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  Michele Faison

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2015 Michele Faison

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design: Melissa Gill @ MGBookCovers and Designs

  Front Cover Photo: iStock image

  Back Cover Photo: Mandy Hollis @ MHPhotography

  Back Cover Model: Randi Sue

  Editor: Joni Faison @ Celestial Editing Services

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of hard liquor. It is standing room only and even that is at a premium. Bree clings to the back of my sequined top like a lifeline. She knows if we get separated in here, it will be damn near impossible to find each other. I might be slightly taller than the average female, but not Amazon tall, and no amount of heel could lift me enough to see over or past the gyrating arms and heads in Synergy tonight.

  Only thirty more feet stand between us and our charted destination. Then we can breathe our own air again. Right now it feels as though the oxygen is being passed around between patrons, a lot of puff and zero give.

  “Are we there yet?” Bree shouts in my ear over the thrumming of a familiar electronic beat.

  “Almost,” I nearly scream in return.

  A brooding mass of muscle stands a few steps away, intimidating arms crossed at his chest and dark shades that keep his eyes hidden. A meager black velvet rope blocks the wide staircase to his left, a humorous contradiction to the formidable man beside it. Alone the rope simply says “no entry please,” but the added presence of Mr. Dark and Dangerous screams, “not on your fucking life will you cross this point of entry.” A slow grin spreads across his lips as we approach and I give the big fella a smirk and stiff chin nod in recognition.

  “Desiree, it’s good to see you, beautiful," he rumbles, in that deep baritone voice I have come to associate with home, before pulling me into a bear hug that leaves me breathless. I turn to see Bree’s brilliant baby blues as wide as saucers and laugh at her surprise.

  “You too, Colin. I would like to introduce you to my friend, Bree. Bree, this is Colin, my brother from another mother,” I smile. “Is Deidric here,” I ask.

  “Not yet, but I’m expecting him within the hour. He told me you were coming and suggested you enjoy drinks in the V.I.P. Lounge. Saturday nights can get a little out of hand and he wants you safe,” Colin remarks, his arms returning to their hulking position.

  “I can tell. I didn’t think we would make it through the crowd without use of force. Are you violating some kind of fire code?” I wonder out loud, drawing a loud chuckle from Colin.

  “No, Ms. Evans. I assure you, we are well within our legal rights and I never allow the number of patrons to exceed a safe capacity,” he winks. “You should have asked Pete to call me from the door. I would have carried you through the chaos.”

  Colin has been my brother Deidric’s right hand man since he acquired Synergy five years ago, around the same time I left for college. He has grown on me over time as someone I can trust, a surrogate older brother with a heart of gold and a body made for sin. Judging by the way Bree continues to stare I would say she is more interested in the goods hidden beneath Colin’s security shirt than the whole package.

  My eyebrows furrow at Colin’s suggestion. That would make a cute image, my derriere on display as Colin weaves through the masses, just so I do not have to deal with the tremendous inconvenience of actually walking through the crowd. The truth is, Colin could part the crowd like the Red Sea because no one goes toe-to-toe with him, unless they are extremely intoxicated or incredibly stupid. He towers above most at six-foot-five inches, and I can literally bounce a quarter off his abs. I know this for a fact. I tried it once, when I thought he was pulling my leg, and ended up washing his car for a week after losing that bet.

  “In case you forgot, I brought a friend, so that would have been impossible. A sweet thought, but still impractical.”

  “Wanna bet?” He waggles his brows. “One or two of you makes no difference to me, beautiful. These guns were made for heavy lifting, so you lightweights wouldn’t be a problem.” He smiles and raises one bulging bicep to his face for a kiss.

  “Uh, no bets thank you. I got burned the last time. I learned my lesson.”

  “Alright, let me know if you change your mind. My car could always use a little extra attention.”

  Colin leans over to unclip the rope from its stand when I am knocked forward into his solid chest. The fact that I bumped into another human should have provided a buffer, but running into Colin is like hitting a brick wall face first. Ouch! His hands gently cup my elbows to steady me and his eyes do a quick once-over to see that I am unharmed. His concerned expression immediately changes when he locates the jackass responsible. A man with a blue faux-hawk and several facial piercings stumbles around behind us, shouting and cussing his disapproval because the bartender refuses to serve him anymore tonight. Colin wastes no time grabbing a handful of the man's shirt collar, spinning him around to meet angry eyes. The disorderly patron's eyes widen in response, and I realize Colin could quite possibly be the image for a new product called Insta-Sober. The man holds his hands up in surrender, completely caught off guard by Colin’s sudden presence.

  “Did you leave your good manners at home with your common sense, asshole? I think you owe the lady an apology for nearly knocking her over. Don't you agree? And if you say no, so help me, I will gladly help you find the words,” he grits through clenched teeth.

  “Sh…sure, man,” his terrified, glassy eyes find mine. “No harm meant sweetie, sorry for bumping into you.” His words come out in a sloppy, slurred rush.

  “S'okay, just be more careful. Next time, you might be the one who gets hurt," I respond, trying to save the guy from a beating.

  “He won’t have to worry about that tonight because according to my clock, the only one that really matters, it’s time to leave.” Colin grabs the microphone clipped to the sleeve of his tight shirt and radios Pete to call a cab and escort the man outside. The man is about to protest, but a quick glance back to Colin has him thinking twice about poking the bear. Smart move, dude.

  Most of the occupants fan out as Pete makes his way through the crowd. Pete is equally stacked to perfection, but the few silvery scars that d
ot his face and the colorful sleeves of tattoos that run the length of his steely arms, suggest he has seen a few brawls in his days. Colin has too, being a former cage fighter, but something about Pete suggests his altercations were on a different side of the tracks. Still, others mill about long enough to see if there will be any physical reprimand, shrugging and returning to their inebriated state of bliss when they find the drama lacking in violence. After the exchange with Pete, Colin returns to us, unclips the rope, and gestures for us to head upstairs.

  “You’ll be safer up there. I’ll let the boss man know you made it. Have a good time ladies.”

  “Thanks, Colin. We’ll see you later.” I take the first two stairs and lean over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and pull a lust-struck Bree up the steps towards the lounge.

  "Are you okay, Bree? I don't think I've ever seen you this quiet before,” I smile and chuckle at her awkward silence.

  “Yeah, that was just intense, right? Are you and Colin friends with benefits or something?” “Definitely not. Why would you ask that?” I giggle at the mere thought.

  “You seemed pretty cozy together, and the man totally defended your honor back there. So seriously, there isn't any history there?”

  “What’s with the twenty questions? Are you crushing on Colin?" Bree blushes and I know she is. "I wouldn't blame you, you know. The man is a beast and besides his killer looks, he is also incredibly loyal and intelligent. I can totally hook you up with his number.” I smirk and she scowls. “I'm just saying, Colin really is the best, but we aren’t romantically involved. He’s more like family and that would just be gross.”

  “Oh,” is all Bree can muster, but her shy backwards glance tells me she is more than a little interested.

  The lounge at Synergy may be close to the main floor, but the atmosphere is worlds apart, giving the illusion that you have ascended into an entirely different establishment. While downstairs is a tangled mess of sweaty body parts and alcohol-induced haze, the lounge is pure seduction. The dark hardwood floors gleam from a fresh coat of polish, and the white leather sofas and loveseats are artfully arranged around the expansive room. One wall is designed entirely of tinted glass overlooking the crowd below, while a fully stocked bar encompasses the opposite wall. The few people mingling about stop their conversations to check out the newcomers before becoming bored and directing their attention elsewhere again. Most of the men are dressed in dark designer jeans and button-down shirts that seem to say, “Hey, look at me. I am filthy rich, but I can be laidback too.” Give me a break. The ladies, and I use that term as loosely as they appear, seem to have a theme, wearing various shades of the same bandage dress or backless cocktail attire. I would venture to say the majority are hired escorts since the girls look about ten years junior to their gentlemen side pieces.

  Bree and I stroll up to the bar. Despite the less-than-busy atmosphere, our bartender offers little attention to our arrival. I do not recognize him. He must be a new hire since my last visit. My frustration mounts and I rein in the urge to scream at the back of his blond head. As if sensing my distress, he finally glances over his shoulder and casually moves to address us.

  “What can I get you ladies?” he asks.

  “We’ll have a couple Lemon Drops and a Pop Rock Martini.” I answer before Bree can protest.

  “I’ll need to see some I.D. please, club policy and all," he smirks flirtatiously

  “Sure.” We reach into our clutches and present them to Chip, as his nametag indicates.

  “Thanks." He accepts the cards and pauses as his eyes roll over the name embossed on mine. "Wait, are you any relation to Deidric Evans?” He hands my identification back.

  “I guess you could say that. I’m his sister, Desiree.” I extend my hand to him in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Chip. This is my best friend, Bree.”

  “I thought you looked familiar. Mr. Evans has several pictures of you in his office, but none of them do you justice.” His cheeks contain a small blush, but it does not stop his slow perusal of my rather skimpy glimmering top. I place my clutch on the dark wooden bar top and slide onto a free stool. Bree takes the seat directly to my right. She is classically beautiful with the most subtle curves. I envy her confidence around men and the positive way she carries herself. Meeting Colin was the first time I have ever seen her awestruck or at a loss for words around the opposite sex.

  “Thank you.” I start to place a fifty on the bar when Chip refuses, frantically shakes his head.

  “Your money is no good here. Mr. Evans would fire me for taking anything from you. I’ll be right back with those drinks.”

  “Wow. I’m jealous, Desiree. We haven’t been here twenty minutes and you’ve already got two men eating out of the palm of your hand,” Bree nudges me playfully with her elbow.

  “Get real. They’re just scared of Deidric. If I were anyone else they wouldn’t give me the time of day. He took his sweet time coming over, but now that he knows who we are he’s ready to do back flips to make the boss happy.”

  “Whatever. I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Free drinks, eye candy all around, and killer beats.”

  Chip returns with our drinks and I find myself finally relaxing. The rhythmic bass may be muffled in here, but I can still feel it vibrating through the stool. I raise my shot to Bree, toasting our night before we quickly let the contents sink into our parched throats.

  “A couple more of those and we'll be wasted in no time. That’s some top shelf shit, D.,” she laughs.

  “Don’t be a featherweight tonight, Bree. We promised to have fun and not over think. If you liked that you’re going to love the martini,” I wink, taking my first sip of the cool liquid.

  “Is everything to your liking, Ms. Evans?” Chip comes back to check on us and clear away the shot glasses.

  “Delicious, and please call me Desiree.”

  “I think not.” A voice as smooth as silk purrs from behind, and my glass stops just shy of my mouth from the unexpected sound. Chip offers a brief nod and goes to check on the other members at the bar.

  I spin quickly and jump off the stool to greet my big brother. His heart-stopping smile could light up a room. I leap into familiar arms as he swings me around like he used to when we were kids. Eighteen months has been too long. Deidric took on more than his fair share after our parents died, providing for his fifteen-year old little sister when he was only twenty-one himself. He dropped out of college and got a full-time job to support me and keep me out of the foster care system. After I graduated high school, he had saved up enough for a down payment on this building and had the good business sense to take a chance on this once low-budget hole in the wall, turning it into something amazing and successful. Deidric put me through college and graduate school and now that I am done, he insisted on giving me a place to crash until I find a job worthy of my expensive law degree. "Good luck in this economy," he told me during one of our more heated debates over the phone. He had the grand plan of me becoming a partner at Synergy, but I have declined more times than I care to remember. I argued that he was the one to build this club from the ground up and I can’t stand in his shadow forever. I need to create my own brand.

  “I’ve missed you like crazy, Dez. Do you like the place?” He asks, setting me down on unsteady feet.

  “It’s fantastic. You’ve come a long way, Rick.” We developed nicknames for one another as kids and no one, I repeat, no one else dares use them. “I love it.”

  “Hey, Bree.” He calls over my head. During the course of my college career when Rick would visit for family weekends, Bree and Rick became close friends as well.

  “Hey, yourself!” She strides over and gives him a quick once-over and hug. “You always clean up so nice, Deidric. You must have the ladies beating down your door.”

  “Thanks, though I wouldn’t know about the ladies. I don’t have enough free time to deal with any kind of relationship that lasts more than twelve hours,” he winks and I slap
his arm, making him laugh. “I'm more concerned about what kind of men might be beating down my door since my sister insists on coming into my club only partially dressed. Did you lose some material on the way here, Dez?” I give him my best glare and he chuckles, motioning us back to the bar. Chip stands at the ready with Rick’s usual drink, a glass of Scotch. I watch as he loosens the tie around his neck a little and undoes the top button. Rick looks well enough, but in the soft light of the bar the dark circles under his eyes tell a different story.

  “Dez, I have a few things to handle before I can leave. Are you ladies okay for a couple more hours, or should I ask John to give you a ride home?” Rick asks, indicating his driver is at our service if needed

  “Actually, we haven’t even finished our drinks and I was hoping to get in a little dancing. Are you good, Bree?” I turn for her approval and continue when she nods in agreement. “Take your time, we’ll be fine and we can leave when you’re done.”

  He smiles his approval before turning to Chip. “Take care of these two.” Chip quickly agrees. “And you.” He points to us. “Stay out of trouble. Colin can escort you anywhere you want to go.” My brother’s serious tone rattles me slightly.

  “Rick, I’m twenty-three years old. I can take care of myself without Colin holding my hand. Bree and I went out all the time in school.” That is only a half-truth. Most of our trips out included all-nighters at the campus library or the local coffee shop for much needed caffeine. But, he does not need to know that. I put my hands on hips, a historical sign that I could bed down for this debate, but he would not come out the victor. The look in his defeated eyes tells me he is clearly torn.

  “Alright, but if one person so much as lays a hand on you then Colin hears about it. Got it?”

  “Deal.” I put my hand out to shake on it and Rick ignores it, pulling me in for another smothering embrace.

  Chapter Two

  Colin was every bit as perturbed when Bree and I made our way to the downstairs dance floor. I did not know it was humanly possible to fit so many bodies into such a tight space, but the colorful dynamic of people on the illuminated floor makes the club come to life. Bree and I find a spot closer to the bar and decide it is as good as any other before we start moving our hips to the beat. Once we get in the zone, an internal switch is thrown and the rest of the world fades to black.