Hard Core (Hard As Nails Book 3)

by Hope Conrad

  There’s no rest for the wicked, I suppose.

  Spotting Walt on the other side of the room, I push away from the bar and dart toward the hallway, trying to get to her before anyone else can. We’re not supposed to have more than one drink on the job, and even that is frowned upon.

  “Hey, lady. What’s going on?” I say as I bend over to grab her hand and help her to her feet. She fumbles as she tries to stand, but I hang on and manage to get her standing. With her in tow, I push through the back door of the club and suck in fresh air. My worried gaze takes her in. She looks freaked. Her eyes glassy.

  “Let go of me,” she commands and pushes me away. Her head is bowed, and long dark hair peaks out from beneath a blonde wig.

  “Marley, what’s wrong?”

  She doesn’t answer. She just sobs. Tears and blue mascara run down her cheeks.

  “You have to tell me what’s going on, Mar.”

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she cries and scrunches her face. “It’s all bullshit.”

  “Do what anymore? Strip?” She’s never given any indication she hates stripping. She’s always so cheerful. Does her thing and goes home, usually fanning herself with a stack of bills.

  “Strip. Fuck. Did you know I do that? That I fuck for money?”

  My eyes widen. No, I hadn’t known that. I lick my lips and take another deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. “I didn’t know, Marley,” I say finally. “But if you don’t want to do it, we can figure something out. I want to help you.” Of course, I don’t know if I can help her. I don’t have extra cash lying around to give her. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t be working here.

  “You can’t help me,” she says. “Nobody can. Nobody cares.”

  “I care.”

  “Fine,” she huffs. “You care, but they don’t care. Not Walt. Not Mr. Prince. Certainly not the guys with money to burn.”

  “They don’t have to care. We have each other. We’ll get through this, Marley. Together.” I shift toward her, and she rests her head on my shoulder.

  “I can’t go back in there,” she cries against my neck, her tears dripping down upon my skin. “I can’t… do it tonight. Not with them. They want to double-team me, and I’ve done it before, but…”

  I hate seeing her this way. I hate knowing that this beautiful, kind woman is living a life where she feels the need to sell her body to survive, but given my own situation, I’m all too aware how easy it is to go down a road you never thought you’d walk.

  “Shhh. You’re going to be okay.” I pat her on the back. “First thing’s first. You need to get out of here. I’ll tell Walt you got sick.”

  “It won’t work,” she cries softly.

  “It will,” I assure her, though I can’t possibly know that. I pull away to lock my eyes on hers. “You’re going to stay sick for a few days, take some time away from this place, and while you’re away, I’m going to come to you and we’re going to figure out a way for you to leave this place behind.”

  “It will never work,” she repeats, but instead of reassuring her again, I give her a little nudge.

  “Go. I’ll cover you and tomorrow we’ll talk. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Marley. You absolutely don’t.”

  She stares at me, and tears fill her eyes again. “I don’t want to do it. Not anymore.”

  “Then go,” I say.

  She hesitates briefly before giving me a hug. “Thank you, Alley Cat.”

  And then she’s gone, heading around the side of the building. I take a deep breath and go back inside. It’s only when the steel door swings shut behind me that I see the two tall men dressed in rumpled business suits. I’ve served them several times. They’ve been drinking all damn day and night.

  “Where’d Marley go? We’ve been waiting for her.”

  My pulse is hammering like crazy and I search for signs of anyone hanging around, but it’s just the three of us. I brace myself, and say, “She’s out of commission tonight, boys.”

  “Is that so?” The brown-haired man laughs and shoots a knowing look to his friend, a blonde with light brown stubble decorating his face. “She looked all right to me.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s gone, so you’re going to have to find someone else to play with.”

  “Someone else? You volunteering?”

  I don’t respond to the blonde’s statement; instead, I try to push past him. I gasp in pain when his fingers curl around my arm and he shoves me against the wall.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I shout, shoving against my captor, but he merely laughs.

  “You’ve got a nice mouth.” He wags his finger in my face. “I like that. I think we’ll take you with us so I can see what that mouth can do.”

  “Forget seeing. I’ll fucking bite off any part of you that comes near me,” I say. I give him a mighty shove, somehow managing to break free, and I try to run past him. Only he grabs my hair, yanking me toward him so abruptly that one of my ankles turns in my high heel. I scream, but the sound is cut off short when he slams my head against the wall.

  I struggle to free myself, but he’s too strong. With every tug against my hair, my blood boils, but my fear also rises. He’s dragging me through the outer door now. I try to fight the pain away, but it’s too much. I claw at him, but it only serves to piss him off even more. He slams the outer door shut behind us, and throws me hard against the side of the building.

  He raises his hand to slap me.

  My chest heaves, waiting for the burn of his palm against my skin.

  But it never comes.

  Chapter Five

  Axel

  I’m not here for trouble. I’m really not.

  But ever since I was a toddler, trouble has had a way of landing at my damn feet; and when faced with trouble, I have no choice but to respond.

  I’d checked out the back of the club several minutes ago, again not finding anything unusual, and returned to the bar, both hoping I’d see the brunette waitress again, and dreading it. I’d had such an intense reaction to seeing her, and while I’d wanted to go with it, chat her up, get to know her better, I’d reminded myself she was a waitress in one of King’s strip clubs. That meant chances were, despite her air of class and innocence, she was a prostitute. Didn’t matter. I looked for her. Didn’t see her. Looked again. That’s when I spotted a tall blonde man in a suit dragging her by her hair out the back doors.

  I rush into action, barreling down the hallway and through the door, and I’m on them before they even see me coming. I grab the brown-haired man, who looks like he’s actually trying to talk some sense into his friend, and yank him backward.

  Swiftly, I throw a punch at the other man. He ducks out of the way and pushes the girl straight into my arms, as if she’s some sort of shield.

  I blink. For the briefest moment, we stare at each other, this dark-haired angel who’d stolen my attention like thunder on a cloudy night. When I see the fear in her eyes, I automatically try to reassure her. “It’s okay. I—”

  And now it is I who am taken off guard. The man throws a punch my way, landing a blow with a thwack against the top of my head. The girl recoils, creating the opening I need. I gently push her aside and she braces herself against the wall while I maneuver my body close enough to the man so that when I throw my knee upward, it connects with his stomach. His entire body hunches over and I kick my knee upward again, smashing his face against my leg.

  I enjoy the way he stumbles backward, his expression a mix of shock and horror. In his eyes, I see how wasted he is. I don’t give a shit.

  “Don’t you ever put your hands on a woman.” I steady him with one hand, and land a forceful punch square against his nose.

  He stumbles and trips over one foot, his drunk body giving out beneath him as he lands on the ground. He’s too weak—too drunk—to stand back up, much less fight back, but I’m not finished. Not even close.

  I bend over and grab him by his shirt, then punch him several more ti
mes.

  “Stop. Please!”

  I hit him again.

  When I feel tugging on my arm, however, I pause and glance over my shoulder.

  The dark-haired angel has her hands wrapped around my bicep and she’s trying to pull me away. “Please don’t hit him anymore. He’s down. Please.”

  I glance at the man I’m holding up, and his face is bloody, his body limp. I look for his friend, but don’t see him.

  “He ran off,” she says. “Now, please. Let him go.”

  Without another word, I let the man go, enjoying the groan he lets out when he hits the ground.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice husky, sexy even. “I need to find Walt and tell him what’s happened.” She starts to walk away, but then she twists on her ankle and stumbles sideways against the wall. The painful grimace on her face speaks volumes—she’s in pain.

  “Let me take a look,” I say gruffly. I crouch down, prodding at Angel’s ankle.

  She groans and shifts her weight so that she stands on her good foot, leveraging her weight against my strong body. “Just… a little sore.”

  “I think we should get you to the hospital.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” she protests, wincing as she tries to stand on her own. “I’m going to be just fine. Besides, I need to deal with Walt.”

  “Walt can wait. I’m Axel. What’s your name?”

  “Alyssa.”

  “Alyssa, you got a car?”

  She nods.

  “Good. Because I’ve only got a bike.”

  I sweep her into my arms, and she gasps, but settles in and wraps her arms lightly around my neck. “What about him?” she says, her eyes on the blonde who is currently curled into a fetal position on the ground.

  “Who gives a fuck,” I say, and stride around the building.

  For several seconds, she’s quiet and I feel her gaze on me.

  “Look, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about me,” she finally says.

  I glance down at her. “What impression would that be?”

  “That I’m a poor, helpless little girl.”

  “Of course not,” I force a wide smile. “You’re an absolute soldier.”

  “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “Now why would I go and do something like that? I saw how you fought that guy back there. He had some serious scratch marks across his face. Good for you. Where are your keys?”

  “In my pocket, luckily. My car’s over there.” She points to the far end of the lot and I walk in that direction.

  “That’s my ride.” I point to my sexy beast parked under the glow of a streetlight. She’s been my baby for as long as I can remember, and I think she’s damn beautiful, but Alyssa’s staring at it like it could sprout horns and bite her.

  “You like bikes?” I ask, even though I know damn well from her expression she doesn’t.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I’m terrified of bikes.”

  I walk deeper into the parking lot. “So can I have the keys to your car?”

  She squirms in my arms, digging into the right pocket of her shorts, and recovers her keys. “Don’t wreck my baby.”

  “And where is your baby resting?”

  She points at an old and beaten white sedan. The rear passenger door is smashed in, with a long trail of faded green paint brushed against the creases.

  “It’s probably a good thing I’m driving,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood but she doesn’t crack a smile. When I get to her car, I put her down and lean her against the side of it as I unlock the passenger door and tug it open.

  “You know it’s not often that I get into cars with complete strangers.”

  “Good advice from your parents?” I question as I situate her in the passenger seat. She swings her feet into the car, and I prop my hand on the rim of the door, waiting to shut it.

  “From my father. My mother wasn’t exactly in the picture.” She shakes her head. “Forget I said that. I don’t know why I did.”

  “I have a trusting face.”

  “Sure.” She reaches for the door and begins to pull it shut. “Whatever you say.”

  I walk to the driver’s side of the car, jump into the seat and turn the ignition. I press my foot against the clutch before realizing it’s not even there. “Automatic?” I mumble to myself.

  “I never could get a handle on sticks.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  She groans and throws her head back against the seat, and even though it’s a small one, I’m glad I managed to make her smile.

  Chapter Six

  Alyssa

  About an hour after Axel drives me to the hospital, we’re back in the car again. I alternate watching the passing city lights and watching him.

  He carried me into the hospital and waited with me until the doctor saw me. I’ve stared at him plenty since he rushed in to help me, and he definitely looks different depending on the lighting.

  In the light, there’s a hardened quality that goes with his impressive, muscular body, yet at the same time, he’s so handsome, so pretty even, that it’s easy to let my guard down. Here in the dark, however, there’s a feral, dangerous quality to him, and I know some part of me should be afraid.

  I’m not, and I don’t know why I’m not. Maybe it’s because he’s shown me more consideration than the majority of men in my life, with the exception of my father. He didn’t have to help me. Plus, if he hadn’t insisted I go to the hospital, I probably would have broken my ankle parading around that darn strip club.

  He did help me though, without wanting or demanding anything in return. Yet.

  And instead of dreading what he might demand as pay-back, I find my mind conjuring up all sorts of different scenarios and my body responding with enthusiastic interest.

  The kind of danger I sense in him, I realize, isn’t born of the fear that he’ll hurt me.

  It’s born from desire. My own, and his, which I can’t help but see in his eyes whenever he runs his gaze over my body. It’s born from the knowledge that we met abruptly and are still perfect strangers, but that could change at any moment. He could take me in his arms. I could kiss him. He could touch me. Fuck me. Penetrate my body with his. Use his strength not just to protect me, but bend me to his will, so I have no choice but to accept the pleasure he gives me. Again and again and again.

  Under the shadows of passing lights, he glances at me. Given my heated thoughts, I blush and avert my gaze back to the road ahead.

  “So… Uh.” I clear my throat. “What were you doing at the club?”

  “Just hanging out.” He angles his eyes at me, and a mischievous grin is painted across his lips. “Lucky for you, huh?”

  “Beyond lucky,” I mumble. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

  “No need for titles. Though if you were going to give me one, I think I’d prefer Sex God or Lord and Master.”

  I roll my eyes and laugh, but it’s a breathy sound that makes me wince. Then I swallow my pride, or rather, what little pride I have left to swallow. “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Of course it is. Thank you, Axel.” I shift in my seat, and exhale a light breath as I swivel my ankle in a circle. The pain has faded, but it’s still sore. Not broken, and not quite sprained. I’ll be receiving yet another hospital bill within a week that I won’t be able to pay. “I’m not exactly sure I needed to go to the hospital, but thank you for that, too.”

  He cocks his head at me. His beautiful damn head. “You’re welcome, Angel.”

  “Alyssa,” I correct him.

  “I prefer Angel. It has a beautiful ring to it. Not that the name Alyssa isn’t beautiful. What is a girl like you doing in a place like that, anyway?”

  “A girl like me?”

  “Sweet.”

  I crinkle my nose. At least Marley had known me two months before she’d called me that.

 
“Axel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “So tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I’m much stronger than I look.” I throw my left arm between us, flexing my bicep. “I do what I need to do to survive, and right now that means slinging drinks at the club. This is my road,” I say as I point to the upcoming turn on the right.

  “Here?” he questions as he turns the wheel, and we careen onto my street.

  On both sides of the asphalt are apartment buildings, four stories high. They’re not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re also not complete dumps. They’re nice for what they are, a place to rest my head at the end of each night. For the most part, crime tends to stay away, which is really the only thing that matters.

  I point to my apartment building, and he pulls into an open space in front. He switches the lights off.

  “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I sigh. “It’s just, we didn’t think things through very well. You’re driving my car. How are you going to get home?”

  “I’ll call a cab.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.” He gets out of the car, then opens my door for me.

  “Are you sure?”

  He puts his arm around my waist, supporting me as we walk. I feel his muscles flex and see them ripple with every step we take. “You’re really strong,” I stutter.

  “Not nearly as strong as you,” he jokes, but there’s a seriousness behind his laugh. “There’s a thousand ways to be strong.”

  “Right,” I nod. “Just don’t tell my weak ankles that.”’

  “I’m going to help you to your apartment,” he says, and it’s not a question. I know I have no choice but to accept his help.

  “If you insist,” I sigh.

  Once again, he scoops me up in his arms, and I can’t help but enjoy feeling small and fragile in his big arms.

  I direct him up a flight of steps, and he tightens his grip on my body. Once we reach my door, nestled in a hallway with a firm breeze drifting in from the outdoors, he gently lowers me to my feet.