Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Don’t you dare.” A faint smile flitted across her lips then disappeared like a cloud passing over the sun. "On second thought, why don't you pour us both a shot? I have a feeling tonight will be a really long night."

  Jack was a lucky guy. Ally was cool as hell once you got to know her, and she appreciated a good glass of Scotch, which raised her a few notches higher in his esteem. He took the bottle down again and poured them each a good-sized shot. After clinking glasses in a mute toast, they drank, enjoying the slow, smooth burn.

  "I’ve got everything ready for when Chelsea goes into labor. The way she works, I’m sure it’ll be at the most inopportune time. So I made sure there's cash in the safe and plenty of small bills and change." With a grateful smile, she slid the glass back to him and raised an eyebrow. He poured another shot for her, but put his own glass away and capped the bottle. A little drink to take the edge off now and then was fine, but he needed a clear head. “I’m sure we’ll be here tomorrow night, but you never know.”

  "As slow as business has been over the past few weeks, I'm sure everything will be fine," he said.

  "Oh, I almost forgot. Will you pick up Karly? I haven’t had a chance to call her." Her clear eyes met his with calculating purpose. The heat of embarrassment climbed up his neck and into his face. Had Karly had told her about their one-night stand? Girls talked about those things.

  "Sure. No problem." With great effort, he kept his gaze on hers, unwilling to give away anything.

  "Great. I really appreciate it." The unnerving green gaze met and held his again. “Hopefully, Jack’s just got a twenty-four-hour bug." Her cell phone vibrated and her customary composure slipped a little as she read the text message on the screen. "It's Chelsea. She wants me to paint her toenails." Ally groaned and rolled her eyes before throwing the phone back in her purse. “She’s the most high-maintenance person I’ve ever met."

  “You’ve got to be a saint. I don’t know many women that would deal with a pregnant ex-wife quite so well.”

  A faint blush spread over Ally’s cheeks. “Just making lemons out of lemonade.”

  CHAPTER 11

  KARLY STEPPED into the parking lot of the bar to find at least four inches of new snow covering the cityscape. Eerie silence enveloped the street. The cold stung her lungs like needles. Numbed by the turn of events, she stood outside the door and stared at the envelope in her hand. Two hundred dollars wouldn’t stretch very far. After a few minutes, she shoved the envelope into her pocket and, with head down, walked to the street in search of Ally’s car.

  On the opposite side of the street, exhaust plumed from the mufflers of a shiny black pickup and hovered in ethereal clouds over the pavement. The driver’s door opened, and Randy stepped out. Butterflies took flight in her stomach. He was the last person she expected to see. He shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. The sight of him lessened a little of the sting from being sacked.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked when he crossed to meet her.

  "Ally got tied up with Jack, so I came to scoop you up.” He took her hand and helped her cross the snow-slickened street. “You'll have to get in on my side. The door is frozen shut on yours."

  “Thanks.” At his touch, tiny jolts of attraction travelled up her arm. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore them.

  "Rough night? You look tired," he said. The truck rumbled and pulled away from the curb. She was painfully conscious of his hand next to her knee as he worked the gearshift.

  "You have no idea," she replied and tried to calm the tremor in her voice. "I had to bus tables and serve. My feet are killing me."

  "I give a killer foot massage." He cast an ornery grin in her direction. Again, her eyes went to his hand on the gearshift. The long, blunt-tipped fingers looked more than capable of delivering.

  "I might take you up on your offer," she said, shivering at the thought of his warm hands on her bare skin, kneading her sore muscles. "So, what about my car?"

  "It's fucked," he replied. A wave of nausea rolled through her at the note of finality in his voice. "You've got a leak in your radiator, thermostat's shot, alternator's bad, and you need a new timing belt."

  "Really?" She slumped down in the seat. “Anything else? Or maybe you should tell me what’s not broken.”

  "And you need new brakes," he added, giving insult to injury.

  "Great." Distress knotted her stomach. She’d have to ride the bus. It would take hours to cross the city each day for work and class. Hopelessness welled inside her. At this rate, she’d never get a better apartment, finish school, or be able to help Emma. Lost in thought, she fell silent and stared out the window. “I got sacked tonight. Guess I’ll be walking for a while.”

  “Damn. You want me to talk to Scotty? He owes me a few favors.” Randy shot her a sideways glance before returning his gaze to the slick street.

  “Thanks, but no.”

  Randy stopped the truck beside her apartment building. He shut off the headlights, leaving them in darkness. The street was deserted and silent. Snowflakes swirled around the cab of the truck in a frenzied dance. The wind kicked up. Outside, the blizzard resurrected. Inside, heat blasted from the vents, and the dashboard gauges glowed. He turned in the seat to face her, bumping her leg with his, and broke the silence.

  "You know, the body and the interior are in pretty good shape. Maybe you could part it out. At least you could get some of your money back."

  Tears stung her eyelids. Without a car, she was completely screwed. Her mind ticked through her debts again and came up with one solution. She had to find a better-paying job, sell plasma, or donate her eggs. Something. Anything. Josh’s offer flashed through her mind, but she dismissed it as a foolish impossibility. There was no such thing as easy money.

  "You're not going to cry, are you?" Randy squirmed in his seat and sat back against the door. "Geez, don't cry. I'm sure we can work something out."

  "I'm not crying," she snapped. A fat tear rolled down one cheek. She wiped it away. "My contacts are hurting." She sniffed and took a deep breath, but that only made it worse. Tears flowed against her will.

  "Damn it," Randy muttered. His arms went around her and pulled her into his chest, holding her tight. It was warm and safe inside the circle of his embrace. She buried her face in his sweatshirt and took a deep breath, comforted by the scent of his shower gel and fabric softener. They weren’t friends or lovers, but lately, he seemed to be there when she needed him the most.

  CHAPTER 12

  ERRANT BEAMS of afternoon sunlight shafted through the plastic blinds of Karly’s living room window and reflected on her computer screen. She’d been scanning the internet for jobs all day. Rap music blared from the apartment next door, the bass vibrating the glass of water on the end table, interspersed with shouts and curses as a group of kids passed through the seventh floor corridor. Her gaze flicked to the five locks on the front door. She rose from the couch, padded over to the door, and checked the locks one more time. Satisfied all was safe, she resumed the job search until her stomach cramped with hunger, a brutal reminder of the lack of food in the apartment.

  The buzz of her cell phone provided a welcome distraction. Hoping the caller was Emma, she grabbed the phone and huffed a sigh of disappointment.

  “Hey, Karls. What’s up?”

  “Hey, yourself.” At the sound of Ally’s voice, some of the tension in Karly’s neck and shoulders eased.

  “How did your interview go this morning?”

  “Another big fat failure. This time they said I wasn’t qualified for the position. How can a person not be qualified as a receptionist? I mean, either you can answer a phone or not.” Karly flopped backward onto the couch cushions as she recalled the condescending air of the interviewer. “I give up.”

  “I’m sorry, Karls. Keep at it. Someone will give you a break.” The sympathetic voice in her ear brought a smile to her lips for the first time all day. "And
the next time you have an interview, let me know. You can borrow my car. I never drive it anymore. Jack insists on taking his truck everywhere.”

  “Really? That would be awesome. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Well, actually, that's why I'm calling. I need a favor." Ally never asked for favors—ever. If she was asking for a favor now, the situation must be desperate.

  "Go on. I'm listening." Karly propped her feet on the coffee table and closed her eyes.

  "I was hoping you could work at Felony tonight." Ally sucked in an audible breath as if holding it until she heard the answer. "Jack's still sick, and we’ve got a band booked for tonight. I’m super short on waitresses. The place is going to be packed, and it'll be hell. I wouldn’t ask but I’m desperate. If I have to beg, I will. We're in real trouble here."

  "I don't know," Karly said but perked up at the idea. “What happened to Tasha? Did she quit?” Tasha, the eccentric Goth waitress, handled the unruly patrons of Felony like a lion-tamer in a room full of kittens.

  “Yeah. She and Randy had some kind of falling out.” Ally snorted with mirth. “I’m not sure what happened, but Tasha poured a beer over his head and stormed out. Said he was an emotionally stunted fucktard.” She sighed. “God, I miss her."

  “And what does Jack say about me working there?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and waited for Ally’s answer.

  “Jack knows you’re kickass. He’s fine with it,” Ally replied. "You've got a bartender's license. You know how to carry a tray. God knows you've drank enough." They both giggled. "I'll pay you cash under the table. A hundred bucks plus all your tips. Wear something sexy, and you'll make a bundle."

  Karly sighed. Ally knew her weak spot—her empty bank account—and had gone straight for it like a tiger scenting blood. A hundred dollars in cash would hardly make a dent in her debt, but it was enough to pay the electric bill and put food on the table for a few more nights. The angry growl of her stomach hastened her decision.

  "Alright. Fine." She paused, knowing the subject had to be broached but dreading it all the same. "Is Randy going to be there?"

  "Well, duh, yeah." Ally's voice held the faintest twinge of amusement. "And Luke, Jack’s brother. I don’t think you’ve met him."

  “No.” Her stomach fluttered in a combination of excitement and apprehension. There was something mystical and pleasantly wicked about Felony, and now she’d be a part of it. "What time should I be there?”

  “No later than eight. I’ll have Randy send a cab for you.” The sound of muffled voices in the background caused Ally to groan. "Look, I've got to go. Jack's yelling for me. "

  CHAPTER 13

  AT TEN minutes before eight, Karly smoothed her hands over her hair and took one last calming breath before she went inside Felony. The deep rumble of bass guitar vibrated through the walls. The music stopped and an eerie silence fell, like Felony held its breath. Empty and dark, the place exuded a preternatural calm that raised the hair on the back of her neck. Equipment cases and instruments scattered the stage. A tangle of electrical cords slithered across the floor like snakes. She hovered in the shadows and tried to squelch the return of butterflies to her stomach.

  The house lights came up, bathing the room with brilliant white light. “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed blared over the house speakers at full volume. The bass drum resonated in her chest cavity. The room exploded into activity. Band members flooded onto the stage, banging through the cases and shouting orders to the roadies over the music. The lead guitar player, sporting waist-length dreadlocks and a tie-dyed T-shirt, strummed random notes and riffs between guzzles of Jack Daniels.

  "Hey!" Randy's quiet baritone resonated in her ear, only inches away. For such a large man, he moved with the stealth of a ninja.

  "You scared the crap out of me." With a hand over her fluttering heart, she tried to regain her sensibilities.

  The heat of his stare sizzled over her skin, taking in the bare strip of midriff beneath her short, fringed leather jacket, the tight black leather shorts, and the long, bare expanse of her thighs. It was a playful ensemble and always brought in the tips. Despite being five foot two, she rocked the outfit as well as any Amazonian model, and by the appreciation in his eyes, he knew it.

  "Are you done?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Or do you need another minute?"

  "Nice." He nodded at her flat, bare belly. "Where's the rest of it?"

  Before she could answer, a slender girl with bouncing purple pigtails came breezing past. She threw her purse behind the bar, huffed out a deep breath, and turned to look them up and down with bold eyes.

  "Aw shit." Randy rasped a large hand over his stubbled chin. “What’re you doing here?”

  Tasha glared at Randy, hands on her hips, daring him to cross her. “Ally begged me to work tonight. And since I like her, I’m here.”

  "Wish someone had told me,” Randy growled. Tension thickened the air. Randy and Tasha glared at each other like prickly cats, eyes narrowed and claws out. “Karly, this is Tasha. Tasha, this is Karly. Karly's helping us out tonight."

  "Oh, yeah. Ally's friend. I remember you." The girl's eyes warmed. She took Karly's hand in a firm and confident grasp. “You’ve done this before, I hope?”

  “Yeah. I worked at The Thirsty Scotsman for six months and a few other places before that." Karly watched as Tasha shoved past Randy. “Never anywhere like this, though.”

  “Oh, you’ll be fine.” Tasha waved a dismissive hand. “Don't let anyone give you shit, and don’t be afraid to boss people around. If you act like you’re in charge, people will naturally listen. As for that…” Tasha’s gaze chilled as she looked at Randy. "If you don't speak directly to it, it won't bother you."

  "So now I'm an it?" The pair glared at each other in open animosity.

  Tasha pointed a black-tipped fingernail in Randy's face. "Let's get something straight right now. I'm still pissed at you. So stay out of my face."

  "Oh, God," Randy groaned. "It's going to be a long fucking night."

  "Come on. I'll show you the ropes." Tasha grabbed Karly by the arm and tugged her toward the bar. She wore a teal tutu, black satin bustier, and black-and-white striped thigh-highs. Her waist-length pigtails twitched and jerked with every step as she went through the routine for the night. It seemed simple enough. Karly would wait on the perimeter tables and booths, while Tasha took the interior tables and the VIP section. Luke and Randy would tend the bar.

  "Have you met Luke yet?" Tasha asked when they’d circled the dance floor and returned to the bar. Her voice brimmed with admiration for the young man standing before the cash register.

  At the mention of his name, he turned and flashed a deep-dimpled, cheeky grin. Karly choked on her greeting as she came face to face with a younger, clean-cut version of Jack, with twinkling amber eyes and short, spiky black hair. He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.

  "Hi, Karly," he said, his voice purring over her like silk. "I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you."

  "I'm sorry for staring," she stuttered. "But you look so much like…"

  "Like Jack," Tasha finished. "How one family could have so much hotness is beyond me." She shook her head at Luke and shooed him away with a wave of her hand. "Leave her alone, Luke."

  “I’m gone for a few hours and the whole place turns to shit.” Jack appeared with Ally at his side, his voice cracked and rough. The pallor of his olive skin suggested he should be in bed instead of at the bar. Karly raised an eyebrow at Ally, who shook her head

  “Dude, you look like walking death,” Luke said. “Good thing I’m here to rescue your ass.”

  “I might be sick but I can still take you.” Jack smirked and feinted a punch at his little brother.

  “I tried to keep him home,” Ally said, an affectionate scowl on her face. “But the stubborn ass had to be here. He thinks this place will crumble without him."

  “Something
exciting might happen, and I’ll miss all the fun,” Jack replied. He pulled Ally into the curve of his arm and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  Randy returned behind the bar. Luke poured out a dozen shots of Jaeger. The bar crew, along with the band members, circled the bar as Randy passed out the shots. When he handed the glass to Karly, his fingertips grazed the back of her hand and lingered longer than necessary. Shivers of attraction raised the fine hairs on her forearms, and she sucked in her breath. When her gaze flew to his face, she found him watching her, and one corner of his mouth twitched in a tiny smile of acknowledgment.

  Their silent exchange ended when a dozen shot glasses rose into the air, and everyone looked at Jack expectantly.

  “It’s a tradition,” Ally whispered to Karly. “Every night before we open, they have to go through this.”

  “Here’s to kicking ass and taking names,” Jack croaked. “Let's do this thing.”

  “Hell, yeah,” everyone shouted in unison. The group broke apart and scattered to their respective stations. The air cracked in anticipation of another night at Felony Bar.

  CHAPTER 14

  AROUND NINE-thirty, people began to trickle into the bar. By ten o’clock, the line for admission snaked down the alley and around the corner. The band started a little late, but no one seemed to notice once the lead singer took the stage and belted out an impressive cover of Marilyn Manson's “This Is the New Shit.” People spilled onto the dance floor, moshing to the pulsating beat, a tangle of tattoos and limbs in a sea of leather, fog, and laser lights.

  Karly pushed her way through the crowd, drinking in the atmosphere. Crossing the dance floor was like running uphill with the wind in her face. The crowd pressed in from every side, making it impossible to move, even more impossible to carry a tray full of drinks.