Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
She was fortunate. None of the horror stories of abuse and neglect happened to her in the many homes she was bounced between. The problem she faced was that, at eighteen, she had been tossed out. Sink, swim, or when all else fails, strip.
Casey worked a few of the nasty clubs to begin with. After Midnight won’t take just anyone off the street, and she had no dance experience whatsoever. It was hard to watch her struggle before she found her way there. She was at the lowest of the low to begin with, places where the girls aren’t given choices and anything goes.
Things changed when she got the job at After Midnight. The club has rules for the girls and the patrons. She is well protected and paid, and she actually enjoys her job. Other than the occasional drunk grabby guy, Casey doesn’t come home with bruises anymore.
I have offered for her to live with me, time and time again, through the years, even in college. My parents paid for not only my education, while I was earning my degree, but my apartment and expenses, as well. I begged Casey to come with me, and we would find a way to make it work for her. However, she is stubborn and independent to a fault and refuses any type of handout.
She wants to make it all on her own, and I applaud her determination. It took her a little longer than me. However, at the end of this semester, I will be there, proudly watching my very best friend receive her degree in sports medicine. She took the long, hard road less traveled and made it happen for herself.
She is a fierce beauty, a fierce woman, and she has fierce loyalty—everything I am not.
Chapter
2
Ice
Offices make me jittery. Unfortunately, they are a necessary evil for running a business. Paperwork—some nights I feel like I drown in the shit.
Kara used to help keep me straight on both of our strip clubs. She kept the administrative bullshit off my plate, kept the dancers out of my face, and did it all with such attitude it made my dick hard. I really miss having her around, and not only for the times she warmed my bed.
With one look at Sullivan, everything I had with her was over. Those two had unfinished business, history, and more emotion shared between them than I have seen in my lifetime.
She has her life with him now. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about what we could have had if her ex hadn’t shown up bringing with him all their unfinished business. Would I have ever given her hearts and flowers? Fuck no. That is not me. I would have given her security and happiness and a warm body in bed with her at night, though. Fidelity. She also would have had the security of knowing she wasn’t alone. With a woman like Kara at home, you sure as shit don’t need or want a barfly.
Sometimes I could see a bleakness surrounding her like an emotional armor. It kept her from connecting with others, living her life. However, when I had her on the back of my bike, she shed that armor and embraced life.
I might not be able to give her the sort of emotions women usually want, but I would have given her a good life. A woman like her deserves to be happy. I would have been honored to be the man to give her that. Not that I am some unselfish hero or some shit. Hell no. Sometimes, a man gets tired of being lonely. Problem is, I hadn’t come across a woman, until Kara, that I would have been willing to tie myself down to after my wife had died.
My casual affair with Kara lasted a few years after she had stopped working at After Midnight. The woman has a mind for business and could work a pole like no other. She came to me shy, defeated, and a shell of a human being. Watching her grow, transform, and come into her own was something books should be written about. She fought with everything inside her to pull out of the depths of the hell depression had sucked her into. I was damn proud of her. I have seen grown men in the military that couldn’t handle the kind of demons she had and come out of it alive. Kara is now a curvy, knockout package, carrying a warrior’s heart; the kind of woman men around the world over would live and die for.
Riley Sullivan, her ex-husband—now her soon-to-be husband again, the real light of her life, soul mate, whatever—is one lucky bastard to have her. Kara moved to Virginia to be with Sullivan a little over three months ago. If he ever takes it for granted or fucks it up, I will be there to remind him exactly how good he had it. I will know the minute Sullivan fucks up because I have kept tabs on her, discreetly, through weekly check-ins with my old Army buddy, Lucas Young, who works on the same black ops unit, the Ex Ops Team, as Sullivan.