Blazing Hot Bad Boys Boxed Set - A MC Romance Bundle (56 page)

Tamara Knowles

Chapter One

Kicking the covers off, Sierra opened her eyes and then immediately closed them again. Granted it was already noon, but waking up was hard at any time of the day, especially when she was working all through the night. She rubbed her hand over her face and it came away blue and black.  She forgot to wipe off her makeup – again. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms and back. It was time to shower. Running her hand through her hairspray and glitter soaked hair, she stumbled to the bathroom door and turned on the shower. Letting the water warm up, she brushed her teeth and tried to get the most caked-on of the make-up off her face. As the mirror started to steam, she stepped in the shower and let the warm water run through her hair, trying to get all the goop out.

Thoughts rushed through her mind. She needed to run a few errands. She was due for a physical soon; she needed to schedule that. Probably a haircut at some point.  Her hair was getting really long, so dead and split ends were increasingly becoming a problem. She could get the ends of her hair to cover her nipples at this point. Like a mermaid.

She lathered up her hair, working through to the ends. Perfect: true blonde, light eyebrows and lashes, shining golden locks. Her pride and joy at this point; it was one of her moneymakers. The other was also natural, no matter what anyone claimed. 

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, patting her hair as dry as possible then braiding it in a loose plait over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. There was no point in getting dressed yet, not with her hair still wet. Might as well make some lunch.  She padded down the kitchen, her pedicured feet soft on the hardwood of her condo. She started boiling the kettle and popped some bread in the toasters.

Her cellphone vibrated and she picked it up, scrolling through texts, missed calls, messages, and Facebook posts – the normal after a successful night. The age of the Internet made it hard for a stripper to maintain privacy. Oh well.

Her toast popped and she covered them in butter and jam, and poured her tea, turning on the TV. She found HBO and caught up on
Game of Thrones
while she ate, then painted her nails. As the end credits played and more of her characters killed and fucked each other – sometimes at the same time – she finally decided to get dressed and run her errands. Nothing terribly exciting today. She needed to get waxed, and pick up some groceries and one of her costumes from getting re-rhinestoned. The exciting life of an exotic dancer.

She put on her bra and panties, and anxiously investigated her wardrobe. An almost uncountable number of items of clothing presented. Many of which were only for the stage, of course, but that didn’t really detract from the insane amount of clothes for daytime wear. She pinned loose locks of hair back and shimmied into a pair of shorts and a loose blouse. Armed with a pair of sunglasses and a purse the size of Rhode Island, Sierra ventured out of her condo.

She almost only left for work and errands. What else was there for her? She didn’t really know anyone in the city, despite having lived here for the better part of three years. And, to be perfectly honest, she didn’t really want to leave her house.  She was fairly convinced that she was being followed and watched – or something. 

There was no way she could’ve just left California without her father sending someone after her. Why they hadn’t brought her back yet was up to conjecture, but she felt it probably had something to do with “not needing her yet.” It was easier to let her play in Las Vegas at being independent than to keep her locked up in their mansion in Orange County.  Of course, she had no way to prove that, so she just kept to herself, lived her life the best she knew how, and didn’t bother anyone else with anything. It was easier to be on her own than to drag anyone else into her messed up, crazy life – even if it was lonely sometimes.

She pulled into the waxing place and braced herself for the torture she underwent to make herself presentable. If she didn’t, she’d probably be fired, so it was easier to just go along with the demands than to put up some feminist fight. She was a stripper; let’s not glamorize this situation too much.

Really, that was all she could be. She was a spoiled rich girl who had never worked a day in her life. What was she supposed to do?

The chimes sounded at the salon as she walked in. “Hi, I’m here for a two o’clock with Maria. Name’s Hall.”

“We’ll be right with you, Miss Hall,” the receptionist said. “Can I offer you anything? Tea, coffee, water?”

“Do you have any sparkling?”

“Of course.” She poured a plastic cup of sparkling water and brought it over to Sierra as she sat down. Sierra smiled in thanks and sipped at the fizzy beverage as she waited.

A painful hour later, her bikini area, underarms, and legs were waxed and smooth. Skin tingling and aching, she got into her car and drove to the grocery store. As she walked to the door she put in her earbuds and turned on her iPod. She hated grocery shopping and the only thing that made it sort of bearable was to drown out the screaming children and whiney suburban mothers with some music.  

Hurrying through her grocery shopping, she went to the seamstress’s place to get her costume. The little Hispanic woman, who did all of her tailoring work, barely spoke any English. Her work was amazing, though – very detailed and precise, solid. After she got her hands on a piece of fabric, it was never ripping again. No beads or rhinestones would come off, nor would anything ever slip or fall. She probably had some sort of Latin America voodoo or something that made it work so well. No wait, voodoo is African. Whatever. The woman was magical.

“Hola, Rosa,” she said as the jingle bells rang above the door.

Rosa started chattering in Spanish. Either she didn’t care or didn’t know that Sierra didn’t speak Spanish, but she smiled and nodded anyway while the woman wrote up the ticket. Sierra handed over a wad of bills, took her clothing bag, and left the shop, bells jingling behind her. Interactions with Rosa always made her a little happier with her life.

She checked the time on her phone, 4PM, two hours until work.  What would she do with all this excess time on her hands? She didn’t have anywhere to go or anyone to see or anything to do. Her life was really boring when she thought about it. Something she would’ve never thought would be the case growing up. She was the daughter of one of the richest men in California – which was really saying something – who was also a quickly rising crime boss. Drug and cartel lords had gone in and out of her house her entire childhood, but she left all that behind for life as a stripper, which, despite the exotic nature, was not really that an exciting of a job. It was a job much like any other job, to be perfectly honest. It was much more exciting for the people in the audience than the dancers.

Sierra pulled into the parking lot of the condo building. All the residents had two reserved spots in front of their door, but she always parked in the guest lot. She pressed the button on her FOB to open the trunk and brought her groceries inside, putting them away as she watched the news. As usual, nothing interesting happened in the world. She watched more for the background noise and to see if her father was doing anything she needed to be concerned about.

She curled up on the couch with a book to wait out the next hour and a half before she had to leave. Well, with traffic probably another hour.  As long as she kept her mind mostly blank, she was able to concentrate on just the next thing. The next morning, the next day at work, the next errand to run, the next sentence to read.

The time went by in a mindless blur and then she was back in her car, tote bag of outfits and accessories slung over one shoulder, her phone and keys in one hand. She started the car and drove away, gaze flat. She knew the perception of her job. When she let herself introspect at all, she could feel her soul siphoning away. This wasn’t the most glamorous thing she could do, but this was what she had to do – for now anyway.

The glamorous life of a drug lord’s daughter.

Chapter Two

Chad waited in the reception room, watching the skinny blonde secretary type away and paint her nails. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here or what he was doing, but the gnawing guilt in his stomach and numbing pain in his soul forced him to wait in the uncomfortable chair.

The phone buzzed and the girl answered it. “You can go in now, Mr. Pender,” she said in her whiney voice.

“Thanks,” he muttered getting up and opening the door next to her desk.

Mr. Hall sat behind his desk, all greasy hair and overpriced suit. “Ah, Mr. Pender, just the person I wanted to see. I have a request for you, Chad. Can I call you Chad? Of course I can. You were so close to my son; you were practically family.”

Chad resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had been working for Richard Hall for the past year and had no reason to think that Mr. Hall had ever loved either of his children. They were just useful tools for him when he needed them to be. He wasn’t completely convinced that Hall had nothing to do with his son’s death. He couldn’t think of any reason why he would want Scott dead, but if there were any way Richard could have benefited from Scott’s death, he definitely would have had his hand in it. “I would be happy to help in any small way I can, for Scott.”

“Of course, of course. That’s what you’ve been telling me for the past year and a half and you’ve proved mildly useful over that period of time, but this is a much bigger task than that.”

“Hopefully I’ve proven I am worthy of this more complicated task,” he said. He was used to the properly ‘respectful’ tone of voice he had to take to make sure his self-styled highness over there didn’t get his fragile ego offended.

“If I weren’t certain that you were capable, I wouldn’t have called you in here today.”

“Well, thank you for your trust in me, sir.”

Richard smiled and pushed his greasy hair back. “The task is one of a…delicate and careful nature. I need you to go to Vegas and track down my daughter, Sierra. I don’t think you’ve ever met her, but I’m sure that Scott talked about her.” The man forced a chuckle, “He doted on his baby sister like she was made of porcelain. I don’t know if the girl ever had a moment to herself. She was constantly under his watchful eye. Even when he was with you, I’m sure he was keeping an eye on her and…and I’ve let her have her space and to grieve for her brother’s tragic death, but now I would love to have her back in my life. She’s my baby girl and she’s all I have left anymore. Her brother is dead. Her mother is dead. I want her back.” He even managed to put a convincing choke in his voice.

“I understand. It makes perfect sense. It is very kind of you for having given her that much time.”

“It has been hard here without her, but please, find her for me, let her know I want her back. Let her know that I love her. Bring my baby girl home.”

The next morning Chad found himself with a duffel bag over his shoulder, throwing it into the back seat of his car. He never rode his bike anymore, not since the accident. He couldn’t bring himself to do so. It felt like betrayal almost. He knew Scott wouldn’t want him to go through life feeling this guilty, but he couldn’t stop himself. Every part of his being ached with the memory of the best friend he killed. What else could he do, but try to fix it the situation in any way he could?

So he started the drive to Las Vegas. It only took about four hours, but that was still four hours Chad would have to spend alone with his thoughts, something he spent far too much time doing lately, which kept him from trying to move on. He knew it. Everyone around him knew it. His family, his friends, even the state of California, all said he was not, in any way, – intentionally or not – responsible for the death of Scott Hall, but he didn’t believe him.

They weren’t there. He was. He was the one who caused him to crash. They all blamed the truck, but the truck was doing everything right. It was a reckless boy on a motorcycle.

Chad tried to chase his thoughts away from the past and focus on what was waiting for him in Las Vegas. After leaving Hall’s office yesterday, he made some calls out to some guys he knew in Las Vegas. After Scott’s death, the Shadow Souls MC had sent a couple guys out there to keep an eye on Sierra. Everyone knew how much he loved his kid sister – part of the reason he never introduced her to any of the guys – and he would do anything to keep her safe. Once word got out that she had fled to Las Vegas, they decided it was probably best if someone kept an eye on her – for Scott.

So he called them up to see if they could tell him anything about where she was, what she was doing, and how he could find her. They told him that while they did know, they were pretty certain the girl wasn’t going to be interested in going back to California. In fact, although she led a really boring life out here, she seemed quite happy and content to continue living it for as long as she pleased and any envoy from her father would be met with vitriol and resistance, but what else could he do?

He didn’t ever have any contact with the girl and it would be weird just walking up to her randomly one day, “Hey, I was your brother’s best friend who he never introduced to you because he was ridiculously protective of you. Now I’m here on behalf of your criminal father to bring you back to the place you ran away from because I killed your brother in a horrible accident.” Yeah. That sounds like the exact right approach. He wasn’t sure what else he could do. He knew she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He would just have to come up with some way of getting on her good side.

He finally reached Las Vegas and pulled into some cheap motel, of which there were an uncounted number and all of which offered hourly rates. Chad wasn’t sure if he felt interested or disgusted by that. It didn’t matter that he was here for work, not pleasure – of any sort.

He dialed the Shadow Souls guy. Bill was his name. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you could give me any more information on Sierra Hall?”

“Well, we were thinking we could go over and have a civilized chat with the young lady and we will get back to you as soon we have word from her. We don’t need you barging in there, what with being a stranger and all.” Bill had a slow drawling voice that made Chad tired just listening to him. 

“Yeah, yeah that sounds fair,” Chad said. “I’ll look forward to hearing back from you.” Although he didn’t particularly like hearing from him in exactly that way, but he did need to get a move on with his mission.

“Great, great. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodbye, Bill.” Chad hung up the phone and flopped back on the bed and ran his hand through his dark hair. This would be a challenge.