With her legs now wrapped around his waist and the biggest smile ever, Lila only said, “Absolutely!”
Sporting a tiny glint in his eyes and his dimple peeking out, Carson ended the conversation with, “I’m bringing my bike. No doubt about that.”
He kissed her before she could reply.
Two years later
CARSON LANDED at the private airstrip, practically jumped out of the plane, hopped on his bike, and headed toward home. Screw debriefing his client. He solved the case, found the person of interest, delivered them, and wanted to get the fuck home. As soon as he had deposited the individual in question with the authorities, he’d demanded the plane get right back up in the air. He mostly flew private these days.
The flying, an added perk to his elevated career status, was only superseded by being able to charge exorbitant rates after he had handed the FBI such a big tip-off and case with Elon Finder and Mystique. He would have done it no matter what for Lila.
His private work was steady as usual, but now he could be even more particular in choosing jobs, since the FBI now called him to consult on certain cases they couldn’t get a solid lead on, or to pass along cases the government didn’t want to be involved with. He was in high demand, and he liked it that way.
Hence, his current client could wait. Their software programming was safe now. Carson found and apprehended the idiot who had tried to run away with the code for himself. Some people got so greedy, thinking they could have it all.
Like him. He did. He had it all. Yeah, he was a smug shit, but considering he came from not much, Carson was proud of where life had landed him.
Lila wouldn’t be happy he was on his bike. He hoped the fact he was home a day early would make up for it. She hated his fast driving, whether it was his sports car or his treasured bike.
It was who he was. He drove fast when they met. What did she expect?
With the wind buffeting his back as Carson pushed his speed a little faster, his thoughts drifted back to when he first picked Lila up in the rental car in Vegas. She’d gripped the side bar back then as though her life depended on it. To think of it, she still did as he continued to speed around town whenever they were out.
He could see her point. Sort of. What did she want him to get? A minivan?
No fucking way.
He ran through all of his options on his ride home. He had to settle on some type of compromise, because it wasn’t going to be just the two of them for much longer.
After he parked his beloved bike in the garage and slipped into the house quietly, he caught a glance of his wife sitting on the back porch, hands on her round stomach, shadows from the palm trees moving over her, their fronds gently waving in the ocean air.
They had moved to Santa Monica permanently a year ago. Their Spanish-style ranch house with huge windows and big wide-open spaces was the exact opposite of Lila’s life growing up. In New York, she was shut inside, forced to hide her bruises in the darkness, and expected to remain separate from the outside world.
He didn’t want that for her ever again.
Carson was pretty sure Lila missed Vegas from time to time, but she never admitted it. The glitz, action, and dancing were all she knew for most of her young adult life. For many years, all that was her safety net and her only family. It was ironic that the crazy, on-the-edge adult entertainment industry had protected her when she was hiding from a painful and secluded past.
He took care of her now. At least, that was what he told himself, but he knew she could take care of herself. Lila was strong and capable. She was a survivor; he’d never believed anything different. It was her resilience that allowed her to build a life in Vegas instead of wallowing in self-pity when she escaped New York.
That was why he didn’t say a word when Lila continued to dance as Sienna Flower for the first six months they were officially together. He had to put his feelings aside and let her do what she wanted.
She needed to make her own decision to quit when it felt right. Which finally happened when Asher’s personal life quieted down after a painful few months, a time during which the two men became extremely close, thanks to their shitty but similar pasts. Lila started working toward her business degree; she knew it was the right move. She was almost thirty years old at that point. It was time to do something else other than dance, but she couldn’t turn her back on her adopted family.
Lila never mentioned Carson being a part of her decision to retire from dancing. He let her have that. She knew what he wanted, but after spending the early years of her life with every decision made for her, he knew she needed to make her own choices. With Asher making a life of his own, both he and Lila decided to expand the club. He wanted to make sure they both could reap enough from the business. Carson owed the man everything, and now that Asher had settled down, the pair was almost even.
Between Lila’s recent experience in business school and her years of being the top adult dancer in Vegas, she was more than ready to build and run more clubs. Their first expansion was in Los Angeles, which was what brought Lila and Carson to Santa Monica. Thank God he could work anywhere, because he was going to follow her wherever she went.
Lila now oversaw the entire operation in California. She took each dancer under her wing as only Sienna Flower could—giving them confidence, pride, and survival tips. She made sure each one saved money, took good care of herself, and never let any one of them get down on themselves. On any given day, Carson would come home to a house full of gorgeous women, lounging around with coffee or wine, laughing, relaxing, unwinding, and sharing the stress of the week.
He was the envy of all his buddies.
Carson gave Lila many of the same things she gave the girls—peace, strength, pride, and love—and he loved doing it. He liked nothing better than to relax on the patio with his wife, beer in his hand and a hot cup of coffee in hers, while she snuggled up to him. There was something special about kicking back as waves crashed nearby, the ocean air whipping around, wrapping them up in its salty essence, and helping take away all the strain of life.
Which was what he wanted to do right now, once he could stop staring at the beauty in front of him.
The LA club, the Electric Cove, was way in the black after just one year. Lila did that, too. She worked tirelessly, a perfectionist at heart. Carson didn’t ever mention her upcoming maternity leave and what would happen afterward. Another little way he let Lila be her own woman. He knew she was handling it.
Petey had traveled to LA with Lila to set up and run the security at the club, and she had recently moved him into the role of club manager. Petey was happy as fuck with his new title and his twenty-five percent stake in the joint. Whatever plans Lila and Petey made once she had the baby, he knew they’d be solid.
Lila’s oldest brother, Daniel, who had been most affected by the discovery of her and the circumstances around why she ran, couldn’t make peace with their family or religion afterward. He and his wife separated. Since they didn’t have kids, he made a clean break and moved to LA to reacquaint himself with Lila. He visited the club from time to time during nonbusiness hours, and now did the accounting for them. Carson knew he had tremendous guilt, and this was his way of atoning for it.
Lila was still getting used to having one family member back in her life, but he could tell she liked it. Her parents kept their distance, just as Lila asked. Unfortunately, making it right with their daughter was less important than being excommunicated from their community.
Although Lila was an innocent victim in all of Elon’s actions, her parents associated her with him and refused to absolve her, which trickled out to the rest of the neighborhood. Their motives in hiring Carson and finding her were never sincere. They just wanted to be related to the Finder family.
Then when everything went south, they changed their tune and didn’t want anything to do with the Finders. Ironically, that included their own daughter, who had been a Finder in name.
Lila never talked ab
out her ex-husband. Never, and Carson was fine with that. It was over for Lila and Elon before it really started. Lila went to therapy for the first year after the kidnapping, and made peace with the idea that none of it was her fault.
She also resolved and strengthened her belief her work as a stripper was decent. It kept her safe for many years, and now she used the knowledge she gained from that experience to help other women make money in an industry that often stripped them of their pride. She showed them how to avoid that at all costs.
Personally, for Carson, all he cared about was keeping Lila safe. After Elon gave her the civil divorce from prison, she was granted a religious divorce. Elon was tied up for a very long time in the system. He wasn’t coming back, but just in case, Carson had someone keep a constant eye on him.
He and Lila went back to the Bahamas a year after their first trip there and were married in a small ceremony on the beach. It was an anniversary and a birth all in one—the one-year mark of when Lila had stopped living in fear, and the beginning of a new life with a husband who adored her. Since her entire Tunnel family was in attendance, it was also a going-away party for Lila and Carson right before they moved to California.
They all would be back together soon with a number of upcoming arrivals, his and Lila’s baby being only one of them.
He knew Lila was making the most of every second until their baby arrived. Last week, she and Asher broke ground on the birth of their next club, the Electric Wave in Miami. Lila had gone to scout locations, but now that she wasn’t traveling, Asher took over for the time being.
Big Mike and Lila talked on the phone daily, and Carson was pretty sure he was the one she missed the most. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Lila told him she was sending Big Mike to Florida to take over the club. Giving back to the people who had helped her was important to her, and she wanted to do everything she could to be sure they all succeeded.
As much as she was making the most of every last minute before becoming a mom, Lila was also determined to deliver on her due date, so she’d make the club opening set for two months after the day their baby was due to arrive.
There was nothing Carson could do to stop her from going. The Tunnel franchise was her first baby.
Carson went in and out of LA almost weekly on cases, always rushing back to Lila. He loved the weeks where he had nothing but preliminary research and he could spend the whole week at home. Recently, he was back to a lot of cross-country travel, which would come to an end for a while after the baby came. Although he knew Lila wouldn’t let him keep that up for long.
Lila…she wanted the best for everyone. Wanted each and every person in her life to have success. She loved so big after allowing her walls to come down completely. He tried not to think about rescuing her anymore or how they began. He was proud of her, though.
Christ, she was amazing, and he knew it would only get better with the birth of their baby.
He didn’t know what kind of dad he would be. He hoped he’d be pretty decent with Lila’s help. He did know for certain she was the kind of mom he never had but always wished for, and was thrilled that his son would have that.
Looking out the window, Carson took note of Lila talking, no doubt sharing all her love with their soon-to-be-born son. His heart swelling with love, he made a decision.
I’m getting a fucking tank, one of those big SUVs with enough steel to protect my family.
Sliding the glass door open, he peeked out, trying to hear what Lila was saying to their son.
“You’re going to grow up to be big and strong like your daddy, but you’re going to use all that strength for good just like him. I know you’ll really be gentle and kind and never mean.”
Lila turned her gaze up, her glowing green eyes meeting Carson’s as a huge smile played on her face. From the pleased look on her face, he knew his dimple must be showing again. He was constantly electrified with life by his wife.
“Welcome home,” she said as she moved her hands up and down her stomach.
He glanced at what she was wearing, and they both burst out laughing at her Superwoman T-shirt stretched out across her huge pregnant belly. Carson smiled on the inside now, remembering Sienna on the pole wearing nothing but hot pants and the Superwoman T-shirt tied in a knot, and what they did afterward. She was a Superwoman, and he wanted her all to himself, whether she was a dancer or not.
He wanted it all, and he got it.
Read on for a Sneak Peek of Asher’s story in Smoldered
Five years ago, Sunday
I BREATHED a sigh of relief. This was exactly what I needed tonight. All it took was one lap through the Pink Leop—or the Leop, as it was known—and I felt like I was transported to some of my dirtier fantasies. By dirty, I meant the gritty, baser shit I tended to think about, but didn’t act on—too frequently, anyway. I was no angel, and never claimed to be one. I’d had a lot of women, and tonight, I really needed to get off hard.
I didn’t do drugs. I did sex, and the not the missionary-style, lovey-dovey stuff.
Snaking my way around the main bar and heading toward a side stage in the back of the club, I set my eyes on where I wanted to land.
The Leop was set up differently from my club. Instead of a main stage there were four small stages, one per corner, each platform featuring a different tantalizing vignette. I couldn’t walk fast enough to the back right. I licked my lips as my feet ate up the floor, my heart pounding as I neared the tiny platform.
At my club, the Electric Tunnel, we had a single main stage looping around the front of the club where we featured either one main act, like my Sienna Flower, or two or three scenes simultaneously at different ends or corners. Our lap dance business was most likely quadruple what the Leop did, by the looks of it. Here the customers—mostly men, but a few women, too— worked their way around the room as they checked out the different stages, which was wasted time, in my opinion.
Not wasting mine right now. That fucking scene playing out is hot, and my dick and I have to get closer.
My club had one main focal point, but not everyone could get close enough, so we brought the act right to their seats with a private lap dance. It was a win/win for everyone. More money for the dancers and me, and a much better view for the customer.
As I neared the end of the bar, the regular head bartender, Ryan, reached over and grabbed my shoulder. “Look what the cat dragged in! None other than Asher Peterson, the guy remaking the stripper biz on the other side of town.”
I laughed, stretched my hand over to shake his, and answered, “You got that right, but no harm in swinging by and checking out the competition. That way I get to catch up with assholes like you.”
Ryan chuckled. “I’m kidding, dude. We all know you got your sights set on something bigger and better over at the Electric Tunnel. Just happy to see you can still slum it over at our fine establishment. We know our market, and you’re it.” He slapped my back in jest and asked what I wanted to drink.
I ordered a shot. I figured it would be quick, and I was practically hopping back and forth on my feet, fighting my desire to get to the action.
Finally, he poured, I lifted the little glass, tossed the burning liquid down my throat, and gave the dude a small chin lift in thanks. “Catch you later, Ryan,” I said and moved like a leopard on the prowl.
Earlier, I told myself I wanted to check out the competition, so I could convince myself I was doing better than them. But it was really something more. I had my limits, and I was nearing them. I needed to get off. Period.
The Pink Leop had been around for a while, and had a reputation for allowing quite a bit of crazy shit to go down. Word on the street was you could get just about anything you wanted done to you, or for you, in the private rooms. And for the right price, you could take a girl back to your place with you for the night. It was exactly what I didn’t want for the Tunnel, but it didn’t mean I was immune to the stench of sex when I walked through its doors, or that I didn’t wa
nt to partake a little bit. I did. It was exactly why I was here, pushing a few gross fat and sweaty men out of my way so I could get closer to the action.
So what if the owners lost money in lap dances? They obviously made up for it in their private rooms. Yeah, some of the shit they allowed wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. “Heavy touching” was probably putting it nicely, but hey, what the hell did I care? I didn’t own the place. I was here for a good time like the next guy. If they got into trouble with the law, it wasn’t my problem.
Finally, I sank down into a worn-out red suede chair to the side of the scene that caught my eye. I couldn’t be bothered with how grubby the shitty chair was, pushing out all thoughts of what may have touched its gross fabric over the years. Thank fuck, mine are leather at the Tunnel.
I was fully laid out in the piece of crap, sticky as all get-out, and I couldn’t be bothered because the two women directly in front of me were hot. Smoking hot, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fake haze whirling all around them from the smoke machine.
I wanted to take both of them home and test out what they were doing onstage with me in the middle, preferably without any clothes in the way. The girls were both completely naked other than the thongs they wore, one red and the other gold. They stood on either side of a chair set in the middle of the stage, long messy hair falling all around soft and demure shoulders and touching the tips of their nipples, grinding on either end of the piece of furniture while leaning over and groping each other’s tits.
I was rigid everywhere as I watched in anticipation of what the two would do next. Christ, the way they twisted each other’s nipples, moaning and groaning like it felt better than anything they ever had before, appeared to be incredibly hot. The two luscious babes stared deep into each other’s eyes as if they were soul mates, doing exactly what they would be doing at home, but I knew the truth. They’d much rather be at home on their couch, drinking wine and watching a chick flick.
Electrified Page 31