The Lunchtime Chronicles:
Served
Brooklyn Knight
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 by Brooklyn Knight All rights reserved.
Cover Art: Dar Dixon
Editor: Tam Jernigan
First Edition: February, 2020
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A Note from Mandy
Welcome to Messy Mandy Presents: The Lunchtime Chronicles Season 2, steamy, short erotic romance served piping hot. Lunchtime series launched with Siera London’s WHIPPED at the Interracial Author Expo in Daytona Beach, 2019. There are 8 books in Season 1. Read them, leave book reviews, tell your friends, and then follow my Facebook page: the Lunchtime Dish with Messy Mandy where I spill the tea.
Lunchtime Chronicles, Season 2
Featuring Stories by:
Siera London, Brooklyn Knight, Xyla Turner, L. Loren, and Reana Malori
Chapter One
Colt
“Colt, looka’ this.”
Trigger marched in, holding a laptop in his arms. Before his arrival, I’d been studying paperwork, arrest warrants and profiles of criminals, trying to determine which would be worth my time and effort. When I’d first started this bounty hunting business ten years ago, I took anything that came my way. It was the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline of the hunt; but now, I was beyond that. My services were specialized, and the Feds only called on me to handle shit the others couldn’t.
Hence my study of the files.
But now that Trigg was here, my attention was diverted.
He leaned over me, pushing the files to the side with a meaty arm. A few fell on the ground as he set the laptop in front of me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Looka’ this,” he said again.
I glared into his face. “Look at what?”
“The laptop, Colt. Look at the laptop.”
I rolled my eyes onto the screen and just like that, my air supply cut off.
Trigg didn’t notice my reaction to the face plastered on the device. He was too busy staring at it himself. We were both stunned, but no doubt, for different reasons.
“This is her...” I muttered. My throat was as dry as a gottdamn carcass baking in the Arizona sun.
“Yeah, that’s her,” he confirmed stepping back. “That’s the one they been looking for. We finally found her.”
I swallowed, trying to find words. “What the hell kinda’ website is this?” I demanded. “This ain’t the police website.”
“Naw,” he drawled. “It’s that online dating website I was telling you about. N2U, the same one I found that girl Candy on.”
“She works the pole?” I balked.
God, please don’t let her be no dancer...
“She ain’t no stripper, Colt,” he answered quickly, chewing on a toothpick. “She don’t look like one, does she? This one here is too refined, too poised and savvy. That’s why they ain’t been able to nab her yet.”
Savvy...
An easy breath left me as I ran my thumb over my chin, studying the woman some more.
“This one owns the damn place,” Trigg continued to update me. “They call her Madame Elektra, and apparently, she’s one bad bitch.”
“She’s a bad bitch, yet she’s got her profile up on a fuckin’ dating website? That makes no sense, especially if the Feds are looking for her.” The thought lit me up, for more reasons than one.
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense at all,” Trigg agreed, “but that shit don’t matter. Now listen, Colt: I know you haven’t taken me up on the offer to go to Atlanta yet, despite my urging you to go for six months...”
“All you want is for me to meet this gal that’s got you pussy-whipped. If I’ve seen one, I’ve seen ‘em all,” I answered.
“This one’s different, Colt,” he argued. Edge laced his tone. “She ain’t no regular gal. I want this one real bad. I’m playing for keeps with this one.”
I shook my head but couldn’t resist the urge to smile. “For keeps, you say?”
Now that shit was funny! Trigger looked just like his name insinuated: cold and steely, like the barrel of a 9-mm. He was six feet-something with long hair that he barely washed. All the buckle-bunnies loved him because he was dangerous and rugged; but I couldn’t reject that something had happened to him. Not only had he been sneaking off to Atlanta every chance he got, he’d started wearing cologne and combing his hair and shit. Trigg had gone from terminator to fuckin’ Rapunzel in a matter of weeks.
Still, up until then, I hadn’t been interested in going to that titty-bar. I didn’t make a habit of entertaining whores, especially the ones in the gottdamn city. Too much shit came with that – addictions, and drama and shit. Whenever I wasn’t working, I had my pick of the litter, right here at home, and whenever I got bored with any of them, I’d fly a gal in. Hell, not even them city-slickers in their fancy suits could entice me into the ruckus, unless it was for a top-paying gig. Fact was, there was very little that could get me to leave my ranch or my prized critters in the country.
But now...
Now that I was seeing the gal who allegedly ran the place he was going to; the filly whose name had been plastered on theoretical Wanted posters for questioning...shit might’ve been a little different.
Damn, my mouth was watering and my cock was rousing, like it hadn’t been planted, balls deep, in a gal just last night. My eyes glossed over the computer screen, drinking her in like the finest of whiskey.
Trigger rested his palms on my desk and stared me square in the face. He tipped his head to the side, studying me. “For some reason, I have a feeling you gonna be accompanying me this time ‘round.”
My jaw ticked.
“Who is she?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
“Why you asking me, like I fuckin’ know her personally?”
“Because I believe you do,” he contended, erecting himself to his full height. “That face you wearing, it says it all. Hell, Colt, I used to run all sorts of women through here and never once have I seen that mug. This that girl, ain’t it?”
“What girl?”
“The one you used to bitch about when you got back from college. What was her name now?” His eyes tipped up as he tried to search his memory. “Serena? Naw, that weren’t it.” He snapped. “Sylvia!”
I didn’t answer. Just thinking about the one he was talking about had my heart crushing in my chest, but alongside that emotion, it thrummed with life.
Finally, after years of nothing, I had a location. Hell, I even had a number to the place she owned, Golden Girlz. If I wanted, I could call her up right this fuckin’ minute.
But what the hell would I say to her?
I shoved my chair back and stomped over to the wall. I drew in a breath, closed my eyes.
Madame Elektra. Is that what you’re calling yourself? Why you running, mama?
Trigger grunted from behind me. “Yeah, I knew you knew her,” he said, using an annoying I told you so tone. “So, you goin’ or what? If you don’t wanna go, I can grab her and take her in. She’s worth fifty-grand.”
“That ain’t fuckin’ happening,” I growled turning around.
&nb
sp; “They just want her for questioning.”
“Aint. Fuckin’. Happenin’,” I said again. “I don’t give a fuck if she’s worth fifty-mil, ain’t nobody taking her in any gottdamn where.”
Trigger laughed hard. “I knew you weren’t over that girl,” he said. “Don’t matter you haven’t seen her since college; she’s still got you wrapped around that little finger of hers, don’t she?”
I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. I had worked hard to get over this woman, especially because it had become evident that she wasn’t planning on coming back to me; but now, seeing her face on this dating website; knowing that a three-hour plane ride from Arizona to Atlanta was all it took to be face to face with her again – everything I had ever felt came barreling back in.
Was I going to the city?
The fuck I was.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Two
Colt
So now, I was sitting in this titty-bar called Golden Girlz; hat pulled low, eyes tipped up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sexy-ass mama who had taken to calling herself Elektra. It was a full house, which was typical for these kinds of locales, but I was still surprised by the amount of activity and the quality of the patrons.
This weren’t no hole in the wall. Fine accessories and amenities, the kind of shit my old man fancied too much for my mama’s liking. Gold inlay trimmed the walls. Fancy-ass chandeliers hung from a vaulted ceiling. Expensive linens cascaded over the sides of tables, and at the front, a stage with glittering poles and girls to match commanded the attention of every man and woman in the place.
She had always been an uppity-mama. From the time I laid eyes on her in college, I’d known she wasn’t gonna be one of the easy lays I was used to getting.
Mama made me work for her pussy. Then for her heart; then I’d fucked it all up and made her go running.
I was a fuckin’ bounty hunter. Finding the unfindable was what I fuckin’ did, but with her, it had been impossible.
And frustrating.
To everyone’s surprise, she didn’t have a digital footprint, and anyone or anything that should have been connected to her, wasn’t, which was why her picture on N2U made no sense to me.
Was she looking for a man? Trying to get laid? Because I swear to Almighty God...
“You boys drinking tonight?” A woman sashayed up to my table wearing an outfit that looked like it had been sprayed onto her.
My posture didn’t shift, but Trigg’s...
He was grinning wide and stupid, showing off his gold tooth like a display in a jewelry store window.
It wasn’t just him though.
This girl wasn’t even looking at me. Her eyes were locked onto Trigg’s, lips parted, like even though she was asking us what we were drinking, she was the thirstiest out of all of us.
“What you got on the menu, baby?” Trigg asked. His voice was too low, made me uncomfortable. And the hell if he didn’t already know what was on it, from the way he was groping her with his eyes.
“I’ve got whatever you want, cowboy,” was her breathy response.
“Give me what I always get then,” he said.
“Now or later?”
This made Trigger laugh. “Later, baby. You know how I do.”
I inhaled. “Give me a Guinness,” I snapped, cutting into the exchange.
Now her eyes were on me, but reluctantly so. “I’ve got you, cowboy,” she confirmed. “Is that all you want?”
I finally looked up. Eyes hard and quivering.
The one I was looking for was close, even if I couldn’t see her. I could feel her. That alone had me shaking in my fuckin’ boots with anticipation.
“Actually, there is something else I want,” I admitted slowly, “but I’ve got a feeling it ain’t on the menu. At least not on the one you got there in your hand.” I tipped my chin in her direction.
Trigger grinned again and pressed his back against his chair.
The woman’s painted lips tripped up a little. “I’ve got another menu you might consider,” she answered, glancing at Trigg. “The prices are a little more expensive, but judging from the way you boys look, money ain’t a thing for you, is it?”
Trigger answered. “I got all the money you need, honey.”
“Is that right?”
“You know that,” he answered. They shared a meaningful look, while I sighed and tipped my head to the side.
“There’s a woman who works here,” I said, lowering my voice a touch, returning her attention to me. “Her name is Elektra.” I paused. “Where is she?”
It was like I’d flipped a switch. In an instant, the smile wiped off the gal’s face and she backed up like I was the Feds, come to bust up the place.
So, Trigg had been right.
Mama was a boss. No, she was the boss. This gal’s response revealed that much.
My cock jumped in anticipation, but it competed with another emotion, that one just as intense and uncontrollable.
The gal’s eyes darted around the ample space and whatever she had in her hand rattled like she’d been spooked. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one here by that name.”
I moistened my lips, trying to quell my agitation. “Fine. Where is Savannah Morgan?”
“I knew her name started with an ‘S’,” Trigger said snapping his fingers.
I ignored him and kept my eyes steady on the woman who was now unsteady in her stilettos.
“I – I’m sorry, but whoever she is, she doesn’t work here either.”
“I wish I believed you, darlin’,” I said leaning forward, “but I’m sure you can tell: a man like me wouldn’t show up to a place like this if he didn’t know exactly what he wanted, and I know exactly what I want. I’ve done my research.”
Her mouth pinned.
I pushed the tip of my hat up, just to get a good look into her face. She needed to know how serious I was. Maybe she’d never met a man of my caliber. Maybe she’d never met a real cowboy, especially now that Trigg had turned into a fuckin’ pansy; but there was a rule of thumb – a code that we lived by: we didn’t waste time or energy, couldn’t afford to do that shit. We survived on strategy. It was our history and legacy.
I had come to see Elektra, and I’d be damned as a motherfucker if I left Golden Girlz before that happened.
“Madame Elektra doesn’t entertain guests,” she whispered, eyes focused on me. “That’s what her girls are hired to do.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass whether she entertains guests or not,” I said. “I wanna see her...besides, my buddy and I – we ain’t no regular guests, and from what I can tell, you already know that much.”
A beat.
“Where is she, darlin’? Tell her I’m out here and I’m waiting for her. Tell her I ain’t goin’ nowhere until I see her, too.” I sat back. “And I’ll take that Guinness while I wait.” I let my eyes roll over her then clasped my hands over my mouth, waiting.
The gal steadied her posture and tried to recapture a portion of the sass she’d had when she strutted over a few minutes ago.
“I’ll... I’ll be right back,” she promised. She glanced at Trigger who dropped his eyes, then started to head off, legs wobbly.
She turned back to look at me. “Who should I tell her is waiting?”
“My name is Colton Wright,” I answered, tipping my head a tad, “but if you tell her that Colt wants her, I guarantee you, she’ll march her fine ass right on out here.”
Chapter Three
Savannah
The door of my office crashed open, but I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to. This was the kind of shit that happened on a weeknight, so I didn’t expect the weekend to be any less dramatic.
My office was perched on the fourth floor of Golden Girlz, like the inaccessible realm of a goddess. It was only available by elevator with iris-scan security clearance. Not only that, anyone attempting to venture to this part of the establishment had to get past four of my burliest men – not an e
asy feat. Gaining access to me was as restricted as it got.
But Candace was huffing, like she’d run up a flight of stairs, and she was frazzled. As always.
I’d taken Candace under my wing to teach her the ropes on how to be a bad bitch. She was one of my projects, as were each of the girls I’d rescued after finishing my MBA. Every last one of them had a tragic backstory, and had it not been for the grace of God and my stronger than teflon demeanor, they might have been me.
But it wasn’t me.
I didn’t make it to church very often, but I believed in giving my tithes, and for me, that looked like pouring back into the lives of the less fortunate.
Like my girls.
“What is it, Candy?”
“Madame, it’s a couple of things,” she responded immediately, huffing.
“Start with the most pressing matter,” I instructed. “I’m busy and I don’t have time for shit you could easily handle yourself.”
“Of course,” she said.
I noticed the edge in her tone.
“There’s a customer,” she said.
“What customer?”
She paused, as if she didn’t want to say. “The guy who’s been coming for the past six months. The one from out of town.”
I waited for her to continue.
“He brought a friend with him this time.”
“And why is that a problem?” I asked flipping a page of the paperwork. “That guy is a big spender. Let him bring whoever the hell he wants. Birds of a feather flock together. His buddy will follow suit.” I sighed and pushed the papers away, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Listen, Candy. You’re my right-hand. You’re the bitch the other bitches go to when there’s an issue or a problem. I’m the last stop. If it gets to me, it means it’s at crisis level.”
“Madame, I understand that,” she interrupted, “and I wouldn’t bring this to you if it wasn’t serious.”
Now my brows furrowed. I had to be missing something, because nothing Candy had said even remotely resembled serious, yet the look on her face implied calamity. “What happened?”
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