For the first time ever, Carson was considering giving up the case. The only thing that stopped him was the worry that nagged him over the missing person he was hunting down.
Shit, I’m going soft.
He was turning into an emotional cream puff, which was a bigger occupational hazard than having a grand time in Vegas.
Originally, he’d needed a respite from the bone-deep worry that something was terribly wrong with the case, so he started heading to Sin City for the weekends. Now, his gut was messed up from the case and his head was fucked up from a stripper.
The family who had hired him was pretty certain their missing relative had fled out west or thereabouts. Why were they so convinced of that theory? Carson had been stuck scouring small towns for the last month and a half. He didn’t like small towns with strange people all up in each other’s business. Almost as little as he liked the case.
He was starting to need his weekly adventure to Vegas by Tuesday of each week. It was a place where he could disappear and enjoy himself for forty-eight hours. After all, he was still a man with baser needs.
The problem all began when he went to check out the infamous Sienna Flower the first night he got to Vegas. He hadn’t been able to tear himself away from her image, nor enjoy himself at all since that night. He couldn’t figure it out. He’d had many women over the years—gorgeous, seductive, exotic women when he was traveling—and now he was stuck on some Vegas showgirl. No, not a showgirl. Exotic dancer.
Carson downshifted the car as the lights of the Vegas Strip came into view, rolling around what little he knew about her in his head. Nothing about her made sense. She’d arrived on the scene a few years back, and before long became the biggest thing Vegas had seen in years. She didn’t do private rooms or parties. Ever. Asher Peterson, king of the adult dance club world, pulled her from lap dancing after only a year of dancing at the Tunnel. Now all she did was grace billboards, shake her ass onstage, and bring millions of dollars into the club.
He knew all this from Google. Fuck, after the first night seeing her, he couldn’t get her tits, firm ass cheeks, and electrifying eyes out of his mind. He’d Googled her like a horny teenager, and decided she must have been a local Asher had taken a liking to.
Were they romantically involved? Was Asher tapping that?
And why was he even thinking about Sienna’s potential bed partners? He was fairly certain that wasn’t a role even he could fill.
Do I want to?
Unfortunately, Carson had developed a nasty habit of heading to the Tunnel every Thursday through Saturday nights for the last month. Tonight was no different. He went to see Sienna dance. Then he left to go back to his hotel to either pick up someone in the hotel bar or jack off. Lately, his preference was to stroke himself to recent memories, those of a striking, gorgeous, naturally curvy woman with a heady combination of innocence and salacious moves.
He might as well have been in high school all over again, lusting after the prom queen, not knowing what to do about it other than rub one out.
This evening was different, though, because he had felt Sienna lock gazes with him. She looked right out at him as her act ended. She was smiling, but he could see right into her eyes. She was examining him back as though she wanted to know more about him.
It was disturbing on so many levels. He was a private eye. He should be able to read people. Yet she seemed to be reading him, looking deep within him.
He couldn’t begin to figure out Sienna Flower, and now she was trying to figure him out? The thought made him harder than he normally was when he exited the club. Tonight he was practically limping as he walked out.
He needed to get laid, stop coming back to Vegas, and leave his thoughts of Sienna Flower at the door.
Of course, he knew he’d be back at the same place tomorrow night with his eyes homed in on one stripper, his dick standing at attention. Weeks ago, he’d paid the concierge at his hotel extremely well to keep him on the weekend list for the Tunnel. Open ended. No need to waste that.
Leaving his rental sports car at the front of his hotel with the valet, Carson bypassed the gaming tables and slot machines and went straight to his favorite bar for a drink. He grabbed a seat at the far end of the bar and nodded at the bartender, Victor, who now viewed him as a regular and brought him a drink without his even needing to order. Top-shelf scotch on the rocks.
Fuck, he was officially a Vegas groupie. The valets knew him, the bartender knew his drink and had it ready as soon as he stepped foot in the lounge, the front desk gave him the same room each weekend, and he was lusting after a woman who starred in Lord only knew how many other men’s fantasies.
If his FBI buddies caught wind of this, they’d never let him live it down. Most of them were settling down, either resolving themselves to living double lives, or trading in their FBI badges for white-collar jobs. Not Carson, he was living the dream. Fast cars, motorcycles, big money, booze, high-end escorts—or dancers, depending on how you looked at it—and his current bullshit case.
He needed to relax and get a handle on all this shit. Carson caught Victor’s eye and then lifted his chin, smiling when Victor made his way over to him.
“Hey, Vic, how’s it shaking? You got any cigars back behind the bar, or do I have to move my ass to a special bar to smoke one?”
Victor chuckled as he wiped his hands on a bar rag. “You’re in luck, buddy, this is Vegas, where anything goes. I just happen to have a few select ones in a humidor under the bar. Let me grab it and you can pick your poison.”
Moments later Carson inhaled deeply, scotch in one hand, a fresh cigar in the other, his view on the casino floor. Actually, he was relaxing for the first time all week, coming down from his dark mood, and found himself not wanting another woman. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to take care of himself either, which was new.
Surprised at that revelation, Carson decided he was content to only finish his drink and cigar before heading upstairs to go straight to sleep.
There was always the promise of tomorrow night, and Sienna locking eyes with him again.
Continue reading Electrified now!
Read other books by Rachel Blaufeld
These thank-you lists keep getting longer and longer. In an effort to not write another book, I’d like to thank a few people, none of whom I could do any of this without . . .
My editor, Pam Berehulke, and her swift red pen.
Sarah Hansen and her way more than Okay Creations.
Neda Amini, the sweetest everything to me, chief hand-holder and master-minder.
Robin Bateman, Terilyn Smitsky, Jennifer Wolfel, and Virginia Carey, who together are my personal cheering squad, and the ladies who tell me when I have food in my teeth or write shitty dialogue.
Milasy Mugnolo, Michelle Rodriguez, Erin Noelle, Christy Pastore, Fabiola Francisco, and Debra Doxer, for my daily dose of confidence or commiseration.
Emily Tippetts, Tianne Samson and Stacey Tippetts for formatting and endless advice.
Extra-special thanks go to . . .
My family. Seriously, you never know what you’re going to get with me. I may be showered and ready to leave the house or holed up in my robe for days. I love you.
You too, Mom!
Nicole Snyder, who keeps me from going over an unorganized cliff.
My other mother, Susan Ward, who entertains me with her analysis of sales trends and hysterical quips.
My “F the noise” girls. Keeping it real, all day, every day.
The wonderful members of The Electric Readers group on Facebook for their energy and tireless support.
The bloggers who tirelessly sit behind their laptops, helping books find new readers.
Stacey, who has the patience of a saint when it comes to the alpha males in my head.
And my friends at home who hold my hand, allow me to cry on their shoulders, and drink California chardonnay.
Rachel Blaufeld is a social worker/entrepreneur/blogger turned aut
hor. Fearless about sharing her opinion, Rachel captured the ear of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog, BacknGrooveMom, chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and inventing a product, often at the same time. She has also blogged for USA Today’s “Happy Ever After” feature, The Huffington Post, Modern Mom, and StartupNation.
Turning her focus on her sometimes wild-and-crazy creative side, it only took Rachel two decades to do exactly what she wanted to do—write a fiction novel. Now she spends way too many hours in local coffee shops plotting her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end lusciously.
Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two dogs. Her obsessions include running, coffee, icing-filled doughnuts, antiheroes, and mighty fine epilogues.
If you liked this book, feel free to leave a review where you bought it or on Goodreads.
Send me an e-mail when you do, and I will thank you personally!
Please connect with me on:
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Absolution Road
Copyright © 2015 Rachel Blaufeld
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-0-9915928-8-3
Edited by
Pam Berehulke
www.bulletproofediting.com
Cover design by
© Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, LLC
www.okaycreations.com
Images
© 4X6, © Vadim Kozlovsky
Ebook designed and formatted by:
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Kindle Edition
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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 reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, 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 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.
Warning:
Content contains explicit sexual content and crude language, and is intended for mature audiences. Parental/reader discretion advised.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Books by Rachel Blaufeld
Dedication
Author’s Note
About this Book
Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Excerpt - Electrified
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Notice
Absolution Road Page 26
