Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
The brunette bartender leans over the counter and places her forearms there for support. This gives me a fantastic display of cleavage spilling out over a black bustier she’s wearing. “What can I get you?”
“Budweiser,” I say, and her eyebrows dart upward.
To be a member of this private club means having money out the wazoo, and I am indeed quite well off because of the work I do. I’m sure there aren’t many private club members that drink domestic, but the great thing about paying loads of money to be a member of the private club means they stock my favorite brew.
“Not a very fancy beer,” she says, leaning to reach into a cooler. She pulls out a bottle and pops the top for me.
“Not a very fancy man,” I tell her as I accept it. I’m a Nebraska farm boy who has been drinking Bud since I was fourteen. Can’t help it if that’s still my thing. In fact, it reminds me of warm summer nights and getting drunk down at the rock quarry while my friends and I swam naked and fucked around with the prettiest cheerleaders available.
“Hey, Bodie,” the blonde says as she comes to stand near the brunette. “Anything on tap for tonight?”
“Not yet,” I tell her with a grin. “You offering?”
The blonde and brunette share a look, and I know my idea of a three-way isn’t mine alone.
“We get off in about an hour,” the blonde says. “Want to play in The Silo with us?”
Fuck yes, I want to play with them in The Silo. It’s my favorite room at The Wicked Horse, mainly because of the variety of gadgets and machines up for use in there. Being with two women is a tricky business. To make sure they’re both satisfied, there’s an industrial dildo in there just waiting to hammer some pussy. My dick starts to get hard thinking about it.
“See you there in about an hour then,” I tell the ladies with a nod.
“Looking forward to it,” the brunette says.
Oh, me too.
I turn away from the bar, content to just stand and watch my buddies continue the poker game. Kynan McGrath owns The Jameson Group now, and he led our operation in Riyadh. Including me, we have three other men who make up Eagle Team One.
Eagle is the name of our high-profile security group. I belong to Team One along with my best friend Cage Murdock, a wily southern boy from North Carolina. Our team is completed with Locke Meyers and August Greenfield, both former law enforcement turned security specialists. In addition to doing security on the Eagle team, I’m also on a Renegade team, which is our special-ops division.
As I walk back toward the poker table, I catch movement from the corner of my eye. My entire body tenses up when I see Rachel Hart walking toward me.
We’ve barely spoken ten words to each other since our mission in Paphos, and the reason for that is two-fold. First and foremost, I’ve been on Eagle operations since then, and Hart has been… well, elsewhere. Secondarily, I think we’re avoiding each other because what happened in that hotel in Paphos shouldn’t have happened. Hart was nearly drunk, and we were both sapped of any common sense following such a harrowing mission. While members of The Jameson Group tend to hang out at The Wicked Horse since the founder of our company is the owner of this esteemed sex club, we never cross lines by fucking each other. It’s not a written rule, but it’s totally understood. We can’t afford to have personal connections muddying up waters when we need to have crystal clarity in all situations.
Still, as Hart walks toward me, I can’t help but remember that night because it was hot as fuck. Probably the best sex of my life. That’s because she’s gorgeous and adventurous in bed, but mostly because I respect her as a capable and trustworthy teammate.
It hits me all at once, though, that I don’t think she’s at The Wicked Horse to play. Oddly, that relieves me somewhat. It’s not something I can tell from her expression alone. Many of the guys tease her, telling her she has “resting bitch face,” but I’ve never thought that. In my mind, she wore a determined look because she’s one of the most seriously determined people I know. She’s got that look tonight, but that’s par for the course.
Usually when she is on the prowl at the club, Hart would be wearing a dress barely covering her tits and ass, which never lets anyone forget that she’s first and foremost all woman. I expect it’s a nice change from sweaty combat gear and the stench of danger she normally wears.
Tonight, Hart is wearing a pair of faded jeans with rips in the knees, a V-neck shirt that fits her nicely but isn’t overly sexy, and a pair of tennis shoes. Her nearly midnight-colored hair that normally sits just below her jawline is pulled into a stubby ponytail, and she’s devoid of makeup. When she’s playing in the club, she always wears dark eye makeup, which makes her pale blue eyes stand out so brightly it’s hard to look away from them.