Temptation, The Complete Serial Series 1-4 (The Temptation Serial Series)

by Casey L. Bond

  Her mouth curved into a smile. “You are not going to believe this.”

  I stepped around her and pulled my rolling suitcase into the room before I looked up.

  Shit on a pickle.

  The carpet was so thick that it swallowed my black ballet flats. The walls and ceiling? All mirrors, I kid you not. And the icing on the Austin Powers-inspired cake? The bed. It was huge and round and had a machine attached to it.

  Morgan giggled. “It takes quarters!” She dug into her purse for one and then we both flopped onto the bed while she fed the beast. With a roar and what smelled like the exhaust from a souped up truck, the thing came alive and shook us so hard that my teeth rattled against each other, my brain was turning to mush, and tears streamed down my face. Morg was in no better shape. She tried to suck in air but couldn’t as she lay there doubled over and laughing uncontrollably.

  “You should get off of this thing, Morg. What if there’s a baby Shustice in there? He’ll get shaken baby syndrome in utero.”

  That didn’t help. Scurrying toward the bathroom, she screamed, “I have to pee!”

  The door shut behind her but she kept laughing. Then I heard her muffled voice say, “Just wait ‘til you see the amenities in here.”

  Oh, hell.

  “Happy Birthday!” Morgan said, waking me by feeding a quarter into the round beast we’d fought to stay on last night. Vibrating beds were the second worst beds in the world. The first were round beds. Did the creators of those monstrosities know that people weren’t round? That they were long and leggy and needed room to stretch out? Round beds sucked. I needed coffee. Copious amounts of coffee. An IV drip of coffee.

  I was thirty.

  Sigh.

  Dragging my butt out of the bed, I circled around it, catching my reflection at every turn. My hair, now to mid-back, was a snarled mess. That bed was like a bird’s nest and I was a mussed up old bird. Definitely no longer a spring chicken.

  “I know exactly what you need! You need to get ready and then we’ll grab some breakfast and explore around town today!”

  “Tone down the chipmunk, Morg. Unless you bring me coffee, I might deck you.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “Be right back, grumpy old lady.”

  I tackled her onto the round-ass bed and smiled. “Call me that again, Sin.”

  She smiled and stood up, straightening her blue sundress. “Nah. But I will be right back with something to tame the beast.”

  “You better not be talking about quarters to feed that monstrosity of a bed, Sin!”

  She giggled and pulled the door closed behind her.

  The shower was orange. The tiles on the floor were orange. The toilet…yep. It was orange. EVERYTHING in the bathroom was orange, even the rugs and towels. Somehow, within that pumpkin, Cinderella emerged, feeling fresh and awake, and still every bit of twenty-nine.

  ***

  Morgan was the best friend ever. She brought me coffee. And cream and sugar and food. Real food. Bacon and eggs and biscuits. She redeemed herself, despite awakening me so rudely on the birthday of all birthdays.

  It took us all of five minutes to drive around town. Of course, we didn’t go down every side street or take in every neighborhood, but we did learn that Main Street was it and there wasn’t much to see there. Perfect.

  Flyers flapped on phone poles, advertising the Strawberry Festival next weekend. I’d have to hit that up. Morgan? She needed to go. I’d just have to find a way to convince her, or ask Shane to do it for me. I knew she missed him something fierce and he missed her just as much. He’d bought a pre-paid phone and was using it to talk to her on her new one.

  If I heard one more, “I miss you, baby,” I was going to vomit.

  We stopped by Lyra’s for lunch. It was pretty much the only place to get something to eat besides a small pizza joint that I wasn’t sure was still in business and the deli at the Piggly Wiggly. Lunch was busy! Waitresses rushed to and fro, expertly depositing plates, refilling drinks, and sweetly chatting with their patrons. Sizzling echoed from the kitchen beyond and the smell of cooking meat made my mouth water. What I wouldn’t give for a burger. I had to watch what I was doing after today, though, or I might not fit into my costumes when I got back to Manny’s.

  Morgan sipped her Diet Coke and watched the people around us with a fascination that I recognized. She would take photos for days if she could. I felt the same way when I felt the inspiration to pick up a paint brush.

  Our waitress, whose name was Rose (thank you, Mr. Name Tag), came over to take our orders. After we each ordered burgers and fries, she winked. “We don’t sell steaks for dinner, but if you want a little bit of meat, you ladies should check this out. My sister owns a little hole in the wall bar down the road and tonight, they’re having a male review.”

  Without flourish, she sat a bright pink flyer on the table that would make Magic Mike blush. Holy barely covered schlongs everywhere. I mean everywhere.

  Sin got that stubborn, determined look in her eyes. She nodded intently. “We’re doing this. We are going to watch some men shake their meat rockets.”

  I snorted. Meat rockets.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Wait, is Pet—” Morgan stopped herself. She knew better than to call him by name. “Is Mopy Dick the last guy you slept with?”

  My nails raked across the Formica. Even his nicknames—though appropriate—pissed me off. “Yes.”

  “Oh, honey,” she cooed, patting my hand. “You need this. So. Much.”

  “How will Shaney-pooh feel about you going to a male review?”

  She smiled. “Who says he has to know? Besides, I’m not looking for action. I’m looking to get some action for YOU!”

  “I would never sleep with a male stripper, Sin.”

  And I wouldn’t. No offense to them, because I knew they were just earning a living like the rest of us, but it wasn’t my thing. One night stands? Nope. Cocky jerks? Nope. Guys named Peter? Double Nope. Guys who reminded me of severed heads? Hell Nope.

  Scrubbing my hands down my face, I mustered the strength to step out of the cruiser. The soles of my boots crunched on the gravel parking lot that led to Wanda’s Lounge. Wanda was a hoot, but she had a notion to bring people in from outside of Swift Rapids. Tonight was no different. She had a group of three male strippers, “The Hulking Hunks,” taking the small stage tonight. And ten minutes ago she called, saying things were getting a bit rowdy. No shit, Wanda. Drunk, desperate women and mostly-naked men didn’t make for a calm dinner discussion.

  Bone tired from working on my side projects over the weekend, I was counting down the minutes until I was off the clock and could go home and crash into my own bed. Staying at Lynn’s was a mistake, but staying two nights in a row had been a real fuck-up. She begged – literally begged – me to come over tonight, but I didn’t do clingy. I didn’t want her for anything but casual sex and I thought I’d made that more than abundantly clear… at least until I fucked up by staying at her place over the weekend.

  Mondays were bastards and this one was no different.

  Time to go pour water on all the raging lady boners.

  The stench of beer and cigarettes was a thick brick wall and I’d just walked through it. The place was packed. Scanning the crowd, I didn’t see anything unusual. Brenda, a huge woman with short hair and purple glasses, was standing at the stage, holding up a dollar bill. The Italian-looking guy thrust his crotch in her face and then let her stuff the dollar into his…little G-string thing. What the hell were those things, anyway? No self-respecting man would ever wear that shit.

  I snorted and scanned the crowd. The women were worked up, sticking their bills into the men’s panties, giggling like schoolgirls who’d just seen their first dick. Wanda waved at me from behind the bar, so I made my way past the mostly-drunk ladies, resting my forearms on the wood that was carved with years of patrons’ names.

  “Can I get you a beer, Colt?”

  I shook my head, not bothering to
hide my displeasure. “I’m on the clock. What’s the problem, Wanda?”

  She scoffed. “I think it’s okay now. We had a few get a little out of hand. Tina and Tiny just went home.”

  “Tiny sober?”

  “Yep. She only had water tonight. I made sure of it.”

  A husky laugh from a few stools away drew my attention. I didn’t recognize that voice, or the blonde hair that curled down that delicate back to the swell of one of the finest asses I’d ever seen. The woman had her back to me, but that was okay. It gave me the chance to check her out without being a total creeper, or feeling like one.

  Her dark-haired friend caught my eye and smiled, ticking her head toward me and then waiting until her friend turned around. And when she did, for the love of all things holy and those that were not, my dick twitched like it had found its fucking owner.

  The traitor dick strained toward her and if it had been a damn dog, it would have rubbed all up those shapely legs.

  She had porn star lips, the kind that were plumped artificially with fat from some other chick’s butt or silicone or something just as gross. But I didn’t think they were fake. On her, they fit. They looked right at home on her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were dark brown but I felt like I could swim in them; they shone like glass, no mud clouding those waters.

  And then those pretty eyes crossed, trying to focus on me. Damn it. She was wasted.

  She slid off her stool onto heels that I was impressed she could still stand on in her condition, and sauntered over to me with her girlfriend hot on her heels.

  “Come on, Brook. Let’s leave the nice officer alone,” she pleaded, tugging on Brook’s elbow. Those pleas fell on deaf ears. Pretty deaf ears, I found as she pushed her hair back behind one of them.

  Brook slid a crimson-painted fingernail down my chest and I stood up straight, along with my dick. She looked right at me and sighed. “They saved the best for last. Are you the grand finale, Officer. . .” she glanced at my name tag and then back up at me, “Stone?”

  Then she gave that husky laugh and nudged her friend. “Morg, his name is Stone.” Morg looked mortified and tried to tug Brook away from me, while Wanda watched the entire thing play out like she was at home watching a bad episode of Cops.

  “O—fficer Stone,” she purred. “I bet you’re hard as a rock.” She trailed those slender fingers down my abdomen and then, I’ll be damned if she didn’t rake them over my cock like she knew exactly what she’d find waiting for her.

  Wanda coughed and then covered her smile with her fist. Morg’s eyes were like saucers. “Brooklyn! Stop. This nice gentleman is not one of the strippers!”

  Brooklyn turned to her and when she saw that her friend was serious, she turned back to me. “Remove your hand from my body. Now!” I barked. With a squeak, she jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah, oh, shit!” I yelled. I didn’t mean to yell at her, making her flinch and blink at my harsh tone, but it had been a long day. I loved her hand on me when I shouldn’t even have liked it. Unfortunately it was apparent to all the gawking ladies that I did enjoy it…a lot.

  Fucking hell.

  Fuck this. I couldn’t deal with the gossips. To jail she would go. “Full name, please?”

  She swallowed and then answered, “Brooklyn Harris.”

  “Brooklyn Harris, you are under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you. . .”

  She gave her friend another worried look and then lurched, puking all over the shoes I’d spent a half hour shining before my shift started that morning. Wanda ducked beneath the bar and came over to her with a wet towel.

  Brook’s friend stepped around the mess and begged me not to arrest her. “It’s her thirtieth birthday,” she explained. “And her life has been completely awful lately so I thought that taking her out and getting her plastered would be a good way to celebrate. It’s my fault. Please, please don’t take her to jail.”

  Against my better judgment, I nodded. “You sober?”

  “Stone cold.”

  Despite being vomited on, I managed to smile at the bad pun she made. I looked to Wanda, who nodded. I didn’t trust outsiders.

  “Fine. Take her home, Morg.”

  She smiled. “It’s Morgan, actually.” At that time, Morgan’s phone rang and in bright white letters was the name of my fucking hero, Shane Justice. The Judge?

  “No fucking way,” I scoffed.

  “You like MMA, huh? I pegged you for a football or baseball kind of guy.”

  I smiled. I liked those, too. Hell, I liked any contact sport, and if she really was talking to Shane Fucking Justice…wow.

  “Alright. Just take her home. Where are you staying?” I shouldn’t have asked, because when she answered that they were staying at the infamous Inn and Out, I lost it. “Well, I guess that’s punishment enough.”

  Morgan agreed and Brooklyn’s head lolled as we both helped her to Morgan’s car. She was going to have a rough morning. Maybe they’d saved their quarters and could vibrate the hangover away.

  As she flopped into the passenger seat like a rag doll, Brooklyn’s head rolled back against the seat’s head rest. “I just wanted to forget him.”

  My fists clenched. Who was he?

  I held Brooklyn’s head all night as she repeatedly paid homage to the porcelain god. Poor thing. It could’ve been worse, though. That cop was gonna lock her up. I could see it in his eyes: part rage and part hella turned on. I doubted Brook would even remember the episode. Maybe I wouldn’t bother telling her.

  I could be very persuasive. The hotel sucked and there was absolutely nothing to do in this town. Maybe with those arguments, I could get her to move along down the road to a new town. We’d probably already worn out our welcome here, anyway.

  Brooklyn was stretched out in the center of the circular bed, one arm slung over her eyes, snoring lightly. So when my phone began vibrating across the plastic end table, I snatched it up and headed outside, easing the door closed behind me. It was Shane.

  “Hey, you.”

  “Hey,” he said in that sexy voice of his. “I miss you, Sin.”

  “I miss you, too.” There was an awkward pause and I knew something was off. He did that when he was pumping himself up to tell me bad news. “Just tell me.”

  He cleared his throat. “Think you can meet me in D.C.?”

  “When?”

  “I can get there tomorrow.”

  I leaned back against the building’s cinder blocks, the cool seeping into my skin. “I don’t want to leave her.”

  “Is she safe?”

  Blowing out a sigh, I nodded, not that he could see me. “I think so.”

  “You can fly or drive, but you need to meet me tomorrow. My flight lands at three thirty-four PM.”

  “She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

  He paused again. “Big trouble, Sin. Riley found something and I think we need to visit your dad. We need help that only he can give us.”

  My gasp filled the air. “That bad?” I couldn’t keep my voice from quivering.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then, yes. I’ll be there.”

  The night manager, a woman who looked like she’d time-traveled from the seventies, stepped out into the bright morning sunshine and stretched her back. When she saw me outside, she stopped dead in her tracks and scowled. What the hell was her problem? I was about to go ask her when Shane said, “You still there?”

  “Yeah. Just… processing.”

  “Call your dad and have him make dinner reservations. I’ll meet you at four-thirty at the Lincoln Memorial.”

  “Lincoln. Got it.”

  “No, but your sexy ass is gonna get it.”

  “Stop thinking about sex when my bestie’s in trouble!”

  “Men think about sex all the time, babe. It’s a scientific fact. And I’m not a regular man. I’m an Alpha. Deal with that sh
it.”

  I huffed, but wore a grin on my face.

  “See you tomorrow, Shane.”

  “Love you, Sin.”

  “Love you.”

  I hit the end call button and slid back into the room to think about what I was going to tell Brooklyn.

  Peeking out from the crook of my elbow, I croaked, “What time is it?”

  Morgan laughed and answered, “Noon.”

  I groaned and sat up slowly, keeping my eyes closed for a few minutes. “Thirty is awful. I am definitely never drinking again. Ever.”

  She laughed again, way too loudly. I was still considering a replacement bestie when she announced that I stunk, needed a shower, and that we could scout the area for a better place to stay once I dragged my butt out of this room.

  I didn’t want to leave this room. The round bed was growing on me. The shag carpet? I could roll with it. I really could.

  But Sin wasn’t having it. So I rolled my butt out of bed and took a much needed shower. I was stinky. Bar stink is the worst. Cigarettes and beer and who knew what else from last night still clung to my skin. We’d stuck to the bar so the thrusting men would leave us alone. At least there was that.

  ***

  Lyra’s lunch rush was over, so with my hair pulled back in a messy knot and sunglasses still on my face, I slid onto the bench across the booth from Morgan. Rose told another waitress to take a break and walked perkily over to our table. “Well, looks like someone had fun last night!”

  “Shhh!” I hissed like a vampire who’d stepped into the sunlight and burned her hind end off.

  Rose just chuckled and sat down beside Sin. They were both on my list. Rose grinned cheekily and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I heard you got into a bit of trouble last night when you groped Officer Stone!”

  Whatever. Like I would really grope a police officer. That would be stupid with a capital S. I scoffed. “Who’d you hear that from?”

  Sin froze up and opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut just as quickly. I tilted my head, silently telling her to say what she was gonna say.