Echo: The window, ACE. Not the sex god.
I try again, this time looking beyond the man and outside. My mouth goes dry and flutters fill my belly. It’s a Dodge Charger. 1979. Candy apple red with white racing stripes. Mint condition. Holy hell. Come to Momma, baby girl.
This is Echo’s definitive knowledge that I’m unfocused and off my game. How did I miss that? I drag my eyes away long enough to respond to my friend.
Me: Who does she belong to?
Echo: Sex god no. 2
My eyes land on the guy in the suit with the braid.
Echo: Not him. The other one.
They shift to the suit with the buzz cut. He looks like a man who would hunt you down to the ends of the earth if you so much as touched the gleaming paintjob on that sweet, sweet ride. I crack my knuckles, suppressing the grin. I love a challenge.
Echo: His name is Jake Romero.
Me: What else?
I know Echo’s digging deep when it takes ten minutes for her to respond.
Echo: Bounce it. He’s the drummer for Jamieson. Too much trouble. Too many contacts.
I don’t want to bounce it.
Me: What contacts?
Echo: King Street Boys. Sentinels. Valentines.
The King Street Boys are an old gang and old news. But the Sentinels MC aren’t. Neither are the Valentines. I’ve never met any of them, but I’ve heard of them. Like bulldogs, they sniff out trouble, and not only do they dig it up, they tear it apart.
Me: Boo. I’m going out for a closer look.
Echo: Oh great. Well done. Yes. Go put yourself on their radar.
Ignoring her froth of sarcasm, I down my last mouthful of coffee—it’s cold—and grimace. Standing, I slap my textbooks and papers closed and shove them inside my book bag. Flicking to a new track on my playlist, I tuck my phone into my pocket, sling the bag over my shoulder, and head outside. They pay no attention to my departure.
Cold air hits me like a slap to the face when I step outside. It’s worth it to get a closer look at that car. And I’m not the only one drawn by her pretty spell. Two other guys, early twenties, are standing nearby, talking and eyeing her with admiration. I walk to the other side of them, hiding behind their stature so I have more time to stare.
Echo: She’s glorious.
I sigh. Of course, there’s a camera focused on the entrance to Fix.
Me: She really is.
Echo: Finish up and walk away. Your sex god is on the move.
My sex god? Pffft! But she’s right about the first part. I need to get going. My composure is rattled. I won’t be boosting any cars tonight at this rate. Maybe I should go home for a power nap. The problem is that I live with my older brother and I’m not in the mood for an inquisition on my whereabouts tonight. Mason is out of the business. He’s busy making sure I am too. And I want to be. I really do. I’m studying for a bachelor degree in Business, majoring in Finance. It doesn’t get any straighter or narrower than that.
I even try looking the part, making an effort to wear my reading glasses and a smidge of makeup when I usually wear none. I’m dressed in a collared shirt and tailored pants, teamed with a pretty pair of pointed flats on my feet. I do admit to having a pair of Converse in my book bag. I can’t boost a car with impractical shoes.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, my gaze returning to the Charger for one last appreciative glance. The next song on my playlist fades when I hear, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” from behind me in a rumbling voice.
My body hits high alert. I pull the earbuds from my ears at the same time messages vibrate their delivery on my phone, one after the other. I shoot a glare to the security camera before turning around.
It’s him. Of course. Echo did warn me. Perhaps my feet remained rooted to the pavement because I wanted to see him for one last appreciative glance too. It’s well worth it. Up close, he’s overwhelming. My senses are operating at full capacity as I take in his scent, the warmth radiating from his body, and the enigmatic depth in his eyes. All I need now is to touch and taste and my sensory journey will be complete.
“Yeah, I guess she is,” I say in a manner that I hope exudes ignorance. I don’t want him knowing I was scoping out the Charger.
He takes a bite of the muffin in his hand. It’s oversized and thick with chunks of milk and white chocolate. It looks almost as delicious as he does, and after years of deprivation, I now suffer a powerful sweet tooth.
“You want a bite?”
My breath quickens. “Sorry?”
“A bite. Of the muffin.” The fluffy treat is thrust in my face. “You’re lookin’ at it like you wanna—” He cuts off as though he was about to say something crude.
I’m fascinated. He doesn’t talk like a high-class suit. And his voice is deep and smoky like a Cuban cigar. “Like I want to what?”
“Put your mouth on it.”
Sweet baby Jesus. My inner thighs clench, and I take the muffin. There’s something so oddly intimate about sharing food with a complete stranger. His nostrils flare when I take a bite.
“You got a name?” he asks, watching me chew. Never have I felt more self-conscious than I do in this moment.
I swallow. It’s good. Sweet and rich, but not sickly. “Arcadia.”
“Arcadia,” he mutters to himself as though tasting my name on his lips.
Another message dings as I offer back the muffin. Echo is getting antsy for me to leave. “What about you?” I ask as he takes it.
“Kelly.”
Kelly and Arcadia. Why did I automatically think that?
He takes a big bite, right next to where I took mine. A shiver of longing tickles my skin. I want that mouth biting me. His eyes heat as he watches me. Does he see through me so easily?
I try for a polite smile and gesture a thumb to the footpath behind me. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Kelly. I should get going.”
A frown wrinkles his brow. “You got a ride?”
Is that concern on Kelly’s face? It’s nice and oddly comforting to have a stranger looking out for my welfare in a world where everyone only looks out for themselves. The only problem is that my ride is three blocks down, waiting for liberation from her protected spot in a dealership garage. Echo infiltrated their computer system. The BMW is the five series M550i and brand new. The sexy lady was in getting her very first service today. But come tomorrow morning when her owner comes to collect, she’ll be long gone.
“I do.” A slow smile builds as I start walking backward. “Thanks though.”
He takes a step toward me like he doesn’t want me to leave. “You sure?” There’s a hint of suggestion in his tone. “Because I can give you one.”
Hell yes, baby, I bet you could give me the ride of my life. I take a deep breath, drawing in the strength to say no. I need this boost. “I’m sure.”
He nods. “Guess I’ll see you round then, Arcadia.”
I bite my bottom lip, drawing it inside my mouth. “See you.”
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THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
Book 1 in the Coaches of Colton U series
Esther James.
32 years old.
The new counsellor at Colton University.
Stubborn. Smart. Spirited.
She’s worked hard to get where she is.
The game plan: provide guidance for all student athletes, even if it means getting in his way.
Jude Granados
40 years old.
Coach of the best college soccer team in the country.
Fiery. Arrogant. Superior. A retired great.
Listed by Forbes as one of the twenty best soccer players of all time.
The game plan: win at all costs, even if it means getting her fired.
Neither counted on love getting in the way of their game.
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Books By Kate Mccarthy
The Biker and the Thief
The End Game
Fighting Redemption
Fighting Absolution
The Give Me Series
Give Me Love
Give Me Strength
Give Me Grace
Give Me Hell
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Acknowledgments
To my readers, I thank you for your constant encouragement, and for reading Fighting Absolution. Your support inspires me daily, motivates me, and makes me strive do better with each book. I’m eternally grateful for all of you.
To my darling kids, how loved you are. You (and my writing) are what gives my life meaning. Every day I am grateful for you, the two brightest stars that shine in my sky. To all the bloggers, reviewers, and bookstagrammers who have helped spread the word about this book. There are no words to express the level of my gratitude and appreciation of your constant hard work and support. Thank you so very much.
A special thank you to Maree Hunter. You have been there for me through every step of this book (and all the others) but we both know it’s been an especially tough year, with lots of learning life’s lessons, and I just know this book would not be what it is without you.
My editor, Max. I am so thankful and lucky to have you. You are the reason I continue to grow.
Sali. What are blessing you are. Thank you for your friendship and your exceptional work on this book. You’ve opened my eyes a little more and I’ve learned much from you.
Kimberly Brower, my agent. For all the work you have done for me already. I’m excited for the future and for what we can achieve together!
To Nina and the team at Social Butterfly PR. Thank you for everything you have done for me. You have shared so much of your knowledge, and offered so much support and advice, and for that I am eternally grateful.
About the Author
Kate McCarthy lives in Queensland, Australia.
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Fighting Absolution Page 44