Table of Contents
CONTENTS
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Back Blurb
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
Throw Dylan from the Train
A Nun Goes to Jail
Dom’s Ascension
About Piper & Harley
COPYRIGHT
2017 Piper Davenport & Harley Stone
Copyright © 2017 Trixie Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Dial A for Addison is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold 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’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover Art
Jackson Jackson
Trixie Publishing, Inc.
CONTENTS
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Back Blurb
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
Throw Dylan from the Train
A Nun Goes to Jail
Dom’s Ascension
About Piper & Harley
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A Note From Piper:
Harley, you are the best friend I never expected. I always felt the world would be too small if there were two of me, but I was wrong. And now that there are two of us, we will rule the earth! I love how you always recognize I’m right, because I am... and how you laugh at my jokes because you know I have been put on the planet for comic relief (and eye candy... we can’t forget eye candy). You are the center in my storm and the person who lets me hide (even when I’m not the best at letting you do the same), and you always have my back. I adore you more than you will ever know... now let’s go kick some ass... but forget the names!
A Note From Harley:
Piper, I adore your honesty and the way you never let silly little societal norms like political correctness keep you from speaking your mind. You're generous to a fault, determined to improve everything you touch, and the most ridiculous person on the planet. And I'm privileged to call you my best friend. This is just the beginning, chica.
BACK BLURB
Despite their economic and social differences, Addison Allen and Dylan James have been inseparable since sixth grade. But when Dylan is arrested for the murder of her ex-boss, prison bars threaten to be the one thing that finally comes between them.
The body left on Dylan’s doorstep proves to be too problematic for even Addison’s enormous bank account, forcing the duo to roll up their sleeves and search for the murderer themselves. Working to prove Dylan’s innocence brings out an unexpected passion for investigating, and a knack for uncovering the buried truth.
However, their freshly-acquired skills propel them into a dangerous new world full of lies, secrets, and quite possibly… romance.
Will they be able to keep Dylan out of jail?
Or will they lose their hearts, and maybe even their lives, in the process?
For Jack & Mel
You left us to our own devices and didn’t interrupt us (much), allowing us to talk daily (okay, hourly) as we let our friendship come alive in the pages of our first book. You truly are gentlemen in every sense of the word (except where it’s important you’re not).
WE LOVE YOU!
Addison
FRIDAY MORNING, I was awakened by the phone buzzing on my nightstand. I rolled over with a groan and checked the caller ID. Dylan. “Um, hello, no calls before eleven on Fridays. You better be in a ditch with a broken leg somewhere.”
My best friend groaned into the phone. “I just got fired.”
I sat up. “What the hell? Why?”
Dylan Linn James has been my best friend since she transferred into my exclusive private school in the sixth grade. She’d been given a special scholarship due to her family’s financial situation and the shrew girls (we’d named them that because they were way worse than mean girls) clocked her the second she walked through the doors.
Dylan was gorgeous. G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S. As in, soft, curly red hair, a smattering of freckles over her nose that was cute as hell (as my brother said all too many times), hazel eyes, and, when she hit her teens, she developed a curvy figure which was all too often noticed by the wrong people.
As if beauty wasn’t enough, Dylan had a quick wit and an even quicker mouth. Plus, her name was cool as hell. Although she rarely stood up for herself, she fought for everyone else: me, the janitor being harassed by the shrew girls, random dogs locked in hot cars on sunny days, bugs about to be squished in the hallway. And while this kept her from belonging to the “in” crowd, it made me love her even more.
And now she was calling me at 9:59 in the morning because her asshat of a boss had fired her. And I’m pretty sure I know why she was let go—because despite his many advances, she wouldn’t sleep with him.
“Why do you think?” she confirmed.
“Come over.”
“I’m already here.”
“Well, then use your key and come in. Why are you not already inside?”
“Because I didn’t know if you had your gun in its safe, or next to you, and I didn’t want to be fired and dead!”
I giggled. “Gun is in its safe. Come on in.”
I slid out of bed and wrapped my silk Armani robe around me. I could walk around half-naked in front of Dylan, but she’d already been traumatized enough for one day.
I hustled into the living room and pulled her in for a hug. “He’s a dick.”
“I know,” she said, her stoic nature working overtime.
“You can cry you know.”
“I’m not going to cry over that asshole!” she snapped. “I might drink bleach later, a nice 2015 Clorox, but I won’t cry!”
“Okay, lady.” I forced myself not to laugh as I raised my hands in surrender. “Coffee?”
“Yes,” she breathed out. “Coffee. STAT.”
; “You should have been a nurse,” I mused as I grabbed containers for my Keurig.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you have the lingo down.”
“Shut it.” Dylan gave me her “I will stab you in your sleep” eyes, and I smiled.
“Nurse Dylan. I wonder if you’d be anything like Nurse Jackie. Let me see your eyes. Are your pupils pinned?”
I heard a quiet snort and turned to see her biting back a smile.
“I totally beat your record!”
We’d had an unwritten contest for as long as I could remember that whenever one of us was having a bad day, the other one had to get her to laugh. Dylan could usually get me giggling within minutes; however, I just beat her best time, so I did a happy dance around my kitchen while I’m sure she plotted my murder in her mind.
“Let’s go out tonight,” I suggested, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Um, hello. No job, no money.”
“I’m paying.” I smiled. “Or Daddy is.”
My father was, how do you say... absent? So when my parents separated, he gave Asher and me credit cards to use whenever we wanted. Even after my parents reconciled (for appearances only, let’s be honest), Daddy insisted we keep the cards “for emergencies.”
Asher never touched his; as a highly skilled attorney, he didn’t need to. Me? I hadn’t quite found myself. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I did nothing, but planning fundraisers and events for Mother and Daddy isn’t what I ultimately wanted to do with my life. I was good at it, but it wasn’t my bliss. Of course, using Daddy’s money whenever I wanted to did bring a certain measure of joy. Also, considering I did the work for less than most event planners would charge, I let my father assuage his absent-parent guilt when I needed cash for retail therapy... or bar hopping.
“Addie.”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. “Oh, look, it’s my brother.”
“Don’t answer,” Dylan demanded.
“Hey, Ashey.”
“I’m killing you in my head,” she hissed.
I gave her a sassy smile and focused on my brother. Asher was two years older than me and besides Dylan, my best friend. It had been the two of us against the world (or our parents) forever—still was, to be honest. Then along came Dylan, using her sharp wit and small-town charisma to carve her way into the position of (her words) third wheel, although, admittedly, she provided just the balance we needed.
We’d had more fun than three kids should legally be allowed to have, until she and Asher caught the feels for each other and started acting more like two stooges.
“Hey, sis,” Asher said.
“What’s up, favorite brother of mine?”
“Can I swing by and grab that portfolio I asked you to look over?”
“When?”
“Like, now?”
I glanced at Dylan and she glared at me, shaking her head. She must have heard Asher’s question.
“Ummm...”
“I know it’s before eleven, but it’ll only take a second. I can just let myself in, but wanted to call in case your gun wasn’t in its safe.”
“What is with everyone and my gun?” I snapped. “I wouldn’t just shoot somebody willy-nilly.”
“Bobby Moore,” he said at the same time Dylan asked, “Who the hell says willy-nilly?”
Bobby Moore, my shooting instructor, had made the mistake of trying to flirt with me while teaching me to shoot. I almost shot his leg off when I threw my hand up in frustration because he kept distracting me. In the end, the bullet went through his jeans, just grazing his calf, and that’s when I realized he’d never be the man for me. He was way too weak... blubbering like a sissy because of a minor flesh wound. I still shuddered thinking about what a wimp he was, and Asher loved to remind me. Gah! I hated weak men.
“One time,” I replied. “And it barely broke the skin.”
Asher chuckled. “Sure, we’ll go with that. Did I hear Dylan?”
“Yep,” I said, stepping away from the laser-beam glare Dylan shot me. “She says ‘hey.’”
“I hate you,” Dylan breathed out, and I blew her a kiss.
“I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Sounds good,” I said, and hung up.
* * *
Dylan
“Addison Angeline Allen, don’t you turn your back on me,” I demanded in the most threatening tone I could conjure.
“More coffee?” Addison asked.
I slid my mug toward her. “Please tell me your brother is not on his way here.”
“You couldn’t possibly want me to lie to you, could you?” she asked, looking appalled. “Dylan, you know I’m not that kind of girl.” Then she beamed me her signature, hundred-watt smile, reminding me why I could never stay mad at her. She was like a cute little blonde-haired, blue-eyed demon whose good intentions were sure to lead me straight to my own personal hell.
“He can’t see me like this, Addie. I’m so…” Destitute, jobless, beaten, pathetic; none of the adjectives I could come up with did my situation justice.
“Are you kidding me? Right now is the perfect time for him to see you. You’ll tell him what your boss did and he’ll swoop in and drag the asshat to court, saving the day and forcing you to finally admit you’re in love with him so the two of you can get married and give me lots of gorgeous nieces and nephews.”
Addison was also a hopeless romantic.
“You think you got this all figured out, don’t you?” I asked, preparing to crush her dreams.
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve even found you the perfect dress.”
And I bet the glamorous creation would cost more than I made in a year. I needed to derail this train before it flattened the pennies left in my savings account. Don’t get me wrong, when it came to Asher, Addison and I had the same goal in mind–I’d marry her smart, funny, kind, handsome big brother and have his babies—but I intended to make my own way in this world first. I was working on a plan to dig myself out of the hole I’d been born into so I could climb up to his level, but losing my job would take me back to square one. And at twenty-four years old, and acutely aware of my biological clock ticking toward thirty, I didn’t want to start over.
Feeling defeated, I collapsed on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “You don’t get it, Addie. I want Asher to see me as an equal… as someone he’s chosen to love because of what I bring to the table. Not because he has to rescue me like some damsel in distress, getting harassed by my pervert of a boss.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared me down. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Ash has been in love with you since—”
“Since when?” I interrupted. “Since that stupid “Seven Minutes in Heaven” game when I threw up in his lap? I’m sure that made quite the impression. Not my best moment, Addie.”
She cracked a smile, shaking her head at the memory. Some people get sweaty hands or stutter when they’re nervous. Turns out I throw up… all over the boy I’d spent my entire life crushing on. Epic.
“That was years ago, and you—”
“Can still barely talk to him without losing my lunch,” I finished for her. “Admit it, Addie, I’m a lost cause.”
“So you like the guy so much it ties your stomach in knots. It’s… it’s sweet.”
I barf on him and she calls it sweet. See? Hopeless romantic.
“And when he finds out what your boss did to you, he’ll—”
Asher picked that very moment to walk into the living room. Of course he did, because I was having the best day ever.
“What’s going on with your boss, Dylan?” he asked, without missing a beat.
My cheeks heated as my eyes sought him out, wondering what else he’d overheard. Asher was suited up for the day. Probably Armani, since both he and Addison had a penchant for the designer. He had the same blond hair as his sister, but his blue eyes had an intensity to them that always managed to steal my breath away. He was currently rocking a short beard that
added a layer of ruggedness to his posh handsomeness, taking him to yet another level out of my league. Hell, now that I was jobless, we weren’t even playing the same sport. I sat there in my clearance-rack skirt and blazer, acutely aware of the small run in the back of my nylons, wishing I could blend in with Addison’s leather sofa. When I didn’t answer his question, he turned to Addison.
“Addie?”
“Her boss is a douchebag,” Addison replied. “He’s been hitting on her since she started there, and when he finally realized it wasn’t going to happen, he fired her.”
Asher’s eyes hardened and the muscles along his jawline rippled as he turned his gaze back onto me. “Is that true?”
I swallowed. “Not... exactly.”
“Dylan!” Addison admonished.
When I didn’t elaborate, Asher walked over to the sofa and sat down beside me. “Tell me.”
The heat of his body did crazy things to my pulse, but I forced myself to woman-up and face him. “There were some discrepancies with the budget. I brought them to his attention and he informed me they weren’t my concern and ordered me to keep my nose in my own job. But they affected my job because I couldn’t add his expenses without plunging the budget into the red, so I… I took my issue to his boss. Next thing I know, “Kirk the Jerk” is helping me pack up my desk under the watchful eye of the security guard. Like I would take anything that reminded me of Bridge City Property Management Company, eeeeeencorporated.”
Asher arched an eyebrow. “So he wasn’t hitting on you?”
“Uh… well... let’s just say that wasn’t the reason I was fired.”
“More like it wasn’t the reason he gave you,” Addison countered with a huff. “Seriously, Ashey, you should hear some of the things this Kirk douchebag has said to her. And the other day, he actually patted her on the ass! Can you imagine? Don’t you think she should—”
“Not important right now,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up as I cast a hard glare at her. “Addie, you’re not helping.”
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