Hard Luck

by Liv Morris

  “I had them erase the tape,” Jimmy jokes—I hope—while walking away, and we follow.

  “What?” I ask. “They taped us?”

  “Only the sound made it. The camera was pointed toward the bed.” I shake my head, not sure whether I’m going to laugh or cry.

  “It’ll be like World Series Gate if this gets out,” I say, my voice quivering.

  “Oh, Cali,” Jimmy says, stopping to look straight at me. “I’m kidding. No one taped a thing. Promise. Besides, honey, the president could tell you stories about that room. Remember politics is a dirty, naughty business.”

  Jimmy’s laughter fills the empty hallway as we walk to meet the other players in the Rose Garden where a reception’s being held.

  “Want a drink?” Brady asks as he points to a makeshift bar.

  “I’ll take a bottle of anything red.” He chuckles and leads me to the bartender. He thinks I’m teasing, but I’m not.

  From the time I slipped off my chair at The Wit to this moment at the White House, my life has been an unpredictable journey. Who would have thought a penis handler would end up with an MVP?

  Brady hands me a glass of red wine. “What you thinking, babe?”

  “Just wondering where life’s going to take us. Especially after today.”

  “One thing’s for sure, it’s going to be a wild and crazy ride.”

  “I can handle that as long as you’re with me.”

  “Forever yours,” he says, bending down to seal the promise with a kiss.

  And true to everything else about Brady, it’s the perfect answer.

  NOTE TO READER

  Thank you for joining me on Brady’s journey from a manwhore to a sweet, but still cocky boyfriend. He was a favorite of mine to write.

  I’m working on Bryce’s story now. So please sign up for my newsletter to keep up-to-date with his book, Tough Luck, releasing this September.

  xo,

  Liv

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  BOOKS BY LIV MORRIS

  Adam’s Apple

  Adam’s Fall

  Touch of Tantra

  Marry Screw Kill

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Big thanks to The Rock Stars of Romance for their awesome support in helping me spread the word about Hard Luck. Lisa, you truly do rock!

  To my FTN’ers… You all are my oasis. I am blessed to be a part of the group and the circle of trust, and the crazy, and the laughter. You all always brighten my day, even if it’s in the most f*ckingly awkward way.

  Donna S, thanks for shaking your pompoms again for another one of my boys. You’re always there for me, and I love you to the moon and back.

  Thanks to Monica Black, my patient and talented editor. You helped me get this book out in record speed. Bless you.

  Marla, thanks for all the proofing you did with this book even when you had horrible jetlag. Big hugs. And a big thank you to Kim G for her eagle eye as well.

  Karen L… Thanks for all your support during my last two releases, I don’t know if words are enough. Thank you.

  Finally, to a God I’ve never seen, but know is real. I thank you for every breath I breathe.

  SNEAK PEEK

  Enjoy the first two chapters of MARRY SCREW KILL, an Amazon Bestseller!

  Copyright © 2016

  All rights reserved

  Cover Design by R.B.A. Designs

  Editing by Word Nerd Editing, Lauren Schmelz

  Proofing by Proofing Style

  Formatting by CP Smith Affordable Formatting

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to my lifelong friend Laurie G. who learned a smile can hide evil.

  Chapter One

  Thick clouds from earlier in the day and broken street lamps from years of neglect leave my apartment complex pitch black. My headlights shine against the familiar brick building as I ease into my parking spot. I turn off the engine and my phone vibrates from its resting place in the cup holder.

  The lit screen cuts through the eerie darkness as I reach over to answer it. Expecting to see my mother’s number, since she always calls when I’m late getting home, I smile when the caller ID displays Emma BFF. I haven’t spoken to her all week, and I miss my crazy friend.

  “Hey, Emma.” I grab my purse and open the car door. After a quick glance around the parking lot, I walk toward the building.

  “Hi, Spook. Didn’t you see my texts?” Emma’s impatient as usual. I’m surprised she greeted me at all before getting straight to the point.

  “I rushed out of work and headed home. You know I’d never purposely ignore you.” I skip over familiar cracks on the crumbling sidewalk. My mother and I have lived here for years and the place has gone to rot.

  “It’s after midnight. You know what that means,” Emma says in a teasing, singsong voice.

  “I have no clue,” I say, too tired to play guessing games.

  “I’m calling to wish you a happy birthday, Harlow.”

  “My birthday …” Is it? I freeze before walking up the outside stairs. My mother always asks me, days before my birthday, what I want for a gift. This year she’s hasn’t mentioned a thing. “I forgot. It’s been a busy week.” But when aren’t they?

  “I didn’t, silly!” Emma proceeds to sing the entire “Happy Birthday” song and I feel her love with every off-key note.

  “Thanks.” I smile from ear to ear for the first time in what feels like forever as I climb the stairs to my apartment. I needed cheering up after working a twelve-hour day. “Thanks, weirdo. You’re the best, even if you can’t sing.”

  “Hey, I want to take you out tomorrow night. I mean tonight, since it’s already tomorrow. Whatever,” she giggles. “It’s Friday, so we can start with happy hour. Tell me you’re not working at the restaurant.”

  “I can’t take off on a weekend night. My tips are triple what I make during the week. I’m close to paying off my car so I can finally move out.”

  I would love to go out and celebrate with Emma, but I’m determined to escape the apartment I share with my mother and her creepy boyfriend, Tony. He’s lived with us for six months and has never looked above my shoulders. He probably doesn’t even know my eye color—or if I have eyes. Pervert.

  “Then I’ll bring the party to you.”

  Imagining her showing up with a crew of her crazy friends at work makes me cringe. They don’t believe in inside voices.

  “Please don’t. I can’t afford to upset my manager. You know his idea of fun is arranging place settings. I’ll try to get off after the dinner rush.”

  “Okay, but I’m really bummed you’re working. By the way, Jonathan has been asking about you. Again.” Emma snickers into the phone.

  Crap. Jonathan has tried to get in my pants since eighth grade and I’ve run out of kind ways to tell him no.

  “I’ll text you around nine, if you promise he’s not going to be around. Maybe just the two of us?”

  “Promise,” Emma says, resolve clear in her tone. “Your tw
enty-first was a dud. I won’t let that happen again. If I don’t hear anything by nine, I’m kidnapping you.”

  “You can be quite bossy at times.” Emma giving me orders isn’t new. She’s owned being the in-charge friend since we met in kindergarten.

  “You’d never get out and have fun if I weren’t,” she laughs, and she’s right. I prefer a good book to the bars in town any night.

  “I’m at my door and need to go. It’s been a long day.” I place my keys in the old lock, fiddling with them until I hear the click of the deadbolt releasing.

  “Get some sleep. We’ll be out late tomorrow.”

  “Night.” I pocket my phone and push the metal door open. Before I step into the entryway, I hear my mother and Tony.

  Not again. They’ve argued every night this week, but I’m too wiped to deal with their fighting. I wonder how fast I can dash to my room. The lights are low, but I don’t think I can pass by them undetected.

  I inch forward and see Tony swaying over my cowering mother in the dining room. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels sits nearby on the kitchen table along with a stack of textbooks.

  “Marie, who paid for your classes and these books? Was it one of those bluebloods at the country club?” My mother wraps her arms tighter around herself while Tony staggers even closer to her, bumping the kitchen table.

  A glint of silver catches my eye; Tony has something in his hand. A gun.

  What the hell have I walked into?

  My breathing stops, and possibly my heart, as I watch him wave the small pistol in the air like it’s a toy.

  Oh my god.

  I blink in disbelief at the hell in front me, willing it to be a dream. But the horror remains in living color. Tony has a gun and my mother’s life is in danger.

  “Mom?” I ask in a whisper. Tony and my mother whip their heads in my direction. Tony’s face is bloated with anger, but mom is frozen in terror.

  “Well, hello, Harlow,” Tony greets with a devilish smile, his black as coal eyes bugged-out and crazed. All the blood leaves my face. He has gone insane. “Your mother’s sleeping around on me with some man who wants her to better herself.”

  “Tony, that’s not true. He’s just helping me pay for nursing school. Please leave Harlow out of this.” Behind Tony, my mother jerks her head, signaling for me to get out of here. But there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her alone with this drunk lunatic.

  “I’ve got a right to know who you’re fucking, Marie.” Tony points the gun at my mother’s head.

  Holy shit.

  “Please, Tony. Put the gun down,” I plead in a forced whisper, raising my hands as I inch closer. When he turns my way, his steely black eyes hit me with a force that makes me flinch. He’s resolved, and I need help. “I’m going to call the police.”

  “It’s too late.” His words are final. He’s past the point of reason.

  I launch forward and grab Tony’s arm. As I make contact with him, an ear-piercing explosion echoes painfully throughout the room.

  The sound. Oh my God, my mom.

  My mother’s eyes widen as a shocked grimace flashes over her face. In that instant, I know she’s been hit. My desperate attempt to stop Tony failed to save her. She sways and collapses to the ground. I push past Tony, gather her up in my arms, and cradle her on the floor.

  “Mom, I’m so sorry.” Tears stream down my face. I watch in horror as the light in her eyes begins to fade.

  “Harlow,” she says in a raspy whisper. Her lids flutter as she struggles to stay conscious.

  “No!” I shout. My mother’s eyes close and remain still, her once rosy cheeks transforming to pale white. “Don’t leave me.”

  I gently shake her and glance down to where our bodies touch. My crisp white blouse is stained crimson, heavy with her blood.

  “Fuck! What did I do?” Tony cries out beside me. He paces back and forth, pushing his hand through his greasy hair, repeating the question over and over. I continue to rock my mother, begging God to bring her back to me.

  Please, God. Please.

  A rapid clicking of metal against metal precedes another ear-splitting sound. I draw my mother closer as the wall next to me turns a splattered red and a heavy thud hits the floor behind me. Tony’s lifeless body lays slumped on the brown carpet.

  A scream tries to force itself from my lungs, but the world around me spins from ruby red to black instead.

  ***

  A steady ticking beat of a machine rouses me from my sleep. I’m lying flat on something soft, cocooned in warmth. An unknown brightness tries to squeeze through my closed eyes. I focus hard to open them, but they won’t fully cooperate. They feel like they weigh a thousand pounds.

  “Doctor, the sedative is wearing off. Her eyelids are moving,” a woman announces in a rush. She seems near enough to touch, if I could only move my arms.

  Where am I?

  I tighten my face into a scowl and summon my eyes to open. Still no luck. The tapping of shoes on a tile floor moves closer toward me.

  “Good. Let me talk to her,” a man says in a soothing voice, then someone wraps their hand around mine. It’s large, warm, and strong—a man’s hand.

  “Harlow,” a man utters my name in a gentle melody. He sounds so close. He has to be the person holding my hand. Somehow, he knows my name.

  Concentrating all my strength, I finally pry my eyes open and see a handsome man dressed in a white coat standing over me. His eyes are a bright blue, kind, and he smiles down at me like everything in the world is fine.

  I scan my surroundings as he continues to hold my hand. I’m lying in a hospital bed, with tubes running and wires connected to me. What the hell is going on? How did I get here?

  The dreamy haze lifts and the memories are there, right in front of me, like a movie playing in my mind.

  My mother. The gun.

  I look at my shirt to see if it’s still red, but I’m wearing a clean, blue hospital gown.

  “My mom,” I yell, trying to sit up. My heart races as panic sets in. “Where’s my mother?”

  The man squeezes my hand tighter, his brows creasing. He glances at the nurse and nods.

  “I want my mother,” I demand as he appraises me with sad eyes that hold the truth—a truth I don’t want to hear.

  “I’m here to help you, Harlow. My name is Dr. James Elliott. You can call me James.”

  The nurse hurries over and injects something into my IV. A warm tingle trails up my arm as a weird calm and numbness overtakes me.

  Did she die? Or was it all a bad dream?

  “I promise everything will be okay. I don’t want you to worry about a thing right now. Know that you’re safe with me.”

  His voice tunnels through my brain as I lie back on the bed. The desire to fight and flee leaves me, but not the crushing pain in my chest.

  “Is she alive?” He glances away for a split second, and I know the answer is my biggest nightmare.

  She’s gone.

  “Do you have anyone I can call, Harlow? Someone in your family maybe?”

  I gaze into the caring blue eyes of a man I’ve never met before and realize the horrifying truth.

  I have no other family.

  I am alone.

  Chapter Two

  “When drowning, one grabs the first lifeline thrown without regard to who holds the rope.”

  Four months later…

  James silences his blaring alarm clock in the early morning darkness of our bedroom. He falls back on the bed with a sigh as I face the wall, feigning sleep. Not moving a muscle, I wait for what comes next. He’ll either get out of bed or climb on top of me. When I sense a slight movement from his side of the bed, I hold my breath.

  “Come here, Harlow.” His hand curls around my waist and he rolls my body over to face him. Morning sex it is. He pushes away the tangled bed hair covering my eyes as I blink the sleep from them. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He kisses my forehead with a soft brush of his lips.

 
“Morning,” I reply in a sleepy, hoarse voice. He pulls down the twisted covers and exposes our naked bodies. His gaze travels over me, lingering on his favorite spots—ones he knows very well.

  “What a sight to wake up to.” He hovers above my body and looks down at me with hooded eyes. “My day is always better when I start it inside you. Now, spread those long legs so I can fuck you.”

  I part my legs and my day begins…

  ***

  On the mornings James craves sex, he also craves a home-cooked breakfast. The exertion ravishes him, or so he says. I slip on the silk robe he bought from a Paris designer and head down to the kitchen, aiming straight for the coffee pot. A fitful sleep last night makes me feel more worn out than awake. I set the pot to brew and turn on the television to break the stillness while I get the eggs out of the fridge.

  Fifteen minutes later, James walks into the kitchen, a transformed man after a shower and shave. Dressed to perfection in a suit and tie, he fits the stereotypical definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’s definitely the hottest forty-one-year-old man alive—doesn’t look a day over thirty-five.

  “Something smells good.” A teasing grin crosses his lips as he sidles up behind me. He slides his hands up my bare legs under my robe; his sexual desires are relentless at times. I spin out of his grasp.

  “How about some coffee?” I open the cabinet to retrieve a cup in an attempt to divert his attention from my rebuff. When I turn around, he narrows his eyes into a scowl. I’m busted.

  “When my hands are on you, don’t you ever move away from me.” He smiles calmly, though his words are threatening, and takes a step toward me. I scoot back against the counter to gain space between us. One more step, and the space disappears. “Understand?”

  “Yes.” I nod, and he brings his face closer to mine.

  “Let’s get one thing straight.” Staring at me with a look crossing between anger and passion, he parts my silk robe. It falls from my shoulders, exposing my breasts. Not satisfied, he pulls the sash at my waist and the rest puddles onto the floor.

  I stand before him bare while his eyes burn my flesh. He touches my hands as they hang at my side and trails his fingers up my arms. Goose bumps run across my skin before he reaches my elbows.