© 2018 Sheridan Anne.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover Design by: Sheridan Anne
Photograph: StockLite
Editing & Formatting by: Sheridan Anne
Introduction
Rylee
I have my best friend and my club, that’s all I need in life.
Men come and go, they get me, but they never get my heart.
That’s mine and mine alone.
One night in a supply closet was all it took.
He shook me right to the core.
I wasn’t expecting him, and when he came, it terrified me.
He’s going to tear me down and my heart will never be safe again.
Cole
I watched her from across the club and her eyes met mine.
They were green and practically called to me.
She blew me away and the next thing I knew, I was crossing the dance floor to get to her.
Within moments, she was up against the wall, right where I wanted her.
What I wasn’t expecting was for her to say no.
The second she walked away, I knew I needed more.
I craved her and another one-night stand was never going to be enough.
WARNING: Cole is a steamy romance with a HEA and NO CLIFFHANGER. It contains sexual content and coarse language. It is recommended for mature readers. Please be aware that some scenes may cause stress for some readers.
The Rebels Advocate series is made up of standalone novels, however, for maximum enjoyment, it is recommended that readers start with the Kings of Denver series.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Sneak Peek – Caden – Rebels Advocate (Book 2)
Other books by Sheridan Anne
Chapter 1
Cole
I sit at my desk, trying my best to concentrate on the screen before me when a sound coming from deep within the gym has my nerves sitting on edge.
What the fuck was that?
I look up from my computer screen and out the window into my gym. The doors to Rebels Advocate closed over twenty minutes ago and I could have sworn I was the only one here. The doors are locked and the lights are off.
The sound comes again, only this time it sounds more like someone being slammed up against a wall.
For fuck's sake. There better not be any dickheads using my gym to fight. I know we’re an MMA gym and generally what we’re known best for is fighting, but every fucker who trains here knows the two golden rules. First, you show respect to the gym and its trainers and you’ll receive the same respect in return, and second, nobody, and I mean nobody, brings their shit into Rebels Advocate.
Anger takes over and I get up from my desk as the sound of flesh being pummelled into over and over again echoes through Rebels once again.
Slap. Slap. Groan. Slap.
This shit is not ok. If I find one of my fighters using my gym to beat the shit out of someone, there will be hell to pay.
I head out into the main part of the gym and quickly search out the sound. I look over the main part of the floor to the boxing ring and punching bags and realize I’m alone out here, but the sound continues.
I listen a little more closely.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.
It’s too repetitive. It doesn’t sound right to be a fight. It lacks rhythm.
I’ve been fighting since I was a little kid. I’ve competed in the underground and in the professional circuit. I’ve nailed my fists into more people than I care to admit, and one thing I know for damn sure is the sound of a fist slamming into another man's body. I could pick that sound anywhere. Besides, fights generally have a shit load more creativity to their sound, especially in MMA when you’re mixing punches with kicks.
But this sound, this is not the sound of someone being taken down. This is different. This is clinical like someone is repeating the same punch over and over again.
Slap. Slap. Groan.
I follow the sound down to the studio room we use for personal training and group classes, and the closer I get, the clearer the sound becomes. Now, the one thing I’ve probably done more of than fighting is fucking, and the sound of that repetitive, uncreative slapping reminds me of my teenage years. You know, the ones where I’d find a girl and go to pound town as fast and as hard as I could before arriving at the station, not caring about her needs.
These days, things are different. Very different. Being with a woman is like a fucking drug to me. Getting her all hot and bothered, watching her get all wound up and desperate with need at my touch, then working her until she detonates. Yeah, like a fucking drug.
Knowing now that the sound is most likely some horny teenager screwing his girlfriend has my anger instantly doubling. No, fuck that, tripling. No one disrespects Rebels in that way.
“Oh, fuck,” a man’s voice is groaned from within the room.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.
I turn the corner into the dark room and lean up against the open door. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust in the dark, but I instantly point them out. Just as I thought, a horny teenager is slamming his pathetic excuse of a dick into a poor girl like a fucking jackhammer. His white ass is practically glowing in the dark and it’s clear the slapping sound is his ball sack smacking against her ass. Fuck, there’s no way in hell this chick is enjoying that.
If I didn’t have such good self-control, this situation would have been handled very differently, like back in the good old days when I would have stormed in the room and fucked shit up. But, then I found a trainer who refused to put up with my shit and whipped me into shape. Things changed for the better then.
So, instead of losing my shit, I stretch out my arm and simply flick the light.
The room comes alive and the kid with his pants down around his ankles comes to a screeching halt, bringing the slapping sound to an immediate stop. The woman who’s currently squished up against my white walls, smearing her orange makeup all over it, lets out a surprised gasp and pushes back into the dude and off the wall.
They gape at me as I lean against the door frame. I glance down at my bare wrist before looking back up at them. “You have ten seconds to get yourselves dressed and out of my gym or your asses are mine.” I start counting down from ten and after a second, they begin scrambling for their clothes.
As they dress, I try to place their faces, but I can’t. The chick is probably some girl who came in for Luke and Jace’s self-defense class, and I have to be honest, I’m not disappointed to be getting a good look at her rack right now. She’s got a perfect set of tits on her. I could walk over there right now, jam my face between them, and stay there for hours.
But the guy? I don’t think I know him. He must be new here as he clearly hasn’t learned that bullshit like this simply doesn’t fly here. We’re not the
college gym where there’s DNA from one end to the other. We’re an MMA gym dedicated to producing professional fighters. I don’t need to be dealing with this shit.
The couple gets dressed in record time and the dude looks up at me with fear etched into his face. Though, I don’t know if it’s because he knows who I am and knows of my reputation or if he’s just some scared freshman petrified that I’m going to say something. I’d like to think it’s the first. People in this town know exactly who I am. They know I’d never back down from a fight and they also know that I never lose.
Whatever it is, they better hurry the fuck up and get out of here.
They finally get their asses out the door, but not before I make the chick stay and wipe her makeup off the wall.
I look up at the clock and see it’s just after 10:30 on Saturday night and I go through my options. I could either go home and get a decent night sleep or I could call the boys and get royally fucked up.
It’s been a massive week. In fact, it’s been a massive year. My top fighter, Xander Phillips, has just completed his first year in the professional circuit and took out the competition with ease. I swear the kid could have done it blindfolded, he’s just that good.
His win was incredible and turned him into the local celebrity which means Rebels Advocate is swarming with new clients. Usually, I’d say that’s a great thing, but it’s not. All it means is a shit load of dudes wanting to get in the ring only to realize they have absolutely no talent when it comes to throwing a punch.
I’m only interested in serious fighters who are ready and prepared to put in the effort it takes to make it to the top. It’s not fucking easy and Xander found that out the hard way, but he deserved it. He put blood, sweat, and tears into his training and it’s paying off.
Luckily, I’ve had my boys with me this week. Luke, Caden, and Jace. They’re my three best friends and together we own Rebels Advocate. We practically built this place from the ground up. It was an old abandoned warehouse before we got our hands on it.
Together we turned it into one of the most successful MMA Gyms in the country. If any of us actually had the time, we’d be smart to franchise, but we’re happy with what we’ve got. Why ruin a good thing?
The boys helped me separate all the idiots from the guys who actually showed some talent, and I’m proud to say we have at least three new contenders, who with the right training could make it to the professional circuit, while we have at least another ten fighters who have the talent to at least make a living out of it. The rest simply had to go. We’re not into wasting our time.
I pull out my phone and bring up Jace’s number. It rings twice before he answers. “Sup, fucker?” he says with a clear smile in his voice.
“Hey, what are you doing? You guys got plans tonight?” I ask, knowing he would have already asked them at some point during the day. Jace is always the first to put his hand up for a night out.
“Yeah, man. I was just about to call. We’re heading to The Dark Room. You in?”
“Yeah, I’m in.”
I hear the boys in the background and from the sounds of it, their night has already begun. “Cool. We’re just leaving now. Do you want us to swing by and pick you up?”
“Nah. I’ll meet you there.” Jace should know better. I always drive. Always. But he can’t help but offer, it’s just in his nature.
I do a once around gym, double checking the windows and doors are locked and making sure everything is good for when Jess comes in tomorrow morning. I have a feeling none of us boys are going to be making an early appearance tomorrow, so it’s up to Jess to hold down the fort until one of us can manage to fall out of bed. Though I’m not worried, Jess has been working for us for a few years. She’s great and knows the gym like the back of her hand.
With my keys in hand, I set the alarm and get out of there. It’s been a long fucking day and all I want to do I unwind with my boys.
I jump in my truck and get my ass down to The Dark Room, knowing full well that the boys would have started their party without me and I’ll have to play catch up.
I park my truck and pocket the keys as I make my way inside. I spot my boys instantly. They’re like the rowdiest bunch of dickheads in the club, but no one seems to care. In fact, they seem to be the life of everyone else’s parties.
I make my way through the throng of dancing bodies and drop down in the seat next to Caden. “What’s up, man?” he says as he slides a beer across the table to me.
I take it greedily and down the beer in one easy go. “Better now,” I tell him. “Just caught two kids fucking in our studio room.”
Caden presses his lips into a tight line and shakes his head, clearly as unimpressed as I was. Caden has always been a lot like me. We’re all about running the business and the management side of things. We’re the serious ones. So, what pisses me off, generally pisses him off too.
Jace and Luke, on the other hand, are the carefree ones. They don’t give a shit about anything. They’re the best people I know and the best guys to have around to lighten any mood. They’re some of the biggest dickheads I know, but I love them.
Somehow, the four of us just work. I’d never have it any other way. Going into business with these three guys was the best decision of my life. Every day is like a fucking gift.
“Hell, yeah,” Jace laughs from across the table, cutting off whatever Caden was going to say. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Some kids. They flew out of there like their asses were on fire.”
“Shit, that’s hilarious,” he chuckles before turning to Luke. “You think it was caught on the surveillance?”
Luke raises an eyebrow as a grin spreads across his face. I have absolutely no doubt that these two dickheads will be looking it up tomorrow.
A waitress comes by and clears all the empty glasses off the table before taking our orders for another round. I relax back into the booth and let loose. It’s been a long fucking week and all I want to do is have a good time.
I play catch up with the boys and before I know it, we have a table full of girls hanging off each of us.
I must say, there’s nothing better than the fact that all us boys are living the single life. We love it, well, at least I do. I can’t speak for the boys, but from the way they enjoy getting their dicks wet, I’d assume they’d agree with me.
I’ve got a blonde chick in a skimpy back dress hanging off me and rubbing her hand up my thigh, trying to palm my dick through my jeans. But it’s not her I’ll be taking home tonight. It’s the sexy as fuck chick behind the bar who hasn’t taken her eyes off me all night.
To the blonde chick’s disappointment, I get up from the table and make my way across The Dark Room. I lean my elbows up on the bar and watch the girl as she busily goes about filling a glass. My eyes bore into her fine ass and I grin to myself, knowing I’m going to be all over it tonight.
As if sensing my gaze upon her, she flicks her green eyes my way.
Fuck, she’s hot.
I raise my chin and she makes her way over to me. My eyes can’t help but greedily take her in. Her body is nothing short of perfection and I can’t wait to have my way with it. In the dark club, it’s hard to tell if her hair is dark brown or black, but it really makes no difference to me.
Her black tank stretches across her tits and I practically start drooling. “What can I get you?” she asks as she comes to a stop before me.
“What’s your name, honey?” I ask as I watch her eyes travel up and down my body with interest.
Her eyes come back up to mine before her lips lift into a playful smirk. “I’m not your honey,” she tells me over the sound of the club as she goes about fixing a beer. She paces it down in front of me, not bothering to wait for my order.
Fuck, I can already tell she’s feisty. I’m going to enjoy this one.
I take the beer off the bar and replace it with a twenty-dollar bill as I keep my eyes locked firmly on hers. From the heat radiat
ing out of her eyes, I can tell she’s more than interested. “What time do you get off?” I ask as her bottom lip gets lost between her teeth.
She looks up and down the bar before bringing those green eyes back to mine, only now, there’s a wicked sparkle deep within them. “Now.”
Chapter 2
Rylee
I take the man by the hand and lead him to the supply closet. I pull the door open, drag him in behind me, and slam the door closed before flicking the lock. The second I laid my eyes on him, I knew I had to have him.
The man looks like a walking orgasm. He has this whole dark smoldering thing about him and looks like the worst kind of boy, the kind you’d never bring home to meet your parents.
I’m giddy with excitement, I can’t wait.
He walked into the club and the second I saw him, I was flooded by this desperate need to screw his brains out. I never thought it’d actually happen though. I mean, what are the chances he’d strut across the dance floor with his smoldering eyes locked on mine? From the looks of him, he’s probably married or has a girlfriend, yet here he is, following me into the supply closet and letting me slam him up against the door.
My hands fly to his shirt and I rip it up above his head. He’s tall so he helps me get it all the way off. The second the shirt falls to the floor, my hands come down on his sculptured body. Holy goodness. Men in real life just don’t look like this. I swear, he looks like one of those fitness models, only better. He’s got these huge shoulders that lead down to the widest chest I think I’ve ever seen, but it’s the abs and the ‘V’ that has me drooling like a damn fool. Mix that in with his handsome face and I’m putty in his capable hands.
He grabs me around the waist and flips us around so it’s me being pressed up against the wall. I gasp as his lips come down on my neck. Wow, Mr. Walking Orgasm is bound to get me off before he’s even touched me. My arms wrap around his strong body and I dig my nails into his back, needing more. “What’s your name?” he murmurs against the skin of my neck.
Cole: Rebels Advocate (Book 1) Page 1