No Regrets: Jani Kay (Firebird Trilogy Book 2)
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No Regrets
Firebird Trilogy: Book #2
Jani Kay
Adult Contemporary Romance
Recommended: 18 +
October 2014
Copyright: Jani Kay
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
FIREBIRD TRILOGY
BOOKS BY JANI KAY
Chapter 1 – Rebecca
Chapter 2 — Alain
Chapter 3 — Alain
Chapter 4 – Rebecca
Chapter 5 – Rebecca
Chapter 6 – Rebecca
Chapter 7 – Rebecca
Chapter 8 — Rebecca
Chapter 9 — Maxwell
Chapter 10 – Rebecca
Chapter 11 – Maxwell
Chapter 12 — Rebecca
Chapter 13 – Rebecca
Chapter 14 — Maxwell
Chapter 15 — Maxwell
Chapter 16 – Rebecca
Chapter 17 – Rebecca
Chapter 18 — Rebecca
Chapter 19 — Rebecca
Chapter 20 — Rebecca
Chapter 21 — Maxwell
Chapter 22 — Rebecca
Chapter 23 — Maxwell
Chapter 24 — Rebecca
Chapter 25 — Rebecca
Chapter 26 — Maxwell
Chapter 27 — Maxwell
Chapter 28 — Alain
Chapter 29 — Maxwell
Chapter 30 — Rebecca
Chapter 31 — Alain
Chapter 32 — Rebecca
Chapter 33 — Maxwell
Chapter 34 — Rebecca
Chapter 35 — Rebecca
Chapter 36 — Alain
Chapter 37 — Rebecca
Chapter 38 — Alain
Chapter 39 — Maxwell
Chapter 40 — Rebecca
Chapter 41 — Maxwell
Chapter 42 — Rebecca
Chapter 43 — Alain
Chapter 44 — Rebecca
Chapter 45 — Maxwell
Chapter 46 — Rebecca
Scorpio Stinger MC Series
JANI’S CONTACT DETAILS
Further Reading: Two Worlds Colliding
FIREBIRD TRILOGY
NO REGRETS
Book 2
Jani Kay
Copyright 2014 JANI KAY
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 9781502251329
Cover Artist: Louisa Maggio
Edited by: Hot Tree Editing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes, copied, or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied for reviews.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
WARNING:
Adult content: Sexual Situations & Language
Recommended 18 +
BOOKS BY JANI KAY
Standalone Novel:
Open Your Eyes
Scorpio Stinger MC:
Ryder (Prequel)
Two Worlds Colliding (Book 1)
Unchain My Heart (Book 2)
Firebird Trilogy:
Lost In France (Book 1)
No Regrets (Book 2)
Love on Wall Street Series:
Debonair
Note By Author:
Rebecca, the main character of the Firebird Trilogy is Australian.
Therefore, to be true to her character, Australian words have been used in her dialogue — for example in Australia it’s arse not ass, aeroplane and not airplane and Mum not Mom.
This is a work of adult fiction.
The Firebird Trilogy and Scorpio Stinger MC Series are interlinked, however it's not a requirement to read either to enjoy the other. If you do enjoy the characters, you may want read more about them in the other series.
Chapter 1 – Rebecca
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” His gravelly voice matched his muscular body.
I lifted a brow, an amused smile spreading across my face. Seriously?
“You really want an answer to that?” I crossed my legs and shoved my empty glass toward him. Nice girl. Yeah, that would be me. Too nice. And look what happened...
“Only if you really want to tell me.” The emphasis on the word ‘really’ sounded strange in his heavy German accent—or maybe it was the tequila messing with my head. “But if you prefer to talk about the weather, that’s fine too.” He grinned sheepishly as he filled my glass to the brim and passed it back to me without spilling a drop.
I came to the bar for a few drinks, and to drown my sorrows. Not to pick up men or chat with randoms. “I don’t care for the weather,” I smirked.
“So I see.” His blue eyes glistened as I knocked back the third shot of tequila he’d placed in front of me. A shiver ran through my body as it hit my stomach.
I squinted at his name badge. It was difficult to read it in the dim lighting, but I managed to make out the letters from across the counter. “Listen, Kurt, I'm not here for therapy. Save that for some other fool.” I shifted the empty glass back over the counter. “Be a good boy and fill her up again.”
Prost Bier Bar was only a block away from the new place that’d be my home for the next few weeks, and I preferred it over spending time there alone. Since I’d moved to Munich, I’d come to the bar at least every second evening after work—always sitting on the same seat at the far end of the counter as if it had my name written on it. Hell, Kurt could put a sign on it that read “Reserved for Nice Girl, Ms. Clarke.”
“That will be your last tequila,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “Responsible serving of alcohol.” He pursed his lips as a frown settled between his brows.
Kurt worked shifts at least half of the time I spent there, so I’d become used to seeing his face. At first, he worked quietly behind the bar, watching me, but keeping his distance. Exactly as it’s meant to be and why there was a counter between us. Granted, he’d grimace every time I ordered another drink, which was pretty strange behavior for someone working at a bar. As the weeks passed, we’d exchange a few words, but I’d shrug him off after a few minutes by turning my back to him and staring blindly at the crowd. Nice girl, indeed.
“I have to take your keys away, too, if you’re driving.” Apart from the few short conversations we’d had, he hadn’t interfered before. Scowling, I glared at him, unimpressed that he was counting my drinks.
I cursed under my breath. I didn’t need saving.
Can't a girl just get fucking drunk in peace?
“I'm walking,” I said as I slung back the shot glass, pulling a face as it burned down my throat.
“Good luck with that after four tequilas.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
What the unsympathetic barman didn’t know was that I needed to get wasted more than ever. I’d just deleted the hundredth unread message from Alain twenty minutes back. If this weren’t a phone supplied by the company I worked for, I
would’ve trashed it long ago and had a new number. The Frenchman made it impossible to forget him when his name kept popping up on my damn screen. I’d run away from him, and I didn’t need reminding that I’d been twice burned by men I’d fallen for. It stung like hell.
My foot tapped on the wooden footrest. “What can you serve me next?” I remained optimistic that I’d get another drink out of the broad-shouldered barman in spite of being turned down on previous occasions when I’d hit my limit.
“How about water?” he asked, sarcasm lacing his voice.
“Water?” I spluttered. “That’s for fish.”
He laughed. “Yes, but fish don’t have hangovers the next morning.”
“Don’t you worry about my hangover.” I rolled my eyes at his protectiveness. It was unneeded and unwanted.
He crossed his arms over his wide chest. “I can offer you a glass of white wine if you promise to drink it slowly.” His expression was deadly serious, yet there was a glimpse of understanding in his eyes.
I cringed. Wine was the last fucking thing I wanted. It reminded me of a Frenchman I wanted desperately to forget. “No wine.” Mirroring him, I crossed my arms and pouted like a spoilt brat.
“Okay, I’ll make my special concoction. You’ll love it.” He reached for the shaker on the counter. This looked promising. Working in a place like this, I suspected Kurt had witnessed more heartbreak than he’d care to admit. If he knew the recipe of a magic potion to make it disappear, I was all in.
“As long as it has hard liquor in it.” I found myself slurring slightly, the buzz of alcohol flowing through my system with speed.
Taking a few bottles from the shelf, I watched as he carefully measured one shot of vodka into a shaker. I wrinkled my nose. “That’s all the alcohol I get? You’re mean.” I had every intention of getting smashed, but the dick of a bartender in front of me was ruining my plans. Asshole.
“You will thank me in the morning.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he placed the drink in front of me. Why did he care? It was none of his damn business.
“I doubt it.” Testing it by taking only a small sip, I detected cranberry juice. What the hell? This was a bar, not a frigging health club. Swirling the drink in the glass, ice cubes clinked before I took another sip. Reluctantly, I had to admit it actually tasted quite good. Kurt was on to something here.
His voice was gruff. “I can't give you another one for a while, so go slowly.” He turned away and left me to nurse my drink.
Men! I rolled my eyes. They were all the same. Controlling, always telling me what to do.
Screw that. No more.
Every time I let myself fall for a guy it ended badly. Cheated out of love one too many times and I was well and truly over serious relationships. Count me out.
And...Fuck all men.
This ‘falling in love thing’ was just not for me. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine I considered becoming what my mother called an ‘old maid’. I rubbed at the ache in my chest. Mum would be disappointed if I didn’t produce the statistical 2.6 grandchildren she was looking forward to, but fortunately, she had Chloe and Lily, my younger sisters, to provide the grandma experience. Maybe they’d be luckier in finding lasting love.
It was time I stood up for myself. I had a promising career that I’d worked hard to establish. It wasn’t as if I needed a man to complete me. Yes, it would be great to share life’s experiences with that special someone, but it had to be with a man who was mine and only mine. With renewed resolve, I made up my mind. I wouldn’t let my heart get shattered again.
In the future I’d be looking out for number one—myself. I’d build an impenetrable wall around my heart so I’d never feel like this again. It just wasn’t worth it. There was no way I’d survive if it happened again.
I grimaced as I finished the last of my drink all too quickly and stared into the empty glass.
“Get the lady another drink. Make that two of whatever she’s having.” Another German broad, blond, and blue-eyed guy. He flicked a note onto the counter.
What was it with these corny pick-up lines? Surely guys had invented new ones since I’d turned twenty-one? Kurt kept shining the glass he was holding, ignoring the guy’s order.
“Hey, did you hear what I said?” German clone’s voice rose a few decibels as he glared at Kurt.
“I heard you,” Kurt replied, staring the guy down without making any attempt to serve him. “Leave her alone. She can't have another drink. She’s already had too many.”
“Who are you to decide?” Clone challenged. If Kurt squeezed that glass any harder, it was going to shatter in his hands.
I didn’t want blood on my hands, so it was time to step in and diffuse the situation. I batted my eyelids at Kurt, attempting to be flirtatious. “Pretty please?”
“That’s not going to work on me,” Kurt said, gritting his teeth. “I warned you to take it slowly.”
“Forget it. Come dance with me instead.” Clone grabbed hold of my arm and nodded toward the dance floor filled with gyrating bodies.
I had a good mind to tell him to fuck off and that I didn’t want to be disturbed. I’d come here to drink my troubles away and I’d done a pretty good job so far because my head swam and my knees felt like jelly. Then I gazed at my empty glass and Kurt’s thin lips, and I knew I didn’t have a chance in hell to get another drink from the cranky barman anytime soon.
Though my already fuzzy brain was trying to warn me, I chose to ignore it. Tired of being responsible and of always doing the right thing, I just wanted to escape reality for a while. Forget about all the crap I’d been through. Have fun. That isn’t a sin, is it?
Weighing up my limited options, I decided dancing wasn’t such a bad idea. If I was lucky, Kurt’s shift would be over soon and I could convince one of the other barmen to give me a drink or two. By shaking my arse on the dance floor, I’d burn off some of the alcohol then get another drink to top it up again. Inwardly, I high-fived my drunken self at my genius plan.
Huffing at Kurt, I slid my arse off the barstool and hooked onto the good-looking German’s arm for stability. His lips curled into a victory smile as he patted my hand. I followed him to the dance floor, nearly tripping over my own feet as we made our way into the crowd. Crap, these damn heels are going to kill me.
We danced for a few minutes before the DJ changed to a slow tempo tune. I closed my eyes and swayed unsteadily to the music, resting one hand against his chest to keep my balance, completely lost in the song. Music always did that to me—especially ones about love and loss. It stirred emotions that, mixed with alcohol, were lethal to somebody who’d just been dumped by a lover. It sucked me deeper into its vortex until it was only the song, my broken heart, and me. It's killing me.
Snapped back to reality by Clone’s calloused hands grabbing hold of my upper arms, he jerked my body toward his. Shocked, my eyes flew open. I didn’t like being pressed into this stranger’s hard chest, his muscled arms caging me in. I pushed against his chest, but he didn’t loosen his hold. One hand slid down my back and cupped my arse, squeezing hard as he chuckled into my ear. Everything blurred.
Why is it so damn hard to focus?
The room spun around me. Shit.
Without warning, his mouth came crashing down on mine. I pulled my head away. “No. Let me go.” I struggled against him, cursing under my breath that I’d ignored my first instinct to send him away. Strong arms pulled me closer and he pushed his erection into my stomach. I wanted to kick him in the balls, scratch his eyes out, and run away. But I did none of those because I barely had control of my limbs to do so. Pasted to his body, my head buzzed from all the alcohol I’d consumed on an empty stomach.
His head dipped, searching for my lips again, but this time I turned my face away.
“Playing hard to get?” His mouth curled into a menacing smirk. “I like that. Keep fighting. It turns me on.”
“Let me go!” I sounded braver than I really was;
tears prickled at the back of my eyes. His iron grip only tightened as his fingers dug into my arse and pressed me into his hard dick.
Kurt’s deep voice came from behind me. “Let her go.”
“Get fucked. Who are you to decide? She likes it. Don’t you, my lovely?” Clone’s breath was hot on my neck.
No.
Panic swept through my fuzzy brain. I didn’t want Kurt to think I wanted this man. Before I could respond, Kurt grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off me. I sucked in a breath, my head spinning. Heat crawled up to my face. Damn, I need fresh air.
“Let me go,” Clone snarled and lunged toward Kurt. Big mistake. As swift as a trained boxer, Kurt punched him in the stomach. The guy doubled over, groaning and cursing.
What the hell? Holding onto my belly, as if Kurt had punched me, nausea rose from the pit of my stomach. I'm going to be sick. I stumbled through the crowd to the ladies’ room. Leaning over the basin, I splashed my face with cold water. I should’ve listened to Kurt. I’d never been able to hold liquor well, and without eating earlier, the tequilas hit me harder than usual.
I looked up into the mirror and blinked. Kurt stood behind me, his eyes blazing.
“Err...this is the ladies' room.” My eyes screwed shut as my knees gave way and I grabbed onto the counter for purchase. Catching me before I slid to the floor, Kurt’s arm curled around my waist. With a grunt, he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder.
“Oh, God.” If only the ground could open up and swallow me.
I feebly kicked my wobbly legs, but strong arms wrapped so tightly around my thighs I could hardly move. A hard slap echoed around the tiled room. It took several seconds before my slowed brain registered the burn on my arse.
Carrying me head down, arse up through the crowd, feet moved sideways as people made way to let us through. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped fistfuls of his shirt, holding on as we did the walk of shame to cheers from the overfriendly crowd.
The queasiness returned, and my stomach twisted as bile pushed to my throat, making my mouth water. I knew the signs even in my intoxicated state.
“Kurt, dammit, put me down. I’m going to be sick.” I groaned, hammering feebly against his back to no avail.