by Lena North
It was also a strip joint, and it was usually filled with men but that night was a Friday, so it was ladies’ night. This meant male strippers and an audience filled with women in various stages of inebriation.
“I’m not fucking going to –” the man they’d called Hawk started, but another man cut him off.
“Oh, but you are,” he said gleefully, and called out when the angry man made a dash for the door, “Guys, do something. He’s escaping.”
I couldn’t hold back a loud giggle when I realized why they were there. They meant to put their friend on stage. One of the other men moved slightly, and I turned to look at him. Then I stopped breathing. He was tall and lean, with unruly black hair that was a little too long, and laughing brown eyes. He was so beautiful.
Our eyes met and held, and his brows went up a little.
“Hey, he’s running,” someone shouted, and our gazes unlocked.
The beautiful man turned toward the door, and flicked his fingers at our bouncers in a small gesture, indicating that they should stop his fleeing friend. To my surprise, they grinned and stepped in front of the man just as he reached the doors. I wondered if he’d be crazy enough to fight the brawny bouncers, and for a few seconds, it seemed like he would, but then his head tilted back, and he looked up at the ceiling. I saw his shoulders go up a little as if he was inhaling, and then he turned.
He was gorgeous too but in a completely different way. He looked dangerous and hard. When he walked back to his friends, his eyes flicked over me, and I pulled in air because of the intensity in them, but also because their color was such light amber, they were almost yellow.
“Get the thong,” one of his friends shouted, and the women around the stage that had followed the events started cheering.
“No,” the yellow-eyed man said calmly. “I’ll do this because I pay my debts, but I am not wearing a thong.”
“Don’t worry, Hawk,” the beautiful man laughed and went on, “There are other options.”
Another cheer erupted, and then they moved toward the door leading backstage. Bobby Dawner, the owner of the bar, met them and greeted the beautiful man with a back-thumping bear hug. I heard him boom the man’s name, and it burned into my soul.
“Miller.”
That was the night everything changed. When I got off my shift and walked through the empty streets, looking for something, anything, that could provide shelter, I was beaten up by a young man who wanted my meager tips from the evening. I woke up in the hospital and saw a woman sitting in a chair, calmly watching me.
“Do you need help, child?” she asked.
I looked back at her for a long time, and then I gave up. I’d learned the hard way never to trust anyone, but her eyes were such a familiar shade of warm brown, and I couldn’t make it on my own anymore, so I decided that I’d accept whatever bad things she might have in store for me. It wouldn’t be worse than the life I already had.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Her brown eyes softened, and a gentle smile curved her mouth, and when I saw it, I smiled back, tentatively.
“I’m Joelle,” she said.
I was fourteen years old, and that was the night my life resumed.
Table of Contents
Copyright
My thanks
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
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Table of Contents
Copyright
My thanks
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
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