Swinger Style: Hot Rods, Book 5

by Jayne Rylon

  Chapter Nine

  Sabra adjusted the jacket of her suit, pseudo-ironing a wrinkle with her fingertip. It felt odd to be dressed in her old uniform after the freedom to wear outfits more her style these past five weeks that she’d spent immersed in the Hot Rods garage. With Holden, who encouraged her inner spirit to shine through whether in her wardrobe, their lovemaking or any other aspects of her life.

  She retrieved her briefcase from the car, then marched inside the station headquarters to meet with executives. Her pilot was solid. The show would be a smash hit. Convincing them shouldn’t be difficult. As an intern, working her way up through the ranks, she’d sat in on any number of pitch sessions. Compared to the sketchy plans some people presented, her idea—complete with a detailed marketing plan—had them beat. Hands down.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the nagging sense of doom dogging her heels like Buster McHightops did when she had something yummy to eat. With a stretch of her neck first one way, then the other, she prepared herself for battle. If this didn’t go right, her time with the Hot Rods would be at an end.

  That thought had the potential to crush her. It hurt more than the idea of having to find yet another direction for her career.

  As she strode through the doorway to her old world, Sabra was greeted by their friendly receptionist, Brenda. “Hey, lady, I sure miss seeing you around here.”

  “Same goes. How are your kids?” She leaned on the polished wood and got up to date. After that, Brenda’s face clouded a bit.

  “Sabra, I think you should know something before you go in there.” She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “Mr. Grills got promoted. Your old boss is in charge of programming and will be in on your pitch today. I overheard him bragging in the lunchroom that you didn’t have a chance. He’s pissed that you left. Not many people stand up to him. Don’t take it too hard. It doesn’t have anything to do with your proposal if they say no. It’s him. You know how he can be sometimes.”

  Sabra couldn’t catch her breath. She noticed the shudder Brenda gave and wondered if there was more to that story, but she didn’t have time for any investigative reporting at the moment. Hell, she should pack it in and leave now, while she still possessed some scraps of her dignity.

  The front desk phone rang. Brenda answered, then replied, “Yes, sir, she’s here. I’ll send her in.”

  And her window for escape closed.

  Besides, she’d come this far and didn’t plan on quitting now.

  “Break a leg, honey.” Brenda offered a weak smile, as if Sabra attempted to climb Mount Everest barefoot.

  “Thanks.” Keeping her chin up was tough, but she did it. Even when she saw Redford Grills camped out in the chair at the head of the boardroom table. Thank God Brenda had given her some warning. She owed the woman a case of their favorite cane sugar root beer.

  “Grills,” she said, her tone flat.

  “Ms. Harp,” he responded with a sneer.

  “Good afternoon, everyone.” She smiled brightly at the rest of the programming panel. People she’d known casually from the hallways at the station.

  Several smiled as they welcomed her back. Grills’ scowl erased their hospitality.

  Sabra swallowed hard and drew on her yoga training to help her focus. She centered herself and concentrated on calming thoughts, like Holden’s smile, for the span of a few deep breaths as she reached into her briefcase for a flash drive and a folder of handouts.

  She passed the papers around the table, then plugged her memory stick into the projector as she had many times before while storyboarding feature pieces. “What I have for you today is a story about an amazing team of mechanics right here in Middletown. They’re as philanthropic as they are adept with cars and have a modern edge that viewers will devour. There’s something for everyone, from flashy cars to family values and a pretty big helping of sexy, tattooed men working without their shirts on.”

  A few people laughed, though not as many as she’d hoped.

  “The briefing I’ve distributed contains facts about the episode plan, the benefit shelter and each of the co-owners of the shop, but I think you’ll find that the pilot gives you the pertinent information in a much more enjoyable package.”

  At least they’d have the documentation to remind them of what they’d seen later. Nola had helped Sabra design the presentation and it looked pretty damn slick. They wouldn’t forget her proposal anytime soon.

  Without further hesitation, she clicked play on the pilot episode of Hot Rods.

  She couldn’t help her dreamy smile as Holden’s slice of the opening credits rolled. Had she ever seen a man as gorgeous and wicked as him before? Hell no.

  Tonight, they’d celebrate.

  And after this morning’s practice run, she knew she was ready for the real deal. No holds barred. Sharing with the group of Hot Rods. If they’d have her.

  Time seemed to pass in a blink when she daydreamed about Holden. Or maybe Grills had terminated the viewing before the final scene?

  Sabra squinted when he toggled the lights to full brightness.

  “I think we’ve seen enough. Everyone’s time is precious here, Ms. Harp.” He emphasized that she had nothing better to do.

  “I agree. Can I review the contract? I’ll get back to you within the next twenty-four hours, as I know we need to air this pilot in the next few weeks to be considered for the national mid-season replacement.” She expected him to brandish the necessary paperwork to secure the program, then send her on her way. Sure, he’d try to fuck her with unfavorable terms, but she had a lawyer ready to comb through the clauses and an agent who could negotiate on her behalf.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. As entertaining as that reel might have been, I’m not convinced of its mass appeal. Unfortunately, I don’t believe we’re going to be able to secure the amount of advertising necessary to support a docu-drama of this nature at our level, never mind rationalizing its widespread appeal to the national directors.” Mr. Grills stared her down. “It’s not racy enough to warrant a late-night spot and doesn’t appeal to entire families.”

  “I beg to differ.” Sabra sat forward in her chair, folding her hands on the table. “Do you know how many little boys would be entranced by the cars in the shop and the guys who build them? Their moms would be equally appreciative, I’m sure.”

  Grills laughed, though no one joined him. “Come on, Sabra. I thought you were smarter than to fall for this garbage.”

  “What does that mean?” She cocked her head. Her spine went as straight as if she had a metal rod for bone marrow.

  “I’ll be honest with you. Our sponsors aren’t exactly pleased with you at the moment. The sudden change in the newscasting, without adequate transition, has tuned out loyal audiences.” Grills stopped short of saying they’d liked her. “We’ve lost ratings. And advertisers haven’t realized the returns they were promised. It’s making them extremely hesitant to pledge for a show you produce. Even if you’d had a better quality idea, I couldn’t sanction a risk like that for the station.”

  “What?” Sabra couldn’t believe the crap he spouted. Even if it was true, it was his damn fault she’d left in the first place. Did no one else have the balls to stand up to this prick?

  Given the slimy tactics he resorted to, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn the footage he’d aired of Kaelyn and Bryce had been no accidental showing. He’d probably lied to her about slipping up. If he’d broadcast it on purpose to make trouble, he could have planned on taking the heat so she’d be beholden to him. The extent of his malice and power plays became clear to her. Sure, she had no proof, but her gut didn’t lie. Her nose for news and her related bullshit meter lit up like a crazy Christmas display.

  And suddenly she knew she never would work with the fucker again. Her ethics wouldn’t allow it.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I think we’ve see
n enough—heard enough—to make our decision. Nothing here changes the concerns I raised to you in our pre-brief.” Grills stood, and others followed his lead to maintain decorum. “Would you please excuse Ms. Harp and me so that we can finalize this sensitive discussion in private?”

  Not a single person would meet Sabra’s gaze as they filed from the room.

  She’d never had a chance to succeed. Brenda had been right.

  Damn Grills. She refused to let him take her down a second time.

  If he didn’t want this golden opportunity, she’d find someone who did.

  “Sabra, I’m sorry.” His tone changed in an instant as he locked the door behind the last corporate drone who’d evacuated the room. Something about the syrupy sweetness he’d never shown her before had the hair on the back of her neck standing up. “I realize these misfits are your pet project. You seem to have a soft spot for them, especially that Harold guy.”

  “His name is Holden.” And hearing any form of it on Grill’s disgusting lips made her want to retch.

  “Ah, right.” He chuckled. “Well, you see, we’ve done some research of our own on this gang. And it seems they’d be quite a liability. If anyone found out about their dirty secrets, including the picture we have of you sticking your tongue down Harold’s throat and practically climbing him in public, they’d ruin the integrity of this family values baloney you’re trying to spin. It was cute, a nice attempt, but…it ain’t going to fly.”

  Sabra opened her mouth, then closed it again. How dare he criticize the Hot Rods’ sexuality and act as if it had anything to do with their morality? She’d never met a group of people more loving, generous or decent in her life. This slimebag had no idea what he was ranting about.

  “Unless…” He approached her, resting one flabby ass cheek on the table beside her, invading her personal space. “You were able to capture some footage of their affairs and incorporate it into the show. Now, that we could sell. Maybe even stir up some scandals ourselves to boost the ratings. If the Londons lost the precious shelter they claim to care so much about, maybe that could make for a whole second season.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe her show might have put the Hot Rods in danger again. “Are you crazy? No. No way. Don’t you dare go near them or their foundation.”

  Grills held up his hands, palms out.

  “I only have one other possible solution then, Ms. Harp.” He scanned her from head to toe with an oily leer. “If you’re so undiscriminating about whom you’ll fuck these days, I suggest you put some of those wild child tendencies to good use. Show me how you blow your precious Harold and I’ll consider changing my viewpoint. I won’t even ask you to do my friends. And I’ll offer you your old job back if you’ll service me from time to time. A bargain, I think.”

  “Because your dick is so small I couldn’t find it with a magnifying glass? Or because you’d shoot your tiny load in half a second if a real woman ever stooped low enough to touch your nasty cock?” She whipped around and stormed toward the door. “Fuck you! I would never betray the Hot Rods and I would double never demean myself in that kind of sordid arrangement. You know nothing about the Hot Rods if you think they’re the immoral ones around here.”

  Before she could flip the lock, he’d caught up to her. His hand wrapped around her upper arm and squeezed hard enough to bruise. He yanked her toward the center of the room and flung her to the floor, where she knocked her skull on the base of a rolling chair.

  The impact stunned her for a moment, long enough for him to hover over her and leer.

  He probably thought he could easily take her by force in the soundproofed viewing room. But he didn’t count on her training, or her willpower.

  Sabra reached for her calm center and allowed him to sink lower. When he wrapped one hand in Kaelyn’s necklace—choking her—and palmed her breast, she froze. A smirk crossed his face as he mistook her calculation for fear. Until he settled into striking distance. Then she elbowed him in the face while simultaneously bringing her knee up into his balls. She hoped she smooshed them like rotten grapes.

  The resulting jerk of his body snapped the delicate strands around her neck, scattering precious pearls in every direction. It also secured her freedom as his hold on her evaporated.

  Grills rolled and howled. She bolted, pausing only long enough to get in a solid whack with her briefcase to ensure he stayed down. She didn’t stop when he bellowed her name or threats about libeling her to other networks. Nor did she pause when Brenda looked up from her desk with tears in her eyes.

  Sabra ran to her car. She got in and drove. Drove until her mind went numb and she quit noticing the tears dripping off her face. She drove until her gas light came on and she thought she could face the gang without going ballistic. This riding out your anger thing had some merit.

  Maybe she was a Hot Rod after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Holden checked his watch for the five thousandth time in twenty minutes. Sabra should have been back by now. It’d been hours. In the time it’d taken to have this one meeting they could have screened an entire season of a show, never mind talked about it. Hopefully that was a good sign, not a bad omen.

  “Still nothing?” Sally came up behind him and rubbed his shoulders. The expert press of her fingers loosened the knots in his muscles, but they couldn’t steal the dread in his gut.

  “Not yet.” He sighed.

  Except, just then, the familiar purr of Sabra’s car reached his ears. He turned to Mustang and hugged her quickly, then jogged out to meet his soul mate. Whoa. When had he started thinking of her like that?

  Before he could freak out about the label change, she caused his thoughts to veer in another direction.

  Sabra climbed from her car with her suit a wrinkled mess. Dark glasses hid her pretty eyes from his, though her splotchy skin made it pretty obvious that she’d spent at least some of the time they’d been apart crying.

  He wanted to destroy whoever had hurt her.

  “What the fuck happened?” Holden raced toward her, gathering her in his arms before she could answer. “Are you okay?”

  Without answering, she snuggled into his embrace and soaked up his warmth. He rubbed her bare arms. She must have shed her jacket somewhere. Though the nights were growing colder as they headed for fall, the crisp air didn’t warrant the shivers running through her.

  Holden didn’t press her to sate his curiosity. Instead he cradled her and gave her what she seemed to need. Someone to be there for her. He’d be that man whenever he could.

  The guys noticed something was up and trickled out of the garage in their direction.

  “Sabster!” Carver shouted, mistaking Holden’s embrace for a congratulatory hug instead of a consolation. “So, how famous are we going to be?”

  The shout woke her from her daze. She shoved away from Holden, teetering backward a few steps.

  “Shh, easy.” A croon passed his lips as he tried to get close to her again. She ducked her head and stayed out of reach. The woman in front of him bore no resemblance to the fighter he’d come to adore. Seeing her cowed and broken ripped his guts out.

  Kaige and Bryce flanked her, giving her less room to run.

  She froze, unintentionally trapped between the guys. Never before had she seemed frightened around them.

  Alanso tipped his bald head toward Sabra’s arm. “Yo, Swinger, what’s up with that? Were the two of you rough with each other last night or do we need to kick someone’s ass? I don’t remember seeing that earlier.”

  His blood boiled when he zeroed in on the beginnings of a bruise, which stained Sabra’s upper arm. He could make out finger marks. Like someone had grabbed her. A scan of the rest of her revealed another purple line around her neck.

  “Who put their fucking hands on you?” He hadn’t meant to ask her so harshly.

  Still, she didn’t fl
inch from his aggressiveness. Even after being manhandled so recently. Because she trusted him? He hoped so.

  “It’s not important.” Sabra shrugged off his concern. Or tried to. The croak of her denial sounded nothing like her usual lyrical voice.

  “The hell it isn’t.” Roman came to her defense. “Anyone who would hurt a woman, or a child, deserves to suffer.”

  The acid in his vehement stance was enough to trigger even Holden’s nervousness. Enough of this insanity. Of this distance.

  “Come here, sweetheart.” He opened his arms and let her decide to accept his comfort or not. Thankfully, she did.

  Sabra wrenched her sunglasses off, then flung herself against his chest. Horrified, he cradled her as her tears renewed. Her shoulders shook in his hands as she wept with noisy sobs. Without a clue, he looked to his friends, hoping for someone to make things better.

  “Just hold her,” Sally advised quietly. “Let her get it out.”

  Swinger lifted Sabra into his arms and carried her to the yard. He sat on the ground beneath a giant oak tree and cradled her in his lap as she bawled. If he hadn’t seen it for himself he wouldn’t have believed her capable of such an emotional display. At least not one this full of sadness.

  Filling his hands with her was the only thing that kept him from balling them into fists, ready to pound whoever had done this to her. The Hot Rods gathered around, Nola offering Sabra some tissues when her crying dissolved into sniffles and then a couple hiccups. Then she looked to Kaelyn. “I’m s-sorry. Your necklace. It’s gone.”

  “Nothing to apologize for,” Kae said as she scooted closer to run her fingers through Sabra’s hair. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. I’m glad you came back to us. That’s what we’re here for.”

  Holden watched Bryce’s girl snuggle into her man. Rebel held her tight. Despite her reassurance, it had to hurt losing her last link to her childhood home. Other than Bryce. And their Maserati, he supposed. It hadn’t been very long since she’d fought her own demons and won. Hopefully they could help Sabra slay hers and move on to happier things. Please, let him be able to fix this for her. Or stand by her as she did it for herself.