Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
When ten p.m. rolled around, I stood in front of Parkston’s On the Hill with renewed confidence. I had rolled up in a rented cargo van packed with a nice assortment of guns and other toys. Jake, Richie’s main thug, had been at his house all day, which likely meant he’d been relieved of his duty to the Sanderson group. Richie was hooked; now, it was up to me to go in and close the deal.
I was dressed in a dark grey suit, a black shirt, silver tie, and a pair of aviator shades, even though night had fallen hours ago. I had to play the part to the last detail. Luckily, I’d spent months studying the role and had everything in place. All I had to do was give the pitch, pull the trigger, and wait.
Easy as pie.
Right?
Inside, I melted into the crowd with ease. I knew what to expect this time, so blending in wasn’t a problem. I took the same path as I did the night before, but this time, my steps were looser, more relaxed, and I let myself enjoy the sights a little more than the previous night. The dance floor was just as rowdy, and I smiled at the bevy of beauties shaking their asses and showing off for the live band that was playing tonight. These California chicks were hot as fuck, to say the least.
I hadn’t heard of the band before, but either they were really good, or the people on the floor were really wasted ‘cause they were acting like it was the Grammy’s or some equally demoralizing shit. I chuckled to myself and continued over to the bar. Maybe that hot bartender would be on duty, and I could sweet-talk her into giving me her number. I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of her after the meeting was over.
The band announced they were taking a break, and everyone raced off the dance floor and made a beeline over to the bar. I frowned at the swarm and hung back a few paces. I leaned up against a smooth column and waited it out, glancing around to see if I could spot Richie or any of his men. The meeting wasn’t set to take place for another half hour but knowing Richie—he was already here somewhere.
Probably off getting another blowjob.
I rolled my eyes at the thought. What the hell had all that been about anyway? If he was trying to swing his dick, I wasn’t impressed.
It didn’t matter. Soon enough, I’d have what I came for, and Dalton wouldn’t be my problem anymore.
A handful of minutes later the band kicked back up. People threw back their drinks and headed back to the floor. I headed toward the bar, weaving in and around the opposing traffic, only to stop short, a good fifty feet from the bar.
There, on the other side of the bar, was the face I’d been dreaming about every night for a fuckin’ year.
Tori Barnes.
She laughed with her co-worker, the busty girl who’d served Richie and me the night before. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and said something that made the other girl laugh loudly. My eyes traced the lines of her full lips, thinking of how many times I’d kissed them. I followed them down to the neckline of her slinky black dress, and I was overwhelmed with the urge to punch the column I’d been leaning against. I’d break my hand if I tried, but I didn’t care.
This couldn’t be happening. Tori couldn’t be here. A sex club. In Hollywood? Tori’s blue eyes shifted my way, and I sank back next to the pillar. Thank the stars above, she didn’t recognize me. Must’ve been the long hair and beard. Hell, I barely recognized me, and she hadn’t seen me in a long time. No way she’d know it was me.
But she hadn’t changed—not at all. She was still the same hot-ass chick that stole my heart. The only woman who could bring me to my knees and make me like it.
Tori.
What the fuck is she doing here?
My legs were as solid and stiff as the cement pillar. Unmoving. Frozen in place right there in the middle of the club.
Tori turned to her co-worker and mumbled something. With her eyes directed away, I was able to move and ambled over to the bar like a pathetic moth to a flame. I should have walked away—pretended I hadn’t seen her—that she wasn’t there. But I couldn’t. I was glued to her like a bad deal gone wrong—a catastrophic event people were drawn to out of morbid curiosity.
So, I just sat there.
And watched.
She laughed out loud with the other bartender and then reached for a bar towel. She proceeded to wipe the bar top, coming within a fraction of my fingertips.