About
the Book:
Author: Alexandra Ayers
Pub. Date: November 9, 2018
Publisher: Afterlife Royalty
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 275
In the battle of love and
loyalty, only one can win.
As Vice President of The Desert Eagles motorcycle club, Derek Pearce is ordered to do business with the ruthless organizer of a dog-fighting ring. But Derek faces another challenge: ten years after turning down his marriage proposal, his childhood love, Brielle Andrews, returns home to Las Vegas. Brielle has devoted her life to healing and saving animals from harm, including, of course, dogs used for fighting.
Derek reconnects with Brielle after rescuing a dog severely injured in a fight and rushing it to the nearest animal hospital, where he finds Brielle as the lead veterinarian. Sparks fly, but turn acrid when she becomes suspicious about how the dog was hurt. Derek can’t risk telling her the truth for fear of exposing the club to an investigation. Out of options, Brielle enlists her father, a federal judge, for help.
When new clues about The Desert Eagles MC come to light, will Brielle’s loyalty to her father and insistence on unearthing the truth about the fighting ring threaten her newly rekindled romance with Derek? Will Derek do whatever is necessary to save their love—and their lives—even if it means exposing the club?
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
A
crowd of rowdy men screaming obscenities and placing bets filled the large
room. Their shouts came in waves as they threw themselves into the action, most
likely to counter their sobriety from the lack of alcohol at the fight. In the
center of the crowd was a ring with two skeletal pit bulls trapped inside. A
brown dog was bleeding from its nose, a smear of red staining its white chest,
and circling a smaller, grey dog in an attempt to corner it.
“Get
him!”
“Bite
his fucking ankle!”
“Tear
his ear off!”
The
men yelled, trying to bait the dogs. The air conditioning was on full blast,
whistling through the vents, but Derek could still feel the heat of the
barbaric spectators in the room.
“Is
this what the fuck we’re doing now? Making dogs fight?” Derek asked with a
twisted face. He took a drag from his cigarette. I should ditch this shit hole and go meet Crystal at the bar.
“Hey!”
Max frowned at Derek. “Andre needs our money, and that’s what we’re giving him.
It’s fucking business, simple as that.”
“The
Haitians got held up in customs, but they’ll be here tomorrow. They were
supposed to collect one million from us.” Derek pressed his lips together. All
the hard work he’d put in to make that deal, and they got ran up by the fucking
feds.
“Yeah,
well, everyone’s deals are getting fucked up. We need to deliver to the
Russians too.” Max lowered his voice. “When the printer is fixed, which better
be today if AJ doesn’t want me to strangle him, I’ll cut the bills and deliver
them to Andre.”
Although
Derek would never admit it, he wanted to impress the other members of the club
with this deal. Eliminate any doubts that he’d earned his place as vice
president of the Desert Eagles. He shook his head as the brown dog snapped at
the grey one. “This shit is fucking sick. What happens to the loser?”
“Don’t
turn into a vegan pussy on me, okay?” Max pulled a cigarette from his kutte.
“Lucky for us, Carson came to us as a vouch for Andre and his dog business,
which apparently is very lucrative. Besides, the piece-of-shit owner wants the
cash to buy food and flea treatment for them. Now you can feel good at your
next PETA meeting.”
Derek
rolled his eyes at his uncle and then blew a puff of smoke at his face.
“Asshole.”
Max snatched the lighter from Derek’s hand. “I did a shit job raising you.”
“It’s
not your fault. Twenty-two is pretty young to have an eight-year-old dumped on
you.”
“Don’t
be so hard on yourself.” Max smiled. The faint lines of age on his hazel eyes.
“Your piece-of-shit father dumped you on me. It wasn’t your doing.”
Derek
shot up an eyebrow. The crowd got louder, and the men surrounding the ring
started banging on the edge of it. Derek turned to his uncle, who shrugged and
brought the lighter to his cigarette. Max took a deep breath and exhaled the
smoke. “I’m getting too old for this shit. Fucking forty-two next week.”
Derek
took another drag. “Twenty-eight ain’t so young either, you know.”
Max
scoffed and said that one day Derek would pray to be twenty-eight again.
Derek
put out his cigarette and pushed through the crowd to get to the edge of the
ring. What he saw almost made him throw up. He had done some pretty fucked-up
shit since patching in with the club ten years ago, but all of those assholes
had it coming. These were just dogs who had been starved and tortured so Las
Vegas locals didn’t have to put up with tourists at the casinos.
“This
is the best fight I’ve seen in months,” said a short, stocky, bald man who was
holding his bet receipts in one hand and a cigar in the other. “Andre usually
doesn’t have them fight for this long, but he’s trying to impress some local
breeders.”
The
shouts from the crowd were not helping Derek’s stomach. If the volume was too
much for him, he wondered how it must feel to the dogs. They were literally
fighting for their lives and had to stay focused despite the ridiculous volume.
“Yes!”
the short, bald man screamed.
The brown dog chewed on the grey dog’s
hind leg, working to rip it off.
The grey dog cried out but managed to whip around and bite the brown dog’s
stomach. While its teeth were lodged in flesh, the grey dog seized the moment,
shaking its head back and forth and tearing skin. Out spilled a massive amount
of blood from the brown dog’s abdomen. A piercing yelp silenced the crowd. Ribs
protruded from the brown dog’s side as it lay on the ground, whimpering.
“Jesus
fucking Christ.” Derek ran his hand through his dark hair. He wasn’t some deep
animal lover—hell, he had veal last night—but there was a clear difference
between questionable meat and making dogs fight to the death. Even his
hell-bound ass knew that.
“Shut
the fuck up, you bastards!” a man’s voice echoed from the edge of the crowd.
“Shut the fuck up!” The men moved out of his way, clearing a path. It got quiet
as a tall, thin man with long blond hair came forward. This must be the piece-of-shit owner. The blond man reached the
ring, hopped over the edge, and walked toward the dogs. The brown dog was
twitching in a puddle of its own blood and intestines. Dead or alive, Derek
couldn’t tell from his angle.
“Looks
like we have a winner!” The blond man grinned at the spectators. The grey dog
was in a corner, blood-soaked and panting. “Albeit by default, since the ragged
animal can’t even walk anymore.” He had a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Now, if you all line up like civilized gentlemen, my lovely ladies will pay
out the winners of tonight’s fight.” Derek saw three tables set up at the edge
of the room, each with a pretty girl sitting behind it. There was a cash box on
top of each table, and next to every girl was a thick-muscled man in a suit.
The goons were holding guns, presumably to keep the spectators from getting any
bright ideas. One of the girls caught Derek’s eye and waved at him.
Before
he could wink at her, a familiar clicking sound caused him to turn toward the
ring. The blond man put a clip in his semiautomatic before delivering a swift
kick to the brown dog. When the dog didn’t move, he headed toward the grey dog,
still bleeding from its damaged leg. He lifted the gun and pulled back the slide.
“Hey,
hey, hey!” Derek said, hopping into the ring. “Hold up, man!”
“The
fuck do you want?” He gave Derek an aggravated look while lowering the gun.
Derek
approached him with a slight smile. “Hey. My name is Derek. I enjoyed the show
and was hoping that I could buy the winning dog from you.”
The
blond man looked at him like he was growing an extra head. “Well, Derek, I’m
Andre, and I’m not sure if you noticed, but this weak piece of shit can’t even
walk, let alone fight, so he’s no use to you.” Andre raised his gun again.
“I’ll
give you $500 for it,” Derek offered.
Andre
looked at him and then back at the dog. “Are you one of those vegan pussies?”
he asked, returning his gaze to Derek.
Derek
took a deep breath to control his anger. He was starting to lose his patience
with this douchebag, and the dog was running out of time. “No, I just want the
dog. Are you gonna take the money or not?”
Andre
stared him down a little longer before rolling his eyes and agreeing. Derek
shoved the bills into Andre’s hand and ran to scoop up the injured animal.
There was a lot of blood, and a small peek of bone was visible in the dog’s
ankle.
“Does
he have a name?” Derek called to Andre while he headed for the door.
“Dog.”
Andre laughed and shook his head. “You don’t give names to beasts on death
row.”
Derek’s
face turned crimson. He whipped back around and shifted the dog so he could
reach for the gun tucked into his pants. “Listen, you psychotic piece of—”
“Everything
all right here?” Max gripped Derek’s shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got a mess on
your hands.” Max reached in his pocket, handed him the car keys, and leaned in
close to Derek’s ear, whispering, “Why don’t I talk business while you see if
you can help Fido make it through the night?”
Derek
nodded and, after giving Andre a final look, hopped out of the ring and headed
for the exit.
“Andre,
my man!” He heard Max laughing and was grateful for his intrusion. If he hadn’t
intervened, Derek would have slaughtered that psycho in front of at least
seventy witnesses. He pushed open the door and was blinded by the sun.
Thankfully, Max had decided to drive the truck today, which gave the dog plenty
of room in the back seat. As Derek opened the door, he accidentally tapped the
dog’s injured leg, causing it to cry out.
“Sorry,
Rocky,” he said, laying the dog down in the back seat. “Does that sound all
right? Rocky? We’ll be at the vet soon enough, boy. Hang on.” He held his phone
and searched for the nearest vet. A wave of relief washed over him when it said
it was a ten-minute drive.
“Hang
on, Rocky,” he said, buckling his seat belt and smiling in the rear-view
mirror. “Gonna get you patched up and eating Kibbles ’n Bits in no time.”
***
“I
need some help over here!” Derek yelled as he walked into the veterinary
hospital with Rocky in his arms. A pretty blond woman behind a desk glanced up
at him, and her expression shifted to a look of horror.
“Oh
my God! Stay right there! I’ll go get help!” she exclaimed, running toward a
door that said “Employees Only.”
Derek
looked around. This place was nice. The reception area was large with a few
couches and a couple of glass tables with magazines on them. On one side of the
room, a marble counter attached to a glass-sealed fireplace inside of a
protruding wall. Large canvas prints of animals decorated the walls, and two
small chandeliers hung above the front desk. The marble floor was so clean you
could almost use it as a mirror, which made Derek grimace thinking of how awful
he must look. He looked down at Rocky, whose breathing was starting to slow.
Just as he was getting ready to start yelling for help again, the blond nurse
came out, pushing a stretcher, along with a tall Asian man who was wearing
scrubs.
“Would
you place them here?” the Asian man placed his hand on top of the stretcher.
Derek
looked at him with caution.
“My
name is Allison Murphy,” the nurse said. “We’re going to do emergency surgery.
We called our vet tech, who should be here shortly.”
“There’s
no one here but you two?” Derek gave them a blank stare before setting Rocky on
the stretcher.
“Sir,
I explained the situation to Dr. Andrews, and she said she will be here in ten
minutes. Allison and I are going to prep your dog in the meantime.” The Asian
man spoke with restraint. “My name is Michael Yu; I’m the assistant vet tech.”
“Derek.”
He wanted to apologize for being rude, but he just shoved his bloodied hands in
his pockets.
“We’re
running out of time. This dog has lost a significant amount of blood.” Michael
pushed the stretcher toward the door. “Allison will be back when Dr. Andrews
gets here and have you sign some forms.”
“His
name is Rocky,” he called out as Allison let the door close behind them. Derek
gave a lingering look at the door; then he let out a deep sigh and turned to
walk outside. If he were smart, he would bail and leave them with the mess, but
if Rocky didn’t make it, Derek wanted to at least give him a proper burial.
Derek pulled out his cigarettes. The poor
mutt deserves at least that.
Sitting
outside on a bench facing the empty street, Derek thought about Dr. Andrews.
What kind of jackass leaves a vet clinic with no doctor? Rocky could die all
because that jackass couldn’t be bothered to bring a lunch. Derek knew he was
being irrational, but since he wasn’t able to beat the shit out of Andre, he
needed someone to blame for Rocky’s potential demise. He pulled out another
cigarette and looked around, realizing there were plenty of food places within
walking distance. Maybe the doctor was in one of those restaurants and would
arrive as soon as they promised.
Fuck, I hope Rocky pulls through. I
do not want to dig any graves in this goddamn heat. No matter how small they
might be. I could see the goddamn bone. There’s no way I’m getting out of this
shit without a dead body.
Derek had been around his fair share of corpses, but that was business. This
was just sick cruelty. If he ever saw Andre again, there would be a fucking
murder. He took a long drag of his cigarette and wondered how long he’d been
chain-smoking. He looked at his phone: two missed calls from Max. Derek was
definitely going to be in some shit if anything went wrong and he wasn’t there
for backup.
The
whoosh of sliding doors made him turn to see the cute blond nurse walking
toward him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I want you to know that Rocky
is stable.” Her voice shook, and her eyes started to well up with tears. She
was scanning his face, for what he didn’t know. Derek blanched at the amount of
blood covering her shirt.
“What
happened? Is he going to be okay?” He gazed into her grey eyes with a worried
expression on his face.
“Yes,”
she said. But before Derek could become happy, she added, “Rocky is in an
induced coma. Her leg isn’t as bad as we thought, but the blood loss is most
concerning. She lost such an extreme amount that Dr. Andrews said she might
need to be under for the next day or two so her body can fully repair itself
without her using excess energy.”
Derek
took a deep breath and really looked at her now. She was shorter than him, at
about five feet nine inches, with a short haircut—a “bob” was what Max’s wife,
Amy, called it. He stepped closer to her, not caring if the cigarette smell
bothered her since he’d never heard any complaints from women before.
“What’s
your name, pretty girl?” Derek was no stranger to attracting women; in fact, he
did it at least five times a week. The club girls didn’t try to hide their
interest. The tattoos covering his arms and neck, the leather kutte, his deep
blue eyes and slicked-back undercut held some appeal. Of course, being six foot
three with a body that lived at the gym didn’t hurt either. Yes, he had his
choice of women. There was only one he couldn’t have, and he was better off
without her. Does she ever think of me?
Or maybe she forgot all about me, like I knew she would.
“Allison.”
She smiled wide at him, causing her dimples to become prominent. “Sorry we have
to meet like this. I’m really just like so sorry about your dog. It’s terrible
what happened to her leg, and I’m just so happy Dr. Andrews was able to save
her. Oh my God! I’m sorry I’m talking so much. You must think I have no
manners. What’s your name?” She was biting her lip now and looking at him with
wide eyes.
“I’m
Derek. You seem to have impeccable manners. You didn’t give me shit about
Rocky’s injury.” He looked her up and down, a slow smile built across his face.
Then what she’d said earlier dawned on him. “Hold up. Did you say Rocky was a
‘she’?”
“She’s
not your dog?” Allison had a confused look on her face. Biting her lip, she
looked at him for a minute. She wrung her hands together before she spoke. “Dr.
Andrews has to run more tests, but it looks like Rocky’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?”
“About
three weeks.”
“That
fucking asshole!” Derek was definitely going to commit a felony when he saw
Andre again. He looked at Allison, who was staring down at the ground. “Sorry
to yell, pretty girl.”
Allison
nodded and told him she understood. A deep sigh left his mouth. He was grateful
she didn’t ask about the origins of Rocky’s injuries. He checked his phone and
realized he’d been there for two hours. If he didn’t leave soon, all hell would
break loose with Max. He would need help transporting the money from the club
and making the exchange with that dog-abusing piece of shit.
“I’ve
got to go, pretty girl. You got a number I can call?”
“Of
course, the hospital number is—”
“No,
your number.”
“Oh…extension—”
“Your
personal number, pretty girl. I’d love to see more of you.” He thought of
Allison on her knees in front of him, his hand pulling her hair. “Maybe this
weekend you can meet me at the bar where me and my boys hang out.”
“I
actually don’t drink, but I’ll come to hang out. It’s not on the strip, is it?”
she asked while pulling out her phone.
“Hell,
no. Goddamn tourists. You a local?”
She
giggled while nodding and handed him her phone to add his number. “Text me
anytime, Allison.” Derek caught her fingers when he handed the phone back. He
let her hand go and turned to walk toward the truck. He hadn’t taken two steps
before he heard the clinic doors slide open. Whoever was coming out was
probably wondering why there were no forms filled out for the dog. He was not
putting his name on anything that could be linked to that dog abuser.
A
voice shouted at Derek’s back: “Hey, you! Stop! You can’t leave this dog here
without signing consent forms!”
He
stopped dead in his tracks.
He
knew that voice.
He
was afraid to turn around. He had no idea what his reaction would be if he were
right.
No fucking way. What would be the
goddamn odds? Might as well go to the Bellagio and bet my life savings.
Footsteps
approached, along with a familiar tap against the concrete sidewalk. He turned,
hoping against all odds it wasn’t her.
“Look,
I don’t know what happened, but—” The woman went dead silent and stared at him.
“Derek?”
Brielle.
It
was like looking at a ghost. Shock stole his voice. He couldn’t form thoughts
to put into words for her. Allison hurried inside, leaving them with no
audience.
“What
are you doing here? I can’t believe it! You look so different.” Dropping her
cane before wrapping her arms around him, she murmured into his broad chest,
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Missed
me?” he whispered into the air, still not processing what was happening. Was he
having a stroke? Maybe all that smoking had finally caught up with him.
“Of
course! Just because you disappeared from social media once you joined the club
doesn’t mean I forgot about you.”
“Brielle.”
He backed away to get a better look. Where his eyes playing tricks on him? “I—I
can’t have online activity. That can be tied to the club.”
“Of
course. I get it. Nothing’s ever deleted once it’s online,” she bent to pick up
her cane.
She
was gorgeous. Her deep mahogany skin glowed under the bright sun. Her youthful
face was framed by shoulder-length black hair. The contours of her face were
enhanced by shimmer on her cheeks, and mascara accentuated her gorgeous brown
eyes. A doctor’s coat covered her top and stopped at her slim-fit khakis. Blood
stained her pants, and he grimaced at the thought of her elbow deep in Rocky’s
bone marrow. Even her cane had spots of blood on it.
“You’re
Dr. Andrews?” He tilted his head.
“Yes,
of course,” Brielle gave a small laugh.
He
looked her up and down again and realized that she still used the cane he’d had
custom made for her: a reinforced ebony wood shaft tipped with a small,
platinum eagle. It was in good shape for being ten years old, but considering
the cost, it should look brand new.
Derek
kept staring at her. “How long have you been back?”
“I’ve
been here for about two weeks. I got offered the position of interim lead vet
while the owner is away. After two years at my last job, I was grateful for the
opportunity and chance to return home.”
“How’s the homecoming been?”
She
squeezed her hands together and looked him in the eyes; then she averted her
gaze and mumbled that it was good. My
baby girl, running a vet clinic. Well, not mine. She hasn’t been mine for a
long time. He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I better go.”
“Derek,
wait. Please. If we could just talk—”
He
took a step back. Being this close to her was screwing with his nerves. Her
soulful brown eyes never left his face, and old feelings started to surface. That
could not happen. “We haven’t talked in a long time, and we have nothing to
talk about now.”
Brielle
snapped her head back. “You came here with a suspiciously injured dog and
needed my help. I haven’t tried to talk to you because truthfully, Derek, I didn’t
know how you would react. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve missed you.”
Derek
turned to walk toward the truck. There was no way he was going to listen to
lies. Not from her mouth. She was always good at getting him to let go of any
anger he harbored, but he had a lot of it this time around, and he wasn’t ready
to give it up.
“Wait!
Derek, please stop.”
“I
really need to go.”
“What
about the dog?”
Derek
met her questioning eyes. “She’ll be good here. I know you’ll take care of
her.”
Brielle
took a deep breath and proceeded to tie her hair up into a tight bun atop her
head. He knew that meant she was going to say something serious. “Derek. What
I’m about to say is with no assumptions, but that dog—”
“Rocky,”
he said.
“Rocky.
Her injuries were caused by another dog.”
“Is
that your professional opinion?”
“I’ve
seen enough dogfighting injuries to tell them apart from others.”
Derek
stiffened. “What are you getting at?”
“She
has various old scars on her face, she’s severely underweight, and she has
worms. I’m obligated by law to report any signs of animal abuse. If you say
that you found Rocky, then I will believe you, but I need the truth. What
happened?”
She
tried to reach out and touch him, but he jerked away. His heart was beating at
a rate he didn’t know was possible. Heat flushed through his whole body. How dare she judge me in all of what? Five
minutes?
“Who
the fuck do you think you are?” He burned with rage. “You show up here, haven’t
said a word to me in ten years, and then accuse me of some bullshit.”
“How
can you say that to me when I’m trying to help?” Her dark eyes were brimming
with tears.
“Rocky
needed help, so I brought her here. That’s the truth.”
Brielle
stuffed her hands into her lab coat pockets and looked down. “Why name a dog
you just found?”
“Fuck
this.” He turned to finish the walk to his car and ignored her as she shouted
his name. The whole day had been one big pile of fuckery, and he didn’t have
the patience left to deal with Brielle. After putting the key in the ignition,
he paused for a moment and let out a sigh. When he reversed the truck, in the
side mirror he caught her staring at him.
Derek
thought about stopping. No. He was not going to get drawn back into her,
especially not after all this time. He pulled out of the parking lot without
looking back. His phone started to buzz. He knew it was Max without looking at
the screen. He pressed the talk button. “Hey. I’m on my way back now,” Derek
said, exhaustion filling him.
“Don’t
fucking bother. We’re all going home. The exchange went fine, no thanks to you.
I don’t know what your deal was today, but you need to control yourself. The
club comes first. Always.”
“I
know that. I would’ve been back, but I got held up at the vet.” He took a deep
breath. “Brielle is back in town.”
“Holy
shit. I don’t know what to say to that.” Max paused for a moment. “Do you think
she talked to Amy?”
“No
idea. Amy’s never been one to run her mouth, though, so I doubt she would’ve
told me if she knew.” Derek shifted in his seat. His kutte was making him sweat
through his shirt, sticking Rocky’s blood to his skin. Fuck, he needed a
shower.
“Look,
I know today hasn't been spectacular for you, and seeing her couldn’t have made
it better, but I need you to get your shit together. You’re my VP. I need you
to be 100 percent. Yeah?”
“Don’t
worry, it won’t happen again.”
“Good.
Now go home, get some pussy, and smoke some weed. Put this shit with Brielle in
another place. I need you tomorrow. The Haitians will be here in the
afternoon.”
“I’ll
be there early.” He hung up and pulled out a cigarette, wondering how long it
would be until Brielle came looking for answers about Rocky.
***
“Asshole,”
Brielle whispered to herself while wiping away her tears. She regretted putting
makeup on this morning. Nothing could be worse than seeing your ex and ending
up with mascara stains on your cheeks. She walked across the parking lot. She
was in no hurry to go back inside after that scene, but she wanted to check on
Rocky. Her sweaty hands made it difficult to use her cane. The slim black wood
with the platinum eagle tip was not ideal for gripping, but she refused to get
some old-person cane.
Okay. Deep breath. Brielle stepped through the doors.
Allison looked up from behind the desk and gave her a wide smile.
“How
are you feeling?” Allison asked with genuine concern.
Brielle
gave a fake smile. “I’m fine. Just ready for this day to be over.”
“Did
you know that guy?”
“He’s
an old friend. We grew up together.” Brielle looked at Allison, who was chewing
on her lip. What had he said to her? “You got anything to say about why this
paperwork wasn’t filled out?”
“I’m
so sorry.” Allison’s voice started to crack. “I was caught up in giving him the
news about Rocky, and he seemed so distressed by what happened to her.” Tears
were rolling down her cheeks like little rivers. Allison could water all of
Nevada with just a hint of a reprimand. “Please don’t fire me! I’m sorry! It
won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Shh.
Come on, Allison. Calm down.” Brielle walked behind the desk and pulled her
into a gentle hug. “I’m not going to fire you. But I do need you to show more
responsibility in the future. Okay?”
Allison
nodded in agreement. Brielle handed her a tissue from the silver container on
the desk.
“Why
don’t you clean up here, finish filing the papers, and then go home? I’ll lock
up.”
Allison
sniffled and nodded again. Brielle gave her a small smile headed to the back.
After punching the code into the keypad, she pushed through the employees-only
door. A sigh of relief left her mouth. Michael had cleaned up the blood that
was left in the hallway. She was grateful to have him around. He always had a
cool head and wasn’t overwhelmed by stressful situations like today. He was
only a year younger than her, which helped. Brielle stepped in front of Rocky’s
cage.
“Hey,
sweetie,” she said to the unconscious dog. “The painkillers we gave you should
be in effect until tomorrow afternoon. Then when you wake up, we’ll take you
out to the yard.”
A
million thoughts rushed her mind. They would have to test Rocky and see if she
was stable enough to be around people. Whether Derek was willing to admit it or
not, this dog had been in a dogfight, and judging by the other scars on her
body, it hadn’t been her first. Brielle needed answers—especially if Rocky was
going to be a mom. She took out her phone and started scrolling through the
contact list. Her finger hovered over Max’s name. He wasn’t the type to change
his phone number, so it should still work. Fuck. She couldn’t. Anything she
said to Max would get back to Derek, and the last thing she wanted was more
drama. She pushed the name of another person who might know what those two had
gotten into with the club.
“Hello?”
“Hey,
Amy. It’s Brielle.”
“Oh,
wow. Thanks for letting me know you were in town. You said two weeks ago you
were going to call me when you headed to Sacramento Airport.”
“I’m
sorry. Everything has been such a whirlwind. I’ve been busy getting to know the
hospital staff and clients. How’s the shop doing?” Brielle asked while checking
the saline pouch connected to Rocky’s IV.
“It’s
busy as shit. I’m booked until January.”
“January?
Amy, it’s June. How could you possibly have that many tattoo appointments?”
“What
can I say? Your favorite Korean is in high demand.”
Brielle
grinned. Amy had sacrificed a lot to get where she was, and it made Brielle
happy to see her hard work pay off. Last month, Amy was flown to New York as a
headliner for a tattoo convention. Amy had cried to her over Facetime because
she couldn’t believe how far her passion had taken her.
“Luckily,
I get to make my own hours. Otherwise, I would never see my boo.”
“How
is Owen?” Brielle asked before putting the phone on speaker and setting it on
the steel work table. One of the cats had thrown up in its cage. Fantastic.
“Annoying
as hell. Thinks he knows everything, but I love him, so I tolerate it.”
“I
know the feeling.” Brielle gave the cat a dirty look as she pulled it from the
cage. Trying not to gag, she sprayed antiseptic and wiped up the bile. This was definitely not the part of vet life
they showed on Animal Planet. She
tripped over the cat as she walked to the garbage can. The cat shrieked and
jumped onto the counter, knocking things to the floor. Perfect.
“What
are you doing? What’s all that noise?” Amy asked.
“Nothing.
Just cleaning up before I head home,” Brielle shouted at the phone from the
floor.
“Mhm.
You sure it isn’t Derek cleaning you?”
“What?”
Brielle choked on her spit. What the hell? She had seen him not even an hour
ago. How could Amy joke that she would be sleeping with him? Jesus. He looked
good but not fuck-me-in-my-office-right-now good. Well, maybe he did, but
Brielle would never do anything so unprofessional. Although the thought of her
over the desk with Derek pumping into her from behind seemed worthy of breaking
her professional code.
“Fine.
Don’t kiss and tell,” Amy replied. Brielle could feel her smugness radiating
through the phone.
“How
do you know I saw him? Did Derek call you?”
“Nope.
Max called and tried to use it as an excuse to pull me into a conversation.”
Brielle
flushed with heat and her stomach dropped. What did Derek tell Max? Was she a
threat to him? No. Jesus. She wasn’t thinking straight. She took a deep breath
to clear her mind. This was Derek, not some mobster from an HBO series. Get a damn grip. “So what did Max say to
you?”
“Nothing
about Derek. He asked if I heard from you, and when I said no, he asked if I
was seeing anyone. Asshole. He just wanted an excuse to call me. I think he’s
going to invite me to dinner with him and Owen tomorrow night.”
Brielle
smiled at the thought of Amy talking to Max about dating. “Maybe he wants to
keep things friendly. It’s been a few months since you moved out. Some people
are friends with their exes, and I’m sure Owen would like to know his parents
are still civil with each other.”
Amy
snorted. Brielle knew what was coming before Amy said the words. “You know how
ironic that sounds coming from you, right? It would almost be insulting if it
weren’t so funny. I mean, honestly.”
Brielle
rolled her eyes and finished picking up the last few items from the floor. This
cleanup was going to make her late, not that she had any plans outside of
Chardonnay and reading a mystery novel. “That’s not fair, Amy. You know it was
hard for both of us. He couldn’t move past his anger.” Is that why he was so angry? No. Who holds a grudge for ten years?
“You
could say that again. He’s been handling it by putting his dick in any girl
that practices basic hygiene.” Amy stated it as though it was a known fact throughout
Clark County.
Brielle’s
heart seized inside her chest. She knew that Derek received attention from
women, but now she might have to witness it firsthand. Brielle became lost in
thought, and after a few moments of silence, Amy brought her back to the
present.
“Hey.
Owen is going to be with Max this weekend. Do you want to go out with me and
the girls Saturday night? You don’t work on Sundays, right?”
“I
don’t know.” Brielle looked over at her cane that was still on the floor.
“Girls who use canes don’t usually get guys to buy them drinks at the club.”
“Fuck
guys! We’re going to have a good time and celebrate your homecoming. Melissa
and Roxy haven’t seen you since we all took that trip to Napa.”
Brielle’s
heart warmed at the memory. They always had a good time together but clubs were
different. Thirty minutes on the dance floor and the familiar ache in her hip
would be too much. This could be fun, or a complete embarrassment, but at least
she would be getting out of the house.
“Okay.”
Brielle’s smile widened at the thought of a girls’ night. “I’ll be there.” Amy
squealed then said good-bye. Brielle looked around the room and realized that
she still needed to wrangle the cat back into its cage. This was going to be
one long night.
About Alexandra:
Outside of writing, Alex
enjoys listening to girlboss podcasts while doing her makeup, reading comic books
(DC girl but loves The Punisher), stalking Beyoncé’s every move, and watching
The Golden Girls with a glass of wine. She enjoys talking to her readers and
anyone with a great sense of humor, so feel free to drop her a note anytime!
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