My body purred in a familiar way—the hum of attraction lit me up. Goddammit, my sense always flew out the window when my body voted for sex. Whatever inside my head controlled my sex drive had declared it was in charge, but not this time. I’d sworn to take charge of my own life without the aid of a man.
The front door jingled and a guy strode inside “Hey.” He flashed a boy-next-door smile. “I’m Mark, here for—”
“You’re scheduled for Dare. Nice to meet you. I’m Lila.”
He gave me the nod.
“He’s here, head on back.”
Less than thirty minutes after Mark disappeared down the hall, I resumed obsessing about Dare and the day, which led to thinking about his club, the Jericho Brotherhood.
When Jericho interviewed me, he’d made it clear Dare would be my boss. But he hadn’t made clear who he was. Was he Dare’s boss?
I’d been ecstatic when Jericho offered me the job during the middle of the interview. So ready to leave Tony, I’d gushed out my acceptance.
Then things turned strange. Part of managing a shop was doing the bookwork, paying invoices, depositing the day’s earnings and making sure the accountant had all the information needed, plus a hundred other small jobs. When Jericho explained my office work duties, a chill had run down my back; they were nothing like what I did at Ink Masters in Texarkana. I remember wondering why he even called the job an office manager. The duties were simple but made me slightly skeptical of the club’s legality. I paid myself in cash or check, taxes optional. I opted for the legal tax version of payroll. I did the bookwork, entering expenses, revenue and profit, but I did it in an old ledger, all by hand. Nobody did business that way in the twenty-first century.
After doing the bookwork, I bagged deposits for each day separately and stored them in the safe. A guy, Stork, would be by every day or two to collect invoices, credit card receipts, and the cash and check deposits, which was another odd bit because no one accepted checks anymore. But the Brotherhood did, along with other questionable practices.
I’d volunteered to do the deposit drops, but Jericho swept away the suggestion, saying the bank was in Ardmore and no need for me to make the extra trip. Most bosses were all about others doing the grunt work, but then they didn’t have an unknown numbers of bikers at their beck and call.
When I’d asked about how to get more cash for the registers, he’d told me to call the number taped to the desk, and Stork or one of his guys would bring it to me. I’d nodded and planned to ask more questions, when Jericho distracted me with the salary and free apartment that was part of the position.
The need to escape my previous life had trumped my vague unease about the Brotherhood’s operations. Now my gut twisted like it had during the interview. What had I agreed to do? Did it matter if everything I did was legal if I worked for a dirty business? Despite my inner apprehension, I had no sense the business was a cover for anything else. In fact, the shop had lots more appointments scheduled than the last place, and the quality of the operation, from ink to artists, was the best I’d ever seen. Despite the extra overhead of quality product, the shop turned a very respectable profit, according to the ledger I’d flipped through.
“Lila, come see this,” Zayn yelled from the back.
Happy for the distraction, I hurried to the workroom. Dare focused on Mark’s shoulder, inking the outline of the piece with a steady hand. A man with an ink iron always caught my attention, and I almost tasted his sexiness—spicy with a touch of sweet.
Zayn showed me the tribal pattern Dare had drawn. A complicated set of markings like the tats on The Rock’s arms—he’d made tribal artwork crazy-hot.
I flipped through the art book Zayn handed me. A Chinese-inspired dragon impressed me. Wow. The dragons chased each other in a circle, destined to be frustrated for eternity. The center held a yin and yang on backgrounds of fire and ice.
“Beautiful.” The word escaped and I clamped my mouth shut.
“Dare’s a fuckin’ artist.” Zayn smirked. “He can draw anything.”
I’d noticed the Z and D in the corners of some drawings. Dare’s art had a fantasy flair while Zayn’s was darker, sort of gothic. They were two of the most talented artists I’d met.
When the buzz of the needle stopped, Dare gestured me over with a nod of his jutting chin.
“Hey.” He cocked his head. “What do you think about some deep red accents?”
Did Dare want me to comment? I grinned at Mark, a guy about my age, who assessed his work in the mirror.
“Show me where,” Mark said.
Dare grabbed my hand, using my finger to trace Mark’s skin in the area Dare proposed adding the crimson accent. A zing of electricity shot from where his hand touched mine and ricocheted through my body in a distracting, haphazard path, but it managed to hit all my important bits.
Both guys gazed toward me.
“What do you think?” Mark’s boyish smile gave him just the right combination of sexy, not that my bits responded to him, at all.
Nope, my body lit up like a winning pinball machine for Dare. Not going there, I reminded myself.
“It’d feel more like a fighting piece with the red, so it depends on the vibe you want.” I struggled to keep my words steady despite Dare’s distracting touch.
He still hadn’t released the finger he’d hijacked.
“Badass—that’s the vibe I need.” Mark traced the same place I had a moment before.
I attempted to shake off the spell Dare created. “I would go for the red, then. You’ll be a total badass.”
Dare’s mouth twitched in a hint of a grin, and I imagined kissing his seductive lips. Sucking in another breath, I moved away before I lost my impulse control.
It wasn’t a problem he appeared to share. He finished the outline with a quick precision I respected. Mark waved away the offer of a break, so Dare started filling in the design. Intense concentration lined his brow and tightened his lips. He rarely spoke, working faster than any other artist I’d seen. The front door jingled and woke me from my trance.
“That’ll be Mary.” Zayn waggled his eyebrows. “She’s wanting a boob piece, you can come watch me.”
“She might want privacy.” I rolled my eyes at him. “And your undivided attention.”
“Well, that’s true.” He followed me to the front and welcomed his client.
As I thought, she batted long lashes at Zayn, dressed in tight-fitting jeans I wished I could wear and full makeup. She was angling for more than good customer service, and by the spark in his eye, she might just get lucky.
The rest of the day was on fast-forward between the clients and trying to figure out how the shop ran. I only saw the guys a few times as they brought customers to me for check-out.
Dare appeared next to me before closing time. “Lock the door.” Dare surprised me. Why did he want me to lock up early?
I frowned up at him, pausing from counting my drawer. “We’ve got twenty minutes until close.”
He stood arms crossed, waiting for me to do as told, I guess. I strode over and flipped the sign before turning the two dead bolts on the door.
“Closing is simple, we clean our areas before we go, you make the front decent, close the register, lock up the deposit, and you’re done.”
This was much easier than my last job where I’d had to do the final sanitizing on all the stations and clean the floors. I understood why shops had to be more sterile than hospitals and hadn’t minded the work of sanitizing, but not being responsible for the workroom was a huge relief. I’d be out of here in minutes, not hours, which was great tonight because the first day kicked my ass. Totally.
“Z is already at Blue’s drinking beer, I’m headed over. You joining us?” The words were totally innocent, but his sexy undertone asked an entirely different questi
on.
“Not tonight.” I laughed. “I feel like I’ve been run over.”
He frowned and parted his lips.
“It’s good, I just need a day or two to get the routine down and let my brain catch up. “But, I’m ready to hit my bed tonight.”
The worst thing to say, ever.
A grin spread with a slow sexiness that hit me hard right in my already overstimulated parts. Dare might be a walking sex god who would enchant me if I didn’t leave fast. I hurried to the safe with the deposit, hoping he wouldn’t see the blush burning my cheeks.
“Next time,” he called to my back, a laugh in his voice.
I trudged up the stairs, tired from the ten-hour day. I hoped I wasn’t expected to work all the hours the shop was open. Why hadn’t I asked Dare? Instead, I’d almost invited him to my bed. Way to hold strong, Braham.
Inside, I kicked off my boots, undressed and slipped between the covers of my fifty-dollar blow-up mattress from Walmart. The mattress welcomed me like a million-dollar bed tonight. I fell asleep in seconds.
The next morning my alarm blared, and sun hit me in the face. Shit. I don’t want to wake up.
I groaned and smacked the alarm. My body ached, not from work yesterday, but in sexual frustration. All night, I’d dreamed of the sexy biker, but dating the boss was one screwup I planned not to repeat. Too messy. My job was too good to lose for a nice ass and the bluest eyes on earth.
I stepped into the hot shower and steam enveloped me.
Dare pulled tight on the knot binding my ankles. He’d created a maze of ropes across my torso, firm but not tight. When I moved, the ropes slid across my skin, my nipples. I arched back, unable to resist the sensations. He positioned me with my ass in the air and secured my hands to the bed in front of me before he fingered me.
In the shower, the images played over again in my mind while my fingers traveled to my pussy. The hot water beat on my sensitive breasts, my fingers plucked with purpose, and I climaxed, remembering the intense orgasm from my dream. Panting, I leaned against the wall. One day, only one day, and he’d invaded my dreams.
Between the long shower and fitful night, my morning routine took longer. Unable to speed up despite three cups of java, I managed to take almost an hour on my normal thirty-minute routine. I’d just picked up my trail of clothes from the night before when I glanced at the clock.
Damn. It was five minutes until noon, I was beyond late by my standards.
I almost ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, hurrying to hit the code and get set up for the day. Thankfully, our first appointment came in at two.
I walked in to foreign voices, and stopped a minute before I called out, “It’s Lila, the new girl.”
“Damn, girl, thought we’d have to open. You always late?” A gnarled guy well past thirty stared at me with beady eyes—snake eyes.
“Weasel, lay off the new girl, you old goat.” A Hispanic-looking guy with bulging muscles leaned against the doorway. “I’m Rock, the ornery one is Weasel and his old lady Angel is piercing a chick now.”
“Lila.” I frowned, worried I’d messed up already, missed an appointment, not even two days into my new job. “Great to meet y’all.”
Weasel growled and turned back to the work area, so I moved up front, and Rock followed.
“Don’t mind Weasel and Angel, they’re always sour.” Rock laughed. “I got enough sweetness to make up for them both.” He winked at me.
I laughed and scoured the books. “Did I miss the appointment?” I bit my lip.
“Nah, Angel called me this morning saying a girlfriend of hers needed a piercing, so I came in with them.” He still grinned. “You settled in?”
Don’t miss
ENOUGH by Jade Chandler
Available now wherever
Carina Press ebooks are sold.
www.CarinaPress.com
Copyright © 2016 by Jade Chandler
Acknowledgments
There are so many friends I want to acknowledge in helping me get here. Thank you to my editors at Carina Press for helping me on my publishing journey. Thank you to my beta readers, especially Kathi, who continues to read all my stories and give me awesome feedback. My critique partners, you know who you are, have helped me improve my writing and supported me as I learned about publishing. I also can’t say how much I have appreciated my writing groups and the open community of romance writers in general.
Also available from Jade Chandler
and Carina Press
Enough, Book 1 of the Jericho Brotherhood
Deny, Book 3 of the Jericho Brotherhood—Coming January 2017
About the Author
From my youngest days, I have attempted to be an author writing stories about cartoon characters, which turned into stories of teens as I became a teen myself, and then romances.
A true-believer in happily ever after, romance has always held the number one place on my book shelf, and now my tablet. I enjoy escaping to new worlds and meeting all kinds of people who live in the imagination of others. Now that I have brought my imaginary world to life, I find I cannot write fast enough to bring those ideas to you.
For me, erotic romance offers a gritty, close intimacy that allows us to explore dark emotions and taboo desires. I love that more and more diverse definitions of happily ever after are accepted in our world every day. It is the dark intimacy that draws me to read and now write erotic romance.
If you would like to know more about my upcoming book releases or anything else Jade-related, visit me on my website www.jadechandler.com. Or enjoy my social media ramblings at any of these sites:
Facebook: https://www.Facebook.com/groups/1745864482348641/
Twitter: https://Twitter.com/JadeChandlerRom
Pinterest: https://www.Pinterest.com/14jadechandler/
Goodreads: https://www.Goodreads.com/user/show/37229091-jade-chandler
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