Dirty Dealer: A Hero Club Novel

by Kacey Shea

  Oh, shit. My stomach drops at the thought of going out, being social, or forcing a fake smile, but . . . I promised. I don’t go back on my word. Besides, Jenni is the only ally I have in this house, and I could use a friend. “Sure.” I force myself to brighten. “I need a shower, but I’ll hurry.”

  “Yay!” Jenni claps and skips back to her room. “This is going to be awesome!”

  “God, I hope so,” I mutter under my breath. After the day I’ve had, it’s almost too much to hope for.

  16

  Jude

  “Smile, Jude! You promised me a good time!” Jenese shouts above the music. A blaring bass beat pulses in my chest.

  I hate to admit it, but I might be over the club scene. Everyone in this place is dressed to impress. All the beautiful people and a ton of entitled assholes gather to be seen and partake in the simple pleasures of life. Drinks flow plentiful, along with inhibitions. Bodies press together, dancing and grinding, the perfect foreplay for a one-night stand. Only, all of it is meaningless. The idol chit-chat and banter with a sexy stranger holds no challenge. Even Jenese, who is a sure thing, doesn’t excite me. A crying shame, because she’s gorgeous as ever, charming, and adventurous as hell in the bedroom.

  But when I look at her my cock doesn’t stir. Fuck. My dick might actually be broken. “I’m getting another drink!” I shout back.

  She smiles and spins back to her friends, shimmying her hips to the music.

  I weave my way through the thick crowd, wondering when it got so crowded in here and when I can get away with leaving and not hurt Jenese’s feelings. My gaze darts between the door and the bar. I could leave now. Bail and apologize with a text message. She’d probably stop calling, but that wouldn’t be a bad thing considering whatever we had is played out anyway. I take a step toward the exit, but stop in my tracks when I catch sight of a familiar profile.

  Rachel.

  No fucking way. My libido springs to life at the sight of her in an ungodly short black dress. The design is simple, but it hugs her body in the best possible way. My fingers ache to take it off.

  She tips her head back, her lips spreading with unbridled laughter, and she rests her hand on one of the guys’ forearms. She’s with a group, but I immediately want to rip the dude’s balls off. I hate that he’s earned her amusement. Her attention. More so, I hate that I haven’t.

  A moment later she leaves the circle of friends to head to the bar, and my own feet don’t miss a beat. She slides into a small opening at the bar, and I tap the guy next to her on the shoulder before shooting him a glare that has him moving over.

  I lift my hand to signal the bartender’s attention, and Rachel’s gaze lifts. Her eyes widen and lips part with recognition. God, her mouth is absolutely kissable. Dark red, more dramatic than the shade she’s been wearing all week, steals my total focus.

  Rachel straightens her spine. “Are you following me?”

  I think she’s joking, but when she doesn’t smile, I decide to mess with her. I lift my brow with a smirk. “Would it be so bad if I were?”

  “Seriously?” She laughs, but it’s not that joyful uninhibited one she gave that other guy minutes ago.

  Fuck if that doesn’t strike a wave of jealousy. That and a new challenge.

  “I’m here with friends.” I don’t say date, because I don’t want Rachel to know I’m with Jenese. I tip my chin to the group of people she was with moments ago. “Just like you.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She flashes me a smile, but it’s forced, then rubs her temple. “I’ve had a bad day.” She sighs and crinkles her nose. Wrinkles form between her eyebrows and she looks so damn sad.

  Immediately, I want to erase whatever stress has ruined her day. “But it’s better now?” I nod at the bartender heading our way.

  “Getting there.”

  “Let me buy you a drink.”

  She shakes her head and places her hand on my shoulder, leaning closer to be heard above the music. “You’ve done too much already.”

  “Rachel.” Now it’s my turn to scowl. Does she really have to fight me on everything? And why does her resistance make me want my way? I glance to the bartender, then back to her. “Order a drink.”

  Her eyes widen the slightest at my command. “Gin and tonic, please.”

  Good girl. “Another whiskey for me,” I say to the bartender, then turn my attention to her. “There. Was that so hard?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Are you always so bossy?”

  “I like to get my way.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She sighs, and I hate that she’s not impressed.

  Most women find my tenacity and business savvy a turn-on, but Rachel isn’t like most women. It’s probably why I find her alluring. It’s been so long since I’ve had a good chase—I forgot how much fun a challenge can be.

  “So, tell me about this bad day?”

  “I’d rather not. Trying to forget about it.” The bleakness in her expression causes my heart to squeeze. The bartender drops our drinks on the counter before us. Rachel picks hers up, drinking from her straw like it’s a lifeline.

  “Fair.” I hate that she’s had a bad day. A bad week, really. “Wanna dance?”

  “You dance?” Her brows lift, and a slight smile teases her lips.

  “I’ve got some moves.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She rolls her eyes.

  “You don’t believe me?” I play it off as if I’m offended, but the reality is I’m not ready for her to ditch me for her friends and the guy who made her laugh. I steal a sip of whiskey. “Hey, I am a master on the dance floor. Come on, I’ll prove it. Two songs out there and your panties might spontaneously combust.”

  “You should come with a warning label.” Her retort is laced with sarcasm.

  I flash her a wicked smile. “More like a public service announcement.” The idea of her without panties broadens the stretch of my lips. “If nothing, it’s the responsible thing to do.”

  “Protector of women’s undergarments.”

  “I’ve been called worse.” I slam back the rest of my drink, wanting two free hands to touch her if we’re really gonna do this. “Come on, Rachel. Dance with me. Unless you’re too scared.”

  She holds her drink, assessing me with a stare as she takes another sip. My dick stirs at the way her lips purse around her straw. I fight off visions of them wrapped around certain parts of my body before I start sporting wood.

  “One dance.” I hold out my hand and wait.

  She places her long, capable fingers in mine and I tug her forward as I weave us toward the crowd of bodies and thumping bass. The sound reverberates in my chest and my heartbeat races. Her skin is soft, and my fingers ache to touch more than just her hand. I brush my thumb across the inside of her wrist, over her pulse point, and pretend it speeds along with mine—that she feels the same hit of dopamine I do, every time we’re close. As we squeeze past bodies, deeper into the heat of the darkened dance floor, I imagine her thrilling with the promise of our bodies pressed together, grinding, touching, moving with abandon. Silly, maybe. But when I stop and turn to wrap my arms around her waist, our eyes catch under the moving overhead beams of light and I swear she appears every bit as turned on as I am.

  The song is faster than I’d like, but beggars can’t be choosy, and right now my hands rest on Rachel’s luscious hips—something I’ve been dying to do since finding her stranded on the freeway at the beginning of the week.

  She holds her drink with one hand and the other rests on my shoulder. She’s a good dancer, not that I had any doubts. She moves with confidence, her hips swaying to the music. I do my best to keep things PG, but give her a taste of my bedroom skills, rolling my hips and leaning closer with each minute that passes. Flashes of color strobe overhead, spinning rays of amber, blue, and red on the sea of people. My skin is flush, not just from exertion or the crowd, but because being this close and moving in this way makes me think of nothing but sex.

  Another son
g begins and Rachel doesn’t pull out of my arms. It’s the only encouragement I need to stay on this dance floor.

  Our gazes lock but she flips her hair back, sipping from her drink and breaking the connection. She’s scared. But of what? Of losing control? The undeniable attraction between us? Maybe she’s been burned before. Maybe she doesn’t trust men in general. Or maybe it’s just me?

  Regardless, there’s an unexplainable desire to prove I’m worthy of her attention. That she’s safe with me. I want to earn her trust. I want to erase the walls and protect her from hurt. It’s so strong that now I’m the one looking at the floor between us wondering where the hell those ideas came from.

  I don’t do feelings, or relationships that extend beyond physical satisfaction. I don’t get involved. I never get hurt. The collar of my shirt tightens. It’s too warm in this place. My pulse speeds with a tinge of panic. Too many people. Oh, look who’s scared now. “Another drink!” I shout at her ear, nod to the bar, and retreat as fast as my feet will take me. I don’t glance back to check whether she follows. I have to get some air.

  “Whiskey.” I hold up my finger and stand in front of an empty barstool.

  The skin around my bicep prickles with awareness at the gentle press of a hand.

  “Hey.” Rachel’s eyes widen as she studies my features. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I say gruffly, wanting but failing to appear unaffected.

  She stumbles forward, her body pressing against mine as some asshat drunkenly pushes past on his way toward the bathrooms. An accident most likely, but anger flares in my chest at how easily he could have knocked her over had we not been standing close.

  My impulse to shout after him is cut short by her breath on my neck. “Don’t, Jude.” Her hand squeezes my arm again, but this time it’s like a shot straight to my heart. “He’s not worth it.”

  Our gazes lock. The music of the club fades. My pulse speeds, thrums loudly in my ears as arousal tightens all my muscles. Her lips are so close. Close enough to kiss. Full and painted a deep red. Lips I’ve been preoccupied with all week. Dreaming of. Stroking myself to. But this isn’t a fantasy. This is real.

  Her breath hitches, and this time it’s not my imagination. There’s something between us. A live wire, a crackling force aching for connection. It draws me closer. She doesn’t pull away, and I dip my chin to close the space between us. Closer. Almost.

  Crash! She jumps. Glass shatters behind the bar. Probably a bottle tossed in the trash, but it’s enough to break the spell.

  Rachel’s eyes widen and she steps back. I instantly miss the feel of her body pressed against mine.

  “Jude.” Jenese wraps her arms around my waist, and slides between me and Rachel. Damn. Where the hell did she come from? Seriously, she appears out of thin air. A perfect cock block. More likely, I completely lost awareness of my surroundings when Rachel and I almost kissed.

  She pushes onto her toes, her lips at my earlobe. “I’m horny,” she says much too loudly, and cups my junk.

  Jesus. I hold back a groan of frustration, which I attempt to convey to Rachel as I peel Jenese off my body, but she’s staring everywhere except my way.

  My ass cheek pinches with pain. What the fresh hell? I jump, then realize it’s Jenese, who might as well have an extra limb, what with the way she’s groping me.

  “I think we’ve had enough fun for one night. Let’s get you home, yeah?” I say to pacify Jenese and her wandering hands. I hoist her onto my vacated barstool, then turn my back to catch Rachel’s attention. It might be rude, but I won’t lead the wrong woman on. It’s not my style. “Rachel, I—”

  “Rae! Here you are!” A young woman interrupts, grabbing Rachel by the arm. “We’re all hungry. Gonna hit up that food truck on Overstreet. You coming or—?” Her gaze studies me with her unspoken question. Does Rachel want to stay with me? I already know her answer.

  “No, I’m ready to go.” She turns from her friend to meet my gaze. “Thanks again for the drink.”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you around.”

  I lift my brows. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  “Right.” She laughs, but it’s tight with discomfort. “Yeah. See you then.” She takes a step away, and for a split second I wonder if she regrets not kissing me.

  I already do.

  “Night, Rachel.” I lift my hand to wave.

  “Night.” She turns and walks away, leaving me with two things I don’t want: my unsettled thoughts and a very tipsy Jenese. A wry end of the deal, yet I’d do it all again to have Rachel in my arms for another song.

  17

  Rachel

  Monday mornings are the worst. At least they used to be. Even after this weekend, when I’m more irritated than usual at most of my roommates, there’s no room in my mind for negative vibes. Not when I have a new job on a movie set! It’s the only thing on my mind.

  Not true.

  It’s the only thing I want to be focused on, but somehow my brain can’t get on board. It keeps drifting back to Jude and our almost kiss on Saturday night. My teeth clench in annoyance at the memory, but my body shivers with excitement. Stupid body.

  He was at the club with another woman. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does. Until that moment, I thought—I don’t know what I thought. He was there for me? Ridiculous. Yet on the dance floor I completely shed my inhibitions, and with the courage of a few drinks I almost gave him everything. If he had kissed me—if she hadn’t interrupted—I might have gone home with him. I know I would have.

  Maybe that’s what pisses me off the most. I’ve worked so hard to get to this point. To be the independent woman. But one dance with Jude and I was willing to throw it all away.

  I consider asking him not to drive me today. Part of me hopes he doesn’t show, but that’s only so I won’t have to face him. Stupid almost kiss. God, I hope he doesn’t bring it up. If he does I’ll blame it on the alcohol.

  I glance at the time on my phone, throw the covers off, and get out of bed. We have a shower schedule, but today it’s dragging behind. Kari Ann should have been out of the bathroom a good fifteen minutes ago. I’d consider skipping, but considering this is my first day on a new job, I want to look and feel my best.

  I also can’t be late.

  I knock on the door, a vain attempt to hurry Kari Ann. The water shut off minutes ago. She’s inside primping. “Almost done?”

  The door swings open and she cringes. “Sorry.”

  I step inside and before I can ask why, my nostrils fill with the most awful smell. “Are you kidding me?” I shout, but she’s already made herself scarce. The toilet lid is down, and while I don’t want to know what’s inside, I also don’t want to risk flushing if it’s clogged. Do we even own a plunger? Resisting the urge to gag, I check the toilet—dear God, what has she been eating? And why wouldn’t she flush? By some miracle it all goes down successfully with a flush. A small win. The smell lingers, though, even when I flip on the exhaust fan.

  A quick lukewarm shower puts me back into a semi-positive mood, but I skip washing my hair. I don’t have time to dry it. Thank God for dry shampoo. Tossing my stuff back into my shower caddy, I slip on clean panties, a bra, and tug an oversized T-shirt over my head before I walk back to my room.

  Only, I stop short when I find Crystal in my room. It takes a second to process what I see. A few items clatter inside my makeup case as she riffles through my stuff. My. Things.

  It’s the final straw. My breaking point. The worst kind of betrayal. “Crystal?”

  “Oh, hey.” The slight jump she gives is the only indication she didn’t expect me to walk in on her. Her left hand clutches a brush set, lipstick, and eye shadow palatte. “What’s up, Rae?”

  What’s up? I’d like to know the exact same. “That’s my makeup.”

  “Right.” She shrugs, but still doesn’t set it down.

  A spike of adrenaline hits with her indifference. “Were you just helpin
g yourself?”

  “Oh, Kari Ann said you had samples and stuff from sponsors.” She flicks her hair over one shoulder, but her gaze darts from my face to my makeup supplies. “I was just checking it out.”

  “Without my permission.”

  “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

  I don’t have to— “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t have enough to share. It’s a pretty selfish thing to hoard all of this. Everyone wouldn’t think you’re such a bad roommate if you’d hook us up. I wouldn’t have to sneak in here if you were a little generous.”

  “You’re stealing. My stuff.” My anger triples as I realize this isn’t the first time. She’s been stealing from me. My own roommate. God, maybe they all have?

  “Whatever. If you’re gonna make this a thing, I’ll put it back.” She drops it back into my case with a loud clatter.

  The shadow case snaps, cracks in two, and I suck in a breath as the colors of eyeshadow burst into shiny dust. I push past her and assess the damage. Shit. Shit. Shit. This set easily costs fifty dollars. Money I don’t have. “You need to pay for this.” I gently gather the larger pieces so they won’t crumble and make more of a mess.

  Crystal huffs. “I’m not paying for shit.”

  My head snaps to meet her gaze. “You’re kidding, right? This is a joke? You come into my room, without permission, steal my shit, then break it, and you won’t take accountability? That’s the kind of shitbag person you are? That’s who I’m living with?”

  “Dude. Chill out.”

  “Chill out?”

  “Leave the acting to us, yeah?” She waves a hand over her shoulder and that’s when I notice we’ve gathered a crowd. Kari Ann, Andrea, and some guy I’d never seen before—scratch that, I think I’ve seen him on a billboard ad in a pair of Calvin’s. Jenni is the only one missing, but she left for work an hour ago.