Rhodes_Ashley_-_Sentinel_MC_1.pdf

SENTINEL DEVIL RIDERS MC BOOK 1 by Ashley Rhodes Copyright 2016 Ashley Rhodes

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TABLE OF CONTENTS 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 BONUS NOVEL – SONS OF FLAME MC: REDEMPTION

PROLOGUE CHRISSY Chrissy’s head throbbed from where he had hit her, and she winced as a trickle of blood oozed from her nose. This is it. This is the last time. She’d said that to herself so many times before, but this time she meant it. Truly meant it. She hurried to her wardrobe and threw it open, grabbing armfuls of clothes and haphazardly shoving them into a case. It briefly crossed her mind just how much all this stuff was worth, and how roughly she was treating it, but that didn’t matter anymore. She had to get out, she had to get away. A sudden banging on the door started; heavy, urgent knocks followed by a hoarse voice, the words thick and slurred. “Open this fucking door, Chrissy!” Her heart was pounding. It was Benny—he must have woken up again. Chrissy had thought that the cocktail of drugs and booze he’d already consumed would have been enough to keep him unconscious all night. Obviously not. She crammed the last armful of clothes into the case and forced it closed, then took a brief moment to glance around the room for anything she might have missed that could be important. It was huge, their bedroom. Lavishly decorated, stuffed with impossibly expensive furniture and fixtures. Chrissy could still remember the awe that she had felt, the first time that he’d brought her here. Now, all that was left was hatred and contempt. She could have taken some of the jewelry; Benny would never notice, and it was worth a fortune. But she couldn’t. It would always remind her of him, and all she wanted from him was distance. She had to escape him, his abuse. The jewels would help, but she wasn’t going to steal from him, not make it seem that she’d been after his money all along. She wasn’t the gold-digger he accused her of being and she wouldn’t do a thing that would let him suggest it. Fuck that. She dragged the suitcase off the bed and strode to the door, taking only a moment to steel herself before she threw it open. Chrissy expected Benny to be waiting, his anger building. She was anticipating a confrontation—having to struggle with him physically. She had psyched herself for it and was ready to fight to get away from him. But when the door opened to reveal the corridor beyond, he was laying on the floor, unconscious. Drool seeped from his lips, and he was snoring loudly. Benny Ashcroft, son of billionaire media mogul David Ashcroft and one of the most desirable bachelors in America had shown her his true colors. And now, lying on the floor, he looked exactly like what he was—a pathetic, utterly loathsome, cowardly, alcoholic woman-beater. If she didn’t hate him so much, Chrissy could even have felt sorry for him. But not anymore. He’d hit her for the last time. He was a bad drunk, and it wasn’t the first time he’d flown into a jealous rage over nothing. He was a spoiled brat, and his father’s money had protected him from the consequences of his actions for far too long. But all the money in the world couldn’t make her stay. All the money in the world wouldn’t make him seem like a real man. Fuck him. She stepped over his unconscious form and walked out without a backward glance.

* * * * When Chrissy pulled up in front of an unassuming suburban house, on an unassuming suburban street, she let out a sigh of relief. Although far removed from the luxury and opulence of Ashcroft Manor, it seemed welcoming. It was home. Or had been at least, until she’d moved out. She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the rear view mirror, wiping away the crusted blood from her nose and wincing as she gingerly probed her rapidly blackening eye. There was no way she was going to be able to hide it from her Mom and Dad, but maybe it would finally be the evidence they’d need. Chrissy’s reservations about Bennie had been growing for months now. She’d always disliked his attitude toward people, but thought he would respond to having someone care for him. About him. He was rich beyond most people’s wildest dreams, and provided for her every financial need, but he was troubled. The occasional drink had turned into binging every night on whatever he was able to get his hands on. Booze, pills, and powders were his idea of fun. And it was only escalating. Chrissy knew that she couldn’t go back, not ever again. She had brought up her concerns with her parents, gently, a few times now. She’d told them about his violent temper, his unpredictable behavior. Each time, though, they’d urged her to ride it out. “Think of the money, sweetie. He offers security… opportunities. Don’t throw it all away just because he likes to take a drink once in a while. He’s wonderful when he’s sober. If you throw this away, wreck your relationship with him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Their concerns and her own belief that she could help him, had convinced her to keep trying. Chrissy had never been all that close with her parents and ever since she’d grown up and started making her own decisions, living her own life, she’d felt herself becoming more distant from them. She thought they were probably happiest when she was a kid. They’d liked being able to dictate her life, but they’d had trouble coming to terms with the fact that she was now an independent adult capable of making her own choices. They didn’t like it to the point that they’d begun losing their tempers with her when she didn’t see things their way. She didn’t expect them to be happy she’d left Benny, not even now, but she needed support and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. And they were still her parents, and she was sure that once they saw what he had done to her, they’d come around. They’d see that she was making the right decision and help her get away from him. It was late as she walked up to the front door, knocking and then waiting. The lights were off and they were probably asleep, but it didn’t take long before Chrissy’s Dad opened the door, his confused and bleary countenance clearing a little once he saw her there. “Chrissy? What time is it? Is everything OK?” Chrissy had wanted to remain strong, to show him that she was rational and clear-headed, but as soon as she saw him she broke down and burst into tears, flinging herself into his arms. He hugged her, a puzzled expression on his face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Here, come inside and I’ll make some cocoa and you can tell me all about it.” * * * * The three of them sat quietly around the kitchen table. Steaming mugs of dark, soothing liquid sat in front of them. Chrissie’s parents were still slightly fuzzy with sleep, dressed in their pajamas. Chrissy

herself was still wide awake after the night’s events. Her Mom had tended to her nose and swollen eye with clucks of concern, and now they were expectant, looking at her and waiting to hear what had happened. And Chrissy told them. She poured out her heart. She detailed how Bennie was wild and out of control, how one moment he was sweet as could be, and the next he could fly into a rage. How he was drinking a bottle of whiskey a night these days, more often than not passing out comatose on the couch. How he had gotten jealous that evening when he saw a message from a male friend on her cellphone, and how he had hit her when she denied any wrongdoing. She tried her best to make them see how it was over; that there was nothing good left between her and Benny, and that she wouldn’t be going back to him, no matter what. Her Mom and Dad listened intently, letting her tell her story. Their faces were full of sympathy and righteous anger. That was, right up until Chrissy reached the end of her story. The part where she was done with Bennie Ashcroft. Then things changed. Her Mom was the first to speak. “Chrissy,” she said. “You are upset. You need to think about this for a little while before you make any rash decisions.” “Think about what?” “Benny made a mistake tonight, for sure, but everyone deserves a second chance. Maybe you could suggest counseling for him, get some help for his problems.” Chrissy shook her head. “Mom, there’s no way in hell he would ever agree to it. Every time I’ve ever brought up his problems, he waves them away or gets angry at me. He’ll do what he wants to do—he’s Bennie Ashcroft the billionaire. Untouchable, above everyone else in his mind.” The first twinge of annoyance crossed her mother’s face then. “So you’re just going to throw away everything for one…indiscretion?” Chrissy could only gape in shock. “Indiscretion?” she spluttered. “Look at me! Look at what he did to me! And it’s only getting worse! Who knows what’ll happen next?” Her Dad put a hand over his wife’s, a look passing between them, and then spoke gently to Chrissy. “Sweetheart. We know you’re hurting right now, and we know that you hate him for what he did. That’s completely understandable. All we’re saying is, sleep on it. Don’t make rash, emotional decisions that will affect the rest of your life without taking some time to think about it first.” Chrissy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A rage welled up inside her and she began to tremble uncontrollably, as she blinked back the tears that threatened to overcome her again. “I’m your daughter, and I’m looking for help. I’m sitting here in front of you with a black eye and a bleeding nose. All I wanted was your support, for you to tell me that everything’s going to be OK, that I can stay here with you until I get back on my feet. He beat me. He beat me until I ran away and hid because I was so scared. If he hadn’t passed out, I don’t know what he would have done. And you’re telling me that I should take a day to calm down and then go back and beg him to take me back?” Later she would remember the moment, the precise instant that something snapped inside her mother. The woman leaned forward over the table, an ugly expression twisting her features. She looked frightening under the harsh glow of the light above their heads. “Listen here, Chrissy,” she hissed. “I don’t want to hear any more self-pitying whining from you, you hear? Bennie Ashcroft is a billionaire. When you marry him you’ll be rich. Do you have any concept of

how rich you’ll be? There isn’t a woman in her right mind who wouldn’t do anything and everything to be in your position—you could help your family. And I hear you telling us that you are so damn selfish that you are willing to throw all that away because the man made one drunken mistake that he’ll regret in the morning?” Chrissy couldn’t believe her ears. There was nothing she could say to that. Then she watched her mother relax and lean back in her chair. The scowl faded slowly and was replaced with what the woman must have thought was a gentle smile. Instead, it was a mockery of genuine compassion. “Now, why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep? Everything will look better in the morning. It always does. You can stay with us for a few days, then we’ll go over to the Ashcroft place with you, and we can all get everything straightened out.” Chrissy wondered if they could hear the pounding of her heart. It was almost deafening in her own ears. That was part of the shock. She had come here because she thought it was a safe place, a haven after the horrific events of that night. But she was wrong, and she knew it now. She had to get out, get away. She stood and stumbled backward, sending her chair clattering to the ground. Her parents stood too, confusion on their faces. Even now it was clear that they assumed that she was going to do as they asked. That she would go back to him, as if nothing had ever happened. She backed away from them slowly. “I need to go,” she stammered. “I can’t stay here. Not anymore.” “Chrissy,” her Dad said firmly. “Listen. I’ve always been too proud to tell you this, but you aren’t giving me any choice.” He took a breath. “We are deep underwater on this house and behind on the mortgage. My hours have been cut, and we can’t pay the bills. If it carries on like this, we’re going to lose everything. Please, I beg you, don’t do this. Once the two of you are married, things will be different, I’m sure of it. But you can’t leave before that. We need you.” Chrissy gasped in amazement. It was all about the money, nothing more, nothing less. They needed her to stay with Bennie for themselves. They weren’t even thinking about her or her safety. The anger and resentment exploded out of her mouth with fiery intensity. “I came here because I needed you!” she howled. “I needed to be your little girl again, for you to tell me that everything would be OK and that you’d support me in whatever I wanted to do. I needed you to protect me and take care of me.” Tears of anger and fear and desperation flowed down her face. “We are taking care of you, Chrissy,” her Dad pleaded. “We’re trying to take care of all of us.” Chrissy just shook her head and backed away. She couldn’t stay here, either. There was nothing for her, nobody. She turned and ran from the kitchen, toward the front door. Behind her, she heard her parents shout, calling her to come back. She didn’t listen. It was over. She was alone. She had run away from Benny, and that had been the right thing to do. She’d stopped running, thinking she’d gone far enough, would find support, but she’d been wrong. She got into her old Honda and pulled away quickly. She drove off into the night, leaving her old home and her parents behind her. Her old life behind her. ****

CHAPTER ONE CHRISSY Chrissy finished applying her makeup, and then looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she bothered, really. The job wasn’t worth it, and the clientele certainly weren’t worth it —but if she looked good she’d be able to hold her head up high. She checked her watch. It was almost 6pm, which meant it was time to go. She glanced around her little apartment to make sure that she had everything, and then headed for the door, locking the deadbolt behind her. Some of the other units in this building had been broken into recently, and she didn’t want to be the next. It was in a less than salubrious neighborhood, but it was all she could afford. As she hurried down the steps to the parking lot, Chrissy ran through her mental to-do list for the next day. She had classes starting at 9am, and then tutoring in the afternoon. At the thought of the tutoring, her heart sank. Her student, Justin Willbanks, was not someone she would normally voluntarily spend any time with. Wealthy, entitled and lazy, he was the epitome of the spoiled rich kid who had had everything in life handed to him on a platter. Not only did he have a bad attitude, he reminded her unpleasantly of Benny Ashcroft. She sometimes wished she could meet a really nice rich kid, just so she could balance her perspective on how people reacted to money. She had originally taken Justin on as a student because he’d made her some promises: He’d agreed to work with her, study hard, and generally put in the effort it would take to improve his grades. She’d started off with some hope, but right from the first day she’d known in her heart that he didn’t mean to keep his word. He didn’t like having to work for anything. She found that sad. He was smart enough that if he’d been willing to work he could’ve done it easily. As things developed, she learned that he expected Chrissy to do his homework for him while he lounged around and leered at her, asked inappropriate questions, and tried his damnedest to get her to go on a date with him. The idea repulsed her—she’d rather go out with a serial killer, and even told him so. Even that didn’t

stop him. She sensed that he was so accustomed to getting his own way that her turning him down made getting a date with her an irresistible challenge for him. She was a goal to be conquered. She’d never give him the satisfaction. Besides, she had a strong hunch that his idea of a first date wasn’t strictly dinner and dancing. He’d want to take her to the best restaurant and nightclub, and then he’d expect her to put out to show her gratitude. It was not her idea of romance. She didn’t even like him. She tried to compromise, to find a balance. She bent her rules a bit, doing some of his homework and trying to encourage him to study. She let him think she would like him better if he tried a bit. The truth was that she needed the money. She was paying her own way through college and not only had to make her living expenses, but save up enough each quarter to cover tuition, rent, books… everything she needed for the next term. She had nobody to rely on but herself, so she had to make sacrifices. If she had to put on a brave face and work with him… he paid well over the going rate, and would continue to as long as his grades remained good enough for him to stay in school. Some days she was able to maintain the balance and let herself think it would work out. Other days, Justin Willbanks could be a complete asshole, and she’d leave their sessions determined never to talk to him again. Chrissy arrived at her old car and climbed in. She crossed her fingers and turned the key, letting out a sigh when it started. Her destination was Riggs, a truck-stop cafe on the I-95 where she worked nights as a waitress. As far as jobs she actually qualified for went, she was lucky to have it, she supposed, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Her manager, Dick, was a blowhard asshole who seemed to make it his life’s mission to live up to his name. He acted as if he was a rooster in a henhouse, strutting around thinking that all the girls were daydreaming about him. The place itself, Riggs, held no charm—old and greasy, and in desperate need of renovations, it was sort of a truck-stop classic in a perverse way. Those things weren’t a problem for Chrissy, she could deal with shabby and even dirty. What sucked about the job was the kind of people who hung out there. Calling them customers was an exaggeration, since many just bought enough coffee to keep from being thrown out. Some were long-haul truckers, or said they were, but when she saw them spending hours in the cafe, doing little more than talking and trying to cop a feel from the waitresses, she had to believe they weren’t doing a job that paid by the mile. Chrissy wasn’t one to stereotype, at least she tried not to, and some of the regulars were sweethearts. More often than not, though, the truckers who ate there were grabby lecherous pigs who viewed a young waitress as a piece of meat to be ogled and drooled over. Chrissy shivered at the thought as she drove along the interstate. You need this job, she thought to herself. Just deal with it until you’ve graduated. With a deep sigh she pulled into Riggs’ scruffy old parking lot, parked up, and sat there for a couple moments, sinking into the comfy and well-worn seat and steeling herself for the night to come. Sometimes it was quiet - maybe tonight would be one of those. However, as it turned out, that particular night was going to be anything but quiet… * * * * The evening got off to a bad start. Chrissy was a few minutes late, and the moment she walked in the door, Dick was in her face, complaining as if it was important. “Every fuckin’ night you’re late, Chrissy. Tell me why I shouldn’t just fire you and hire someone who can turn up on time?”

He said this with his hands on his hips, a smug grin on his jowly face. “Dick,” Chrissy sighed, “look around. The place is empty. It’s always empty when I start my shift. What does it matter that I’m a few minutes late?” He scoffed. “Well I don’t know how things go over at that college you study at, but out here in the real world you gotta be on time. You’re ‘sposed to start at six thirty, like I put on the schedule. I put six thirty on the schedule, I want you here at six thirty sharp.” She took a moment to study him. Dick was pushing his mid-fifties, fat, balding, and the furthest he’d managed to get in life was as a shift-manager of this dive. He basked in what little power he had, and truth be told, Chrissy only put up with his shit because she felt kinda sorry for him. Behind his puffed-up self- importance was a man who had never achieved much, and took that resentment out on those around him. It didn’t help things to fight with him, and maybe being nicer would do some good. “OK then, Dick. I’ll do my best to be right on time from now on.” He rolled his eyes to show his disbelief and then waddled back into his office muttering to himself. Chrissy busied herself with mopping the linoleum floor, humming softly. She was planning out her next school assignment in her mind when she was distracted by the sound of the door opening. She straightened up, turned, and fixed a smile on her face. “Welcome to Riggs, take a seat anywhere you like and I’ll be right with you.” The words rolled off of Chrissy’s tongue with well-practiced ease. The new arrivals were truckers, judging from their appearance. Slightly disheveled and unshaven, the taller of the two of them eyed Chrissy. He looked at her hungrily and unashamedly. She forced herself not to shudder at his unwanted stares, and went to fetch her notepad and pen. When she returned, they’d settled into a booth and were sitting, leaning forward and muttering to each other with low voices. When she approached their table, they immediately stopped talking and both turned to face her. “What can I getcha, guys?” The shorter one didn’t even look at the menu, or at Chrissy. “Double cheeseburger, fries, coke.” His voice was thin and reedy, and something about him just creeped her out, though she did her best not to show it. “Comin’ right up.” The taller one took his time, making a show of browsing the menu while also leering at Chrissy. “Hmmm, don’t know what I want,” he rasped. “Got any recommendations, sweetheart?” Chrissy bit back her frustration with him, and forced a sweet smile onto her face. “Well, our special today is lasagna, how about that?” He hemmed and hawwed before shaking his head again. When he looked up at her this time, his eyes were full of unashamed lust. The idea that he was probably trying to picture her naked made Chrissy’s skin crawl. She doubted he cared what he ate and he probably had the menu memorized anyway. Most of the truckers stopped there every few days because the food was cheap and it was easy to get on and off the freeway. “I’ve got a hankering for something fresh and sweet,” he said. “What you got up under that little skirt of yours, huh? I think that’s where I’ll find what I want.” He reached out to her, but Chrissy slapped his hand away before he could touch her. “Keep your goddamn hands to yourself, you ape,” she hissed. “Now are you gonna order some food? If you aren’t buying anything, you’re gonna have to leave.” A cloud passed over the trucker’s features, and his eyes narrowed in fury.

“Get me a fucking cheeseburger and coke, then, frigid bitch.” He shook his head. “What the fuck’s your problem? I’m just havin’ a little fun and you gotta take it all serious, like.” Chrissy ignored him and wrote down the order. “I’ll get your order in.” Then she left the two men at the table, the talkative one still muttering under his breath and shooting dark looks her way. She knew that she had scuppered any chance of getting a tip from them, but somehow she didn’t think that they were the generous-tipping types even with waitresses who didn’t mind their shit. It was guys like this that wore her down, made the job a struggle. They thought that they were somehow entitled to make passes at her, to touch her, just because she was serving them their food. Normally she didn’t react so angrily, but today she just didn’t have the patience for it. Not after Justin’s crap. She handed the order slip over to Dick through the little hatch, who glanced at it and then nodded over at the truckers. “What happened over there? That one guy don’t look like he’s too pleased with you for some reason.” Chrissy just waved her hand in dismissal. “Nothing. The guy was just being a lecherous asshole and I told him where to shove it.” Dick shook his head angrily. “Why you always gotta rub these guys up the wrong way, huh? Just laugh it off like the other girls do. The truckers like to think they’re hot shit and you should be flattered.” Chrissy laughed bitterly. “Well I’m not the other girls, Dick. And if I don’t want greasy asshole truckers pawing at me, then I’m damn well gonna tell them so.” She turned away to end the conversation before she said something that she would regret. Luckily for her, a distraction arrived in the form of a new group of customers. The door swung open and in came another group of men. Hard, tough-looking men with scowls on their faces that told everyone looking that they weren’t to be messed with. Bikers. They weren’t regulars, but guys like them came in from time to time. Truck stops were an attraction for the various gangs that operated in the area. They looked like rough guys, although they seemed to prefer to say they belonged to a ‘motorcycle club’ rather than a biker gang. Ironically, on average they were no trouble at all. Generally, they were respectful, even cheerful, and tipped well. But that all changed if a rival gang came in. Then, things could get hairy pretty quickly. A couple of times, Dick had called the cops. But even then, they were only dangerous to each other. The real scuffle took place in the parking lot. All you needed to do was stay out of the way, and it was interesting to watch. It did tend to screw up business though. Luckily on this night, it seemed as if this group were all from the same gang, club, whatever. For now, anyway. There were six or seven of them in all, but the last guy to come in was the only one to really catch Chrissy’s attention. He was tall, really tall. He must have been at least six foot three, broad-shouldered, with big brawny arms covered in an intricate web of tattoos. His dark hair was long, and tied back in a ponytail, but the thing that really drew Chrissy’s attention were his eyes. He glanced at her and they flashed, meeting and capturing hers for a brief moment. She’d never believed in the power of looks exchanged across a room before, and wrote it off as the stuff of cheap romance novels. But that was before he’d looked into hers and she saw them shimmering—they were a brilliant emerald green and stunned her. The crow’s-feet wrinkles around their edges told her that he was somebody who was quick to smile and laugh.

He caught her looking and flashed her a smile that did funny things down low in her belly. Chrissy grabbed a handful of menus and began to make her way over to where the bikers were sitting. On her way, she had to pass by the table where the two truckers sat. As she moved by them, she cried out in surprise as a heavy hand suddenly gripped her wrist. Chrissy looked down to see the larger and more belligerent of the two truckers looking up at her with angry eyes. “So you won’t give me the time of day, but you’re all sweetness and light as soon as those dirtbag bikers come in? The fuck is your problem, girl?” Chrissy struggled in his grip, but he was too strong. “Get your hand off me,” she hissed. “Now!” She sensed a presence at her side, and looked over to discover the big green-eyed biker standing there, arms crossed over his chest and scowl on his face as he looked down at the trucker. Damn, but up close he seemed even bigger. Those tattoos rippled as he flexed his arms, and his muscles bulged underneath the black t-shirt he wore. “We got a problem here?” he rumbled, the menace dripping from his voice. The trucker looked up and blanched at the man-mountain looming over him. His hand released Chrissy’s arm, and she winced and massaged her bruised skin. “N-no, no problem,” the man squeaked. “Me and the girl here was just havin’ a friendly chat.” The biker looked at Chrissy and shook his head. “It don’t look like the lady wants to talk to you, friend. It looks to me like you’re being a pest. You grabbed her when she was coming over to take our order. We’re hungry and don’t appreciate that. So I suggest you eat your food and get the fuck out of here. Understood?” The trucker swallowed, then just nodded and looked away. The biker grinned at Chrissy and winked, then walked back to his table. Chrissy watched him go, noting the sexy way his broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, and his butt moved pleasingly under his jeans as he walked away. She shook her head and tried not to stare, tried not to think too much about him. Just being near to this guy did funny things to her. Things she hadn’t felt about a guy in a long time. She approached the biker’s table, a fresh smile on her face. She passed around the menus, and the bikers took them, each with a nod or a murmur of thanks. Even though these guys looked like they were no strangers to trouble, she somehow felt at ease with them. “Can I get you guys something to drink?” “We’ll take some coffee, thanks.” This was from her savior, the long-haired guy with the green eyes. His voice was deep but soft, every word measured and deliberate. “Sure thing,” Chrissy said. A few moments later and each of the bikers was nursing a fresh steaming cup of coffee. Chrissy was about to step away to give them some time to choose what they wanted to order, before the leader spoke again. “If that worm over there gives you any more hassle, let me know.” His simple and honest concern sent a tremble of something running through her. She tried to hide her response, tried to play it cool. “I’m fine. Thanks though. Some guys just need to be reminded to have good manners more…forcefully than others. I think he got the message.” The long-haired biker threw a meaningful glance in the direction of the trucker, but just nodded at Chrissy’s response.

“Yeah, I think he did. He better have.” He looked up at Chrissy once more and met her eyes with that stunning green gaze of his, before turning his attention back to his crew. Chrissy stepped away to give them some privacy, keeping an eye on them to be ready for when they wanted to order. They sat around talking in low voices, and their body language seemed to show that they had important things to discuss. They ordered a few minutes later, and then Chrissy left them to it. When she brought the food to the two truckers, she was half expecting more trouble from them, but they wordlessly took the plates and began to eat. Chrissy breathed an internal sigh of relief. After they had eaten the truckers quickly paid the bill and shuffled out, the taller one stopping at the door and throwing a dirty look towards the bikers. His glare was met by the long-haired leader of the bikers, and the trucker was the first to avert his eyes, muttering darkly under his breath as he gave Chrissy a rather menacing stare before he pushed open the door and stepped out into the night. The biker leader glanced at Chrissy and grinned at her again. Chrissy couldn’t help but blush, and there was that feeling low in her body again, something like butterflies in her stomach. She stood there stupidly, not wanting to move. “Hey, instead of making eyes at the customers, why don’t you do some work and take this trash outside to the dumpster?” She turned to glare at Dick. Chrissy resented the way Dick’s annoying voice intruded upon her fantasy, but he was the boss and part of her job was dragging out the garbage. She’d been idle. She sighed as she approached the garbage bag full of food waste and scraps, grunting as she hefted the stinking thing; it was heavy enough that she had to half-drag it to the back entrance. She let go of it to open the heavy metal door, then held it open with her foot as she dragged the bag out into the darkness of the night. It was cloudy and overcast, so there was no moonlight to guide her, just the flickering fluorescence of the lightbulb above the door that did little more than make the shadows dance. That made it almost harder to see, rather than easier. As Chrissy approached the dumpster the ground was slippery, wet from being hosed down recently, and the whole area around the dumpster stank. She held her breath as she lifted the door and managed to stuff the garbage bag inside. She let the door slam shut and turned back, heading for the bathroom just inside the door, where she wanted to wash the stink off her hands. Before she reached the door, she was grabbed by the arm and a meaty hand clamped around her mouth from behind. She was pulled back then the hand holding her arm let go, immediately wrapping around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She tried to cry out, but the hand covering her mouth muffled it. Chrissy felt a surge of panic and struggled against whoever it was, but they were too strong. “You bitch. I’ll show you what happens to girls who embarrass me in public,” the voice growled. Chrissy’s heart sank as she recognized the voice of the belligerent trucker. She struggled as he dragged her backwards toward the parking lot. She twisted her arm and dug her nails into the arm that held her tight, and she heard a grunt of pain, but instead of releasing her, he tightened his grip on her, squeezing her until she could barely breathe. She thrashed, kicking out, trying to hit his legs, but she only flailed wildly and any blows that struck him did nothing. He moved relentlessly, dragging her around the side of the building toward one of the areas where the truckers parked their vehicles, heading to a truck that sat in shadows. Chrissy gasped, noting that it was parked where most of the lights didn’t work—either they’d been smashed, or the bulbs had burnt out and nobody had ever gotten around to fixing them. As the man forced her away from Riggs, her panic grew into full-blown terror. She was helpless to keep the burly man from practically carrying her away. She had no doubt of what he had in mind for her when he had her in what

he thought was a safe place. With her arms pinned to her side, and unable to free one no matter how hard she struggled, she suddenly thought back to that night in Ashcroft Manor—the night Benny had hit her for the last time. How helpless she had felt, with no choice but to run away. How helpless she had been, locking herself away. She had promised herself that it would never happen again. Chrissy saw red, and an anger that she normally tried to keep buried deep welled up inside her. With it came the strength of rage. Working her head from side to side just enough, Chrissy managed to bite down, hard, on the man’s hand. He jerked it back, yelping in pain and surprise. “Fucking bitch,” he yelled. Her mouth was free. Chrissy seized the moment and let out an ear-splitting shriek. “Help me! Rape!” With a growl of in anger and frustration, her kidnapper grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her backwards. Chrissy overbalanced and tumbled down, landing on the ground with a hard bump that knocked the breath from her lungs. Unable to move, she squeezed her eyes closed and prepared for the worst. She heard the sounds of scuffling. Like a sudden storm she seemed to be enveloped by a cloud of harsh male voices. It surrounded her, swirled around her like the noise of angry bees. As she opened her eyes and sat up to look around, she began to realize what had happened. The bikers were there, and the bee swarm was them encircling a squat figure they had pulled to one side and were pummeling to the ground. She could only assume it was the trucker who had tried to kidnap her. The green eyed man came toward her. He took her arm with an amazing gentleness and helped her to her feet effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Then he floated her away from the fracas that was developing behind him. “Did he hurt you? We came as fast as we could. That cowardly motherfucker, I knew he was trouble as soon as I laid eyes on him.” “I’m fine. Now.” “The boys are going to teach him a lesson.” “They won’t kill him?” He laughed. “They’ll just make sure he has second thoughts about trying this stunt again, although I’m not sure what sort of recovery time he’ll be looking at. The guys are pretty fucking pissed.” He turned her away, to face Riggs. “I’d rather you didn’t see that.” He led her to the sidewalk in front of the diner, and gently sat her down. Still dazed from hitting her head when she’d fallen, Chrissy gladly accepted his help. “I’ll be fine, thank you so much,” she said. Her voice was thin and high, and her body began to shake as the effects of the adrenaline coursing through her veins began to kick in. The bikers had pulled the trucker out of sight, but Chrissy could still hear the intermittent sounds of struggle coming from behind his truck. She turned to face her unlikely rescuer. “Are you sure they won’t…” He chuckled grimly. “Don’t worry, they ain’t gonna kill him or anything. He ain’t worth doing time over.” Chrissy swallowed, then nodded. The biker leader inclined his head toward the diner entrance. “That manager of yours in there… he had to have heard the scuffle. I guess he ain’t the type to stick his neck out for you.” Chrissy laughed bitterly. “Or anyone. Let’s just say that I’m lucky you guys were here tonight and leave it at that.” She held out her hand.

“I’m Chrissy.” He took her hand in his, and shook. His hands were big and strong, but he was surprisingly gentle. “Rafe.” “And you are the head guy?” “I suppose. I herd this bunch of miscreants around, trying to keep them out of trouble.” “And does this herd, gang, club whatever it is, have a name?” He indicated a patch sewn onto the breast of his leather jacket. It depicted a little red devil riding on a motorbike, surrounded by flames. “We’re the Devil Riders. We have a clubhouse, a bar really, in Mount Fairway, just down the I-95.” Chrissy had been taught to be wary of people like Rafe. It had always seemed like a sensible precaution. The lifestyle they led and the company they kept were a recipe for trouble. They were at the fringe of society, and getting involved with that kind of crowd seemed dangerous. Sitting there, right next to this huge biker, and looking into his striking green eyes, that mindset seemed alien. He didn’t seem dangerous—not to her. Not only had the bikers saved her ass, the word that came to mind when she looked at Rafe was…alluring. Watch yourself girl. “Well, it’s nice to meet you and your Devil Riders, Rafe.” They were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of Rafe’s crew. One guy came up and smile. “That asshole won’t be bothering you again, Miss.” This guy was shorter than Rafe—thin and wiry, with a scar running down one cheek. “We asked him to give us his word that he won’t come back here again. Ever. He agreed, so if you do see him, you be sure to let us know. I hate men who don’t keep their promises almost as much as I hate scumbag rapists.” Rafe laughed. “Thanks for dealing with that, Trigger.” The man called Trigger smiled again. “We needed the exercise, Rafe.” Then Rafe turned to face Chrissy and she looked at him, trying to think of some she could say something to show her appreciation, but words failed her. He seemed to be having a little trouble himself. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but then seemed to change his mind. Chrissy stood slowly, starting to feeling better. She was steadier on her feet than she’d expected to be, largely due to the support from these guys—these bikers. She took a deep breath and came to a sudden decision. Rafe was right about Dick and she was right about this job. She knew what she had to do. She had no idea how she’d find something else to make ends meet, but she wasn’t going to put up with this place or the crowd, the harassment from them and Dick. She didn’t need the money badly enough to put up with dealing with guys like that trucker. She found it ironic that the guys everyone considered outlaws were the only ones to help. But next time, she might not be so lucky, and she shuddered to even consider that possibility. “Thank you all for being there for me,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have something I need to go do.” Rafe nodded, and they all stood and watched her go, before congregating around the row of parked bikes sitting in front of the diner. Chrissy stepped inside, sweeping her gaze from left to right. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. The other trucker had likely taken off. If he’d seen what happened to his pal, he’d be staying a long way from the Devil Riders. She poked her head through the doorway into the kitchen. It was empty. “Dick? Are you here?” No sign of him. Typical.

“Dick? I need to speak with you!” He poked his head around the corner of the hatch, a fearful expression on his face. “Are those bikers gone?” “Not in here, but not gone yet, either. Why?” “They’re trouble. I hid out here when I heard them starting whatever shit was going on.” Chrissy could only scowl at him. “Well the bikers are out hanging around out front. The thing is, they aren’t the problem. It’s a good job they were here, Dick, because if they hadn’t been I don’t even want to think about what your grab-ass trucker pal was going to do to me. Didn’t you hear me cry for help when he grabbed me?” Dick shrugged. “I mind my own business.” “You sent me out back, you jerk. I work for you.” “Well, maybe, but what was I going to do? He’s a big boy. How the fuck was I going to stop him? I was looking for my phone to call the cops when I saw those bikers rush out. I sure as hell wasn’t going to get mixed up in that.” “But you called the police.” Dick turned red. “It looked like things were happening too fast. They wouldn’t get here in time to do shit, so why have the cops messing around here scaring off customers?” Chrissy clenched her fists in fury, trying to keep inside the poisonous words that she wanted to hurl at him. “Okay, Dick. That’s it—I quit.” “Look, Chrissy…” “Right here, right now, I quit. I’ve had enough of this shit, Dick, and I’ve had enough of you. Find someone else, because I’m done.” He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Chrissy flung her apron down on the floor and stormed out. She hurled the door open with force and stomped over to her car, flinging herself into the front seat and starting the engine. It was only then that the tears started—tears of relief, a release of the built-up tension of what had happened. She sat in her car knowing that her tears were more than that. She was scared. Even though she’d had a damn good reason, quitting was rash. She hadn’t worked there long, and now who’d hire her? Chrissy faced her tuition bill for the next semester all too soon. And, she’d had to use her credit card to get her car fixed right after she’d moved here, and that meant more bills. She had nobody but herself to rely on, no family to bail her out. She knew she would get through it, she always managed to find a way, but at the moment she had no idea when or how a solution would turn up. It felt right to allow herself to cry. She was so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t even notice Rafe until he was right next to the window, leaning in. “Wanna talk about it?” Chrissy hurriedly wiped away her tears. That she had given in to self-pity embarrassed her, especially in front of this strong man. She looked up at him with eyes still blurry, and just shook her head, not trusting her voice. He crouched by the window bringing his head level with hers. “My educated guess is that you went in there and told that clown to shove the job up his ass, didn’t you?”

She nodded, wishing she’d said it that way. “And now, back outside where the air is clean and you can think, you’re wondering how you’ll pay the rent? You don’t want to give this dump as a reference even.” Nodding mutely, she found his concern was already relaxing her. “Listen. You can do better than a shithole like this place.” Chrissy just shook her head, and suddenly, even without her consciously realizing that she was doing it, words began to tumble from her mouth unbidden, telling him, talking about just getting an apartment, paying for school and trying to make it. “As much as it sucks, I needed this job, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it right now. I’ve got no savings at all. The truth is that if I thought he’d go for it I’d probably walk back in there and beg for my job back.” Rafe just snorted with derision. “No, you wouldn’t.” She looked at him in amazement. “I wouldn’t?” “Nope. First thing is you are better than that. Second thing is I ain’t gonna let you. Fuck your manager, and fuck this shitty diner.” He stopped for a moment, considering. Then he opened his wallet and pulled out a card, placing it into Chrissy’s palm. She sniffed, wiping her eyes again to get a clear look at it. It was a business card with the same logo he’d shown her on his jacket. Underneath the logo were the words Devil’s Hideout, with an address. “What is it?” “A bar. Bikers have to have a bar, don’t they?” He grinned. “It’s a rule. And in addition to being a bar, it’s a clubhouse where they can hang out. I own the place and if you can stand being around these bums, and serve beer all night and keep smiling, you’ve got a new job.” She stared into his eyes, wondering if this was some kind of a con.” “I really appreciate what you did for me tonight, Rafe, but…” “I’m serious, Chrissy. I run a bar and we need another bartender. The one I’ve got is nagging me about something called a day off, and sooner or later I’ll have to cave in and give her one. Hell, it’s only been a year, I don’t know what she expects. Next thing she’ll be making noise about a vacation and I have to plan ahead a little.” Chrissy found herself laughing. “I can open beer. I can even pour beer into a mug.” Rafe shuddered. “I won’t tell if you don’t. No self-respecting biker uses a glass.” He laughed. “It might not seem like it, but even bikers have social mores. You’ll learn. Show up there tomorrow evening around six and we’ll get you started.” Just looking at him made her tremble and she feared that what intrigued her about him might make for a new problem. “I don’t know...” “Of course you don’t know. You just went through having the shit scared out of you, then you fought with your boss and quit your job. On top of that, there’s some bum of a biker who keeps staring at you like he might have a thing for you, and he’s spooky enough to offer you a job, and you worry that he might just be trying to get in your pants. Well, you’re gonna have to work through most of that yourself, but on that final point, no matter how hot the stupid biker thinks you are, it’s a legit job offer, and no strings attached. Anything else would be worked out over time and in my place, as long as people are behaving, nobody forces anyone to do anything.” He held out a hand. “You have my word. I don’t have much else, but I give you that.” She stared at his proffered hand for a moment, absorbing what he’d said. He claimed to be a stupid

biker, but he sure nailed her confusion. The butterflies in her gut were doing somersaults as she took his hand and shook it. “Okay, Rafe.” “Then it’s done. See you tomorrow evening. Oh, there’s no uniform. Just dress casual. Don’t want the guys getting all spooked.” And that was it. He turned and walked back to his waiting men. Chrissy watched him, once again finding herself aroused by the way he walked, the confident way he held himself; like he owned the space around him, nonchalantly made it belong to him. He climbed onto a motorcycle, a big hulking gleaming thing that roared and purred as he turned the key in the ignition and kicked it to life. The other bikes raised their voices in a chorus of throaty roars and the gang pulled out of the parking lot in a cacophony of squealing rubber. Chrissy was left alone in the parking lot, clutching Rafe’s card in her hand. She stared at it for a few more moments, before slipping it into her purse and starting her car. She’d expected the events of the evening to haunt her, to have her mind churning through scenarios that recalled her confrontation with Dick, but on the drive home, she barely even thought about quitting her job, or the scumbag that had tried to drag her away. All she could think about were those green eyes, and the idea of working for Rafe, trying to imagine being around him every day, wondering what his bar would be like. What am I getting myself into? She told herself that he had just assumed she took the job—she hadn’t actually agreed. She’d only promised she’d show up the next evening. But she’d sleep on it, think things over. Then, in the clear light of day, she’d make a decision. She’d think about it, examine the facts and do what was logic and sensible. But, in her heart, she knew that the next night she would start a new job at the Devil’s Hideout. ****

CHAPTER TWO CHRISSY After dragging herself out of bed the next morning and trudging to her classes, then sitting through them in a distracted haze, the last thing that Chrissy wanted to do was tutor Justin Willbanks. On the other hand, even if she could afford to quit, common decency dictated that she show up and give him notice, face to face. Besides, the new job was an unknown quantity. Rafe hadn’t even told her how much he was paying her, and she could wind up hating it. Probably not as much as the job at Riggs, but it might not work out even if Rafe was a good guy. And the rent wasn’t going to pay itself. He was waiting for her in their usual spot, in a corner of the campus library that was quiet and didn’t see much foot traffic. Justin told her that he liked it there because they could focus on their studies better. That was a lie. Justin didn’t focus on the studies at all, He barely made an effort, hardly even pretended to care about the subject matter. As far as she could tell, what he liked about the place was that they were there alone. Originally, he’d tried to get her to give him his lessons at his apartment. She’d flatly refused, insisting it be at school, and he’d picked this place. When she arrived his face broke into a smile. Although she didn’t like him, Chrissy had to admit that Justin had engaging good looks. From her point of view, the first problem with Justin was that he knew he was good looking. She often caught him posing, as if he expected people to look at him and admire him. He had tousled blond hair, light blue eyes, and a cheeky smile that she was sure many girls had fallen for over the years. It seemed to piss him off that she wasn’t so easily swayed. “Hey there, how’s my favorite redhead?” he said, standing as she arrived. He tried to initiate a hug, but Chrissy stepped back out of reach. “I’m fine, Justin.” “No hug?”

“Let’s try and focus on the work today, huh?” He whistled and sat next to her. “A little testy today, are we? You on your period or something?” Chrissy stared at him for a moment. She had thought guys with attitudes like this died out in the previous decade. “Classy, Justin, classy. I’m just busy and I’ve had a rough time lately. I don’t need shit from you. So do we get on with the work? If you don’t want to talk about the work, I have other things to do.” The last thing she wanted was to get into a conversation with him about her personal life. He studied her for a moment, then pulled a couple of textbooks from his bag and placed them in front of her. “I’m supposed to write a paper on these for next week.” Chrissy just looked at him. He was sitting, looking at her expectantly. Did he really think that this was enough? “Justin,” she said, with the world-weary tone of somebody explaining a basic concept to a simpleton, “I’m going to need to know a little more than that to help you. What’s the title of the paper? What’s it about?” He fished around in his bag again and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Uhhh, let’s see…the title is: The Effect of the 2008 Economic Crash on Mineral Stock Prices.” He looked up at her. “Boring, isn’t it?” “It is if you aren’t the least bit interested in the subject. The point of writing a paper like that is supposed to be that you dig into the dynamics of the situation and learn the interesting things that happened. You have to find something interesting to you that you can focus on.” He leaned back and stretched. “Like I said, it’s boring. I can’t wait to be done with this shit.” “Why are you even in school?” she asked, then regretted asking. She didn’t want to know more about him. “Because I intend to run my Dad’s company one day. But the dumb fuck won’t give me a job until I graduate. Not that I need a stupid diploma to be the boss, but he won’t let me have anything to do with the business without one.” He grinned. “And that’s why you get paid—to help me get the degree, not to teach me anything. I don’t actually want to know this stuff.” Chrissy couldn’t have rolled her eyes harder if she’d tried, but she didn’t say anything. She’d come to understand that Justin thought he already knew everything he needed to, but she hadn’t realized how stupid he was. He didn’t want to talk about the schoolwork any more than he absolutely had to. He didn’t take it seriously at all. And the reason he’d picked her as his tutor was because he wanted to get in her pants, not because she was so good at explaining the material. She was fine with the idea a guy might pick her because he enjoyed the company of an attractive woman as a tutor, but this was too much. She took a breath, and opened the first textbook. It was huge, dull, and impenetrable. “Let’s get started on the paper.” Justin let out a groan of frustration, but eventually sat forward, realizing she expected him to at least pretend that he was listening to what she was saying. For the next two hours Chrissy tried to come to grips with a topic she knew next to nothing about, while Justin did his absolute best to contribute nothing of value. Eventually she managed to get the information into a workable outline. “This isn’t my specialty, but it’s not bad. All you need to do is take the notes I’ve made and write the damn thing.” With a final weary stroke of her pen, Chrissy slid the paper across the desk to him. “You can

work from that. It shouldn’t take you too long—I’ve broken it down by paragraph, and included all the quotes you can use from the textbook.” Chrissy stood and stretched, and started to gather her things. “Wait, wait,” Justin said. “You’re leaving already?” “Yes,” she replied. “I need to go get ready for my evening job.” He scoffed. “You work too much.” She glared at him. “Some of us have to earn a living. I don’t work, I don’t eat.” Justin frowned. “Then I’ll make you an offer—let me take you to dinner, a really nice one.” “It’s more than getting food, Justin.” “Then I’ll give you whatever you would have made at your other job and you lose nothing.” Chrissy could only look at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to pay me to go on a date with you?” He smiled. “Yeah! We can have some fun, and you won’t need to worry about working all the time.” Chrissy was silent for a few moments. When she spoke again, her voice was strained with fury. “Justin, I don’t know who or what you think I am, but I am not someone you can just buy. I’m not a fucking escort, you hear?” He drew away, surprised at her tone. “Hey, no need for that,” he frowned. “I just thought…” “I don’t give a fuck what you thought or meant,” Chrissy hissed. “Your attitude is gross and insulting. If you want these tuition lessons to continue, you need to back off, OK?” He still hadn’t given up; she could see it in his eyes. He reached out to her again and placed a hand on her leg. “Chrissy, you’re looking at this all wrong. I’m not suggesting that I’d pay you to go on a date with me —I just want to help you out. I thought that giving you money would mean you didn’t have to work all the time, didn’t have to struggle. Then you could have time for some fun. We’d be helping each other out.” The inference behind his words wasn’t lost on her, and his hand on her leg conjured unpleasant memories of the previous night and the trucker. “Take your hand off me,” she said coldly. “Don’t touch me, and don’t ever bring this up again. I pay my own way, and I don’t need or want your help.” He got the message this time, but instead of looking apologetic or embarrassed, Chrissy was alarmed to see the anger that glittered in his eyes. “I see how it is,” he whispered. “What do you mean?” “Nothing. I’ll see you at our next session.” She sighed with relief that she hadn’t blown this job too. She watched him cautiously as he packed his books and left without another word. Chrissy left the library a short time afterwards, wondering if she’d just made an enemy. She’d learned a lot in a very short time, and had her eyes opened to the way people manipulated and used each other. She’d been shocked to learn who Benny really was, underneath it all, but the lesson let her see other things and other people more clearly. That included Justin. She could see that he was much like Benny— arrogant and sure of himself, and all because of his money. He felt entitled. Well, fuck him. She’d get through the tutoring and continue to keep him at arm’s length. Maybe it would be easier now that his feelings were hurt. No matter, if the new job worked out, as soon as she

could do without his money, he’d be history. * * * * JUSTIN Justin left the library shaking with rage. “That goddamn stuck-up bitch.” He couldn’t get over the unbelievable nerve of the ungrateful cunt! She was a nobody who acted as if she would be soiled by his money. Didn’t she know who he was? Being flatly rejected had caught him off guard and left him stunned. He’d never been dismissed in such an out-of-hand manner by a goddamn girl before. Especially a poor one, a girl who wasn’t more than a servant. At least the servants knew their place. Sure, some girls were a bit wary of him because he had a reputation. A lot were reluctant at first, but they came around easily enough. A quick spin in the Mercedes and a fancy dinner, or an expensive gift, brought them around. They realized that what he offered them was worth spreading their legs for. Even if they knew he wanted nothing more than a quick affair, they saw the benefit. Sooner or later they proved willing enough, if not eager. This fucking tutor was out of her league and he wasn’t going to let her get away with treating him the way she did. He muttered darkly under his breath as he stalked across the quad considering his options. What made it worse was that Chrissy James wasn’t even all that special. Sure, she was good-looking. She turned him on. Why else would he have hired her to tutor him? And he wanted to see what she looked like without her clothes, to get her naked in his bed, or just nail her in the back seat of the car, up on the bluff. He wanted her, but she wasn’t all that hot. He’d fucked hotter girls. Dozens of them. And he’d get others. What he couldn’t let go of was her attitude. The bitch didn’t think he was worthy to touch her. She thought she was better than him! He couldn’t accept that. He was rich and good looking, and she was kind of hot, but poor. She should be willing to lick his boots if he asked her too. He felt embarrassed and refused to let this nobody think she was better than him, just because she liked to read. She was already slacking on the tutoring. For the money he was paying her, she should’ve taken the hint and just said they should make out and she’d take the paper home and write it for him. But no, she expected him to pay her to sit there and tell him to write the paper. Where did shit like that come from? Worse, she was acting like he was repulsive or something. She’d needed to be taught a lesson. But what? He was stronger than she was, but that wasn’t useful. He didn’t mind the idea of dragging her somewhere and banging the crap out of her, but the truth was that was over the top even for him. She’d understand a lesson like that but it could get him in a kind of trouble even his father’s money couldn’t fix. So that would remain something of a pleasant fantasy. Besides, he wanted her to submit. No, he wanted her to beg him to fuck her. The only way to get that was to present her with even worse alternatives, put her in a position that she’d beg him to let her suck his cock. Finding that kind of solution meant finding her weaknesses, uncovering whatever secrets she had and determining the best way to exploit them. The problem was that he didn’t know enough about her beyond that she was a good student and needed money. He didn’t even know where she worked. But those things were fairly simple when you had resources. Knowledge was power—his Dad told him that. Everyone had secrets, and those secrets gave you

leverage. The lesson had been intended to apply to business and his father spent gobs digging up information on business competitors, and it had always paid off for him. If you could dig up some good dirt on your enemies, you could smear them with it, let the world know they’d fucked up somehow or weren’t the people they pretended to be. Even better was that you could choose to get them to play along in turn for keeping it secret. Even more to the point was the way his father used the same techniques in his personal life. He regularly invested in learning about people in order to get what he wanted from them, even if he didn’t need it immediately. It was only now that Justin finally understood what his father was trying to teach him, and when you got it, well it was simple. What Justin wanted was for the bitch to play along with him, at least until he got bored with her. That meant finding out everything about her and digging until he unearthed something she didn’t want people to know. Justin had some very clear ideas about how he’d want Chrissy to play along with him, the games he’d demand she play to keep her secrets safe. This insight made him realize how little he knew about her. It surprised him that he’d never really been curious about her. He hadn’t given much thought to who she was, never bothered to learn anything at all about her personal life. He’d seen her as a smart tutor and a hot chick he wanted to spend time with. Then she was supposed to fall for his magic, but it hadn’t happened, and the tutor shit wasn’t working out. But who cared about that? What mattered was that the hot chick was putting him down, and it was time for that to change. He needed to find leverage that would convince her to spread those luscious legs for him —to do what he wanted. Anything he wanted. He drove back to the spacious townhouse close to campus that his Dad had rented for him and sat down in front of his laptop. He opened the search engine and typed in her name. It shocked him that her name was so common. There were hundreds of listings. This pissed him off. Suddenly his investigation meant doing a lot of work. He’d have to look at all those sites. An hour later, exhausted, he’d found nothing useful. The only sites with anything about this Chrissy seemed perfectly banal and ordinary. She hadn’t posted any nude photos and no ex-boyfriend had put up any revenge porn. She didn’t even have many friends on social networks. Unlike most people her age, the bulk of her life seemed to be offline. Frustrated, he sat back. Everyone had their secrets. You couldn’t go through life without fucking up, so it was just a matter of finding them, of knowing where to look. Having never bothered to research for anything beyond what he stole for homework assignments, Justin had no idea where to start looking. But he wasn’t supposed to be a geek, or a drone, browsing through all this crap. He was supposed to be a leader. An executive. What would his father do? Suddenly he smiled to himself. He knew exactly what his father would do—what he had done, as a matter of fact, and in a situation not that different. A couple of years back he’d overheard his father talking to a private investigator. He’d hired her to look into the business dealings of a woman he had his eye on. Apparently she was being stubborn about letting him have her. His instructions had been simple. “I want to know everything about her, especially things she doesn’t want known,” his father said. Justin had no idea what the investigator discovered about the woman, and he didn’t care. What mattered is that not long after that conversation he became aware that his Dad was screwing the woman. He’d seen them in his Dad’s home office. The woman hadn’t enjoyed herself, but she had screwed him. That was what mattered. That and the fact that Justin had stolen one of the investigator’s business cards from his Dad’s desk. At the time he hadn’t even known why. He sighed, feeling better about himself. For a moment he’d doubted that he was up to the challenge, but he had his battle plan. It still amazed him how much you could accomplish with a phone call, if you