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

by Jeana E. Mann

  Karly’s chest tightened with unexpected jealousy. No wonder Randy had hooked up with her. No wonder her brother had trashed his friendship with Randy. She was way out of Mitch’s league. Stop it, Karly. That’s not why you’re here.

  “I wanted to call you,” Pilar continued, oblivious to Karly’s inner turmoil. “I’ve asked him a couple of times to invite you over, but he said you two weren’t in a good place right now.”

  “You can say that again,” Karly replied before thinking how the comment might sound to an outsider. To cover her slip, she took a drink of coffee, drawing strength from its warmth. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from Pilar, but it wasn’t this. “Our family is more than a little dysfunctional.”

  “Mine, too,” Pilar said with a self-deprecating laugh. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them before she said, “We're getting married this summer. I’d really like you to be there. It’s just going to be the two of us and a few friends. You’d be the only family there.”

  A lump thickened in Karly’s throat. Damn. She’d come here expecting hostility, and now Pilar had thrown her off her game. Two choices loomed in front of her. She could be a bitch, or she could embrace the opportunity to repair her broken family.

  “I’d like that,” Karly replied. “But what does Mitch have to say about it?”

  “What does Mitch say about what?” Footsteps followed her brother’s voice into the kitchen. With his back to her, he opened the fridge and took out a quart of milk to pour himself a glass. She sat back in her chair and steeled herself for his censure, but it never came. He grabbed a cookie from the plate in front of her and leaned against the counter beside Pilar. He eyed her with familiar eyes, so like her own, yet entirely different in demeanor and character.

  “I asked her to come to the wedding,” Pilar said, smiling up at him. The softness in her eyes melted Karly’s heart. “You’re good with it, right?”

  “Sure,” he said with a casual shrug. “If she wants to.”

  “Mitchell, be nice.” The censure in Pilar’s voice brought a smile to Karly’s lips. Mitch could be such an ass when he wanted. At least Pilar didn’t take any of his shit. She lifted a notch in Karly’s esteem. Mitch straightened and cleared his throat, looking abashed.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’d love it if you came, Karly." His tone was unreadable, but she was sure a note of sarcasm lurked somewhere in there.

  “I’m surprised you want me there,” Karly replied, unable to hold back the bitterness in her voice. “After all the shitty things you said to me the last time we saw each other.”

  “I think I’ll go check on the kids. They should be waking up from their naps any minute.” Pilar slid out of her chair and, after one last warning look at Mitch, disappeared, leaving Karly and Mitch alone.

  He ate the last bite of his cookie, washed it down with the milk, and crossed his arms over his chest. They glared at each other for another minute before he sighed and took a seat in Pilar’s chair. Milk stained his upper lip, the way it had when they were kids. She tried and failed to hold back a smile.

  “What?” He scowled across the table at her. “Why are you laughing?”

  She shook her head and handed a napkin to him. “You’ve got milk on your lip. Seriously, Mitchell. You look twelve again.”

  He snatched the napkin from her hand and scrubbed the red-gold fuzz over his upper lip. When the milk was gone, his mouth twisted into a reluctant smile. “So what do you want? A loan? I’m broke, Karls.”

  “No. I don’t want a loan. Geez, Mitchell. You always expect the worst from people.” Although they shared similar physical features, the disparity in their mental outlook made it difficult to believe they carried the same genes.

  “They rarely let me down,” he said with a shrug. “I guess that’s what being a cop has done to me. I see ugliness on a daily basis.”

  “I went to see Emma the other day, and she was gone. If you listened to your voicemails or read my texts, you’d know that already.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” Alarmed, he moved to the edge of his chair and placed both hands on the table between them.

  “Just what I said. I got an attorney, and he said Emma’s been put into foster care.” The look of horrified bewilderment on his face softened her animosity. "You mean you didn’t know?”

  “How the hell would I know that?” The legs of his chair screeched across the linoleum floor when he stood abruptly. “Are you sure?"

  “Well, my attorney seems pretty sure. He also said Dad’s been in and out of jail for writing bad checks. I suppose you didn’t know that either."

  “No. I didn’t.” He began to pace up and down the length of the kitchen. “I’ve been on leave, helping Pilar with the baby.” After a few more exhausting laps of the linoleum, he sank back into his chair and shoved a hand over the bristly top of his head. “Shit, Karls. I had no idea.”

  “Well, now you do.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to decide whether or not she should believe him. He was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. By the worried lines at the corners of his eyes, his concern was sincere. “I need your help to get Emma back. My attorney seems to have a grip on things a little better than the last one. I think I might have a good chance this time. If you know anything, you need to tell me, Mitch.”

  He heaved a sigh and tilted back on the chair legs, staring at her with his “cop face.” She rolled her eyes. That expression might work on his suspects, but it didn’t work on her. She’d been privy to some of his most embarrassing moments in childhood, and it would take more than a menacing scowl to intimidate her.

  “Don’t give me that look,” she said. “You better 'fess up, right now, Mitchell Eriksson.”

  “Now, Karls, calm down,” he said. The patronizing tone of his voice only made her angry. “Are you sure you really want to go down this road again? The attorneys, the questioning, all the money… Maybe Emma’s better off with someone else.”

  Karly slammed her hand down on the table. Her coffee cup jumped on its saucer. “She’s with strangers, Mitch. We both know how that feels, and I don’t ever want her to feel like someone doesn’t want or love her.”

  He blinked at her uncharacteristic vehemence but recovered quickly. “We survived. She’s tougher than you think.”

  “Sure, we survived it, but it doesn’t make it right. Not when her mother…” She swallowed hard and said the words she'd been holding back for years. “I’m her mother, Mitch. She belongs with me, and I’ll get her back with or without your help."

  Surprise replaced his hardened expression. He studied her, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. I get it. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  What? It was her turn to blink back surprise. She’d been expecting his abject refusal and had her arguments lined up for rebuttal. Maybe Pilar and the new baby had softened him up a bit. Was that even possible? Before she could question his motives, a blur of red hair and legs streaked around the table and skidded to a stop at her feet.

  Her heart squeezed at the sight of a child who could only belong to Randy. Round eyes blinked up at her from a chubby freckled face surrounded by ringlets of red hair. He smiled at her and placed dimpled hands on her knees, staring expectantly into her face.

  “Hi,” he said shyly. His bare feet danced over the floor but his eyes were glued to hers.

  “Hello,” she replied and beamed at him, bowled over by his infectious smile.

  “Caleb, this is your Aunt Karly,” Mitch said. “She’s my sister."

  “I have a new baby brother,” Caleb said gleefully. “Do you want to see?”

  “Yes, actually, I do,” Karly replied. Pilar appeared behind Caleb and placed a gentle hand on the top of his head. “Do you mind?"

  “Of course not,” Pilar said, her eyes shining with the excitement of a new mother. “Come with me.”

  CHAPTER 38

  “ARE YOU sure you want me to help you?” Karly asked as Randy
dropped his backpack on the coffee table in her living room. At well over six and a half feet tall, his head hovered inches from the seven-foot ceiling. “I think maybe you should be helping me instead. You always know the answers whenever Professor Marks calls on you.” Whereas she, on the other hand, looked like a stupid idiot every time.

  He shrugged and scratched his stubbled chin. “I’m more of a verbal person. It’s the written part where I suck.” She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I had a terrible time with school. I’m dyslexic, you know? The teachers all said I was stupid. By the time I was sixteen, I was fed up with being treated like a moron. So I dropped out.” The cadence of his speech suggested there was much more to the story.

  She wanted to ask, but instead she slipped her hand over his and squeezed, hoping to encourage him.

  “After a couple of years, I figured out I’d never get anywhere unless I had an education. Thing is, it takes money to go to school, and hell, I could barely even read. Jack’s uncle, David, offered me a job and a place to live as long as I went back for my GED. Said I was going to be dead before I reached twenty if I kept going on like I was.” His charcoal eyes flicked up to meet hers, their depths clouded.

  “Looks like you proved him wrong,” she said. “You look pretty healthy to me.”

  “Humph.” Randy’s snort said volumes about his opinion on the subject and the end of the topic.

  An awkward silence stretched between them, she rubbed her palms across the tops of her thighs and spread her books across the coffee table. The last time he’d been in her apartment, she’d been an emotional basket case.

  They stared at each other. An expression of enlightenment crossed his face. “Oh, I almost forgot. This is for you.” He shoved a hand into his pants pocket and withdrew a large fluorescent pink key ring. He held it out to her. She took it and frowned.

  “Okay. Uh, thanks.” She turned it over in her hands. The ring was bigger than her palm.

  “I thought of you when I saw this. It has a snap on the end so you can clip it on your backpack. You’re always looking for your keys, it seems.” Color flushed his cheeks. He shifted on his feet. “Is that lame?”

  “No, it’s sweet. Thank you.” It was her turn to flush. He’d been thinking about her. The tension in his brow lifted, and he smiled. She beamed back at him. “So, what do you want to go over first?”

  He settled beside her on the couch and opened his book. The vibration of her cell phone from its place on the coffee table jerked her into action. She reached to silence it but saw Josh’s name on the caller ID. They’d kept in contact with an occasional lunch or text message, but he'd never called her before. Thinking it might be important, she apologized to Randy for the interruption and answered the call.

  “What’s new, pussycat?” Josh asked in his vibrant tenor with a hint of Louisiana drawl.

  “Not much. Studying with a friend. What’s up with you?”

  “I’ll get us something to drink,” Randy said, lifting a two-liter of Mountain Dew, her favorite drink, from the brown paper sack he'd brought with him. She watched his back as he walked to the kitchen with easy grace and tried not to ogle the way his jeans clung to the indentation of muscles on his rear end.

  Josh’s voice dripped with innuendo. “Oh, very promising. Who’s sexy voice is that I hear in the background? Is it the caveman from the bar?"

  “Yes,” she said, cupping the phone with her hand so Randy couldn’t hear.

  “Girl, he is mackadocious. You need to get up on that before someone else does.”

  “Mackadocious? Is that even a word?” she asked, biting back a snort of mirth. “Sometimes I think you make things up.”

  “It’s a word, sweetheart. And your caveman’s picture is right beside it in the dictionary. Look it up.” She could picture the smirk on his perfect lips. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your studying,” Josh said. “I just called to tell you there’s a bachelor party coming up this weekend and one of the dancers can’t make it. Twisted her ankle or something. Hell, I don't know. Anyway, they’re looking for a fourth girl. I put your name out there. I figured you still needed the cash.”

  Her stomach dipped in an unpleasant way, but she pushed the warning aside, tantalized by the idea of income. “Really? How much does it pay?”

  “It’s five hundred for two hours plus tips,” he said.

  She fell back on the couch, one hand raised to her lips in shock. “Five hundred?” she whispered. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wouldn’t kid about five hundred Simoleans,” he replied. “Easy money, pussy cat. And you should make at least that in tips.”

  “Shut the front door,” Karly whispered. From the kitchen, Randy shot her a look over his shoulder. She smiled at him to ease his curiosity. He smiled back. Gosh, he was so hot when he smiled.

  “Cheetah says she usually makes double that in tips for an air dance and maybe twice that if you do friction dances. It’s really up to you where you draw the line.”

  “Friction dance?”

  “Yeah, you know, a lap dance with grinding and whatnot. Haven’t you ever been to a strip club? Really, you’ve got to get out more."

  “Focus, Josh.”

  “Right,” he continued, unfazed by her reprimand. “Most guys are happy with a pretty girl stripping in front of them. And you don't have to get completely naked unless you want to. I guess these guys are mostly businessmen. Cheetah runs a classy deal, and she only works on referrals, so you don’t have to worry about any weirdness.”

  Randy came back to the room with two frosty glasses and set them on the coffee table in front of her. She gave him a tight smile and tried to ignore the flush of heat in her cheeks. What would Randy think about Josh’s proposition? He cocked his head to one side, gray eyes studying her, as if intrigued by her expression. She looked quickly away before he could read her thoughts.

  “Can I have a little time to think about it?” she asked.

  “I really need to know now,” Josh said. “Not to rush you, pumpkin, but I told them I’d get back to them right away. These jobs are primo. Somebody else will jump on it. If you want it, you need to take it.”

  Five hundred dollars was a lot of money, a fortune to someone in her situation. Enough to get her through a few more weeks if she planned carefully, and it would buy her a little time to continue her job search.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Josh let out a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “You’ll be great. I’ll give Cheetah your number so you guys can work out the details. Wear that flirty little blue miniskirt of yours…the one with the pleats? And a white blouse with a necktie.” He paused for a second as if thinking. “And thigh-highs. You know, the naughty school-girl thing. Guys dig that.”

  “Right. Okay. I can do that.” She swallowed hard. “Anything else?”

  “Nope. Just come over so we can practice a bit before you go.” Josh’s voice held a smile. “And bring your caveman with you.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” she replied. “I'll call you tomorrow.” She ended the call and looked up to find Randy watching her with narrowed eyes.

  CHAPTER 39

  THEY SAT side by side on the sofa, thighs occasionally bumping as they poured over the shared study guide. Now and then his fingers brushed hers as they reached in unison to turn a page. The contact sent tingles of attraction up her arm. When compounded by the prospect of her new job, she found it hard to concentrate. If Randy noticed her distraction, he didn’t mention it, but kept his auburn head bowed to the study guide, stern brow furrowed in concentration as he struggled to get through the questions.

  Was it a mistake to accept Josh’s offer? The proposal summoned a combination of anxiety, dismay, and disappointment. Anxiety and dismay over the prospect of taking her clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers. Disappointment in herself for having arrived at a point in her life where the only way out of her situation was to accept money for stripping. Lots of girls did it, and ther
e was no shame in it. But she’d been struggling to get through college so she wouldn’t have to go that route.

  She wasn’t afraid to dance. She had plenty of experience in high school musicals and dance recitals, and she knew the right moves. Dancing was the single talent she possessed. At least that part would come easily to her. What she feared most was the time afterward, when she’d have to look herself in the mirror, see the haunted desperation in her eyes, and know she’d let herself down.

  “Karly?” Randy nudged her knee with his, snapping her from her reverie. “Did you hear me?”

  “No. I’m sorry. What did you say?” She gave him a weak smile, avoiding his gaze.

  “I said this is a good place to stop, don’t you think? My brain is overloaded.” He rubbed the space between his brows with two fingers. "I’m starting to get a headache.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Let’s call it quits for tonight.” Relieved, she snapped her book shut. “I’ll get some aspirin for you.”

  The tension of his headache was evident in the lines around his eyes. How had she not noticed? He took the proffered aspirin tablets from her palm, chased them down with a swig of water, and sighed heavily.

  “That bad?” she asked at the grimace on his face.

  “I’ve had worse,” he admitted with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s from getting whacked in the head one too many times during cage fights.” He rubbed the back of his neck and flinched.

  “You mean like on TV?” Every time she thought she knew him, he hurled a new surprise at her.

  “Yeah. Pretty much. I had anger issues back then. I was always getting in trouble, fighting, and acting like a hoodlum. David set me up with a few underground bouts, and I worked my way up from there. I was undefeated. I could’ve gone pro, if I wanted." They way he looked down at the floor made her want to reach out and touch him. “After awhile, pounding the shit out of someone for money lost its appeal. It just felt wrong.”