Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
And he had. After being paroled, he worked his ass off so he could buy his first strip club. Then his second. Then his third. He made them classy, expensive and took care of his girls. His mother wasn’t exactly thrilled at her son’s choice of career—she’d hoped for a doctor or a lawyer, but that hadn’t worked with his record—but it was within the law, and he paid for both of his sisters to attend college.
He told me all of this one night after closing, when we’d found ourselves drinking whisky together after I’d had a bad night with a grabby client. Then I’d told him a little of my life story.
We’d been close since then. Friends. Just friends. Because despite his bone structure, his muscles and his kind heart, I wasn’t attracted to him in that way. Even if I was, I didn’t sleep with my bosses. Ever. Plus, he was completely and utterly in love with Carmen, a dancer who had worked here for the last three years.
Carmen was a sweetheart, a knockout and totally oblivious.
Kallum’s attention had been wholly on me for the duration of our conversation. Until about two seconds ago. Now his attention was focused in the direction of the front door, his eyes shuttered. His form stiffened, creating an air about him that reminded me of his violent past and his ability to turn into a dangerous man if the occasion called for it.
I turned, too, curious as to who could be entering the club this early in the night, setting Kallum off. We weren’t technically even open yet, only a few lonely regulars nursing drinks quietly at their tables. Dante was on the door but was probably too busy trying to flirt with the dancers coming in the back entrance to check the front door.
And even if he had been at the door, he wouldn’t have said no to this particular patron.
Hades.
Thinking his name was ice in my bloodstream.
It had been over a month since the first time I saw him. Since he was bleeding on my sofa. I figured that the overall drama of the situation made it starker in my mind. That my romantic and dramatic soul had changed the details, changed him to make him more attractive, less intimidating ... just less.
But he was more.
More everything.
Taller.
More imposing.
Tattoos etched into his skin yet leaping off it at the same time.
His shadow didn’t follow him, it seemed to fucking cower before him. His hair was longer, curling up against the nape of his neck, mussed beautifully. I’d thought his skin was pale because of the blood loss, but it was exactly the same. Creamy, beautiful, flawless. Too fucking flawless. His features were all angles, his cheekbones high and sharp, eyes piercing and dangerous. Especially since he was wearing all black. A long black tee underneath his cut, one that hugged his body, hinting at the abs I knew were underneath. His shoulders were large, broad and attached to arms that were fucking perfection.
His jeans weren’t tight, but they molded to his powerful thighs, his long legs, and the whole look was finished off with black biker boots. He looked like sin and sex.
And trouble.
I sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes were on me, unwavering with their intensity and unmistakable in their irritation. He did not want to be here, and he did not seem at all pleased by the sight of me. Which was unnerving for me, especially here, especially since I was wearing a barely-there mini skirt, a barely there top, and no bra. My hair and makeup were already done for the night, and I was going for a Bridget Bardot look, so my honey blonde hair was teased into voluptuous curls that tumbled down my back, my smoky eyes smudged to accentuate my blue eyes. I’d applied blush high on my cheeks so they looked rosy and plump. My lips were covered in a nude lipstick, seriously overdrawn so they looked like I had filler when really, I was much too scared of needles to take the plunge.
So yeah, I looked hot. It was my job to look hot, and I was used to men being impressed. It had me off kilter that Hades was not impressed by me, not in the slightest.
Kallum sighed behind me. “These fuckin’ guys, think the rules don’t belong to them,” he muttered not loud enough for Hades to hear.
Kallum had a relationship with the Sons of Templar because they were some of our best customers. And because the Sons of Templar ran this town. If they didn’t like him or the club, they’d make sure that he was shut down and run out of town. So he was cordial with them, friendly even. But once we’d become friends, once he trusted me, he began to make it known that he was not a fan of the Sons. At all. Which was unusual because most of the town loved them, even the most conservative of people. The MC kept the town clean, free from violence and drugs, and gave back to the community.