gagged at my side as Dryden takes center stage. The smug fucker has the balls to look me in the eye and sneer. The only way I’m able to stop myself from completely losing it is by imagining how spectacular it will feel to finally slit his throat. As if able to read my thoughts, he winks and chuckles before his eyes slip out into the crowd. “Good evening, gentlemen!” he croons, clapping his hands together. “I’m delighted you’re able to

join us tonight as we auction off some of the finest goods you’ll find in all of Florida!” He waits for the crowd to finish whistling and cheering. “The fact that you’re standing here tonight among distinguished guests should not be taken lightly. This exclusive sale was formed only because you, the fine citizens of the greater Tampa area, asked for it. It goes without saying not a single soul in attendance here this evening should mention a word of this event outside of these cement walls. Because if I go down, everyone in this room goes along with me. Now that we have the unpleasant necessities out of the way, what do you say we get down to business?” The warehouse buzzes with excitement as the only woman I’ve ever loved appears alongside Tatum and five other barely dressed women. As if to remind me how fucking helpless I am to become their hero and save the day, Butcher presses the cool muzzle of a handgun to the base of my skull. Men in suits erupt with applause and shouts of approval as the imprisoned women are herded toward Dryden. Alexa’s as sexy as shit—probably

the hottest she’s been since we’ve met. Hair styled in giant waves, make-up dark and alluring, a sparkling black bikini that hugs her beautiful curves. And the way she struts those long, toned legs…it’s almost unreal. How fucked up am I that my dick starts to get hard? Disgusted with myself, a scorching rush of puke burns through my throat. My girl’s going to bring in a shit-ton of money, and I can’t even save myself. Chin held high, Alexa would seem unaffected by the fact that she’s about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But I’m willing to bet my life Dryden threatened to kill me if she doesn’t cooperate and put on a good show. Sasha directs Alexa to stop at Dryden’s side, and the sick fucker wraps his arm around my girl’s bare shoulders. Despite Butcher’s silent threat, I struggle against the handcuffs and attempt to rise to my feet. “Don’t make me do it, brother,” Butcher growls, moving the gun to Jack’s temple and releasing the safety. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to teach this old crow a lesson.”

Meeting Jack’s calming gaze, I settle back and pull in a deep breath through my nostrils. One way or another, I will make good on my threat to kill Dryden. If I had done it sooner, Alexa wouldn’t be in this fucked up situation. The crowd becomes animated as the bidding begins on one of the youngest looking women in the mix. I’d bet she’s not even of legal age. Unable to take on the cool calm of Alexa and Tatum, her eyes water over and her bottom lips quiver. Ten thousand… Fifteen thousand… Twenty thousand… Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this shit is happening right in front of my fucking eyes. My head pounds furiously as I search around me and across the building for a way out, a sign of hope. Before I know it, the bidding has moved on to Tatum. Knowing she’s the last one up before Alexa, I break out in a cold sweat from head to toe. Then I hear Jack grunting beside me. I turn, expecting him to be hurt, but his eyes are bright as they move from me to motion across the bidding

floor. I follow the direction of his gaze, and can’t breathe with my discovery. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

17 ALEXA

swell of sickness rises in my belly every time A a man raises his arm to bid on Tatum. I’m pretty confident she’ll find a way out as soon as she’s alone with the winner, but it doesn’t make the situation any less fucked up. And poor Vee…who’s going to save her once she’s alone with the overweight pervert who “won” her? The auction ends at thirty-five thousand to a large man in a three-piece suit who’s admittedly

easy on the eyes, which makes everything all the more messed up. Jesus, the guy is built almost as much as Michael. Maybe it won’t be as easy for Tatum to fight her way out of the situation as I originally thought. All at once I feel guilty for not letting her go over her supervisor’s head like she wanted to when I first came up with this asinine idea. At least we would’ve had a sliver of hope that we’d survive this mess. “Mark my words, we’re all going to walk away from this,” she whispers in my ear. “Tonight.” Before we were brought out for the auction, she had several opportunities to pass on little words of confidence. She told me not to worry. She promised she wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. She looked as determined as I’ve ever seen her when she said everything would be okay. Until Dryden takes my hand, holding my arm up in the air like I’ve just been crowned Miss America, I believed her. “And now for the highlight of the evening!” he announces, generating a new wave of applause.

His words become hallowed and sound far away as he rattles off my body measurements and the fact that I’m a highly sought-out dancer from his club. I’m unexpectedly catapulted back to the night when I was fifteen and first met the psychotic man at my side. I never learned the name of the bastard that drug me from my foster parents’ basement all those years ago. He was beyond repulsive—excessive skin tags everywhere, beady little eyes set too close, a belly that nearly hung down to his knees, and a stench that clung to him like shit. It never failed to make my stomach lurch whenever he was near. His cold, doughy hands were all over me the night he auctioned me off in a stuffy little room somewhere in the bowels of Tampa. Packed with men like sardines, the stench of cigars and sweat had me struggling to take each unsteady breath. The man always had a rough hand,

and that night was no exception as he held me in place by a fistful of hair. “Gentlemen, we have ourselves a rarity with this young beauty! I have it on good authority that she’s a bonafide virgin!” The dirtbags in the room lost their minds with the news, and I was convinced the bidding would never stop. I stood at the man’s side sobbing, tears rushing down my cheeks and their bitter taste filling my mouth until I finally threw up on the man’s shoes. Men of all shapes, ages, and sizes eagerly bid that night. The sick pedophiles were all eager to get their hands on the scrawny, underfed teen who was quite obviously terrified out of her mind. As I was hauled away by the winner, my naive younger self believed the flicker of kindness I saw in Dryden’s handsome eyes. “Don’t be afraid, sugar,” he said. “I’m not like the other men you saw tonight. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He took me to a rundown little house where I was locked up in a dark room with bars on the windows. I was fed three meals every day that tasted like heaven in comparison to the shit my foster parents fed me over the years. Dryden always made sure my bed sheets were clean, and provided me with an endless supply of clothing and pajamas that were shockingly modest. He never once touched me inappropriately or said things that made me uncomfortable. I believed him when he said he promised to take care of me, because that’s exactly what he did. For weeks I silently willed him to release me out of the kindness of his heart. Until the day he auctioned me off to a pimp for almost twice as much as he paid, I truly believed he would save me. “Gentlemen, we have a final bid of sixty-five thousand!”

With Dryden’s declaration and the applause that follows, I’m torn from the painful memories and thrust back into the real world that’s just as frightening. My eyes flicker to the crowd, watching as a man shakes hands with someone clapping him on the back. I suck in a sharp breath. It’s the same man who bought Tatum. “Things are looking better by the second,” she whispers with a sudden light in her eyes. Though she’s right, it’s two against one, and our individual backgrounds have made us stronger than most women, I’m still skeptical of our ability to fight against the hulking man. And it makes me livid that unless something changes, Dryden will walk away from this night without consequences. The only hope we have is for Tatum to break free and arrest his disgusting ass. Sasha directs us to line up and return to the back room. As we’re filing out, I catch sight of Jack and Michael bound to metal chairs in the back of the room, their faces mostly obscured by dark shadows. But there’s no missing Michael’s intense

gaze. I stop dead in my tracks, worried if I leave with Sasha that I’ll never see him again. Dryden won’t let him simply walk away from this night, especially if Kerissa was telling the truth and he really did have some kind of hand in Rambone’s murder. But after everything Kerissa told me, can I trust that Michael was telling me the truth this whole time and wasn’t simply using me? Can I believe that he loves me, and wants us to have a life together? In the hallway he seemed ready to take a bullet before he’d let Dryden take me away. But how much of that was an act? Then his beautiful eyes locked with mine silently convey the answer I’ve been searching for since he left me in the safe house. There isn’t a hint of anger, apology, or regret to be seen. The man staring back at me doesn’t seem the slightest bit affected by what just happened to the woman he allegedly loves. He merely dips his chin as if giving me a final goodbye, and I think I see his lips curl with a smile.

Ripping my gaze away from his, I storm from the room behind Tatum. I’m done being fucked over by men. Never again.

AS TATUM and I silently dress alongside the other girls who all cry uncontrollably just as I had the first time I was auctioned off, I catch part of a heated conversation around the corner. “And how exactly can you be sure we can trust this guy?” Sasha snaps. “He came here without a direct invite from the club. For all we know, he could be an undercover cop!” “Winnie checked his credentials,” Dryden answers in a calm, smooth tone. “He’s some bigshot TV exec from New York and he has the money. I assure you, the man’s no cop.” Tatum and I exchange an unsure look before Dryden strides into the room. Skin crawling with the memory of him saying he wanted a taste before he sold me off again, I straighten my shoulders when meeting his cold gaze.

“I’m sorry to say this may be our final goodbye, sweetheart,” he tells me. “Sounds like your new master will be shipping you off to New York, so I’m not so sure I’ll be seeing you again.” “I promise you will,” I snarl. “No way I’m letting you continue with this bullshit. You’ve sold your last woman—underage or otherwise. I will find a way to stop you.” With a dark laugh he steps closer to run his fingertips down my back. “Your hero is minutes away from taking his last breath, and you’re about to be hauled a thousand miles away from here. I fail to see why you feel so confident that you can actually follow through with such a threat.” “Hands off, she’s mine now,” a dark voice rumbles from the doorway. The man in the three-piece suit saunters into the room, the threat he gave Dryden backed up by the dangerous glint to his beautiful blue eyes. There’s something behind the stranger’s gaze that makes me want to trust him, even though I know better after the first round with Dryden. And the man has a mouth that’s far too pretty for an asshole who gets

off on buying women like property. From the way his muscles flex under the suit, it would seem he also has the kind of body that would make any woman wet on impact. What happened to the sadistic fuck that made him see woman as property? Does he not have a respectable dick to match the rest of his alluring features? The man steps between me and Tatum, clamping his hands around our upper arms in a way that’s possessive yet oddly gentle. Comforting, even. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be on my way,” he tells Dryden. “I’ve arranged for a presidential suite downtown to properly welcome these two, and we’re wasting my valuable time.” Dryden shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere until your debt’s settled.” “I gave your man a certified check,” our new “owner” replies, his words clipped. “My bank in New York approved the transaction.” “Cash is the only acceptable form of payment. You think I’m foolish enough to accept a check that can be traced?” “I’m in town on business and only heard about

this sale a few hours ago. You can’t expect me to produce that kind of cash on such short notice. I don’t see the problem here. I requested the check be made payable to The Four Brothers MC in the name of charity. If you have a problem—” “As a matter of fact, I do have a fucking problem.” Dryden tugs me away from the man hard enough to bruise my arm. “You weren’t on the original guest list, Mr. Roberts. I find it highly suspect that you just happened to be in town on business and simply heard about this exclusive event. And on top of it, you have the balls to offer me a check for something that could land us both in prison.” “Heyyyy…whoa!” A brown-eyed woman with long dark hair and blue ombre stumbles into the room, tugging at her worn Deadpool t-shirt like she’s either ready to strip down or pass out. “Am I —hiccup—interrupting somethin’? I was—hiccup —looking for the hot biker dude who—hiccup— wanted to hook up. Anyone in here—hiccup—seen ‘im?” Her eyes widen on the man in the threepiece suit. “Or maybe—hiccup—you’re up for a

little fun, hot stuff?” The man Dryden called Mr. Roberts lurches at our captor. Hardly a second later, Tatum removes the gun from Dryden’s jacket before he can react. “Girls, run!” she yells over her shoulder. Confused by the sudden turn of events, I stand rooted in place, mouth slack as I watch it all go down. In a flurry of commotion, the other girls flee screaming, Tatum points the gun at Dryden’s head as Mr. Roberts wrestles him down to the floor, and the room fills with armed thugs that force the girls back inside. “Tatum O’Connor, federal agent!” my friend yells, releasing the safety on the handgun. Her eyes don’t stray from Dryden, but she turns her head a little to the side, addressing the others. “Nobody fucking move a goddamned muscle! You’re all under arrest!” Dryden grabs Mr. Roberts by the wrist, but doesn’t move as if gaging the severity of his situation. “This must be a fucking joke,” he says with a dry laugh. “If you’re with the feds, then where’s your backup?”

Tatum releases an amused smirk. “Don’t worry, they’re on their way.” She tips her head in Mr. Roberts’s direction. “Grab the phone out of his back pocket and dial nine-one-one. Tell them to send all officers on duty, and notify Cameron Berg of the ICE agency in Miami that one of his agents has uncovered a trafficking ring out of Tampa.” “So they’re not on their way,” Dryden snickers. He thrusts his head back into Mr. Roberts’s skull and Tatum fires the gun into Dryden’s foot, creating a perfect hole in the center of his leather boot. With his anguished cry, I’m comforted by a warm rush of satisfaction. “They’re on their way,” Tatum assures him. She glances over her shoulder. “Anyone else want to see whether or not this is a fucking joke, or do I need to put a bullet in your president’s heart to get my point across?” The woman with the blue ombre giggles at Tatum, seeming all at once perfectly sober. “Damn, girl. You are bad—ass!” Mr. Roberts’s deep voice quietly rumbles amidst the concrete walls as he relays Tatum’s

instructions to the dispatcher on Dryden’s phone. “Now tell your men to place their weapons on the ground and take a step back while we wait for the nice police officers to arrive,” Tatum instructs as she aims the gun at his head. “You don’t have anything on me,” Dryden insists with a dark sneer. “At the most I’ll get a few months in prison. I don’t have anything higher than a misdemeanor on my record, and I have the money to hire some of the best attorneys around. Maybe I won’t even have to serve any time and just do a little community service.” “That may be, but the delusional future you’re planning won’t be possible if you don’t tell your men to back away. Don’t force me to fill you with bullet holes.” “You heard her,” Dryden tells them with a resolved grumble. One by one, guns are dropped to the floor all around us, sounding like rain drops on a metal roof. When the woman with the blue ombre begins to slide the weapons away from Dryden’s goons with her foot, I decide her and Mr. Roberts must be

part of Tatum’s undercover team. As the man nearest me shuffles back obediently, I see an opportunity and don’t give it any other thought. Leaping forward, I snatch the man’s handgun and turn to point it at Dryden. “What are you doing, ‘Lex?” Tatum asks. “I’ve got this under control.” “No, you don’t. You heard him.” I brace my arms and release the safety. “He won’t have to do any real time when this is over. He won’t ever stop selling women for money, T. There’ll always be young girls that he can easily kidnap right off the streets and force to do disgusting things to perverted men who should have their dicks severed.” When Dryden throws me an amused grin, it’s all the added motivation I need to pull the trigger, but somehow I hold off. “I’m not afraid of you, Alexa. You’re no different from the weak little girl I bought all those years ago.” Tatum looks unable to swallow when she looks my way. I catch her gently nudging the fake buyer with her foot. “Grab a gun and find Michael. Tell

him I need him here. Now.” “Mr. Roberts,” or whatever the hell his real name is, releases Dryden then swipes a gun off the floor and disappears around the corner. “Alexa, think about what you’re doing,” Tatum warns. “Is this piece of shit really worth the time you could end up serving?” Still staring Dryden down, I nod. “As long as it means he can’t hurt anyone else.” “Alexa, is it?” the girl with the blue ombre says, taking cautious steps closer. With a smile, she raises one hand in greeting. “Hey, I’m Phoebe. My fiancé, Jace—the hot guy in the suit that bought you —was in the Marines with MJ…er, Michael. It’s taking me a little extra time to catch up with everything that’s going on, but from what I’ve learned, Michael was recently let out of prison and the two of you have something going on. Am I right?” I simply glance over at her for a second, trying to decide if she’s all there, or if she’s into some serious drugs. “Okay, let’s assume that I am,” Phoebe decides

with a casual shrug of one shoulder. “I can say from experience that it’s not worth jeopardizing your time with Michael over this butt nugget. Right after Jace and I found each other, we were separated by some brutal mistakes that were made, and the time we spent apart was excruciating. We’re talking fingernails being pulled off their nail beds kind of pain—not that I know, but I’ve heard that’s pretty bad. So if I’m right and you do love this Michael guy the way I think, don’t do something that could keep you from living your happily ever after with him. Let your friend and the police take care of the guy so you can walk away from here tonight as a free woman.” Although I know she’s right, I still can’t help wondering if there’s any legitimacy behind Michael’s confession of loving me. And I’m not about to express my fears in front of Dryden and a room full of thugs. “This has nothing to do with Michael,” I lie, quickly swiping at a lone tear slipping down my cheek. “This has everything to do with me,” Michael

disagrees, suddenly appearing behind Phoebe alongside Jack and Jace. The second I look into my man’s beautiful green eyes, all the questions that have piled up since I began to learn the truth begin to fade away along with any doubts that we won’t survive this. My heart pangs with the truth I refuse to acknowledge. Despite my best efforts to walk away, I love Michael Harrison. And from the way he’s looking at me, I can only assume he feels the same. Damn him.

18 MICHAEL

alking in on the sight of Alexa holding a gun W to Dryden’s head was a total mind fuck that I don’t have the capability to handle. I literally clamp down on my tongue when I’m ready to tell her to pull the trigger and put an end to the sick fucker’s miserable existence. After all, she served in the military, though not in combat. She’s strong enough to handle whatever consequences would come out of it. But there’s no way I’ll stand back and watch

as she’s hauled off to prison. “Put the gun down, Alexa,” I plead instead, slowly shuffling toward her. “Everything that has happened tonight is my fault. If anyone deserves to pull the trigger and face punishment for his death, it’s me. If I hadn't been a selfish prick worried about getting my revenge against him and Rambone, he would’ve been in prison years ago after he murdered my mom.” Alexa’s back becomes rigid with the revelation, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “You don’t have any proof that I ever laid a finger on her,” Dryden snarls. “But I did everything in my power to ensure the prosecutor put you away for stabbing my brother.” “Didn’t have to touch him,” I say with a shake of my head. Flexing my fingers into fists, I turn to face him. “His own fucking daughter hated him even more than I ever did. She was pissed that he kicked her mom out without offering any money or the help she needed to get clean. He knew she’d die on the streets, one way or another. Kerissa spent her childhood listening to Rambone bang

club whores in the next room, day and night, while she tried to raise her little brother on her own. She was convinced it was Rambone’s fault that Kalvin died from an overdose since he wasn’t a real father to either one of them. She blamed him for the death of everyone she loved. “When I found her that night, standing over him with the bloody knife in her hand, Rambone was already dead. There wasn’t anything that could be done to save him at that point, even if I wanted to, so I helped her instead. Kerissa might be fucked in the head, but Rambone made her that way. I never really loved her, but she was like family—the kind that doesn’t fuck you over. She didn’t deserve to spend life in prison on top of her shitty childhood.” Dryden’s eyes narrow. “You expect me to actually believe your bullshit story, MJ?” “I couldn’t give a shit less what you believe,” I growl. “It was stupid to let you live as a free man all this time. I should’ve told someone the night I heard you and Rambone talking about my mom’s murder…how you wanted her gone because you thought she’d tell my old man and Jack about the

illegal shit you were running through the club. The cops wouldn’t have tried to pin the murder on my old man, and he wouldn’t have tried to kill himself. And you sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten your hands on my girl or any other woman, you sick fuck. I made too many mistakes, and it’s time to fix them. You’ve run out of second chances, Dryden.” Moving in behind Alexa, I brush my lips against her ear while setting a hand against her back. She shivers beneath my touch before slightly melting into my chest. “Give me the gun, baby girl. I can’t fucking stand the thought of you throwing your life away because I failed to handle this the right way. I love you too much to let that shit happen.” The slow whine of sirens from far away begin to ping through the warehouse, and Alexa’s shoulders break with a quiet sob. “He didn’t just ruin your life, Michael! He ruined mine too! And countless others! If we let the police take him out of here, it won’t be long until he’s free to ruin more!” “I know, baby,” I whisper, moving my hand up

her back to massage her neck. “But I can’t let you be the one to stop him.” “Neither one of you will be going to prison on my watch,” Tatum tells us over her shoulder. “I promise you both I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he stays locked up long enough for his cellmates to properly punish him for everything he’s done.” Again Dryden snickers, making it almost impossible not to finally kill him by any means necessary. “Think again, sweetheart.” Seeing a flash of metal at his side, I wrap Alexa in my arms and begin to twist my torso until she’s out of harm’s way. Multiple gunfire becomes deafening over a burst of shouting and screams. It all happens so suddenly that I can’t be sure who’s shooting, and if anyone’s shot. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll die before I let anything else happen to Alexa. When I feel a sharp sting graze my back, I wonder if I’ve made my final wish. “Michael!” Alexa screams as I fall to my knees, bringing her down with me.

Fuck me. Was I really shot? Just like with the Taser, I’m unable to move, speak, or virtually do a goddamned thing. Except this time there’s an immeasurable pain spreading through my body as if someone ripped my guts from my chest. The metallic tang of blood fills my mouth when I cough. Alexa kneels beside me, cradling my face in her hands. Tears stream down her cheeks as she repeats my name over and over, begging me to answer. My eyes slide from her beautiful face to the flicker of red and blue lights against the warehouse ceiling. Within seconds, my heavy eyelids close and everything muffles until it’s silent.

WAKING to the sight of my girl at my side, squeezing my hand, I’m convinced I’ve died and moved on to somewhere my greatest fantasies can come to life. Hair returned to its natural dark color, white button-down shirt showing a hint of a lacy bra…even her face is glowing like an honest to

God angel. And when her blue eyes find me and she smiles this heart-stopping, gorgeous smile that steals a moan from my throat, my mind is made up. This has to be heaven. Then I register the beep of machines and fluorescent bulbs over her head. Guess I didn’t die after all. The dull pain in my back should’ve been another tip. “About fucking time,” she mutters with a drawn-out huff. In a blur she’s on her feet, laying a soft, gentle kiss on my lips. My burning lungs fill with her floral perfume until my dick’s painfully hard. The soft hum she makes deep in her throat releases something feral, and my vision becomes hazy. As her lips linger, preparing to pull back, I grunt and thread my fingers through her hair, bringing her back down to my lips. No way in hell I’m letting her leave me again. I nudge her lips open with mine and push my tongue into her mouth, sweeping it against hers until she’s moaning and holding my face like it’s keeping her from collapsing at my side. The kiss is

just as fucking heavenly as the sight of her had been. Reaching for her ass, I release a heady moan. “Climb on, baby girl. I’ve missed the hell out of that body.” “Babe, we’re in a hospital room…with windows. Shit…I can’t believe I care after everything we’ve been through. At least in prison there were four solid walls.” Giggling, she leans in to kiss my forehead before sitting back on the mattress at my side. “How bad is the pain?” “Manageable,” I answer. “What happened to Dryden?” Her lips twitch with the flicker of a smile. “He took a shot right between the eyes. Died before the EMTs could do anything. Tatum told the cops she took him out after he fired at us. They’ve launched an investigation, but Tatum promises everything will work out in our favor.” I close my eyes for a moment, relieved the nightmare has finally come to an end. It’s not the kind of justice I envisioned for my old man and Jack, especially when the club will never recover

from the trafficking sting. At least the men who killed my mother have finally paid their dues. It’s a shame neither Alexa nor I had the privilege of ending Dryden’s life. “Anyone else get hurt?” I ask, looking back at her. “Nothing serious. Your friend Jace was pretty black and blue from trying to wrestle a gun from that guy Butcher, but the EMTs cleared him without making him come in. He and Phoebe rented a little place for the week down in Pass-a-Grille. I’ve been keeping them up to date by phone. As soon as you’re cleared for more than one visitor at a time, they want to stop by.” Scratching my jaw, I’m surprised to find it covered in long stubble. “How long was I out?” “Long enough to give me a good scare. They kept you heavily sedated for a few days to manage the pain. You were shot through a lung—it collapsed. The ambulance couldn’t have timed it any better, and they were able to focus all their efforts on you. The doctors said it was a clean shot considering that’s the only real damage to your

body. They think you should fully recover within a month or two.” Her fingers twist around mine, squeezing tight as tears spring to her eyes. “I thought they were going to have to sedate me too. I basically lost my shit when I thought you were going to die.” “No way I was going to leave you.” I brush my thumb over her knuckles, trying to talk myself down from a sudden burst of anger. I don’t even know why I’m angry, except that I hate having hurt her, even if it was beyond my control. “I’m guessing Tatum had everything under control after I checked out?” “You have no idea. The cops arrested everyone on site. It was a media’s wet dream. There were politicians and business men hauled in, even a priest. They even made it in time to catch everyone at Spinner’s…including Kerissa.” She stops, tilting her head to one side as if waiting for me to become unglued with the news of my ex’s arrest. Truth is, letting Kerissa go was one of the bigger oversights I made in all of this. I practically had to tackle her to the floor before she stopped

stabbing him, even after he had stopped breathing. It didn’t take a shrink to see she had become completely unraveled. I guess I panicked, didn’t think she was strong enough to survive being locked up. “How did Jace know where to find us?” I ask. “I guess he knew something was up and followed you after you left Jack’s. Tatum saw him from a distance—she was in control of the situation from the minute Butcher hauled you two in. Turns out she had swiped your phone from Butcher long enough to send Jace a message. She knew if the cops arrived before the auction took place, the charges against Dryden wouldn’t stick. Your brilliant Marine buddies took over from there, made the arrangements for Jace to use Theo Roberts’s credentials so Dryden would take him seriously as a bidder. I’m not going to lie, it was hard to be around Jace after everything. When I thought he had legitimately bought me and Tatum at the auction, I was ready to rip his throat out the second we were alone.” “Poor bastard never would’ve seen it coming.”

I chuckle hard enough to feel the first serious flicker of pain strike my chest. It only serves as a reminder that I’m alive, and didn’t die in that warehouse alongside Dryden. “Lucky for him it didn’t get to that point.” “We’re lucky he showed up when he did. Holy shit, Michael. What they did…I still can’t believe how it all went down. Once you’re cleared to leave, I plan to spoil the shit out of those two for putting their lives on the line the way they did. Phoebe hadn’t met a single one of us until that night. When I first met her I thought she was just drunk, but when I think about it I wonder if she’s actually certifiable.” Chuckling again, I shake my head. “She’s in love with one of my brothers, and I’m in love with you. That’s just the kind of messed up shit we do for each other. Better get used to it, because those fuckers don’t back off for anything.” Biting down on her lip, her eyes drift to our connected hands. “When I saw you and Jack in the back of the warehouse…I was in a bad place. Kerissa had me convinced that you only used me to

get out of prison. I didn’t want to believe her, but she said you told her the same things when you were together…that you loved her and wanted to start a family. And then I wondered if maybe she came back the same time you were let out so you two could run away together. It scared the shit out of me to think I finally believed someone other than Tatum actually loved me, only to be burned by a con.” “No fucking way. Baby girl, look at me.” I grip her hand tightly until her gaze meets mine. “I’m not proud of the way I used Kerissa to get back at her old man. It was only a fraction of how I planned to get back at him…by ruffling his feathers. I had no fucking clue that she’d actually kill him—that was never my intention. Death was too easy of an out for both him and Dryden. I wanted them both to suffer and decided the best way was to catch them doing something illegal that would put them in prison for life. Once they pinned Rambone’s murder on me, I knew that I had fucked things up too badly to turn back. Jack helped me get in touch with your office so I could find an attorney who

would help me bury the club. So yes, I was planning on using you at one point, but that was before I had ever laid eyes on you. I had been corresponding with an old guy and wasn’t expecting someone like you. After we met I tried like hell to get you off the case, only you were too stubborn to back down.” “I used you in a way, too,” she admits, her eyes shining with tears. “I convinced my boss to give me the case once I discovered you were a member of Dryden’s club. It took me years before I came to terms with what he did to me and decided I had to stop him. I didn’t know at the time he was still involved in trafficking. It made my job that much easier. But I was annoyed as shit that you turned out to be so handsome and charming. There was something about you I couldn’t shake. The minute I first laid eyes on you, I decided that I would save you.” “And you did save me….in so many ways. You’re the true hero in this story.” Pulling her hand up to my mouth, I brush my lips across her soft skin. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Dryden

sooner?” “Are you kidding?” With a hiccup of a laugh, she looks away. “I figured once you knew just how damaged I was, you’d run the other way and never look back.” A dozen different responses come to mind, but they only come out as an annoyed grunt. Though it hurts like a motherfucker, I drag her down next to me and wrap my arm around her. Worry crosses over her expression until I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’re both damaged in our own way, baby girl. Maybe that’s why we’re so perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why there was such a strong attraction between us from the very start. You’re the first woman I’ve ever loved, and the last. I know there’ll never be another one like you, and I don’t plan on making any more mistakes by letting you go.” She props herself up at my side and her lips quiver with a shy smile. “I love you too, Michael…maybe too damn much. The idea of caring about anyone this way scares the hell out of

me. I have no fucking clue how to do the girlfriend thing. I don’t know how to go on living my life now that you’re in it.” Dropping her chin, she watches as her fingers drag over my paper gown. “And if we’re being completely honest, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to pretend anything interests me that doesn’t involve you naked.” I chuckle and run my fingertips across her bottom lip. “Me either. But whatever shit life throws at us next, we’ll find a way to survive it… together.” Lips bending with a smile, she wraps her fingers around my hand. “I hope you’re not keeping any more big secrets, because I’ve had enough shit thrown at me for one lifetime.” “I’ll let you know if I think of anything, only if you promise to do the same.” “Actually…” Getting down on all fours, she wiggles her body as she lowers her mouth down to the side of my face, dragging her lip up the length of my jaw and stopping at my ear. Harder than I’ve been in days, I briefly consider taking her behind the door

in the corner of the room, even if it’s just a closet and not a bathroom. Fuck whatever pain it would cause. I need this gorgeous creature ASAP, even if to prove I’m not a broken man. Lips parting with a small, warm breath, she whispers, “Tatum may have taken the credit to keep me out of prison, but it was me, baby. I’m the one who shot Dryden. I did it for both of us.” Thank fuck. Revenge delivered by the hand of my girl? I’ll take it. For the first time since my mom’s death, I may actually have a real shot at happiness. Nothing can ever break me again as long as I have Alexa.

EPILOGUE ALEXA

hat saying about time healing all wounds? Total T bullshit. But at least it finally healed Michael’s physical injuries faster than what the doctors had predicted—at least enough to clear him to get the hell out of the cesspool they call Tampa. It didn’t seem like all that long after the shooting before my apartment was cleared out in Miami and I had most of my things tucked away in storage. In the blink of an eye, I was sitting next to

Michael on a flight bound for San Diego. The original plan was to visit Phoebe and Jace long enough to let the nightmares of our past finally go to rest, but that’s as far as our plans ever progressed. Michael insists we let fate decide when and where we go from California, although I’m not exactly sure what he means by that. We can’t continue to live like nomads on the beach unless one of us finds a job. It was as hard as I expected to leave Tatum behind, but just because we’ve decided to leave Florida for a time doesn’t mean we won’t eventually return. And I don’t think it would take much to convince her to take a few days off to visit the west coast for a change. She seemed a little shook up until the major players in the trafficking ring were safely locked away, and I know for a fact that she hasn’t taken a real vacation in years. Last we heard, Kerissa pled to insanity in regards to her father’s murder. It’s likely she’ll be sentenced to time in a mental health institution. Michael seems oddly at peace with her fate,

although I still think she was mentally capable enough to serve her time in prison. Honestly, I don’t care as long as she isn’t walking the streets and doesn’t make any more appearances in our lives. After spending a couple of weeks in a plain motel a few miles down the road from Phoebe and Jace’s apartment, the guys suggested a road trip. In hindsight, we should’ve been on to the strange way our men would almost giggle together like a couple of high school girls, but we chalked it up to the fact that they hadn’t spent quality time together in countless years. And since Phoebe and Jace had also recently avoided a deadly situation, we all deserved a little R&R. The moment we rolled up in front of the upscale casino in Vegas and checked into separate suites, however, it was clear we had seriously underestimated their intentions. Michael whisked me out to our balcony overlooking The Strip where he proceeded to ask if I would be opposed to marrying him in a tacky little chapel that may or may not be surrounded by Elvis impersonators.

The proposal was the furthest thing from being elegant, especially since he was covered in sweat and noticeably shaking. And most women my age would likely scoff at his efforts considering he didn’t bother with a ring. But none of that mattered to me. Most people would think it was ridiculous for us to exchange vows so soon into a relationship, but we aren’t most people either. Having both survived Dryden’s reign of terror made us closer in ways time couldn’t. I know without any hesitation that our paths had crossed for a reason, and we were meant to find each other amidst the chaos of our complicated lives. Discovering we’d be getting hitched alongside Phoebe and Jace didn’t surprise me since they’ve been engaged considerably longer than our fifteen minutes. I actually like the idea of preparing for our big day alongside the quirky girl with blue hair whom I’ve already included in my small circle of friends. Not only did she survive a childhood comparable to mine and Michael’s, but she’s not into the kind of girly shit that warrants an eye roll.

So once we’re standing outside the chapel doors, hair styled by the in-house salon, dresses courtesy of a thrift store a few miles off The Strip, bouquets of browning roses via some guy with a little dog peddling them around the corner, Phoebe and I eye each other before we both break out in hysterical laughter. I was never one to dream about my wedding day. The notion of dreams died the day I was sold by the people paid by the government to care for me. Even if I had put any thought into it, I’m certain it wouldn’t have involved the sleek skirt and plunging neckline with rhinestone detailing on the shoulders. There’s no denying it looks pretty damn good on me, just as Phoebe’s short little number of layered lace does on her petite frame. Still, we’re not the traditional type. “I feel ridiculous!” Phoebe confesses, tugging the straps of her mini dress. “You think they’ll notice we didn’t bother buying shoes to go with our dresses?” I ask among giggle-snorts, pulling my skirt up enough to reveal my worn Converse high-tops.

“If MJ’s anything like Jace? They’ll only notice what we’re wearing for underwear.” In that case, Michael will be pleasantly surprised. Phoebe hooks her arm through mine and squares up in front of the double doors. “Let’s get this over with so we can skip to the part where we get stupid drunk.” We’re met with a beautifully decorated hall in soothing shades of gold and tan, accentuated by intricate crown molding, wrought iron chandeliers, and large bouquets of bright flowers. I wasn’t expecting the ceremony to be so elegant, and suddenly feel foolish for not getting different shoes. But with the discovery of the only other two people I’ve ever given a damn about waiting on the padded benches, I burst into tears and my face burns hot with embarrassment. Before meeting Michael, I wasn’t one for crying. Abusive foster families and being sold like an animal had taught me they weren’t worth the effort. Lucky for me, Phoebe also makes a little sobbing noise with the

sight of a large man rising to his feet at Jack’s side. Several yards ahead of us in the front of the chapel, Jace and Michael bump fists, chuckling. I narrow my eyes at my soon-to-be-husband, making it clear his little stunt won’t go unpunished. His cheeky smile’s wiped clean when his ravenous eyes slowly trail down my body. I take a minute to appreciate the tan vest he wears with jeans and a white dress shirt rolled to his elbows. Until now I’d never seen him in anything remotely dressy. The swell of desire swooping through me with the sight nearly knocks me on my ass. As the man lifts Phoebe off the ground in greeting, Tatum rushes up to embrace me. Hair straightened, bright red, sleeveless tunic that dips down in the center to her belly button and shows the sides of her perfect breasts, my best friend is as sexy and glamorous as I’ve ever seen her. “Jesus, ‘Lex,” she whispers. “Pull your shit together before Michael changes his mind and takes me as his bride instead.” With a cackling laugh, I squeeze her tight before releasing her. “Guess this means you’ve

known about this day longer than I have.” Her eyes twinkle when she says, “The smooth bastard even asked for my permission when he called. I’m not even joking when I say if you don’t sober up immediately, I’m taking your place. This guy is a rare gem…like some old-school southern gentlemen and my wettest dreams rolled into one smokin’ hot package.” “Keep your eyes off my husband’s package,” I tease, punching her shoulder. “But seriously, you have no idea what it means to see you and Jack here. I don’t know that I could’ve done this without you.” Her eyes roll to the ceiling. “Stop being so damn sappy. Of course you could. You just wouldn’t have had as much fun celebrating after.” The big guy next to Phoebe dangles one arm off her shoulder like she’s a wall to lean on as she’s turning to us. “Tatum, Alexa, this is my dearest friend Kory. Jace invited him to join us all the way from Minnesota.” Kory’s eyes widen on Tatum as we stumble through introductions. Soon Jack joins us, leaning

in to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful, my dear. Would you humor an old man and let me give ya away to my boy?” “Jump on in, old timer!” Phoebe offers, holding her elbow out between us. “We’re in a hurry— there’s an entire city filled with lights and liquor calling our names.” “None of us have been to Vegas before today,” I tell Jack as he slips into place with a chuckle. “Something tells me this city isn’t ready for this crew,” he replies. Cringe-worthy violin music plays over our heads as the other two return to their seats and we advance toward our men. Beneath Michael’s heated stare, my chest becomes tighter with each step. When Jack hands me off and Michael’s warm fingers slip over my bare arm, I audibly moan and Phoebe giggles. Though we’ve fooled around plenty since he was shot, we haven’t let loose to have the kind of wild, no-holds-barred fuck-fest we had in the safe house. Something tells me the second we’re married, Michael’s ready to remedy that.

By the grace of some unforeseen miracle, we make it through the short and sweet ceremony without getting too handsy in front of our friends. Considering we’ve had sex with armed guards on the other side of an unlocked door, I’m actually proud of our restraint that lasts right up until the woman in charge of the ceremony tells us we can kiss. Fingers slipping beneath the slit in the back of my dress, Michael grips my chin in his other large hand before giving me the kind of panty-melting look I hope to see every day for the rest of our lives. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, baby girl.” Drawing his sweet mouth to my jaw, he quietly adds, “This is the part where I take my wife back to our suite and fuck her senseless.” Then his mouth crashes over mine and he’s kissing me without holding back, slipping his tongue past my lips to stroke mine as if to make his intentions clearer. I press myself against his wide, solid body, becoming weak in the knees with the feel of his hard cock pushing against my softer flesh. Every inch of me burns with the need for him

to make good on his promise. Our three guests hoot and holler for a bit, but eventually die down. Once it’s silent, I recognize the sound of Tatum clearing her throat. “How about the four of you head up to your rooms, and I’ll entertain these two gentlemen at the bar until either you join us, or I literally become a gray-haired spinster?” Breaking away from Michael, I laugh a little too loudly at her joke. “Works for me,” my husband tells her before hoisting me over his shoulder. Over my laughter I hear him exchange congratulations with Jace. I barely get “later”s in with Phoebe and Tatum before I’m being hauled into an elevator, embarrassed yet again when joined by other hotel guests. But the women joining us only giggle in response and whisper to each other on the short ride up. Outside our suite door, Michael gently sets me down on my feet. Intense green eyes drag up and down my body as he licks his lips. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t fail to tingle in anticipation

of what that tongue can do. “Didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier. But Christ, Alexa. That dress…” Grabbing his vest in my fists, I rise to my tiptoes to kiss him hard. His hands tangle in my hair as he pushes me against the wall and kisses me back until I’m sure one of us will pass out from lack of oxygen. It’s the kind of kiss that could almost literally make a girl pregnant…all tongue and teeth with wandering hands and eager bodies pressed together. It’s needy. Filled with unmatchable passion. Filled with love. It’s epic enough that it’s probably the first thing I’ll remember about the day we got married. But I’m certain my memories of this day are about to become pornographic as he promptly sweeps me off my feet into his arms and shoves his way through the door like a man possessed. The little girl who was forced to read stolen books in a dark basement and once believed in heroes becomes downright giddy as we enter our honeymoon suite that’s suddenly as magical as the castles where the princesses in my stories would

wait for their prince. All at once able to see things more clearly, I realize that I never wanted to get serious with anyone before I met Michael because I was never meant to be with the kind of man who lived a quiet, respectable life and punched into a clock five days each week. Chaos and darkness have always followed me, so it would make sense that’s where I found comfort and companionship. I once believed I wanted a man that was safe and uncomplicated, but it took one who knew danger and mayhem to understand me. I’m tossed down on the sophisticated tan bedding as the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on lurks over me like a caveman. Any witty remarks I could possibly have lodge in my throat when he comes at me with the speed of a cheetah, tearing the second-hand dress clean off my shoulders and yanking it down my completely naked body. Michael hisses through his teeth as his eyes burn with lust. I could almost come under the heat of his stare, without him even touching me.

“Damn, ba-by girl, if I had known you weren’t wearing anything underneath, I never would’ve made it through the fucking ceremony.” Falling to his knees on the mattress, he nudges my knees apart and lightly strokes his thick fingers along my inner thighs. “Moments like this I wonder if I’m still in prison…fantasizing about the hot attorney who came to my rescue. Because there’s no fucking way the angel spread out in front of me is my wife.” “Oh I’m your wife alright,” I say with a smirk, propping myself up on my elbows to get a better look at the gorgeous man ready to ravage me. “And when you signed that marriage certificate, it gave me the right to boss you around.” Chuckling, he raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?” “You better bet your ass. Now be an obedient spouse and take those clothes off, nice and slow. That outfit you’re wearing is the best kind of suit porn I’ve ever seen and it makes you mouthwatering hot, but I want to see the goods underneath.” “Shit, you really are a demanding wife,” he

teases with a quiet chuckle. Leaning back on his heels, his eyes lock with mine. He begins to unbutton the vest at a painstakingly slow pace. “Is this what you want?” I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth and nod slowly. If he were to touch me, he’d know the strip tease wasn’t necessary. I’m already wet and ready for him. But when the shirt goes next, gifting me with the ultimate eye-full of muscle and ink, I decide it’s not so selfish to ask for a little present on my wedding day. Sitting all the way upright, I drop my eyes to the obvious hard-on in his pants. As much as I want to touch every inch of his luscious, burly body, I want a taste of him even more. “Keep going,” I wheeze out, ready to touch myself to relieve the ache he’s created. “Yes ma’am,” he growls, the playful banter gone. Releasing the zipper on his jeans, he slides back off the bed and pulls them down along with his briefs. Then he releases his massive cock and takes it in his hand, giving it a few languid strokes. Damn, he is one hunk of a perfect man. “Keep

looking at me like that and this will be over before we’ve even started.” Running a shaking index finger across my lips, I smirk. “Then I guess we’ll have to get you ready to go a second time. Our guests can wait.” “Maybe, but I can’t.” Our naked bodies collide when he pounces on me, delivering a biting kiss. As our frantic tongues and lips work their magic, his fingers slip between my legs, teasing and stroking my slippery folds. I’m already so aroused that the first wave of an orgasm builds with record breaking speed, and I release an animalistic sound inside his mouth. Writhing beneath him, I buck against the palm of his hand when a couple of his fingers slip deep inside. “Michael…fuck…I love you so hard…” The vibration of his chuckle passes through his lips as they devour my neck. “That’s it, come for your husband. Give me all you’ve got, baby girl.” Tilting my head back, I do just that. His mouth trails down to my breasts, sucking and nipping at a nipple while I cry out to whatever gods might be

listening. This is most definitely not how I pictured my life playing out, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Michael Harrison might still be bad for me in some ways, but for the very first time, letting something bad into my life feels pretty damn good.

THE END

FIGHTING FOR ALEXA PLAYLIST

Criminal by Distrubed The Space in Between by How to Destroy Angels Black Honey by Thrice When God Comes Back by All Them Witches Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys Hated by Beartooth Burning Down the House by The Used Oh No by Goodbye June The Devil’s Bleeding Crown by Volbeat

Killer by WrongONyou Night People by You Me At Six I Feel Love (Every Million Miles) by The Dead Weather

ALSO BY JENNIFER ANN STANDALONES Inferno Glory MC Fighting for Phoebe Fighting for Alexa Broken Little Melodies (coming in 2017) The Missing Ones (coming in 2017) KENDALL FAMILY SERIES Brooklyn Rockstar

Midwest Fighter Manhattan Millionaire Oceanside Marine (coming in 2017) Ten Nights (a Brooklyn Rockstar novella coming in 2017) NYC LOVE SERIES Adam’s List Kelly’s Quest Chloe’s Dream Sign up for Jennifer’s newsletter to receive a FREE copy of Brooklyn Rockstar!

BROOKLYN ROCKSTAR

PRAISE FOR BROOKLYN ROCKSTAR “BROOKLYN ROCKSTAR was an amazingly sexy & exciting Rockstar-Romance!” ~BJ’s Book Blog “Jennifer Ann gave me all I could want in a sexy, bad boy rocker with way too much of most things.

Who would have thought he would have selfesteem issues. I got a great read and a hot story. Bring on the next book.” ~Miley the Book Junkie Reads I read it in one sitting (and it's not a small book) it was that good! The writing is phenomenal, the characters were amazing, and I can't wait to read the next book! ~Annalisa Nicole, author of I See…Love

Sexy bad boy Charlie Walker had everything he could ever want as a rockstar: a platinum album, a cushioned bank account, and an endless supply of groupies desperate to have him. But things changed when the band's drummer went missing, forcing Charlie to go it alone and question if he truly has what it takes to succeed in the business. Small-town girl Evelyn Kendall has just arrived

in Brooklyn Heights. With a new job and her best friend as a roommate, she's ready for an epic adventure free from her family’s constant supervision. She's not prepared for the musclebound, tattooed star who appears out of nowhere and rocks her world. When Charlie locks gazes with the freckled brunette at his first solo gig, he falls hard and fast for reasons he can’t explain. Determined to keep Evelyn in his life, he’s ready to change his ways, even if they run blood deep. But will their instant attraction be enough to weather the storm brought on by the perils of fame, Charlie’s secrets, and Evelyn’s overly protective brothers? Warning: This book is filled with sexy bad boys and strong leading ladies. If you’re looking for an engaging read with panty-melting love scenes, then you’ve come to the right place.

ONE CHARLIE

SMALL, WARM HANDS WANDERING ACROSS MY CHEST, a set of hard tits pushing into my back, and an unshaven pussy rubbing against my bare ass wake me from a hard sleep. With a deep breath, an obnoxious stench of floral perfume or whatever else chicks spray themselves with fills my lungs. Christ. I brought one home? “Morning, sexy,” a woman’s voice purrs.

My eyes open to the familiar surroundings of my bedroom in Brooklyn Heights. Guitar leaning against the rustic night stand built by my grandfather, jeans and T-shirt from the night before in a crumpled pile in the middle of the rugged wooden floor—as if I stripped out of them in a damn hurry. Both a sure sign I was up late entertaining. Not only does my skull feel ready to explode, but there’s a funky taste in my mouth of Fireball and cigarettes, which is never a good sign. A string of scattered flashes replays the events from the night before. My last memories are of leaving the bars for a private house in the Bronx where I played beer pong as several hot women hung on my every word. But I don’t remember much after that. I must’ve been bombed out of my mind to actually invite someone over. Massaging my throbbing head with my fingers, I twist around to face the naked chick grinding into my backside. I’m met with eager, dark eyes surrounded by fake eyelashes that are starting to come off. Her facial features are typical of the

Jewish girls I knew growing up—long and slender nose with respectable cheek bones. She’s decent enough, but the blonde with her arm draped around the brunette’s waist, sitting tall to get a good look at me, is a total knockout. Her sultry lips bend with a tempting grin and the room begins to spin. Holy shit. Not again. Bits of conversations from the night before return as I lock gazes with her. California girl trying to get a break as a model. Madison something. Big fan, knows every word of Coney Island Kid by heart. Sad the band’s hot drummer went missing. Not looking for anything serious, just wanting to have a little fun. All things I’ve heard a hundred times before. “Ready for round two?” the blonde asks, widening her eyes. “You passed out on us just when things were getting interesting.” “Party’s over,” I say, pulling my body from the brunette’s eager clutches. If it weren’t for this brutal hangover, I’d possibly give in even though it’s a terrible idea. If just one of these chicks opens their mouths or took a picture of us together, it

could all come crashing down. Again. “I’m sure it goes without saying, this needs to stay between the three of us.” “Of course,” Madison answers, stretching as she pulls her long hair over her tanned shoulders. She’s a bit skinnier than I prefer, but her perfect tits stretch into the air along with the rest of her, their rosy centers perky and begging to be sucked. When my eyes travel down her body, finding her completely bare down below, my balls draw tight. “We wouldn’t dream of telling one of the gossip sites, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the brunette says with a crooked smile. I narrow my eyes on her, jaw clenched. “Get dressed and get out.” Moving from the bed, I’m aware both their eyes are locked on my hard-on as I snag my phone off the night stand and make my way to the bathroom. “Best be forgetting this address too. It isn’t even my place, it’s my brother’s.” It’s likely on their way out they’ll see the memorabilia and pictures of me with other wellknown musicians—if they haven’t already—and

know it’s my place too, but I can’t risk the chance of them returning or sending their friends and the paparazzi my way. I’ve lived a nice quiet life since we bought the apartment and don’t want that to change. Slamming the door to the bathroom, I text Lorenzo an SOS message before taking a good, hard look at myself in one of the mirrors. The cool blue eyes I inherited from my mom stare back at me lit with judgment and disappointment, puffy with a short night of sleep. I may as well be standing face-to-face with my asshole father, the man who first taught me to see women as mere objects. Running a hand through my dark hair sticking up every-which-way, I sigh. After last night, it’s becoming clear that fame has turned me into a womanizing dick. At first I was somewhat relieved when Danny’s sudden disappearance postponed the band’s tour since I was scared as shit for our first headliner. What if I don’t have the star power it takes to keep a three-hour show fresh and exciting? Now, when I consider the fuck-up in the next

room, maybe I would’ve been better off on the road, though the temptation to give into occasional hook-ups would’ve been even greater. And even though it has almost been a year, I sure as shit don’t want to deal with the fact that I’ll eventually have to find a new drummer. I snub my nose at my reflection and toss my phone next to one of the sinks before turning on the shower nozzles. One foot is past the glass shower door when the heavy bathroom door creaks open and Madison slips inside, still naked. My eyes are drawn to her sweet tits like magnets. “Thought maybe you wanted some help with that beautiful morning wood,” she says before biting her lip and backing up until the door closes. Gray blue eyes travel down the muscles on my chest, stopping at my cock. “Don’t pretend you don’t want me, Charlie. I saw you get hard when you were looking at my body.” Tilting my head back to the tiled ceiling, I groan. I’ve always had a problem saying no to beautiful women throwing themselves at me. In my defense, there isn’t a living guy on the planet that

could turn down the kind of women desperate to taste my cock or take it for a ride. “I’ll give it to you any way you want it,” Madison purrs, stepping closer. She doesn’t stop until our naked bodies are pressed together and her lips are temptingly close to mine. “You were amazing last night. I want to get you off again.” My dick shifts against her belly, conceding to her offer. Her firm tits poking into my chest are like fucking heaven and nearly make me come on her soft skin. How do I not remember sleeping with her? “Fuck me, Charlie,” she pleads, wrapping her hand around my shaft. “I promise to make you come so hard you’ll forget every other girl you had before me.” What the hell. I’ve already made the mistake of bringing them home and apparently slept with her at least once already. With a deep grunt, I scoop her up and set her ass on the stone vanity. Madison arches backward, giving me easy access to her ripe, double Ds. I squeeze one before latching my mouth around it, biting and sucking until she’s

gasping beneath me and pulling my hair with both hands. Their unnatural hardness is a major turn-off as I massage them with my fingers. It doesn’t take a plastic surgeon to know she’s had implants. “Bite ‘em harder!” she cries. A harsh laugh falls from my lips. They’re probably numb as fuck after being removed and sewn back on. She may not even notice if I bit them off. Fake eyelashes, fake tits, can’t anyone be fucking real anymore? She pulls my eyes away, her face tight with a scowl. “What’s so goddamned funny?” Staring into her eyes, I shake my head. “I can’t do this. You have to go.” Lips snarled, she opens her mouth, but I’m saved by the sound of my best friend yelling my name from the hallway. “Where are you, man? You still alive?” Madison crosses her arms with a frown that makes her downright ugly. Most the women I’ve hooked up with start out hot as shit on the outside, but their true intentions usually reveal themselves with time. They’re almost always after notoriety

from sleeping with someone famous. Guess it’s what I get for giving groupies the time of day. “Who’s that?” she asks. “None of your business.” I grab a towel off one of the open shelves and wrap it around her shoulders like she’s a little kid. “Leave. Now.” “Have you ever considered maybe your drummer left the band because you're an asshole?” She spins around with her eyes narrowed to small slits. “Before I leave, you should know I lied. Last night wasn’t anything special. It was mediocre, just like the music you write.” There’s no rational reason why her snide remarks should get to me, but my skin crawls with the need to set her right all the same. Thankfully the bathroom door flings open to a wide-eyed Lorenzo. He’s wearing his usual style of a meticulously ironed T-shirt and cargo shorts with a thick chain around his neck, bright white tennis shoes that are somehow always scuff-free. The way his dark hair is freshly buzzed on the sides, I wonder if he finally manned up enough to pay his

ex at the salon a visit or if his tight ass broke down and bought an electric razor. Some chicks are intimidated by the size of my thick friend on first glance. Most think he’s hot until he opens his mouth. Madison, however, is clearly disgusted by what she sees. She curls her upper lip and pulls the towel tight around her body. “¿Qué pasa, gorgeous?” Lorenzo sings, giving Madison a slow leer. “Need some help finding your clothes, sweetheart?” When his dark eyes shift onto mine, he’s grinning like an idiot. “You gonna introduce me?” I slip a towel around my waist. “She’s leaving.” Madison marches back to my room, grumbling something to the brunette. Lorenzo’s eyes practically shoot out of his head. “Oh shit! There’s another chick in there? Bro. Listen. I thought you were done with this shit after last time. I know it’s fun, but there’s more at stake with this solo gig and you definitely can’t afford another scandal right now.” “Why do you think I told you to come over?” I

snap. “I don’t remember inviting them back here. I don’t remember much of anything after I left the bar,” I say, blowing out a long breath and leaning against the sink. When I realize there’s no way Lorenzo could have made it here this quickly from his place in Staten Island, I cross my arms over my chest and tip my chin. “Taking the walk of shame home from Vanessa’s again?” “Nah, she’s old news,” he answers. I know he’s full of shit because every time he says that, they usually hook up a few days later. He braces himself against the doorway, giving me an eye-full of the colorful serpent decorating his bicep. “Rick called, said you weren’t answering your phone. The studio wants you to come in to work on the new album.” “Fuck,” I say among a moan. “I won’t be worth a shit with this beast of a hangover.” Truth be told, I’ve performed under worse conditions and could probably suck it up. I just don’t have it in me to face anyone at the studio. Last time I was in they second-guessed the hell out

of the songs I wrote, destroying the confidence I had to build without Danny and the guys backing me up. Rocking out in front of a live crowd has always been a way to make me feel alive, wanted. Like I’m king of the fucking world. When I agreed with Taz and Corey to take a break, I was eager to keep the high of performing alive in any way possible. It never occurred to me that I may suck on my own until the producer said my first single needed a complete overhaul. “I’ll come up with something believable,” Lorenzo offers, shrugging. “You know, like you broke your dick from slamming too much pussy last night.” He deflects the comb I chuck at him and laughs. “Easy, brother. I’d hate to throw you down on your ass in front of your company.” Lorenzo was a buddy from the neighborhood where I grew up and acted as my manager in the very beginning when I was a no-name. Then the band got signed and the studio wanted me to use theirs, an uptight bitch who seemed more interested in getting her hands down my pants. I insisted on

using Lorenzo and said without him there wouldn’t be a deal. I wanted him to reap in some of the benefits of my success, though I’m not about to give him any fucking handouts. He has to earn it just like I did. For the most part he does a good job. He even knows when to keep our relationship professional and when to razz me in private. “Maybe it’s time to lay off the booze for awhile,” he suggests with a casual shrug. “Not that you have a problem or anything, but we both know what a fucking disaster it was the last time you were with two chicks. You’ve always have a problem saying the word no. And bringing them here? Dude, you broke your most sacred rule!” Running a hand through my hair I groan. “No shit. I can’t tell you what I was thinking. Like I said, I can’t remember any of it, so I can’t even tell you if they were any good.” “I say this out of love, but you’re a stupid motherfucker. The only time two chicks wanted to get with me, one had a third nipple and the other gnawed on my dick like it was a T-bone.” Chuckling, he rubs at the back of his neck. “You

are one lucky bastard, though I would think one of these days this scene will get old. Don’t you wanna knock some poor girl up and give her your last name? You could drag her and the rugrats around the country on your tour bus. You’d have someone to cook for you and keep your bed warm at night.” “I’m in no hurry to settle down,” I remind him. “Chicks are just something to keep me warm at night.” Shit. I think I stole that line from Danny. “Fuckin’ Romeo,” Lorenzo grumbles, shaking his head and chuckling. “Somewhere deep down there must be some redeeming feature that makes you so popular with the ladies. We all know it isn’t that gravelly voice or your ugly mug.” Grinning, he juts his square chin across the hallway. “Shower that rank pussy off and get dressed, loser. I’ll take care of your little mistake and then we’ll hit Molly’s for bagels and coffee.” My stomach growls in agreement, so I nod and hit him in the chest. “Thanks, man. If I’m ever dumb enough to walk down the aisle, do me a favor and talk me out of it. That shit’s not for me.”

“You just haven’t met the right one, brother. When you walk down the aisle one day, my ass better be standing right next to you.” “When pigs fly and I decide to settle down with one chick for the rest of my life, you’ll be my best man,” I mutter, ready to be done with this ridiculous conversation. There’s nothing good about my life worth sharing in that way. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” “Yeah and I’m holding you to it!” he calls out as I slam the door in his face. BOOKS 1-3 AVAILABLE NOW! Sign up for Jennifer’s newsletter and receive a FREE copy!

INFERNO GLORY MC

PRAISE FOR INFERNO GLORY MC

“Sweet lord it is fast paced! Sort of SOA on a tilta-whirl! lol Freaking love that it is about a tough biker chicky and in her POV.” ~Perusing Princess

“Woo Hoo! I found a new author that gives good badass biker, I'm in. She teased and tantalized me with more than one "hunk of hotness" and intrigued me with the mystery of what landed Harley in prison.” ~iScream Books

“There is nothing off the table when it comes to the Inferno Glory MC and [Jennifer Ann] dishes them up lock stock and two smoking barrels!” ~Books Laid Bare

Forgiveness in the MC doesn’t come easy…

They say you can never go home again, but I was out to prove them wrong. After a three year absence from the only home I have ever known, the Inferno Glory MC was not welcoming me back with open arms. Until Colt Sawyer sweeps me off my bike, makes me feel like a woman again, and shows me pleasures I have never dreamed of. Colt thinks he can save me, but I am not the MC darling everyone remembers me as, and no amount of scorching hot sex or whispering sweet nothings in my ear will change my hardened exterior. Or at least that is what I thought. He’s offering me passion, forgiveness and protection. And once secrets start being revealed, the protection he provides me may be the only

reason I survive the Inferno Glory MC. Warning: This story involves steamy sex with multiple partners and tattooed alpha bikers. If you’re looking for a hot and dirty ride, this is your book.

ONE

THE ELECTRIC VIBRATION BETWEEN MY LEGS and against my hands is beyond amazing as I gaze upon the bright colors of spring whizzing past and inhale the delightful smells of freedom as the warm wind whips through my loose hair. I’ve waited three very long years for this moment. Three fucking years. A person would be amazed at what can transpire in a matter of a thousand days, give or

take a few. In that precious amount of time that was stolen from me, the bitch who set me up got married and gave birth to a baby boy. The country elected a new president. My little brother graduated from high school and became a man. My favorite band released two new albums. My asshole boyfriend left me for some skank he met at the gym. And my father died. Meanwhile I was behind bars, fighting for my life. Between dueling gangs and crazy bitches who threatened to rape anyone with any object they could get their hands on, it’s a miracle I was able to escape unscathed with my dignity still intact. It’s odd to see my now sculpted arms from hundreds of hours of push-ups jetting out to the handlebars of my baby, though the change makes me proud. Some of the the women I met were broken down by the system and turned to drugs, becoming shells of their former selves. I refused to lose control of my own destiny and made the best of the time I was given by keeping both my body and mind fit.

The sleeve my friend Jimmy started working on just weeks before I was locked away catches in the remaining sunlight, reminding me I need to make it my priority to get it finished. Now, even more than before, the whimsical La Catrina skull celebrating the dead means so much more with both my parents and nearly everyone else I’ve ever loved in the grave. Money’s not a problem when you’re the sole beneficiary of your wealthy grandparents’ estate, so at least I don’t have to worry about how to pay Jimmy or affording a place to stay. Another biker approaches in the other lane. A smile stretches across my face when I subtly move my arm down to my side and flash him the sign of respect, the feeling of camaraderie that I’ve so desperately missed. When he returns the gesture, I holler with uncontrolled delight. I’m fucking back! Tires gliding across the highway, boots precariously dangling over asphalt, fresh wind filling my lungs; this shit is my religion. Riding started out as something I did with my father when I was old enough to walk and he was still healthy.

He taught me everything I needed to know about a bike—from how to change the oil and check the tire pressure to the etiquette of traveling in packs. My ‘uncles’ were his club brothers and I spent most my life around vulgar men who liked their alcohol strong and their women loose. Kids hanging at the club as much as I did wasn’t the ‘norm’, so my father kept my hair trimmed short and threw a baseball cap on me, as if to trick the guys into thinking there wasn’t a young lady within the mix. For the most part, it worked, until around sixteen when my large breasts appeared and my face began to thin out, making it undeniably obvious I was a woman and not one of the guys. My ‘uncles’ became uneasy with my presence, so my father encouraged me to hang out with ‘girls my age’ at school who were into sports and boys. By my junior year of high school, I had surrounded myself with preppy dirt bags and had completely sworn off club life. My head was so far up my ass that I was into dresses, makeup, and football players—girly girl on the outside and hardened

biker daughter on the inside. Talk about a walking contradiction. After my father was diagnosed with lung cancer the first year I was away at college, I tested for my motorcycle license and spent a good chunk of my inheritance on a brand new black Sportster 883. Riding became a way to escape my reality with nothing more than the wind in my face and the smell of the earth filling my lungs. Being kept from both my father and my bike for so long was nearly the death of me. When I pull into the club’s parking lot on the edge of town, a crippling feeling of déjà vu strikes my core. The metal one-story structure looks exactly as I remember it: plain and obscure, easily mistaken for an out-of-business repair garage without any markings or signs, even though two of the big doors on the side have been welded shut. Shit. How can a person have so many fond memories tied to a mere building? I don’t care if I ever return to the last house my father and I owned because this is home. Despite having a troublesome childhood void of a mother’s

influences, my father tried like hell to do the best for his baby girl and gave me the kind of life everyone deserves. Parking beside a long row of black Harleys, I sit frozen to my seat, staring at the building as if expecting it to come to life. I could’ve asked for a furlough to attend my father’s funeral, but I was too pissed that I wasn’t there to say goodbye when he took his last breath and it would’ve been downright impossible to face my ‘uncles’ who were crushed for not being able to keep me out of prison despite their best efforts. A man emerges from the back door of the club, strutting in my direction without looking up. I’ve seen my share of badass bikers over the years, but there’s something about the hot hunk that’s so very different from the rest. The dude’s face is chiseled and square like the kind of manly-man I fantasized about hooking up with while on the inside. Wavy brown hair hangs down to his angular jaw covered in light stubble, somehow putting his incredibly kissable lips on display. He has the usual veteran biker’s collection of

various patriotic and Harley tattoos running up his muscular arms and disappearing beneath the short sleeved button-down bearing the club’s logo. From the sizable bulges beneath his shirt, I imagine he’s impossibly cut and capable of great strength. When I picture myself running my hands across the solid muscles, I can’t help but shudder. Shit. I may have just moaned out loud. Lord help me, he’s the perfect mix of beautiful model and surly bad boy that makes me want to spank his ass and ravish the rest of him. Swaggering like he owns the place and has nowhere else to be, his black boots crunch against the loose gravel as he hums a tune beneath his breath. Clad in blue jeans, leather jacket hooked on a finger over his shoulder, it looks as if he’s headed to the fucking runway. As he flips a stray lock of hair behind his ear, beautiful sky blue eyes land on me. I stutter on a shallow breath. This guy is sexy as fuck. Damn if my underwear isn’t already wet from just watching this man candy practically strut his stuff in front of me.

A dangerous, smoldering gaze takes me in from head to toe as he closes the distance between us. With a deep smile set over his beautiful and oh-sokissable lips that bring two dimples into place, he makes a noise of approval inside his throat. That low growl that erupts from him may be the hottest noise I’ve ever heard. Fuck me. I wouldn’t mind if he had his way with me in the parking lot right now. Realizing my underwear has gone from wet to so soaked I may be creating my own swimming pool at my feet, I ball my hands into fists. What in the hell is happening to me? Since when do I act like a teenage girl with her first crush and become a pathetic pool of girly hormones over some random guy? I suck in a deep breath, completely paralyzed on my bike and at a total loss for words. Not only is the bastard smoking hot, it’s been forever since I’ve been with a man. And I can safely say I’ve never been with a guy like this one. Something tells me one night with him would make for a once in a lifetime experience.

“Aren’t you adorable,” he says. “Are you lost?” Though the smooth, deep roll of his voice sets my insides ablaze, my blood boils. Adorable? I’ll show him fucking adorable. “Where the fuck’s your president?” I ask with a scowl. “Easy now, darlin’.” He leans on the handlebars of the bike beside me. Blue eyes wide, he releases a deep laugh. “Is there a problem?” “There will be if you call me darlin’ again.” “Okay, I get it,” he replies with a rolling laugh. Hands held up in mock surrender, he takes a step backwards. “I can get you in to see Remmy, no problem.” The moment he utters the name of my father’s old buddy, my eyes close and I relax. I wasn’t sure Remmy would still be in charge and had taken a chance by coming here. But the truth is, I have nowhere else to go. After our mother died, my brother opted to live with her sister and essentially severed all ties to me and our father. This place is my only family.

“Hey, you okay?” the gorgeous stranger asks. When I open my eyes, the edges of his beautiful mouth twitch in amusement. Shit, I’d give anything to suck on those delectable lips. In an attempt to lessen the painful pangs between my legs, I adjust my hips before dismounting my bike. Yeah, he’s hot and everything, but I'm torn between wanting to throat punch the fuck out of him and just wanting to fuck him. Everything about seeing a chick on a bike must seem like a joke to him. “I’m fucking perfect,” I snap. “That you are,” he answers with a deep grin. As he turns back to the club at my side, I catch a tantalizing whiff of leather and musky cologne and nearly crumble to the ground. Having gone this long without having a man inside of me is going to be the cause of my mental undoing, especially if I hang around this hunk of hotness much longer. When his hand touches my lower back, I audibly wince and pull away. Jesus. I feel like a bomb ready to explode. His brown eyebrows knit together. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Long day of riding,” I blurt, mentally kicking myself for acting like such a freak. “The name’s Colt,” he says, offering his large hand. It’s calloused and slightly dirty, the sign of a hard worker. I shove both hands in my back pockets. Not only am I not the type to shake hands, but I’m almost positive that touching this guy will catapult me over the edge of sanity. “Harley,” I mutter under my breath. He crosses his arms, lips curled in a sexy smirk. “As in the bike?” “As in you’re going to have a boot up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up.” “You’re a lively one,” he says with a deep chuckle. We reach the door to the club and he holds it open. “I like that,” he whispers, tossing me a sexy wink. Gasping with the familiar sights and smells of the clubhouse, I stop dead in my tracks. Very little has changed since I was a girl and it’s like stepping back in time. Piles of empty liquor and beer bottles litter the same worn couches and

armchairs from the 80s where I’d witnessed plenty of club members getting it on. A haze of smoke hangs in the dimly lit room among dancing dust particles. Zeppelin croons from the old-school jukebox in the corner, competing with the harsh laughter of men in another room. The mural spanning across an entire wall of the US flag surrounded by eagles and HarleyDavidson wings beneath the club’s name INFERNO GLORY has been touched up recently as the colors are impeccable and vibrant. Drawings of service patches from wars each of the members served stretch across the top as a striking reminder this club takes their patriotism seriously and anything less won’t be tolerated. Casual pictures of members past and present cover the far wall and my eyes immediately find my father. Painful aches strike me in the chest with the sight of him. Before chemo wore him down to a weakling—something a retired Marine didn’t tolerate well—he was a strong, incredibly handsome man. In the picture he isn’t much older than I am now and the smile on his face is one of

the brightest I’ve ever seen. Looking at his long, dark hair, the light mocha shade of his skin, and the sparkle to his kind, brown eyes, is like glimpsing into a mirror three years ago. Two men sitting at the bar in leather vests with the club’s logo turn when the heavy door slams shut behind us. One’s long and lean with a bun of dark hair secured on the back of his head while the other’s bald as a cue ball and a wall of solid muscle. “Jesus H Christ,” the bald man hisses, rising to his feet. His dark eyes don’t stray from me as he stumbles to a nearby door and hollers, “Remmy, get your ass out here! You’re gonna wanna see this!” “You know her?” Colt asks, looking back and forth between me and the bald man marching toward me. “Harley,” the man coos, collecting me in his thick arms. “Jesus, kid. It’s been too long.” “Buzz, how’ve you been?” I ask casually, trying to choke down the lump rising in my chest as my hands hang loose at my sides. I’ll be damned if

I come off as weak after all I’ve been through, and these bikers hate nothing more than an overly emotional chick. But as soon as the MC’s president steps out of his office, gray eyes landing on me, I nearly lose my composure. He’s aged considerably since I last saw him. Long, dark hair once peppered with grays has been completely replaced with a buzz cut of all white. Sharp lines cover nearly every inch of his tanned face, making him appear exhausted from all he’s been through. His bulk has faded with time, making way for a sinewy frame covered in faded ink. The corners of his thin lips twitch when he charges at me. “Remmy,” I whisper, ready to give in to my wavering emotions and wrap my arms around the man I once knew as a surrogate grandfather. The deep creases on his face harden once he’s standing in front of me, enveloping me in the strong scent of leather and tobacco. Something unreadable passes through his expression before he raises his hand and delivers a sharp slap to my face.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jennifer Ann is the pen name young adult paranormal author Jen Naumann uses to write new adult romance novels intended to spice up your life and pull at your heart strings. When not writing from one of the 10,000 lakes in Minnesota, Jennifer is either rocking out at concerts, riding Harley, helping her husband farm, or chasing down one of their four active children.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

When I consider how many amazing people have touched my life during this insane journey over the past 5 years, it’s no surprise these get harder to write with every book I release (can’t believe this is #17!!!). To the readers and bloggers who continue buying my crazy books and leaving reviews that make me giddy for days (especially my Rockstars), I LOVE YOU SO HARD. Seriously. I know I

wouldn’t be where I am today if I was simply writing to entertain myself, so you have my deepest gratitude. I’d give you my firstborn if I could (some days, anyway). Special thanks to Najla Qamber, Matt Zumwalt, and Eric Battershell for being a lot of fun while working together to create this hauntingly gorgeous cover. Wishing you all the best in your successful careers! Big shoutout to my awesome friends Amanda Kespohl and “Murph” for your expertise on Florida Appeals and prison life during those times when Google wasn’t enough. Thanks for putting up with all my annoying questions! A huge thanks to those who are there without fail to help me polish my books and make them the best they can be: Clover Autrey, Corrie Hanson, and Jenny Hanson. And a big thank you to Kristi Falteisek for your hard work behind the scenes. You’re all invaluable at this point in my career! Christy Pastore, you know I love the shit out of you. Not sure how you put up with my insanity on a daily basis, but I find comfort knowing you’re only

a phone call away. WE’VE GOT THIS. To my special friends in the book world who are always there with the click of a mouse, I started listing you all but there’s no way I can do it without missing someone important, so fuck that. You know who you are. Your friendship and support mean everything. Being an author can be pretty lonely at times, but I can always count on you guys to be there even if I suck at reaching out at times. Please know you each hold a special place in my heart, and your friendship has carried me through some of the darkest hours. I don’t know how I got so damn lucky. Sending all my love to my friends and family (especially my husband and kids) for putting up with my wild mood swings and odd work hours. I have no idea how I’ve made it this far without you guys disowning me. You’re the best and I’m eternally grateful to have you.