by Frankie Love
“Then what is your angle, Jules?”
She drops the dessert card. “I’m pretty simple. I’m here to make enough money to pay off my dad’s farm and then go back home.”
“That’s it?”
She sighs as if I said the wrong thing. “Isn’t that everything?”
Her words are simple, but they are also exactly right.
“Touché.”
“So,” she says slowly, “I’m going to order some apple pie and you are going to tell me something real. If your parents are Sawyer-Bennett-rich, why are you a bartender at the Fuck Club? Why aren’t you a guest?”
8
Her question is hard to answer. I may love fucking her, laughing with her, and just being around her, but I’ve known her for two days. Nowhere near long enough to trust her with the truth of who I am.
So, I tiptoe around it.
“I never liked school, didn’t go to college, didn’t take up the family business.” I shrug as the waitress delivers us our pie. “And I like the schedule of being a bartender. I’m good at it, and that should count for something. So I stuck with it. And bartending at the Fuck Club is the best bartending gig in this city.”
“I figured, considering your loft.”
So, she noticed my place wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d live at if you were living paycheck to paycheck.
“Your parents don’t mind you doing a blue collar job or whatever?” she asks.
“My parents just want me to be happy.”
“And are you?” she asks.
“Damn, you really don’t hold back do you?” I run a hand through my hair.
“Should I?”
“No. I like this... talking.”
“As opposed to?”
“Well, we’ve been spending our time fucking, so…”
That gets a laugh out of her. “Now it’s my turn to say touché.” She pulls her long hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. As she moves I can’t help but notice the lovely curve of her neck, the way her collarbone leads the eye to take in how beautiful she is.
“Anyway,” she says. “I like that you are a bartender. Back home I was a waitress at a place kinda like this.”
“So, we’re both in the service industry. See, common ground, even if my parents were rich as fuck.”
“Were?” she asks, not missing a single thing.
I nod tightly. “They died when I was eighteen.”
She reaches across the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a hard topic.”
“My parents were everything good about the world. I don’t mind talking about them, they were the best people I ever knew.”
“And Sawyer was there for you when you went through all that?”
My eyes meet hers. “Exactly.”
“You should call him again. Be there for him the way he was there for you. I mean, not that he experienced anything as tragic—but...”
I nod, picking up my phone, texting again, then dialing his number. Nothing.
“His girlfriend Sondra was at the club last night saying she couldn’t get a hold of him either.”
“You spoke with Sondra?” I ask, looking up from my phone.
Jules nods. “Yeah, she was confronting Gretchen. But also mentioned she hasn’t heard from him either.”
“It’s been over twenty-four hours,” I say, stating the obvious. “I should go to his place.”
Jules nods again, reaching for her wallet.
I shake my head, reaching for the check totaling thirty-four bucks. “I’m not letting you pay.”
“Like hell, you’re not. It’s my first fancy-pants paycheck. This meal is on me.”
I let her take the check, watching as she sets down two twenties. Then reaches back in her wallet and grabs two more, leaving a tip larger than the entire bill.
We leave the deli, my hand on the small of her back, my heart, fucking falling hard for this woman who came into my life with a force stronger than an ocean wave.
“Come with me,” I tell her. “To look for Sawyer.”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“Of course.”
As we walk to my bike, I call Sawyer’s parents. They haven’t heard from him since earlier today.
“But you spoke to him?” I ask them while they are both on speakerphone.
“Well, he left a voicemail, a really long, rambling one, but it wasn’t from his number,” his mom says. “Apologizing for the photos, asking for our forgiveness, saying he never meant for his life to become so fake, and telling us he was sorting things out but that he was sorry for how that might hurt us.”
“And did you call him back?” I ask.
“We tried several times, but there was no answer.”
A sinking feeling fills my stomach. Something is wrong. “How long ago was this?” I ask.
“Maybe two or three hours? Have you heard from him?” they ask.
“Not a word. I’m heading to his house now. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
His cars are here, but the front door is unlocked, no staff is around. Jules’s eyes go wide at the massive complex. Infinity pools and marble walkways. A view of the Pacific Ocean a land-locked farm girl would only dream about. She doesn’t let the grandeur compete for her attention though. Together we enter the premises and try to find my oldest friend.
“Sawyer?” I call. Nothing.
We move from room to room, but there are no signs of Sawyer anywhere.
“Cal,” Jules whispers, pointing to the dining room table.
Laid out on it is his driver’s license. His house keys. His cell phone.
I pick it up, seeing every one of my missed calls.
My jaw tightens, fear coursing through me.
Jules hands me a document.
SAWYER BENNET’S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
My blood goes cold.
I cover my mouth, this isn’t happening.
The last thing on the table is an envelope addressed to me.
Reaching inside, I pull out a letter.
My eyes run over the letter, tears pooling in my eyes as I read the last words my best friend ever wrote.
Cal,
You warned me about this business since day one. Said it could steal, kill, and destroy.
It has.
Death is never easy—but you know that better than anyone.
Whatever sort of man I used to be no longer exists.
And that’s why I’m ending my life, taking control of the only thing I have left.
Everything else has been stolen from me.
My face isn’t even my own anymore. I can’t fucking shave my head without clearing it through a sponsor who pays for a life I never wanted.
I take that back—I did want the fame—but I let it fucking get to my head.
And now all I want is peace.
So, I’m finding it the only way I know how.
This isn’t easy—but it’s the only way out.
You know that better than anyone else too. And I’m sorry to put you through this again.
If I said this to you face-to-face you’d talk me out of it, that’s why I both love you and hate you. You are a better man than I’ll ever be. In life or in death.
Jumping from the Colorado Street Bridge may seem like a cliché—but you know how I feel about fucking guns.
I love you, brother.
-Sawyer
The letter falls from my hands, I can’t fucking breathe. The shock weaves through my gut and I reach for the table to keep me from falling over.
Jules already has her phone out, calling 911. “I need to report a suicide. What? I don’t know. On the Colorado Street Bridge. Yes, yes. Sawyer Bennett. Correct, yes, him. I know,” she says, her own face streaked with tears, her eyes on mine. “Yes, the Sawyer Bennett. It doesn’t matter—just. Yes. He said he was going to jump.”
She stays on the line as she grabs Sawyer's keys. To me, she says, “You can’t drive the bike right now. But I can
drive one of these cars. We have to go, Cal. Right now. I need you to stand up, focus, Cal. Okay?” She takes my hand, opening the door of an SUV.
I follow her, but I can’t fucking see a thing.
“He may be okay,” she says. “Just hold on to hope, Cal, okay?”
I hear her but all I can see is the line in the note: This isn’t easy—but it’s the only way out.
GET READY…PART 3 RELEASES 5/18!
Also by Frankie Love
THE ENTIRE FRANKIE LOVE COLLECTION
The Latest Release:
A-List F*ck Club Part 1
The Mountain Man’s Babies:
TIMBER
BUCKED
WILDER
HONORED
CHERISHED
The Modern-Mail Order Brides:
CLAIMED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN
ORDERED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN
WIFED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN
EXPLORED BY THE MOUNTAIN MAN
An Arranged Marriage Romance:
COURTED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE
CHARMED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE
CROWNED BY THE MOUNTAIN PRINCE
Las Vegas Bad Boys:
ACE
KING
MCQUEEN
JACK
Los Angeles Bad Boys:
COLD HARD CASH
HOLLYWOOD HOLDEN
SAINT JUDE
THE COMPLETE COLLECTION
Stand-Alone Romance:
KINKY RESOLUTIONS
WILD AND TRUE
Stand-Alone Bad Boy:
BIG BAD WOLF
Stand-Alone Mountain Men:
MISTLETOE MOUNTAIN: A MOUNTAIN MAN’S CHRISTMAS
HEART OF GOLD: A MOUNTAIN MAN’S VALENTINE
HIS LUCKY CHARM: AN IRISH MOUNTAIN MAN
❤️❤️❤️
About the Author
Frankie Love writes sexy stories about bad boys and mountain men. As a thirty-something mom to six who is ridiculously in love with her own bearded hottie, she believes in love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters. She also believes in the power of a quickie.
Find Frankie here:
Frankie Love
www.frankielove.net
[email protected]