Hard Core (Hard As Nails Book 3)

by Hope Conrad

  “That’s a secret that will go to the grave with me.” He pushes a slice of crisp bacon into his mouth.

  I shift my attention to the spice rack, and there are two missing spices: red pepper flakes, and soul seasoning. “I’ll get it out of you sooner rather than later.”

  “Good luck with that.” He scrapes the remainder of the food from his plate, stuffs it into his mouth, and then lowers his plate into the empty sink. “What are you planning on doing today?”

  Suddenly remembering my upcoming “lesson,” my appetite vanishes and I put my plate down beside me on the counter. Maybe I look as queasy as I feel because his brow furrows.

  “Alyssa, what’s wrong?”

  I shake my head and force a smile. “Nothing.”

  I jump off the counter and my bare feet land against tile. Moving past him, I grab my phone from the entry table in the hall, and scan for recent calls or messages. I find the one I’m expecting, but not one I’m hoping for.

  Axel is watching me, eyes and body alert. “Waiting to hear from someone?”

  I decide to tell him part of the truth. “I haven’t heard from my friend Marley. A stripper at Sugar Bare. She was messed up the night I met you. I was supposed to tell Walt she went home sick. She was going to stay gone for a few days and we were going to talk, but I haven’t been able to reach her.”

  His brow furrows. “You’re worried something happened to her?”

  “No. Not really. I mean, I have no reason to think that. Maybe she’s just been busy. But I don’t know where she lives, so I can’t check in on her.”

  Axel nods. “That sucks. Hopefully she’ll get in touch today. Which reminds me, what have you got planned for today?”

  The guy’s relentless. But I’m stubborn, too. No way am I telling him that today is the day I start my first pole dancing lesson. Mr. Prince set it up weeks ago, but I’d put it out of my mind for the most part. It was only when Axel asked me what I was doing, and I’d known I had something scheduled today, that I’d remembered. “Oh, this and that.”

  He rolls his eyes and braces his hands along the edge of the counter. “You are so difficult.”

  “I’m independent.”

  “Same thing, right?”

  “I suppose a man like you might think so. Which is why I sometimes want to kick your ass.”

  “Don’t you know that when a girl kicks a guys’ ass, it usually means she’s into him?”

  “Uh, no.” I smirk. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “Then tell me how it works.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how it works?” Moving back into the kitchen, I reach for a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water, then return to my spot on the counter. “I’ve seen you fight twice now, and it would seem you know a thing or two or a hundred about kicking asses.”

  “Yeah?” He cocks his head to the side and studies me, as if he’s trying to figure out all my secrets. “Does my asskickery turn you on?”

  “Absolutely not,” I lie. I take a sip of water, and watch him roll his eyes, like he doesn’t believe me. “But tell me your story.”

  He shrugs again, but his grip tightens on the counter. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Bullshit.” I lower the glass against the counter. “No one learns how to fight like that without a damn good story.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want to share my story until you share some of yours.”

  “Me? I thought you’d figured me out already. I’m a poor fragile girl, terrified of being alone, forced to work at a strip club to pay the bills and unable to protect herself without a big, strong man to take care of her.”

  “You might not need a big, strong man, but you have one, and said big, strong man will take care of you if he deems it necessary. Every single time.”

  I stare at him, and his expression is dead serious.

  “Why?” I whisper. “Why are you so intent on protecting me? On getting to know me?”

  “Because from the minute I saw you, you reminded me of an angel, and every second I’ve spent with you since has done nothing to change that.”

  I’m stunned by the honest emotion I hear in his voice. By the true respect and affection he seems to harbor for me. “You don’t know me, Axel.”

  “No, but I want to. I’m trying to.”

  I look around desperately, but my gaze is drawn back to his. Who is this man? I want to know everything. I want to know who the Anne is whose name is marked on his skin, but I don’t have the nerve to ask. So I ask the other question burning at my curiosity. “Fine. You want to get to know me? Then answer me honestly. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  “I was in the military.”

  “Really?” For some reason, it’s the last thing I’d expected him to say. He’s a bike-riding rebel, and doesn’t strike me as someone who likes taking orders. On the other hand, he seems to have an inherent need to protect others, and what better way to do that than kicking ass and taking names as a soldier for the U.S. government?

  It’s only a tidbit of information, but it’s nice to dig beneath the surface level, if only a little. “I’m sure you instilled fear in many a man’s soul.”

  “Yeah, I sure did.” He forces a smile, but his grip on the counter tightens even more, his fingers beginning to turn red.

  I sense that this may not be the easiest subject for him to talk about, so I try to lighten the mood. “I think it was probably hard for you to take orders,” I say with a light laugh.

  But he doesn’t laugh in return. Instead, he looks even more serious than ever. “You’re right.” His eyes drift to the ceiling and I watch as he swallows a hard breath. “Especially when my orders directly conflicted with what I believed to be right.”

  This conversation is getting far too heavy. But he’s being honest, and it’s reeling me in.

  “I can see how that would be a problem for you. You’re such an honorable guy.”

  “Is that sarcasm?”

  “No.” I shake my head furiously and once more jump to my feet. “I’m just saying that, I don’t know you, but I know things about you. And I know that you’re a good guy.”

  “Really?” His frown dissolves into a warm smile as I approach him. “Can we keep that between the two of us?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die. We don’t have to talk about this anymore,” I assure him as I lay one hand against his thigh, comforting him. “I get the sense that maybe it’s hard to talk about.”

  “It is…” he says softly. “Sometimes.”

  “Right.” I nod my head. “But if you ever want to talk about anything…” I hesitate, knowing that what I’m about to say completely goes against my attempts to keep things unemotional between us. But I can’t help myself. I can’t stand knowing he might have a well of pain inside him and that he’s too proud to share it with someone to ease the burden. “I mean, if there’s no one else, you can talk to me.”

  “Yeah?” He spreads his legs and pulls me in close, his hands massaging my shoulders.

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  “Thanks. But…you have terrible egg breath,” he jokes. “Absolutely dreadful.”

  Maybe because I’ve done it so many times myself, the fact he’s using humor to deflect my attempt to get closer to him is all too transparent. But unlike the way he bulldozes past my walls, I decide to let it lie. “How dare you? I’m going to kick your ass,” I mock threaten.

  He caresses his hand up and down my side. “Please, make my dreams come true.”

  He leans down, nuzzling his nose against mine.

  My mouth hovers next to his ear. “I thought I already did.”

  He cranes his head so that our mouths are a mere inch apart, the heat between the two of us a tangible thing that makes me sigh. “When it comes to you, I have many unfulfilled dreams.”

  I’m tempted to take his hand and lead him back into the bedroom. Or maybe we can do some of that fucking on the couch or against the wall I was talki
ng about. Hell, maybe fucking on the counter would be a nice little adventure. “We’ll have to do something about them.”

  “Because I’m sexy?” he inquires.

  “Huh?” I take a step back and he leans back against the cabinets behind him.

  “Is the reason you want to do something about my dreams because I’m sexy and fun?”

  “What you are is too damn confident in yourself,” I chuckle and take another step back.

  “Because I can fulfill you in bed like no other man ever could, or ever will?”

  “You’re not the only man on Earth, Axel,” I point out. “But you can make me scream, and that’s enough reason right there to fulfill your dreams.” Because they’d be fulfilling my dreams, too.

  “Making you scream is not something I’m about to forget.” He jumps from the counter, and his body is pressed against me in an instant, pinning me against the laminate counter. “And there you go, trying to make things all about sex again.”

  “And you have a problem with that?”

  “Nope. No problem. Because in this game of cat and mouse, I know I’m going to win eventually.”

  “Is that so?” I breathe against his neck, accepting his challenge.

  He nibbles his teeth against the lobe of my ear, and my entire body shudders. “See that?” he questions as he pulls away from me. “I’m not worried,” he reiterates.

  He’s right. There’s something about him that I can’t resist, although I’ll lie to myself and to him, and say that I can. I can’t quite put my finger on what makes him so irresistible, but I have a few hunches.

  Gorgeous eyes.

  Ripped abs.

  Beautiful smile.

  Hard chest.

  Plus, he made me breakfast, and nobody has ever made me breakfast outside the realm of those obligated to do so, like my father.

  Still, I know what I need, even if it’s not what I want. Who wouldn’t want to get close, really close, to a man like Axel? To learn his secrets? To be the one that comforts him in bad times, and celebrates with him in good ones?

  But that’s not what I need. I need hot sex with no strings attached. It’s nice to get to know the stranger beneath the face, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to give him another piece of myself anytime soon.

  I just have to remain steadfast in my resolve.

  And fight as dirty as I know Axel will.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Axel

  We’re back on opposite counters, shooting the breeze, talking about nothing too important, and nothing too deep. We laugh occasionally, just genuinely enjoying each others’ company.

  She belly-laughs after I tell her some cheesy joke I once heard over in the desert, and for once, she seems completely open and relaxed, as if she’s actually lowered the protective walls she hides behind so well.

  And then her phone beeps loudly and vibrates on the entry table. Her smile fades and she hops to the floor to pick up her phone, her eyes glancing over the screen.

  “Who’s that?” I question with a nod.

  “It’s uh…No one. I mean, it’s just a friend who wants to meet for lunch.” She looks up at me, and I swear I see trepidation flash across her face before she smiles. “As fun as this has been, I really need you to go. I have to hop in the shower and run out to meet…my friend.”

  “This friend of yours have a name?”

  “Um…” Her eyes flutter around the room before landing on a magazine on the entry table. “Lucy. Her name is Lucy.”

  Lucy. Right. I’m betting if I snatched up that magazine, there’d be evidence that she’d made up the name Lucy on the fly. I want to tell her she’s a horrible liar, but instead I simply nod and ease to my feet. “Well, have fun with Lucy. I’ll see you at the club later?”

  The relief on her face and her audible exhale would almost be funny if I wasn’t imagining all the reasons she might be lying to me. Is Lucy actually a guy? Does she have a boyfriend? Is everything I believe about her—that she is good and pure and classy and honest—wrong?

  “Sounds good,” she says.

  I travel light, and I already have my keys in my pocket, so I tilt my head to the door. “Walk me out?”

  “Sure,” she says, obviously willing to do anything to get me out of her apartment. She even takes my hand and it’s a wonder she doesn’t actually start pulling me forward.

  “You sure you’re okay?” I test her, stopping after only a few steps. “I don’t know…I thought I saw something on your face when you checked your phone.”

  “Oh? This?” She points to her own face. “This is just my usual resting bitch face.”

  “Nah,” I shake my head. “You’ve got a resting angel face.”

  She seems stunned silent, and then she actually seems to get angry. She drops my hand. “Will you stop it with the angel stuff. I’m not an angel. I work in a fucking strip club, Axel.”

  “You’re a waitress in a fucking strip club.”

  “Yeah, well maybe that’s not all I’m going to be doing.”

  “What?” Is she saying what I think she’s saying? Blood races through my veins, and my throat tightens at the thought of her getting on stage and taking her clothes off in front of anyone but me.

  She looks panicked, so I’m guessing yes.

  “Never mind. Forget I said that.”

  “Forget you said what? Because I’m a little unclear on what it is you’re telling me, Alyssa.”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “But maybe you should.”

  “No, I shouldn’t,” she says mutinously. “Now, I need you to leave. Please.”

  We stare each other down, and I think about digging in my heels, but she looks seriously freaked, and instinctively I know I’ve pushed her enough for one day.

  “Okay,” I say quietly. I take her hand back, even though it’s just a few more steps to her door. When we get to it, I open the door, but then I turn and lower my head, kissing her on the cheek. “Have a great lunch. I’ll see you later.”

  When she closes the door quietly behind me, I pause, resisting the urge to push my way back inside and make her come clean about who Lucy really is and whether she really intends to start stripping.

  I stop myself for two reasons.

  First, I can’t very well demand total honesty from her when I’m not being completely honest myself. I too carry my own demons on my shoulders, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m about to spill my guts to her about them. No, if I can help it, I’m never going to discuss my past, including my ties with King, or the shit I’d seen and done in the military with her.

  Second, pushing her might do more damage than good, ruining the forward progress we made today. Whether she knows it or not, we made great strides in our relationship. She’d been curious about me. She’d offered to talk if that’s what I needed. We’d even joked around, talking about nothing important. I’d enjoyed every second (okay, except the part where we’d talked about my inability to follow orders), and I think she did, too.

  Today was a mixed bag, but I’m going to focus on the fact she’s letting me into her life. Slowly but surely.

  Of course, choosing not to confront her about her shit right now is one thing. Not doing anything about it is a whole different story.

  And that is not happening.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alyssa

  I watch Axel drive away from my apartment on his bike, and for the first time ever, I feel the faintest stirring of interest in taking a ride myself one day. Not just on any bike, of course. Axel’s bike. With me sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his strong body, my cheek resting on his back as we navigate the open road.

  We could go anywhere we wanted. Be whoever we wanted. Unfettered by the burdens and limitations of real life.

  Of course, it’s never going to happen. I’m far too terrified of bikes to actually go through with it.

  When I was young, I was traveling with my father down a dark road in the late ho
urs of the night. A motorcyclist passed us because my father has always been a slow driver. The other guy sped toward a green light, and he was creamed in the intersection by a drunk driver that ran a red.

  The motorcyclist had done nothing wrong, but he’d died a horrific death. For a young, impressionable girl, it was a horrifying sight that’s stayed with me ever since.

  I sigh and step back from the window. Of course I was lying about meeting a friend named Lucy for lunch. I’m not meeting a friend at all. I do have an appointment, however. It’s just, I’m in no hurry to make it.

  The appointment made for me with Laura Kerns has been twice confirmed by the two texts I received: one by Harvey Prince, and the other by Laura herself. I have the address where I’m supposed to meet Laura, and an encouraging, “Can’t wait to see what you can do,” by Harvey.

  I only met the guy once, when he hired me, and he wasn’t a bad looking guy. But ick.

  My time to get the lay of the land by waitressing is coming to a rapid end. Laura is going to give me lessons on stripping, and according to Harvey, he wants me to take the stage within two weeks. He even mentioned Sugar Bare being down a stripper, and I suspect he’s talking about Marley. I haven’t given up trying to get hold of her, but I’m no longer expecting her to return my calls.

  I have two weeks to learn how to take off my clothes in front of a room full of men. It actually shouldn’t take that long. As a kid, I took tons of dance classes. I’ve got great rhythm. But it’s not the dancing part I’m worried about. To many women, the act of stripping is a freeing experience. I’m not one of them. I’m too private and closed off, too shy to bare myself on a stage in front of a building full of strangers and not second guess everything I’m doing.

  But life is hard, and because it’s hard, we are often left with difficult choices. This is my difficult choice. For the past two months, Harvey’s been paying me a stripper’s salary, just as he said he would. He’d fronted me that extra cash, knowing I needed it for my dad’s medical bills, and he’d given me time to get used to the idea of stripping. Now it was time for me to fulfill my end of the bargain.