Brent: Stone Security Volume One, #2

By Glenna Sinclair

This is the second book of Stone Security Volume One, with over 50,000 words of romantic suspense. 

 

He was wearing street clothes. That's how I knew he didn't fit in, and considering the attacks that had been happening to the girls at the club, I knew he was either trouble or salvation.

 

He wouldn't look me in the eye when he came over to talk to me; what kind of a man does that? But when he did, was it possible to see your future in someone else's eyes? If it was, I saw mine in Brent Stone's eyes.

 

When I learned the truth about him: how he'd lost his mother, his father, his wife, and his daughter all in the stretch of two very tragic years, I knew there were obstacles we'd have to find a way to navigate, not to mention the crazed motorcycle club that had a vendetta to settle with Brent and his brother.

 

Happily ever after was beginning to seem more like in your wildest dreams…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenna Sinclair
• Release date: May 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9798223158479

Glenna Sinclair

Experience the heart-racing novels of Glenna Sinclair, the master of romantic suspense. Sinclair's books feature strong male protagonists, many with a military background, who face real-world challenges that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Books2read.com/GlennaSinclair Facebook.com/AuthorGlennaSinclair GlennaSinclairAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

Prologue

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A month prior...

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Laughter drifted around the room, men flirting with women, women flirting with men. There were even a few women flirting with other women, quietly but unabashedly. I watched from my spot at the bar, a glass of ginger ale in front of me. There was a man to my left, his hand wandering over my back like he owned what hid under the skimpy edges of my costume. I glanced at him and smiled, kept the light of hope alive in his eyes as my attention wandered.

The sweet smell of the smoke from one of those vapor pens drifted toward me and I waved it away, having just read an article about the health risks of this thing that was supposed to be safer than cancer-causing cigarettes. The last thing I needed was some sort of lung infection that would make me unable to work. I had goals, plans for the future. I wasn’t going to sit in this club every night for the rest of my life.

Why don’t we go back to one of the rooms, the guy beside me whispered near my ear.

Almost closing time, Tyler.

He moved close to me, his lips as close to mine as they would ever get. Let’s live dangerously. Let’s break the rules.

I patted his cheek lightly, a rebuke I shouldn’t give voice to on the tip of my tongue. Luckily enough, the lights came up and Rhonda, our beloved boss, announced closing time.

I smiled, leaned close to kiss Tyler’s cheek, and walked away.

What a long night, Rachel said as she dropped onto the bench beside me. We were in the locker room, everyone quiet as they took off their costumes and exchanged them for street clothes that were both expensive and quite common. Most of the men who came to the club probably wouldn’t recognize most of us on the street.

I sighed a long, relieved sigh as I unhooked the back of the bralette I’d been wearing all evening. Rhonda always measured, but somehow managed to buy the bras and bralettes too small. My theory was that she liked the squished look of our boobs. The clients definitely liked it.

I dressed, happy to slip on my soft, cotton bra and the oversized t-shirt I’d worn over it this morning. Jeans slipped over my hips with little resistance, hugging my curves with a reassuring feel to them. It always felt good to have some material covering all those places the clients liked to see when we were at the club.

Ready? I asked Rachel.

She shook her head. I think I’ll stick around, take a shower here. The water heater’s busted at my place.

Just don’t take too long. Make sure Tommy’s still here when you walk out to your car.

She rolled her eyes. Yes, mother.

I touched her shoulder, squeezing lightly even as I tossed my bag over my shoulder. See you tomorrow.

I walked out with a group of other girls, two of the security guards following us to make sure none of our clients had hung around to ambush us by our cars. The night was quiet and clear, a lovely night in downtown Memphis. I was still getting used to the warm southern spring weather. I’d lived here more than five years—followed a man who turned out to be nothing like the man I thought he was—but I still wasn’t used to not needing a winter coat until May.

My pride and joy, a Mazda Miata Sport, was parked just to the side of the back door—one of the perks of always being one of the first to arrive in the morning. I bought the car just a few months ago, the first big purchase I’d ever made. I saved up for it for more than a year, putting away cash in this envelope, in that envelope, making sure my bills were paid and I was putting away a sufficient amount of money for my other plans. But I finally saved enough and here it was, my beautiful red car!

I tossed my bag into the backseat and got in, peeling out of the parking lot with a little wave to the other girls, loving the feel of the vibration of power the car sent through my body. I drove too fast, taking the same route I took every night to my little apartment on the seedier side of town. I could afford better now, thanks to this job at the club. But I liked being able to save up that much more money every month. It would get me closer to my goal in a shorter amount of time.

The parking lot of the apartment complex was packed. I had an assigned spot, but there was a car parked there when I arrived. That wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but it was still frustrating. I parked in the overflow lot and hiked my way back to my apartment, looking forward to a hot shower and warmed up leftovers before bed.

You were out late.

He was sitting against my front door. He slowly climbed to his feet as I came up the final few steps to the narrow breezeway.

What are you doing here, Curtis?

He busied himself brushing the dirt and dust off the seat of his expensive jeans, his dark brown eyes moving over the length of me. I could feel the heat in that look, the anger and jealousy that he had kept deeply hidden during the first happy months of our relationship. My muscles all stiffened, my body preparing to run. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of forcing me to run from my own home. Not again.

I’ve been calling, but you won’t answer the damn phone.

Because I don’t want to talk to you.

Dane...

A restraining order is in effect here, Curtis. You have to stay at least a hundred yards from me, my home, and my car. You know that.

Then answer the phone. If you’d just call me, I wouldn’t have to come out here.

Just like if I hadn’t smiled at the taxi driver, you wouldn’t have had to hit me that first time?

I didn’t say it aloud. There was no point because I knew he would answer in the affirmative, like it was normal to hit your girlfriend because she was polite to strangers.

It’s been over a year, Curtis. I don’t need to check in with you, you don’t need to call me every few days. It’s over.

It’ll never be over.

He took a step toward me, the look in his eyes a familiar one. His eyes grew darker when he was angry, his long, thin body tauter, more compact. I tensed in response despite my resolution to myself that I would no longer allow him—or anyone—to terrorize me ever again. I was done with being the victim, with being the one with the scars and the pain. I was going to be the one who walked away with a smile on my lips.

I moved toward him as he moved toward me and ducked around his long arms. It surprised him enough that I almost got around him. But then he had the back of my oversized t-shirt and he was yanking me backward, slamming me against the rough outer wall of my neighbor’s apartment. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out as the stucco scratched the length of my back.

I told you when we moved out here that you were my life, that you were everything to me. Did you really think I’d just let you walk away? He ran his fingertip down the curve of my jaw even as I twisted away, trying to avoid his familiar touch. It’s been long enough, Dane. It’s time for you to come home.

I’m not coming back to you.

His eyes had murder in them as he stared down at me. You are.

No.

I raised my knee. It slammed into his crotch, not with the force I’d wanted, but with enough force to knock some of the strength out of his touch. I ducked again, moving quickly away from him, my keys in my hand and ready to slide into the lock. Unfortunately, he was on me before I could get the deadbolt undone. He grabbed me by the back of my collar and ripped me away from the door, his fist landing against my jaw before I could respond. I managed to throw myself back far enough to miss the second blow, but he was pushing me back against the wall again, trying to control me, to keep me within his control. I couldn’t give him that.

I fought him, kicking his shins, his ankles, slapping his chest and his face, scratching the angle of his jaw. After a moment, he was on the defensive, backing away.

I tugged my cell phone out of my back pocket and held it up.

I’m calling 911. They find you here and you go to jail, Curtis. What will that do to your precious reputation?

His eyes narrowed.  He smacked me hard across the face.

You will come home, Dane, he told me in a tone that said it wasn’t a statement. It was an order. Then he walked away, storming down the stairs like the devil was on his heels.

I quickly let myself into my apartment and slammed the door, twisting the deadbolt into place. I closed my eyes, thinking I should really get more locks. And then I sank to the floor, fighting off the sobs that wanted to take over everything about me. But there was no fighting them.

It wasn’t until the next morning that I saw the marks he’d left on my face. A bruise about the size of a quarter was turning a bright purple just under my left ear. And there was another bruise along my cheekbone under my left eye.

I’d need Rachel’s makeup expertise today!

I walked out to my car and discovered that Curtis had left me a little surprise—he slashed two of my tires on the way out. And, of course, he did it on a night when I had to park in the overflow lot so there were no security cameras to catch him in the act.

Asshole!

I had to call the garage to come get it. Even if I had the time to stop and change a tire, I only had one spare. And then I arranged for an Uber, something I thought I was done with when I got my car. Needless to say, it was late when I finally walked into the club.

I was dressing in the locker room, tugging on that overly tight bralette, when Rhonda walked in.

I’m sorry I’m late, I said. The tires on my car were—

Dane, I’ve been trying to call you all morning.

My phone’s off. I was trying to avoid a few unpleasant phone calls.

She just nodded, her eyes round and full of concern. She lay her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eye. That scared me. Rhonda was a kind, gentle woman, the kind of woman I’d always imagined would be the perfect grandmother—generous to a fault, but not really the touchy-feely kind. For her to put her hands on me...I knew something was very wrong.

It’s Rachel, she said. I know how close the two of you are...

What’s wrong with Rachel?

She was attacked last night. Someone grabbed her when she left the club, beat her up pretty bad. She’s in the hospital.

I started to shake, everything that had happened over the past twelve hours disappearing from my thoughts as I recalled leaving Rachel alone here in the locker room.

She stayed to use the showers...

Tommy walked her out, but he didn’t wait to see her pull off like he’s supposed to. Rhonda shook her head. He spoke to the cops, but they don’t seem to give a shit.

I slipped out of the half fastened bralette and pulled my light sweater back over my head.

I should go to the hospital. I should be there for her; she doesn’t have anyone else!

Rhonda nodded. I’ll have someone drive you.

I can’t believe...she was right here, just last night!

I know. Rhonda gestured for me to lead the way out of the room. It’s probably just a random thing, but I’ve already doubled the security and fired Tommy. This won’t happen again on my watch.

I sincerely hope not.

Chapter 1

Okay, Mr. Wallace, you can roll over now.

The older man on my massage table rolled over heavily with a grunt that filled the silent room like a gunshot. I pretended I didn’t see his erection as I oiled my hands with the sandalwood scented oil he’d chosen and leaned forward to begin with his shoulders. His hand immediately came around my hip, slipping under the short hem of my skirt. I would have loved to push his hand away, but one of the perks of this club was that the clients got to touch.

I worked quickly, kneading the muscles of his shoulders, then his chest and belly, then his thighs. I was careful to avoid any implication of intimacy despite the fact that his hand continued to explore my ass and his erection continued to stand up on end under the thin sheet that covered his pelvis. It was almost embarrassing, really, that little erection. Some of the girls were classless enough that they laughed about it behind closed doors. But Mr. Wallace was a big tipper, so no one dared say anything where he could hear it.

How about a happy ending today, Scarlett? he asked, the tone of his voice making it pretty clear what he was asking for.

You know club rules, Mr. Wallace.

Yeah, I know. You can look, you can touch, but you can’t get relief for these damn blue balls!

He squeezed my ass before letting go, sitting up and jumping down off the table before I could say anything. What ever happened to Jasmine? he mumbled. She used to give me a little extra whenever I asked for it!

Yeah, well, look what that got her!

Jasmine, aka Rachel, was still in the hospital, still in a coma from the beating some asshole had given her. A month and the doctors were losing their optimism. And she wasn’t the only one. Two other girls had been jumped outside the club, one in broad daylight when she stopped by to pick up her check, and the other after hours just like Rachel.

It seemed like it was open season on the girls of the Highland Club and there was nothing anyone could do about it, including the extra security guards Rhonda had hired.

I washed my hands and wiped down the massage table after tossing the sheets into the hamper, waiting for Mr. Wallace to finish in the dressing room. He