by Sasha White
After over 20 years as a waitress/bartender, Sasha now works full-time as a writer, and she loves to hear from her readers.
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Wicked Game
Available now
Prologue
A heady mixture of adrenaline and arousal coursed through my veins as I lifted the half-full snifter to my lips to sip at the creamy concoction. I’d been trying for hours to wrap my mind around the latest news I’d received. Jimmy D, a man I considered family, was a murder suspect. My temper had been simmering since I got off the phone, and I couldn’t seem to get a grip.
I’d learned that the only way for me to deal when that happened was to go in search of a physical release. A fight was one way to take the edge off my emotions and give me a chance to think again, but my sparring partner was out of town, so I had gone with option two.
Setting the drink down again, I swiped my tongue slowly across my top lip to catch anything left behind, and watched my companion’s eyes darken. A slow flush crept across his high cheekbones and he inched closer.
He was a good-looking guy. In a clean-cut boy next-door kind of way that made him look younger than he probably was. Not my usual type. However, I knew for a fact that looks could be deceiving. And the fact that he was hanging out in this bar, a known meet-market, told me that he wasn’t as naïve or innocent as he appeared.
Just like I wasn’t as frail or delicate as I appeared.
“What was your name again?” I tossed my hair over my shoulder and looked him up and down.
“Steve,” he answered.
“Are you horny, Steve?”
Now it was his neck that slowly turned red. I slipped my hand below the edge of the bar, leaned into him, and reaching between his legs, tested his size. His cock swelled beneath my fingers, and a satisfying feeling of power swept over me.
Men. They were so predictable.
“I think you’ve discovered the answer to that question yourself,” he spoke with confidence.
With a naughty smile I stroked him a few times through his trousers. That was all it took. He reached into his pocket and tossed a few bills on the bar for the tab. Stepping back, he took my now empty hand in his, and we exited the bar.
The night air was humid and the parking lot was dark, a couple of the lights along the roof of the building burnt out. I automatically scanned my surroundings, noticing dark corners and the proximity of potential danger zones. It was the perfect place for illicit activities.
God, I loved the rush of living-on-the-edge, of doing the unexpected.
Steve lead the way across the parking lot, with me following him, not saying a word. Instead, I focused on the way my heart raced, my pussy lips plumped, and my juices pooled between my thighs.
He hadn’t even touched me yet. The overeager reaction of my body was a clear sign I was doing the right thing. I needed this liberation from my tangled thoughts for just a short time.
Steve stopped next to a big shiny red pickup truck that was backed up against the building, and beeped the door unlocked.
“This is yours?”
“Yup.” He ushered me between the truck and the compact car parked next to it. “Where are you going?”
Instead of climbing into the truck like he’d expected, I continued to walk toward the building. With a quick glance I confirmed my suspicions. There was just enough room for what I had in mind.
Reaching into my bra I skipped over the small blade I kept nestled between my breasts, and pulled out the condom I’d tucked next to it earlier. I handed it to Steve, and then let down the tailgate of the truck.
Bending over the end of the truck, I planted my hands on the truck bed and spread my legs, feeling the cool air on my hot sex. I looked over my shoulder, quirked an eyebrow at the gaping man, and wiggled my tail.
“Here?” he croaked.
“Here.”
An eager grin spread across his expressive face and he couldn’t unzip his pants fast enough. Once I saw him rolling the condom onto his rigid hard-on, I turned away and looked out over the parking lot.
“Lexy, baby,” he said as he lifted my skirt and grabbed my hips. “You’re a fantasy come to life, aren’t you?”
“Don’t talk, Steve.” I arched my back and thrust back against his groin. Reaching between my legs with one hand I gripped his cock, guiding him to my entrance. “You’ll ruin the fantasy.”
An ecstatic groan echoed in the empty lot as he thrust deep. My eyelids dropped to half-mast and I fought to keep my head up, to keep my eyes on the other dark corners as my insides pulsed low and heavy. The thrill of the forbidden enhanced the fire burning through my veins. A moan slipped from me when the man behind me gripped my hips tighter, and pumped into me faster and harder. His rigid cock slid in and out, filling me and pulling away in delicious torture. Our panting breaths filled the silence in the dark night air and my insides started to clench. A mini spasm swept over me when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
It was another couple, strolling into the parking lot, arms wrapped around each other. They hadn’t seen us yet and I doubted they would as they were heading for the other side of the lot. But just the chance that we might get caught had me striving for the orgasm already building inside me. I lifted a hand from the truck bed, reached between my thighs, and pinched my swollen clit.
A shudder racked my body, and I bit my lip to stifle my outcry as pleasure rolled over me in waves. My orgasm set off Steve’s and he bucked against me, groaning loud enough for the couple across the parking lot to turn in our direction before jumping into their car quickly.
Steve leaned over my back for a few seconds to catch his breath before pulling out. I used that time to catch my own breath and shake off any misplaced sense of shame.
I turned to Steve after pulling my skirt down, and patted him on the cheek softly. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Can I get your number?” He called out as I walked away.
I didn’t bother to answer. The orgasm had cleared my head, and I knew what I had to do. I didn’t really want to go back to Edmonton, but I wasn’t about to stand by and lose another loved one when I could do something about it.
Most men think women use sex to get what they want, out of them, out of life. But I know different. I know that women are trained from childhood to believe that sex is something special, to be shared only with someone special. That it’s more than just an urge, or a natural high. I know that if women really used sex as a weapon, they’d be more dangerous.
They’d be more like me.
Chapter One
I needed more information, and I needed it fast. As a private investigator, with skip tracing as a sideline, getting information from the unwilling was a talent I’d developed over the years.
Leaning low over the scarred oak bar I wiped at the already clean draft taps, wiggling along with the John Cougar Mellencamp classic playing on the jukebox. The Crib was a small bar in an old neighborhood of Edmonton. The usual clientele was mostly blue collar workers; Bikers, truckers, mechanics, and a few students from the nearby community college.
My little dance moves flashed the three guys sitting at the bar nur
sing their beers a good deal of cleavage. And that was okay, because if I was going to catch the killer, I needed to know what these guys knew. I wasn’t after just any killer, but the killer. The one that was willing to let Jimmy D, the owner of The Crib, an establishment I’d spent my teen years running rampant in, pay for a crime he didn’t commit.
Jimmy was my Uncle Tony’s best friend, my first loves’ father, and a man who would forever be close to my heart. When I’d first heard from my uncle that Jimmy was in trouble, I’d struggled with a boatload of emotions, some of which had been buried deep for years.
The guilt of not being there for Jimmy when he needed me brought back the childhood guilt that I was off at a friend’s house, enjoying a sleep-over while my parents were getting killed in a B & E gone bad. Then there was the fury I’d buried when their killers went free on a technicality.
My Uncle Tony took me on to raise, and Jimmy D had become an honorary Uncle. The Crib had been as much a home as Tony’s Bike Shop. The thought that the very system that had failed to punish my parent’s killers was now trying to take away another family member had put me in to a tailspin, and landed me back in my old hometown after ten years away without a visit.
Some mindless action in a dark parking lot had helped me get my emotions back under control and I was ready to work the case. Someone needed to make sure the cops didn’t lock up the wrong guy, and I’d decided that someone would be me. I didn’t trust anyone else. That’s how I ended up posing as a cocktail waitress in Jimmy’s bar.
It was a quiet night, and the place was almost empty. Unfortunately, that’s the way it had been since I showed up back in town the day after Jimmy’s ‘visit’ at the cop shop. That was ten days ago. They’d pulled him in for questioning two times since, but they’d yet to actually arrest him, or anyone else.
You’d think that the owner of a biker bar getting questioned for murder wouldn’t hurt his business. But it had. A local junkie gets stabbed in the back alley, and business suffers. Even a roughneck bar.
The realization that even if Jimmy didn’t go to jail, he could lose his business, made me antsy to kick up the search.
“So guys, where’s the party?” I pasted a flirty smile on my face and asked the guys parked on the stools in front of me.
“What party is that?”
All three of them were dressed in a combination of leather jackets, vests, and denim jeans. They all had visible tattoos, and one of them desperately needed a shower and shave. I could smell him from five feet away.
Unfortunately, it was him that answered me.
With two steps I was directly in front of him, elbows rested on the bar, giving off the naughty girl vibes I knew would make him think he had a chance at getting lucky. He wasn’t bad looking, but the scent was a huge turn off.
“The one where I can get my hands on some treats. I’ve only been in town for a week or so, and I haven’t had a chance to make any connections yet.” I spoke softly and ran a fingertip over the hand that cupped his beer between us. I tried not to cringe at the ragged and dirty fingernails, and arched an eyebrow at him suggestively. “You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean, baby. But there’s no party tonight, just a bike show.” He eyed me hungrily. “I really wish I could help you out. Why don’t you give me your number and if I hear of any parties going down I’ll give you a call?”
I’d learned early on in life that the sight of a nice pair of breasts jiggling in front of their face made most men stupid, or at the very least, sloppy. I checked my gut and it told me this guy wasn’t lying. It also urged me to give him a way to contact me because he might know more than he was saying.
“Sure,” I said, and wrote my cell phone number on the back of cardboard coaster for him.
He told me his name was Tim, and that he’d see what he could do for me. Before he could try and get any friendlier, I moved to the other end of the bar and wondered if the night was going to be a complete loss. Giving Tim my number might pay off eventually, but it probably wasn’t going to be soon.
Gazing out onto the floor of the bar I searched for another possible source of information. The well-worn pool tables in the back of the bar looked forlorn, and the square tables that filled the floor between them and the bar sat empty in the middle of the room. Two of the cushioned booths that lined the walls were occupied; one housed a college student set up with books spread out in front of him and a jug of beer close at hand, and another with a couple arguing. Neither of them pulled at me.
If I was really just a cocktail waitress I’d probably enjoy the down time. After all, waitressing was hard work. But as a woman on a mission, I was bored and frustrated with the lack of action. How the hell was I supposed to figure out who the bad guy was if he didn't come into the bar?
I knew the killer would come back. I’d managed to wiggle some details of the case from a local cop when I’d arrived in town. From what he said, someone had been dealing out the back door of The Crib for over a year now, and the junk they were selling was getting increasingly bad. It wasn’t just pot, the cops had traced a few batches of Crystal Meth back to the bar, as well as some Heroin. They figured that even if Jimmy wasn’t the one actually selling it, he was in charge of what was going on.
I knew Jimmy would never be into something like that, so that meant the connection was either staff, or a regular. Jimmy swore the cops were barking up the wrong tree, that none of his staff would deal drugs out of his bar. But as much as I disliked cops, I knew that if they were on that trail, they had to have a reason for it.
Anger bubbled inside me. The Crib had been around for almost thirty years. A miracle in this business, but the place stayed alive because Jimmy treated his staff fairly, and his regular’s like family, at the very least like friends. It boggled my mind to believe a friend could be responsible, but that was the way it looked.
The whole point of me coming back to town and slinging beer was to clear Jimmy’s name. With his history, I knew he was innocent. Well, innocent of dealing drugs and murdering a buyer anyway. If it were a dealer that had been found dead, and not the buyer, I’d be more inclined to believe he’d done it.
Nobody peddles shit in The Crib without Jimmy coming down on them. Hard. And everybody knew why.
“Lexy sweetheart, can I have another beer down here?”
Not willing to take that trip down memory lane at the moment, I was glad for the distraction of serving some drinks.
Stinky Tim got up from the bar, gathered his things and waved goodbye as I filled a frosty glass with draft. When it was foaming over I strolled down the bar to Bear with hips swinging. Placing the mug in front of the big guy I winked flirtatiously. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"Sure honey," he said with a loopy grin. "I could use a tongue bath."
"That wasn't what I had in mind, Bear. But if you insist, I know just the girl to give it to you." Letting myself relax a bit, I strolled out from behind the bar to stand next to him, pursed my lips and let out a sharp whistle. "Daisy!"
Loud guffaws and chuckles echoed in the near empty room when Jimmy’s Rottweiler bitch came trotting out of his office to sit by my feet. She looked up at me adoringly; pink tongue lolling out from between gleaming canine teeth.
"Hey! No need to get nasty. You asked if there was anything else you could do for me!" Bear chuckled good-naturedly.
Scratching Daisy's head absentmindedly I listened as the two guys left tossed playful insults back and forth. Never one to stay away from her man for long Daisy soon headed back to the office, and I leaned against the bar and joked with them to help time pass.
Basically good men, but of the rough and raw category, I'd just finished telling them a dirty joke when the doors swung open and a group streamed in. I didn't pay them much mind, until I saw him.
My body temperature jumped and the air crackled with energy. Tall, dark, and dangerous looking, he was pure sin. And I wanted him from the first second I’d laid eyes on him.
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There was just something about him that called to me. He’d been in the bar a couple of times in the last week, but it never failed that when I started my shift, he was on his way out the door.
Seems my luck was about to change. Stopping just inside the door, he scanned the small crowd, and when his piercing gray eyes settled on me, I met them head on. All thoughts of killers and jail time fled from my brain as I let my gaze roam boldly over his body.
Six feet of lean muscle stood there letting me look my fill from his shiny midnight hair to the toes of his well-worn boots. Wide shoulders tapered into a trim waist and flat stomach. Tight jeans encased well-muscled thighs and a promising bulge just below his belt buckle. I returned my gaze to his face and saw full sensuous lips stretched into a wicked grin. Goosebumps actually rose on my skin as I recognized a kindred soul.
Behind the cocky twinkle in his eyes that said he knew I’d enjoyed the visual tour, I saw secrets.
My insides quivered when his gaze pulled away from mine and raked over my curvaceous body. They settled briefly on the length of leg my short skirt showed, before he followed the half dozen guys he was with to a large table with a lazy, almost predatory, gait.
I’d felt that intense gaze on my body as if it were his hands, and loved every second of it. Mary, the waitress that worked the happy hour shift before I came on, had said he was quiet and never responded to her flirting. But he’d certainly responded to mine.
I recognized the group of guys he was with so I loaded up a serving tray with jugs of beer and frosty mugs, then started for their table, intent on learning more about the intriguing stranger.
Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a loss after all.