Behind Blue Eyes: The Club

By Karen M. Bryson and Ren Monterrey

How far would you go to be with the woman you love?

Would you kill your father to be with his mistress?

What if it was the only way to save her life?

BEHIND BLUE EYES is the dark, gritty PREQUEL to the spicy, hot CLUB series, but can be read as a standalone novella.

Foster Brady has finally met the woman of his dreams. The only problem is that Journey Rivera is his father Mick’s young mistress.

As things heat up between Foster and Journey, Mick begins to become suspicious. He threatens to kill anyone who touches Journey, and he tells Journey he’ll kill her too if he ever finds out she’s cheating on him.

Foster has no reason to doubt his father’s word. He’s always suspected that his mother never really killed herself, and that his father was responsible for her death.

But who would ever suspect a police detective of foul play?

As his father’s violence towards Journey intensifies, Foster vows to do whatever it takes to keep Journey safe.

Even if it means killing his father to protect her.

WARNING: Due to mature LANGUAGE and DARK SUBJECT MATTER, BEHIND BLUE EYES is recommended for adult readers. For readers who might be triggered by sensitive subject matter, this book contains scenes with extreme, graphic violence.

Want to read more of The Club series? Each novel can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the series.
The Club series includes:
Behind Blue Eyes (A CLUB Prequel)
Black Dog Nights
Sapphire Beautiful
Mad Dog Days
Gold Dust Woman
Yellow Dog Blues
Grey Cloudy Lies

• Language: English
• Publisher: Short on Time Books
• Release date: Jan 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386004516

Book preview

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Christian may be 50 Shades of Grey, but he is no match for the Black Dog. He commands a woman's body like an artist, without toys or red rooms... - Monique at Just Booked

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Would you agree to be someone’s mistress if he promised to pay your student loans?

Rose Collins is a recent art school graduate with overwhelming student loan debt and no way to pay it.

Jae Rothko is a wealthy and renowned artist who doesn't have the time or patience for a real relationship.

Jae joins The Club so he can have one woman when he wants and how he wants with no attachments and no expectations.

Falling in love is never part of the deal.

Until Jae meets Rose.

BLACK DOG NIGHTS is the first novel in the spicy, hot CLUB series. It can be read as a stand-alone or as part of the series.

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Author’s Note

BEHIND BLUE EYES is a PREQUEL to THE CLUB series and takes place 25 years ago.

One

Journey

This was supposed to be the year that everything happened for me.

I moved to France to be with my lover. I thought things between us might progress to the next level if we were living on the same continent. And I thought that being in the heart of the fashion industry might be the catalyst I needed to finally get my big break on the other side of the camera as a photographer.

I couldn’t have been more wrong about everything. So far 1992 has sucked.

It didn’t take long after my arrival in France to figure out that my lover had a wife and kids that he’d neglected to mention.

I wasn’t his only action on the side either.

And I had no success breaking into the fashion world as a professional photographer. Evidently there aren’t many people in the industry who are willing to take a former model very seriously when she says she wants to attempt a career snapping shots rather than posing for them. 

So here I am back in Chicago with a hundred and twenty dollars to my name.

I just hope my former roommate, Claudia Moreaux, really meant it when she said that her door is always open, because I’m standing in front of it right now.

Claudia and I did a lot of modeling together when we were teenagers. Unfortunately I hit puberty a little sooner than she did. When I no longer had the look of an oversexualized preteen, the jobs started drying up.

I’m so full of anxiety my hands are shaking. I have no idea what I’m going to do if Claudia doesn’t allow me to stay with her. I might have to ask the homeless man down the street if I can share his bench. 

I muster every bit of courage I have left to knock on her door.

She answers much quicker than I expect. Journey? What are you doing here? I thought you moved to France?

I’m back, I reply with as much enthusiasm as I can.

Come in. She steps aside so I can enter her apartment.

The place is breathtaking. It’s got an open floor plan, which makes it appear huge. All of her furniture looks chic and brand new. She even has a picture window with a view of Lake Michigan.

Those don’t come cheap.

I didn’t know you were still modeling. I can’t take my eyes off her million-dollar view. 

I’m not. She gives me a deliberate smile, as if she has a secret that she’s dying to tell me.

But I know better than to ask. Claudia tells people what she wants them to hear when she wants them to hear it.

Claudia is always the toughest person in a room, but she’s also got a heart of gold if she likes you.

But that’s a big if.

Claudia doesn’t like very many people.

You look great, I tell her. She’s still rail thin and beautiful. The type of person you’d stare at a little too long if she walked by you on the street.

Not that great. Her voice turns bitter. I was forced to retire from modeling too. Apparently I’m past my expiration date.

We have shorter careers than professional athletes.

She nods. Who would ever imagine being out of work before the age of twenty-five?

I glance around her apartment. So how do you afford a place like this?

I have a very generous boyfriend.

I glace at her hand, but I don’t see a ring on her finger. Do you live together?

She laughs. "No, he lives with his wife and kids. He plays here with me."

Oh. I’m not sure what else to say. I never thought of Claudia as the type of person who would have an affair with a married man.

I never imagined I’d be that type of person either until my now ex-lover was forced to admit he had a wife.

I guess you could say I’m kind of like a professional mistress, she explains. I make myself available whenever he wants to fuck me, and he pays my rent and living expenses.

What does he do for a living? The question escapes from my lips before I have a chance to censor myself. I know it’s none of my business, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me.

He’s a police detective, she says with a hint of pride in her voice. 

How can a cop afford to pay for a place like this?

He’s a detective, she corrects.

"I didn’t realize police detectives got paid so much."

Let’s just say he has a lot of very wealthy friends. He does favors for them and they share the wealth. His detective’s salary pays for his wife and kids in the suburbs. His action on the side pays for this action on the side. She emphasizes her point by motioning towards her nether region.

So he’s a crooked cop.

He’s a detective who isn’t exactly a straight shooter.

Does he have any friends? I tease.

He might.

I’m not being serious. Am I? It’s hard for me to tell.

Why not? She raises a thin eyebrow.

I gulp. What she’s describing sounds just a few steps away from prostitution. I may be desperate for a job, but I don’t think I’m that desperate.

Not yet anyway.

My dream is still to break into photography. Even if I can’t make it as a fashion photographer, there are other options. I could take photos at weddings, or graduation ceremonies. I just need someone to give me a break. I need to find a way to get my foot in the door.

I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while. Just until I can find a job and get on my feet.

I’ll have to ask Henry, she says. He pays the bills. And he has certain expectations.

Expectations?

Let’s just say he doesn’t like to limit his sexual activity to the bedroom. He makes use of all of the space he pays for.

I can make myself scarce when he comes over, I assure her. You won’t even know I’m here.

She rubs her chin with her index finger, as if she’s giving my request serious consideration.

It’s fine with me. I told you I’d always be there for you, and I meant it. But it’s really not my decision. I will do my best to convince him though. She winks at me.

I wonder what she’ll have to do to convince him. I don’t want to cause any trouble.

Her eyes soften. It’s no trouble. I promise.

Claudia and I roomed together when we were both teens and modeled fulltime. We became as close as sisters. I’m glad to see that bond has not been broken.

When I give Claudia a hug, she stiffens, but doesn’t pull away. She’s never been one to show much affection, but she does put up with me and my sensitive nature. 

Even though we’ve shared so many similar experiences growing up and spending our formative years in the modeling business, Claudia and I are very different.

She’s tougher than a rock, and I’m softer than a marshmallow. She tells people exactly what she thinks, and says what she wants. I always consider other people’s feelings first, often at the expense of my own.

Despite being opposites in so many ways, I consider her my best friend. Even if she doesn’t say it, I think she feels the same way about me too.

Let me show you the spare bedroom, she offers.

Lead the way.

***

I assured Claudia I’d be able to find a job quickly, but I’m not so sure myself.

I spent my entire adolescence modeling, and never actually graduated high school. My self-esteem took a major beating while I was in France. I’m not sure what I’m qualified to do, or if I’m actually qualified to do anything at all.

Child actors probably face a similar dilemma when they grow up. That could be why so many of them kill themselves. They don’t feel like they have any other options.

I made a list of photography studios in the arts district. Maybe one of them is looking for an assistant. I haven’t entirely given up hope that I’ll be able to break into the profession. I’m definitely willing to start at the bottom and work my way up.

I know Claudia will do everything she can to help me, but I don’t want to be a burden, or put a strain on our relationship. And I don’t want to come between her and her boyfriend. 

I need to become self-sufficient as quickly as possible.

The first stop on my job prospect list is a funky little studio called PhotoU. I immediately fall in love with the décor, which is 70s retro. The last thing I want to do is get my hopes up though. After everything that happened in France I’ve already faced enough disappointment.

Can I help you? The young man at the front desk looks up at me through thick black frame glasses that make him look like a Buddy Holly wannabe.

I’m looking for a job. I was wondering if you’re hiring.

We book all of our models through an agency, he says dismissively.

I’m not looking for a modeling job. I’d like to break into photography. I was wondering if you were looking for an assistant.

Nope. His glare has a get-lost quality to it.

Thank you for your time, I tell him even though he’s no longer paying any attention to me.

My next stop is a studio a few blocks north called The Photo Booth. This place is a lot more modern and much less hip than PhotoU.

I take in a deep breath before I head inside. I hope for the best even if I’m expecting the worst.

We’re not hiring, the older woman at the reception desk says before I even have a chance to open my mouth.

Is it that obvious?

There’s desperation in your otherwise lovely brown eyes, she observes.

"Do you know of anyone who