One
Michaela—
“Yes, sir, I’m a girl. I know it looks like a boy’s name, but it’s pronounced Mih-kay-lah. That’s all right, sir. No need to apologize. I get it all the time. Just send in the payment this week if you can. Okay, thank you.”
I hang up the phone on my desk and drop my head.
“Another one?” my co-worker, Carl, asks from behind me, chuckling.
“I swear to God, I’m changing my name.”
“Here, check this out.” He rolls his chair across the tile floor of the storefront office, TR Ross, Private Investigations. Atlanta’s cheating spouses keep the place busy. Carl is an investigator, who mostly follows around those “alleged” straying spouses and gathers photographic evidence for nasty divorces. I’m more of an apprentice—handling paperwork, collecting bills, and fetching coffee. Having only a community college degree in communications, my dream job of being a travel reporter is pretty much out of reach. To compensate, I’ve started up a travel blog, but the only problem is, I have little money to travel. In fact, I’m barely scraping by on what I earn.
Carl slides a flyer in front of me. There’s a picture at the top with the price and description below. “I’m selling my fifth-wheel travel trailer. You interested?”
He knows I am; that’s why he’s showing it to me. I stare down at the paper. I’ve been saving up for a long time, managing to set aside a little each month for a used one in decent shape. My goal is to travel around and live out of it while visiting every national park in the continental U.S. That would surely give me something to write about.
One glance at the price makes my shoulders deflate as I swivel my chair around. “Can you come down on the price at all?”
“I really think I can get six grand for it, honey. But for you, I’ll lower it two hundred.”
I bite my lip, a habit of mine since I was a child. “I’ve got forty-eight hundred saved up so far. Can you give me a little more time?”
Carl huffs out a long sigh. “All right. For you, kid, I’ll give you another month, but then I’ve got to list it. I really need it gone. Marge doesn’t want it around anymore. Says she’s tired of lookin’ at it, and with her bad health, our days of traveling are over.”
Another month. How can I possibly scrounge up another thousand dollars in a month? Somehow, I’ve got to find a way. Maybe I can sell some of my furniture.
I sigh. Who am I kidding? It’s all secondhand and probably not worth half the amount I need, even if I sold it all. I lift my chin, my stubborn Irish background giving me the determination that gets me through every challenge I face. “Thank you, Carl. I’ll find a way to come up with the rest.”
He grins. “I get how much you love it, girl. I’d be thrilled to leave it in such good hands, knowing you’ll take care of it just as I have.”
“It’d be perfect for me.”
A short-tempered voice hollers from the office in the back. “You got that contract I asked for, Michaela?”
Carl rolls his eyes, pushes up his black frame glasses, and twists in his chair, his overweight body barely fitting between the arms. “He’s in a mood today, sweetie. Better not keep him waiting.”
I stand and start gathering up the documents he wants, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, glance down at the screen, and frown as my aunt’s name pops up. It’s very unusual for her to call, especially during a workday. I put it to my ear. “Aunt Kathleen?”
“Michaela? I’m sorry to bother you at work.”
“That’s okay. What did you need?”
“Well, it’s your father, dear.”
“Da? What about him?”
“There’s been a … Well, you see, dear—”
“What is it?”
“He’s passed away, Michaela. They found him this morning.”
“Found him? What do you mean?”
“It’s all so horrible. I hate to be the one to tell you, but … Well, your mother is beside herself. I know this is a shock, but you see, your father committed suicide, honey. She’s devastated. We need you to come home. Can someone drive you?”
I pull the phone from my ear and sink back in the chair, staring off into space. This can’t be real. This doesn’t make any sense. My da? My Irish Catholic father commit suicide? It can’t be possible.
“Michaela, honey, are you okay?” Carl asks behind me.
There’s a roaring in my ears and my heart starts pounding in my chest. Rage swells inside me and explodes as I throw the papers across the room and wail out my anguish. Forgotten, the phone drops to the floor, and I grip the edge of the desk, my fingers white with tension. My face contorts in pain, and I sob uncontrollably as the tears roll down my face.
I’m barely aware as Carl rushes to my side and puts his arm around my shoulders. Everything but my crushing grief disappears.
Two
Sly—
I crack an eye open to the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds and hitting me in the face, then squint down at the tousled blonde curls spread across my chest. Those pretty locks belong to Sabrina, one of the dancers from the strip club. She’s stunning and a real pro, who brings in a bunch of our regular business.
Centerfolds is an upscale place, and the best investment the Kings of Carnage MC has made since we cleaned house and got rid of the old leadership. We make our biggest income off the dancers, and as such, we treat them well and protect them from harm. With twenty girls working per night and each paying the house fee of a hundred bucks a night to dance, we clear almost three quarters of a million on them alone. Add in what we make at the door and the liquor we sell, and the place is a mint.
I slide free of Sabrina’s curvy body and lean on an elbow to check the time on my phone. It’s almost four in the afternoon. We partied like hell last night after the club closed. One thing led to another, and I let Sabrina talk me into a ride on my bike. I don’t usually let bitches on the back, but Sabrina was pretty persuasive, and I was feeling no pain.
I roll to my back and slap her sexy, firm ass. “Yo, Bri. You work tonight, right?”
She makes a muffled groan and puts the pillow over her head. I can’t help but chuckle. My eyes skate down her naked back to that phenomenal ass. One thing I’m good at is waking women up. I slide down the bed and spread her legs, then get to work with my tongue, and before long, she’s writhing and moaning and begging me to finish her off.
I’m a greedy bastard, so I flip her over and grab her hand, pulling her up to a sitting position. I kneel on the bed and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her lips around my dick and take me down deep.
A groan bubbles up from deep in my chest as I sink my hands in her silky blonde hair. When I’m almost there, I pull free, then grab a condom from the nightstand and suit up, my eyes holding hers. Sabrina smiles and licks her lip. I push her down on the bed, and spread her legs wide. She eagerly wraps them around my waist as I plunge into her wet pussy.
She throws her head back and I lean over her. Those gorgeous breasts thrust up so pretty for me, her nipples erect and begging for my mouth. I suck them hard, one, and then the other, and as she whimpers, her pussy clamps down around my dick like she’ll never let it go. I grab both thighs and pin her to the bed; she’s wide open for me and I ride her hard.