Nothing but Trouble

By J.L. Hammer

She’s the kind of trouble he can’t resist...


With an angry loan shark hot on her heels, Frankie Delenski flees a Vegas gentlemen’s club with one thought in mind: hide before she’s nothing more than a chalk outline. Now on the run, she finds herself stranded in a sleepy Colorado town during a storm. Her only salvation becomes the suspicious and gorgeous deputy sheriff determined to arrest her…

From the get-go, Wes Malone must restrain his lust for this stunning, unpredictable woman in a sequined bra and rely on his instincts as a cop. As he sifts through the haze of lies, the truth about her predicament is like a sucker punch to the gut. She’s in serious danger, and getting involved with her means nothing but sweet, irresistible trouble…


Each book in the Vegas Vixen series is STANDALONE:
* Nothing but Trouble
* Deadly Trouble
* Tattooed as Trouble

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Nov 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781633751408

Book preview

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She’s the kind of trouble he can’t resist ...

With an angry loan shark hot on her heels, Frankie Delenski flees a Vegas gentlemen’s club with one thought in mind: hide before she’s nothing more than a chalk outline. Now on the run...she finds herself stranded in a sleepy Colorado town during a storm. Her only salvation becomes the suspicious and gorgeous deputy sheriff determined to arrest her...

From the get-go, Wes Malone must restrain his lust for this stunning, unpredictable woman in a sequined bra and rely on his instincts as a cop. As he sifts through the haze of lies, the truth about her predicament is like a sucker punch to the gut. She’s in serious danger and getting involved with her means nothing but sweet, irresistible trouble…

Nothing But Trouble

a Vegas Vixens novel

J.L. Hammer

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by J.L. Hammer. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Select Suspense is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Alycia Tornetta

Cover design by Fiona Jayde

ISBN 978-1-63375-140-8

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition November 2014

For Joy Hammer, my wonderful mother-in-law, with love and admiration.

Chapter One

Las Vegas, Nevada

November 2013

Frankie Delenski slid another glance toward the tinted entrance doors of Glitz Gentlemen’s Club. Dread bubbled in her stomach. Any minute now, Domino, the loan shark, would stride in and she’d be nothing more than a chalk outline. She tried to swallow, but her saliva lodged in her throat. The bouncer admitted two regulars—off duty cops. Liquored up cops were the worst since they had the law at their disposal. She’d seen them chatting with Domino on more than one occasion.

The first was short and tubby with a buzz cut. He never spoke to the girls, just liked to watch. But the other, the pale, tall one with dark hair and a widow’s peak, named Harris, had a habit of getting cozy with the dancers, promising them the world, and then knocking them around. Once, a dancer had reported him to the police after he’d gifted her with a black eye, but no big surprise, her accusations had been ignored. The girl had quit—even left Vegas.

Frankie had enough problems and did her best to steer clear of them. She inhaled a long calming breath and almost choked on the cigarette-infused coconut-scented air.

With a twist of her body, she adjusted the sequined bra that dug into her ribs. Floor to ceiling mirrors adorned the walls, black leather couches hugged the darkened edges, and seductive purple lighting showered over two dozen tables surrounding the stage. Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard pumped through the speakers over a crowd of mostly businessmen, who were catching an eyeful of barely-clad girls. Frankie couldn’t count how many songs she’d dumped from her MP3 player because the tunes would forever conjure up slicked girl derrieres sliding across a stage. A dancer hung upside down on a brass pole and, with a kick of her legs, ended her show in splits.

A man patted Frankie’s bare thigh. Why don’t you come sit on old Smokey’s lap and give me a little kiss?

Frankie fought the urge to jerk away. She’d already been talked to by the manager about being friendlier with the guests. With unemployment at an all-time high, work was hard to come by and the last thing she wanted was to lose her job as a drink server. She remembered the advice from Ginger, the bartender. Pretend these men are a piece of fudge cheesecake and you haven’t had a chocolate fix in a month. She glanced at his mustard-stained Smokey the Bear T-shirt. Nope. Not even the power of chocolate could make her flirt with this guy. An image of what their baby would look like slammed into her mind—a crying bundle with her long platinum hair and his pendulous jowls.

Schooling her expression, Frankie replied, It’s so tempting with you being the mascot of fire prevention and all, but I’ll have to pass.

Your loss, honey. I need another rum and cola and two Buds for my friends.

She gave him a nod and shook off the moist imprint of his pudgy fingers, making a mental note to douse her leg in hand sanitizer on her next break. She pocketed a tip from a now-vacant table, shifting the car key still in the pocket of her Daisy Dukes. Her mind wandered back to Domino. Why couldn’t he be reasonable? Two more weeks. That’s all she had asked for to make her payment. Okay, it was already two weeks late, but times were tough. She didn’t care how much she owed him—she’d never give him what he’d asked for in lieu of money.

Just in case Domino came after her, she’d decided to be prepared. In her locker she’d left a backpack with a change of clothes, a little cash, cell phone, and some other necessities. She would have to hightail it out of Vegas and head for the hills until she came up with a way out of this mess.

The two off-duty cops, dressed casual in jeans and T-shirts, took a seat in her section at a high-top table near the stage. Inwardly she groaned. Why me? For a moment she was tempted to just ignore their table. Yeah, right. Get back to work before you get accused of slacking off. Frankie approached Harris and his partner. Gentlemen, what can I get you?

A dancer took the stage in a swath of black leather, bumping and grinding to Michael Jackson’s Dirty Diana. Fog rolled across the black specked stage, and the strobe lights flashed in sync with the drum beat. Officer Tubby licked his lips, his eyes never leaving the stage, but Harris’ steely gaze settled on Frankie, or more like the tops of her exposed breasts thrust out from the push-up bra.

His mouth lifted in a one-sided smirk. Harris might have been attractive once, but a hard life was etched on his forty-something face. What’s your name, darling? A guitar solo blared through the speakers.

Not happening. The words came out before she could stop them. Her stomach constricted.

He frowned, leaned closer, and said with a raised voice just above the music. Did you say Abby?

His gaze returned to her breasts so she didn’t bother to deny he had the wrong name.

Can I get you anything from the bar? She fought the temptation to use the drink tray to cover her chest.

He gave her a wink or maybe if she was lucky he just had something in his eye. Abby, your lovely face is like a ray of sunshine after my shitty day.

He needed to take a poetry class. Frankie just stared at him, fighting not to squirm.

Apparently he got the message she wasn’t into chit chat and glowered. Single malt scotch on the rocks. He gestured with his head. My buddy will have the same…and a bit of advice, Abby, I tip real well when my waitress gives good service.

His friend snickered but never peeled his eyes off the dancer provocatively posed on her knees before him.

Frankie nodded and then strode away, pausing to let a dancer escort a client through the red velvet curtain into the lap dance room. What a snake. Harris can stuff his tip. She decided then and there she would start looking for another job, maybe a temp agency, dog walker, anything had to be better than this. She wove through the throng of males and flinched at the piercing sound of a whistle from an overzealous patron. Whatever the dancer was doing made the salivating men go wild.

Frankie sighed. Who was she fooling? Drunk, drooling men tipped well, and like it or not, walking cute fluffy dogs wouldn’t pay the bills. She placed her tray on the polished counter of the bar and waited for Ginger to finish pouring a draft. The lights inside Glitz laser beamed across the mirrored walls. For a moment, she clamped her eyes shut.

Ginger approached and even her heavy makeup couldn’t cover the dark rings under her eyes. What can I get you?

Frankie raised her voice over the loud music to give her drink order and then asked, How’s Bobby?

Ginger teared up as she set two Buds on the serving tray. Same. Every day is a blessing and a curse.

Pain pierced Frankie’s heart. Ginger’s son Bobby was only two and had leukemia.

Ginger brushed back her curly brown hair and flashed a wobbly smile. But the doctor said he found this experimental medication. Cross your fingers. This is the best chance we have.

Frankie gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze. Bobby is an amazing little boy. Think good thoughts. It will work.

Thanks, Frankie.

The rum and cola had just made it to her tray when Frankie spotted someone entering the club. She squinted and counted three silhouetted forms. Her gaze dropped to the man in the middle—white hair, black brows, aged face, and strong Italian nose. Domino! He toyed with his cufflink as he scanned the faces in the bar. She dropped to the ground. The man next to her on the barstool beamed, probably thinking he was getting lucky. In a rush, she crawled the short distance to the restroom door only to stop short of a pair of jean-clad legs.

Well, this is more like what I was talking about when I mentioned good service.

Frankie scrambled to her feet. Her skin crawled as she met the hungry look in Officer Harris’s eyes. Just lost a contact. I serve drinks, that’s all. Got it, she snapped, knowing she would most likely regret her outburst, and rushed past him. Thankfully he didn’t follow, but right now Domino posed the bigger problem. Her heart rate kicked up, imagining what he would do to her if she didn’t escape. The trek down the hall in five-inch stilettos seemed to take forever.

Just as she neared the door to the employee locker room, she bounced off a soft, rounded body walking out of the office. Sorry, excuse me. She attempted to slip past him, but his hand circled her wrist.

Frankie, nice to see you.

Zeroing in on his face, she choked back a groan. Hello, Dr. Chops. A regular of the club, Dr. Chops loved to talk. He constantly offered the girls a half-off special on all their dental work. His full mouth spread into a smile, his gold tooth gleaming in the overhead light.

With his free hand, he patted down his thinning hair. I’m glad to see you made an appointment for next month. You can’t neglect—

Sorry, Doc, can’t talk now. She tugged her wrist from his grasp. Feeling an invisible bull’s eye searing into the back of her head, she tossed a frantic glance over her shoulder. Domino’s gaze latched onto hers, and his lips turned downward in a spot-on Robert De Niro. Her knees started to wobble, and her pulse revved up. With a wave of his hand, Domino motioned to one of his bodyguards. Frankie screeched, shoved Dr. Chops out of the way, and bolted out the emergency exit.

…

Eight hours and a few hundred bug splats later, Frankie strode back to her rusted ’65 Mustang parked at a gas pump. It was unnerving to know she had just maxed out the emergency Visa she kept in her glove compartment. She inhaled a deep breath. The whiff of gasoline almost made her gag. The heels of her black stilettos clicked against the asphalt as she passed a man with a weathered face pumping gas into his truck. His mouth dropped open, taking in the Daisy Dukes on her slender five-eight frame. His expression mirrored both the clerk and the grandma buying a day-old donut inside the minimart. What? Hadn’t the people in the sleepy town of Dolores, Colorado, ever seen a stripper on a Sunday morning before?

Okay, so she really wasn’t a stripper, but this bra had set her back eighty bucks. Not that she’d ever worn it in public before. Uneasiness made her hands shake. This outfit was drawing way too much attention to her. If only she’d had a chance to grab the backpack with her stuff. After filling her tank, she hit the road, but not before her Mustang gave a farewell backfire to the gas station gawkers.

The crisp mountain air blew through the open window and kept her awake enough to focus on the road. Goose bumps rose across her flesh and her long hair whipped around her face. The Mustang hugged the curves of the narrow highway. She was driving too fast. But with only fifty or so miles to go, all she could think about was reaching the safety of her uncle’s place in the picturesque town of Telluride. Tension knotted in her shoulders. Domino would be tearing Vegas—and probably her trailer—apart. Frankie sighed. She didn’t want to think about what he would do to her doublewide.

She flipped on the radio and turned the dial until the static ceased. The end of a country song gave a final twang before the DJ chimed in with the news. Stormy weather in the forecast. No surprise there. The newscaster continued, The Las Vegas police are still searching for leads in the murders of two exotic dancers last month. The two girls, in their twenties, were found in Dumpsters with their throats slashed. There was no evidence of sexual assault. Anyone with information is urged to contact the Vegas Police Department—

She clicked off the switch. A shiver ran through her. The first victim had been a dancer just across the street at a rival club. The detectives had interviewed Frankie and all the other girls at Glitz, but no one had seen a thing, or at least nothing they’d ever admit to the cops. Then, a second dancer from a club five blocks away was found murdered only a few days later. Worrying about being killed by some crazy person was just another reason Frankie’s nerves were frayed. Thankfully, the owner of Glitz started having all the girls escorted to their vehicles after work.

Frankie exhaled a tense breath and tried to relax. Heading along the highway, she was struck by the beauty of the Dolores River as it snaked through the jagged tree-topped mountains. She only passed another car or tucked away cabin every few miles. The isolation of the area made her antsy. A body could be tossed into the tall prairie grass and no one would discover it for years. She shoved that thought out of her mind and focused on the storm clouds gathering in the sky. Lightning flashed and a roll of thunder rumbled. She jumped.

Fat drops of rain hit the windshield with a scattering of plops. Quickly, she rolled up the window. Then, water burst from the sky onto the land below. Frankie eased off the accelerator. The windshield wipers swished back and forth, but the worn rubber did little to clear the blurry road ahead. She squinted and leaned forward, praying she wasn’t about to drive off a cliff. All of a sudden, a black blob filled the road. She screamed and slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched, but the Mustang shot forward like a lubed pole dancer. With a jolt, the car fishtailed. Then, her stomach lodged in her throat as the world spun. Her head jerked sideways, striking the window. Bolts of pain shot through her skull.

The rust bucket crashed into something solid, started to tip, and then decided against it, and with a final crunch, stopped. Her heartbeat pounded erratically in her temples. Frankie blinked, trying to clear her double vision. Touching the goose egg on her forehead, she cringed. Her beloved Mustang had crashed into a patch of junipers on the side of the mountain—the rear end tilted at an odd angle. She inhaled a shaky breath. After taking a moment to calm herself, she shifted the engine into reverse. She pressed on the gas only to hear the engine rev—but the Mustang didn’t move. Then, to her dismay, the engine sputtered, belched, and died. She groaned and covered her face.

A crash of thunder shook the car. She squealed. Without a doubt she’d go down in history as the first person struck by lightning wearing a sequined bra and a spray tan. If only she hadn’t left her cell phone in the locker at work, she could call for help. She remembered seeing the roof of a cabin and a fenced pasture nestled in the trees about a quarter mile back. She flung open the car door and stood in the mushy grass. The rain poured down in sheets, and within seconds, she was soaked. She pushed her soggy hair out of her face, noting the rear of the Mustang had landed in a ditch.

"Mooo."

Frankie whipped her head around. She narrowed her eyes at the black cow standing in the road. "Do you see what you did, you stupid discount hamburger patty? I need a tow truck. I should have just run you over. At least I could have sold you for dog food, and then I could pay for the tow and buy a God—gosh darn shirt!" She’d almost slipped and broken her vow not to cuss, which just made her madder. Grumbling to herself, she locked up the car. After what seemed like an eternity walking along the road with rain pelting her in the face, the cabin came into view.

Finally! She fought the shiver that cut through her and trudged across the mud and knee-high prairie grass. She stumbled and fell. After pushing herself to her feet, she wiped her muddy hands on her bare thighs and kept going. The storm fought her every step. Lightning splintered across the sky.

Judas Q. Priest! That was too close. She could have sworn the electric current had actually lifted the fine hairs on her arms. She ripped off her heels and fled, hopping over a downed wooden-railed fence. Her heart thudded in her chest as she approached the off-white cabin with a green railing. A faint light glowed behind the curtains. Smoke swirled from the chimney and disappeared into the darkening sky. She didn’t slow her stride until she reached the wooden stoop. She banged on the frame of the screen door and took shelter from the cold rain under the covered porch. Someone had to be inside. With a balled fist, she banged harder.

Hello? Please open the door, she hollered, turning the knob. Locked. Dang! With my luck, whoever lives here is dead and I’ll never get out of this storm.

Stepping back into the rain, she peered around the side. A barn painted brick red, much larger and newer than the cabin, stood tall surrounded by bushy pine trees that swayed with the increasing wind. The barn doors, nine feet or so in height, were latched shut. Below the steeply pitched roof of the cabin, she noticed a staircase leading up to a door on the second story. The cabin wasn’t very big, so she guessed it must be storage or an office. After sparing a glance around, she raced up the stairs. At the top she started to open the screen door, but a gust of wind slammed it shut. She gritted her teeth and pried it open.

She turned the knob and then spilled into the darkened room. In a rush, her face met the floor. She blinked. Dust tickled her nose. Crawling to her feet, she jerked in surprise when the door bashed against the wall. A heavy stream of rain and the chill from the wind blew into the room. She shoved the door closed and searched the wall for a light switch. Nothing.

Hello, is anyone here? I just need to use your phone. She’d have to call her uncle for a tow or at least for money, although he might not even be home. He’d be surprised to hear from her since she hadn’t seen him in ten years. That was when he’d stopped speaking to her mother. A flash of lightning illuminated the empty room with its low, steeply-pitched ceiling.

She slapped a palm against her forehead, tempted to rip out her hair. Great, not a lick of furniture. I am cursed. No one can have this much bad luck.

After taking a few steps farther into the room, the floor shifted and bowed under her weight. Crack. The pit of her stomach dropped as she started freefalling. A scream ripped out of her lungs. Grabbing wildly, her fingers latched onto the wood rafters. Like a flag flapping in the wind, she dangled into the lower section of the cabin. Dust from drywall floated around her head. She peered down through the white cloud and gasped.

A man with a fat cigar in his mouth was sprawled in a soap-filled bathtub. His handsome face was all hard angles, and the shadow of a beard covered a strong jaw. His deep-set eyes stared up at her in obvious disbelief.

His mouth went lax. The cigar he’d been puffing plopped into the water near the dark hairs on his muscular chest. He pulled earbuds from his ears and then his eyes darted to the cigar. He let out a holler, and his hands flew to his chest. In one fluid motion he bolted to his feet. Her breath caught. There was enough lean muscle on his at least six-foot frame to start her dangling body sizzlin’. The overhead light illuminated the tattoo of an eagle stamped on his left pec.

Then, his mouth pressed into a straight line. What the hell are you doing in my cabin?

Um. Hi… I’m Frankie. And— Her fingers started to slip. Although the splinters of wood dug into her flesh, she tightened her grip.

He stepped out of the tub, never taking his gaze off of her or getting a towel, for that matter.

Reviews for Nothing but Trouble

[cathygeha · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Nothing But Trouble by Amy AndrewsCredence Colorado #1Big smile on my face...yep...truly enjoyed this book! Cecilia “CC” Morgan was all that a romance lead should be. She knew what she wanted and was willing to do what it took to make it happen. She was feisty, caring, intelligent, had goals, a good employee, tolerant, focused, helpful, charming and strong. Wade was a guy that was harder to warm up to but likable and knowing why he wasn’t interested in settling down at least explained why he had lived as he had and been with so many women. The way the two begin to look at one another differently is fun to watch, the growth of their feelings into something more a delight (though I wanted to smack Wade a few times), the community interaction a lot of fun and this book just made me smile :) There was a secondary romance with HEA and though it could have been a book of its own it was a pleasure to read Wyatt’s story and how he found Jenny. This is a small town romance that was joy to read. Family, friends and community were the priority. The way the “hot men” of Credence who will get their own stories made me want MORE and the women coming into town all seem interesting, too. I am definitely looking forward to reading more in this series when it comes out. Thank you to NetGalley and Entangled-Amara for the ARC – This is my honest review. 4-5 Stars

[pelusa41-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

So CC has been working for Wade for 5 years and she has had enough, enough of working for him 24 hours a day, enough of buying candy and condoms at ridiculous times of the day, enough of having to talk to the woman that he uses as tissue paper. She finally has the money she needs to buy a house and relocate to her dream state California. Unfortunately her plans get derailed when Wade decides to live in his hometown for 3 months to help his father out and he was not happy that she gave her resignation he thought she would be with him for a longer time or in his mind forever. These two find out that even though they have never acted on it they are attracted to each other but have been lying to themselves and their family and friends nudges them to admit and not let the other go. The one thing that bugged me is that he claimed he loved her from the first time he saw her,(yeah that does not work for me when he slept with whatever walked) I don't get that and never will, everything else was enjoyable..Rcvd an ARC at no cost to author..(netgalley) Voluntarily reviewed with my own thoughts and opinions.

[theyodamom · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

PA CC has been working for a demanding ex quarterback for years. He works her hard, demanding her to always be on call, doing everything from setting making appointments , buying condoms, and dumping his one night stands. She has a plan, she has saved and it's time to move on and find him a new PA. There is only one problem, Wade does not want to let her go. He finds a way to manipulate her and it leads to a whole new complication. This was a great read, so much fun. There was so much conflict between these two. Wade was a womanizing irresponsible man child and CC responsible one, the one with a plan. She knows everything about him, he knows little about her. She wants to stay on a professional level, he wants to test that line. They couldn't be more oil and water, and that makes the best coupling. Hot, steamy, with a slow build up that is perfect for this relationship. If you are looking for some snarky, romantic fun, this might be the one for you.I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[nelispelusa · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

So CC has been working for Wade for 5 years and she has had enough, enough of working for him 24 hours a day, enough of buying candy and condoms at ridiculous times of the day, enough of having to talk to the woman that he uses as tissue paper. She finally has the money she needs to buy a house and relocate to her dream state California. Unfortunately her plans get derailed when Wade decides to live in his hometown for 3 months to help his father out and he was not happy that she gave her resignation he thought she would be with him for a longer time or in his mind forever. These two find out that even though they have never acted on it they are attracted to each other but have been lying to themselves and their family and friends nudges them to admit and not let the other go. The one thing that bugged me is that he claimed he loved her from the first time he saw her,(yeah that does not work for me when he slept with whatever walked) I don't get that and never will, everything else was enjoyable..Rcvd an ARC at no cost to author..(netgalley) Voluntarily reviewed with my own thoughts and opinions.