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  Red

  Kim Jones

  Copyright © 2013 by Kim Jones

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  In other words---This book belongs to me, Kim Jones. If you bought a copy, thank you! If I gave you a copy, congrats! If your friend bought a copy and loaned it to you through the Kindle Library, great! And tell your friend I said thanks! If none of these apply to you, that means you stole it—that’s right. Stole it. There is no other word for illegally having my work on your device other than the three options above. So, shame on you. Karma is a mean, ugly, maybe even redheaded, bitch, who will chew you up and spit you out. I hope you drop your electronic reading device in a puddle of muddy water, or dog shit, or anything else that is capable of damage and ultimately has you losing all your stolen work. You’re a thief! They would have stoned you back in the day. I’m just sayin’.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Lisa and Jessi… This one is for y’all. I didn’t have a place in the plot to put your ignorant, psycho-babble bullshit. So, I figured what better place than front and center?

  #teambestfriend

  Prologue

  Regg

  Present Day

  It’s been three months since I’ve seen Red. The phone call Luke got Saturday morning had me thinking the worst. To say I was relieved when I found out she’d been locked up is an understatement. I was afraid she was dead. I knew she’d been hitting the dope pretty heavy. Luke never said anything demeaning about Red, but he did confide in me about her addiction. Still, I never thought any less of her. Sometimes life makes you do stupid shit. I know because I’ve done my fair share of it.

  I’d dated a few girls, but they never measured up. I even went as far as dating girls who looked like her, but they were nothing in comparison. When you meet someone who has a fire that burns as bright as Red’s, it does something to you. That’s what happened the first time I laid eyes on her. She did that something to me. She has a gravity about her that pulls me in. She makes me want to live in a world that thrives off of her energy. She makes me want something more than what I have.

  A little over a year ago, I thought my life was complete. I had everything; a good job, money, a full patch with my club. There was literally nothing else that I wanted. And then I saw her. She was so fucking beautiful. Waves of red hair, bright hazel eyes, an infectious smile and a personality that was sexier than those long, tan legs of hers. She walked with confidence, spoke with pride and made everyone in the room feel better by just breathing.

  I’ve never been so affected. I’ve never desired anyone or anything so much. I wanted more of her. This was the first woman I’d seen who exuded raw sex appeal, but she wasn’t flashing naked in my mind. I just wanted to talk to her. I wanted her to smile at me. Even if she didn’t, I just wanted her in the same room so I could admire her beauty and let her presence possess me. She’s what was missing from my life. When she looked at me, it was like we’d known each other our whole lives. Ten minutes was all it took for us to build a connection. In that time, I knew I would do anything to have her. Now, I had my chance.

  ***

  Luke sits next to me at the back of the courtroom. He’s trying to look calm, but I know better. I shoot a wink at the girl in front of us and wait for her to turn around before nudging his arm.

  “You alright?”

  “I don’t know if I can do this, man. I’ve seen her like this before. It’s bad.” His voice is low and I know it’s taking all he has to keep it together. He runs his hands through his hair, drawing the attention of the girl in front of us again. I motion with my finger for her and her giggling-ass friend to turn around. They look confused, so I give them my best ‘mind your own fucking business’ face. It works.

  “This is my fault, Regg.” Here we go.

  “Luke,” I say, grabbing his shoulder until he meets my eyes. Those baby blues that make all the bitches go crazy are now dull and lifeless. “This ain’t your fault. She’s a big girl. You can’t make her do anything she don’t wanna do. You did the right thing by stepping back. Getting locked up was the best thing that could happen to her.” My words do nothing to ease his mood. I’ll have to dig deeper and fuck, I don’t want to.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask, hating that I have to.

  “With my life.” No hesitation.

  “With Red’s?” This time, Luke hesitates but eventually answers.

  “Yes.” I hate seeing my brother go through this. I convinced him that I was doing this for him. It wasn’t a lie. I would cut my own heart out and give it to my brother if it made his whole again. Red had done some damage to Luke. She is the sister he never had, and her fuck-ups always fall on his shoulders. He feels like he’s responsible for her. If I can take that burden from him, I will. And it would be a lie if I said I didn’t want it. Red needs a man in her life. She has Luke, but he’s a brother. She needs a man to take care of her. Protect her. Be with her. I’m that fucking man.

  “Then trust me, brother. I got this. I promise.” The conviction in my words breaks through to him. He lets out a breath and nods at me.

  “I know you do.” Finally. I focus my attention on the front of the room while Luke notices the girls sitting in front of us. Good. He needs the distraction.

  When the side door opens, I hear her before I see her. Red is laughing, and I can’t help but smile at the sound. But I can physically feel my face fall and my heart nosedive when she comes into view. This is not my Red. This is only the shell of the woman I met a year ago. When I last saw her, I could only see a slight difference in her appearance. She’d lost some weight, but she still had her spirit. Now, she just looked broken. Even though she’s smiling, you can tell she’s in another world. I’m not even sure she knows what’s going on.

  She’s thin. Too thin. Nothing but a sack of bones in an orange jumpsuit. The chains on her arms and feet are heavy in comparison to her frail body. They pull at her wrists, causing her to slouch over from their weight. Her feet shuffle across the floor slowly. When she lifts her head, thin red hair frames her sunken face. Even though I can’t make them out perfectly, I can tell that her eyes have lost their sparkle. But, even at her worst, that magnetic pull is still there and I want nothing more than to go to her. I want to rip those fucking chains off, carry her to my truck and drive her away from everything that’s ruined her. I want to heal her. I want to help her find herself. Then, I want to find the motherfuckers that did this to her.

  I stare at the back of her head, wishing I could stand beside her. The judge speaks to her and I listen for her voice, but I can’t hear it from where I sit. I grind my teeth, waiting for the moment I can take her with me. I feel Luke’s hand on my shoulder, but I refuse to look at him. This is why he’s so upset. This is what he’d witnessed only a few weeks ago. No wonder he felt guilty for not doing something then. As much as I wanted to blame Luke, I wouldn’t. Red wouldn’t have gone if he’d asked her and she wouldn’t have stayed if he’d made her. This was for the best. It had to happen like this.

  I listen to the judge as he gives his speech about some bullshit work program. He makes eye contact with me, and I nod. What he says doesn’t matter, though. Nothing can keep me from getting what I want. I’ll rip through this place like a mad man. I’ll bring hell to Forrest County. I’ll tear the roof off this motherfucker with my bare hands for what’s mine. I’m h
ere for one reason- Red.

  And I’m not fucking leaving without her.

  Chapter One

  Southern Charm

  Red

  One Year Ago

  “Heads up, Red. LLC’s in the house,” Lucy, my stripper sister from another mister tells me.

  Dammit. So much for that bump. I stuff the clear baggy containing the finest, white powder in the South into a drawer and turn to the next best thing. Vodka. Not that cheap, rotgut vodka that gives you the shits either. This was the good stuff. Kauffman Luxury Vintage Vodka shipped straight from Russia to Pete’s Gentlemen’s Club in Biloxi, MS in a beautifully wrapped box with my name on it. I toss a few ice cubes in a glass, fill it to the brim and take a sip, sighing at the familiar burn as it travels through my body.

  “You’re not up for another twenty. Go say hi, I’ll get your outfit together,” I stare at Lucy from across the room as she adjusts her pigtails in the mirror. I will dress in just about anything, except pigtails are a deal breaker for me. But Lucy, with her petite figure, girlish voice and blonde curls, wears them well.

  “You always were my favorite.” I blow her a kiss, grabbing my robe from the back of my chair before going in search of the infamous LLC.

  LLC, or Luke, and I go way back. At the age of fourteen, I was placed in the foster care of some of Hattiesburg, Mississippi’s elite. My new parents had no problem sending me to the finest private school around. Luke went there too. He was the smoking hot jock, and I was the orphan outcast. After he caught Jimmy Daniels trying to force his hands down my pants behind the school cafeteria, he beat his ass, and then we shared a cigarette. We’ve been friends ever since. Even after I ran away from the best home life I’d ever had just after my sixteenth birthday, we kept in touch. He was like my big brother. And he still is. Too bad I don’t see him differently, the man is mouthwatering.

  “Well, if it isn’t the heartthrob Luke Carmical,” I call from across the room, drawing everyone’s attention to the sexy beast in leather sitting at the bar. “Congratulations sir, you are the winner of about twenty pairs of wet panties, compliments of Biloxi’s finest female entertainment.”

  “There’s my girl.” I walk into his waiting arms, squeezing him tight before placing a quick kiss on his lips. “How you doin', Red? You look good.” I curtsy dramatically then give him my best smile. Which is really the only smile I have when it comes to genuine happiness. A full teeth baring smile that causes my nose to scrunch up and my eyes to almost become invisible. It doesn’t take much to get that smile outta me, but it doesn’t say anything less about giving it to Luke. He deserved it.

  “And who do we have here?” My eyes go to the blonde guy who sits completely relaxed on the stool next to Luke. The side of his mouth curls up into a smile and I’m surprised to find it so attractive. He looks more like a schoolboy than he does a biker, but the cut he wears proves that he is indeed a Devil’s Renegade.

  “This is Regg. Regg, Red.” I stick my hand out and he engulfs it with his own. His hand is warm, strong and he has the most perfectly manicured fingernails I’ve ever seen on a man. My eyes scan his body, appreciating his thickness compared to Luke’s tall, cut frame. His shoulders are wide and broad, giving me the impression that he is some kind of body builder. His forearms are huge and I find it almost crucial to touch them. The black, leather cut he wears looks new, so do his patches.

  “Nice to meet you, beautiful,” he says with a thick, southern drawl. Laughter dances in his big, brown eyes and I can’t help but give him my signature, mega watt smile.

  “Gotta love the charmers. Tell me, does that actually work on women?” For some reason, teasing him just feels…right.

  “Judging by the way you can’t seem to take your hands off of me, I guess it does.” I look down at my hand, still latched on to his and laugh.

  “And here I was thinking my heart palpitations, ragged breath and lustful desires weren’t noticeable,” I say, using my best southern belle accent. Regg laughs and the sound is comforting. It’s as if I’ve known him for years. He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it, keeping his eyes trained on me. The hair from his goatee should tickle my hand, but instead it sends desire coursing through my body. It tickles all right, just not where it should. Shit, I gotta lay off the booze.

  “Be careful, Red.” He releases my hand, smiling up at me. “I’m pretty easy to fall in love with.” I throw my head back and laugh. His cheesy ass pickup line gives my hormones a lethal injection, and my lustful desire disappears. I appreciate a man with good humor, reminds me of myself. I slip my arm around his shoulders and look at Luke.

  “I like this guy.” Luke rolls his eyes and takes a pull from his beer before answering.

  “Famous last words.” And although Regg and I are laughing, there is not a trace of humor in Luke’s statement.

  The guys promise to stay and watch the show, and against my better judgment, I satisfy my internal craving with the line of cocaine Lucy already has laid out for me when I return to the dressing room.

  “You got two privates after your performance. I figured you might need it,” Lucy says, confirming that she really is my favorite. I lean down, press my finger against my left nostril, and inhale the fine powder, making sure not to leave one tiny speck of residue.

  I look up at the song list and smile, Cherry Pie by Warrant- one of my favorites. It was a classic, and I found that when people can sing along, they become more involved. That means a good payday for me. Especially since the house is packed, the customers are drunk and there isn’t an empty seat at the stage.

  My eyes land on the plastic, red mini-dress that has been laid out for me. It isn’t right. This crowd needs something a little different. It’s Friday night and half the men at the stage are wearing suits. Being here is the perfect ending to a shitty forty hour week for them, before they go home to play their roles as father and husband. And it is my duty to their wives and children to send them on their way in a great fucking mood.

  I drain my glass, refill it and take it with me to sip on while I shoot the shit with the guys behind the curtain-something I always do right before I go onstage. My bodyguard and lifelong friend Corey greets me with a nod. Corey and I were in the system together from a young age, and have always been close. He is a massive man with caramel colored skin and big hazel eyes that darken when he gets pissed. He played football for the New Orleans Saints for a year before blowing out his knee and landing a job here. His role in this industry is to keep the men in check when they get too touchy feely and to make sure we are walked to and from our cars. Not that he needs to be paid to do that for me, Corey is one of my best friends. Hell, he is like family.

  “What’s up, Red? You ready to give these boys a show?” He always asks the same question, and I always give him the same answer.

  “I’m ready to get paid.” I touch my glass to his water bottle and we take a drink in celebration of the good life. Pete’s Gentlemen’s Club has been around for years. I was eighteen when I made my debut, and it was with Pete. I’d turned down some pretty great offers, but money is nothing when you find a place you love. Plus, I wasn’t doing too bad here. In four years, I’d danced in the laps of men ranging from celebrities to drunken frat boys, and almost all of them had come back for seconds. My face covers the billboards that advertise for Pete’s. My voice is the sexy, sultry one that plays over the radio. I’m the crowd favorite, and I have a waiting list for privates. The money is good, the drugs are aplenty and this two story, eight thousand square foot building is my home.

  The emcee makes my introduction and I hand Corey my glass, shooting him a wink. He is all business now, stone faced and ready to kick anyone’s ass who even thinks about putting their hands on me. I straighten my long sleeved, oversized men’s button up shirt, check to make sure my hair is still tightly secured inside the clip that’s high on my head and adjust my fake, black framed glasses. My shoes are eight inch, clear platform heels that will accompany my thin, black g-
string as the only articles of clothing I’ll walk off the stage wearing. The music begins and I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline as it progresses through my veins. That, mixed with the cocaine, has me tripping on a high I know I’ll regret all too soon.

  I’m all smiles when I waltz through the black curtain and head straight to the shiny, metal pole that centers the entire room. I pull myself up, letting the cheers from the crowd fuel me as I do just as Warrant asks me to- swing it. The muscles in my arms and legs are strong, allowing my limber body to rely on them to hold my weight. I climb to the top, then use the support of my wrists to keep me airborne as I spread my legs out, my ass faces the crowd and gives them a sneak peak of the bare cheeks beneath my shirt. I shake my ankles, causing my ass to shake as a result. When the catcalls ripple throughout the room, I loosen my grip and slide faster down the pole, landing in a split at the bottom.

  I turn to my left, crawling my way over to the men on the far side of the stage. I crook my finger at one of them and he stands, a big, goofy grin covering his face as his eyes glaze over with lust. I grab him by his head, burying his face in my cleavage. He is there all of two seconds before I push away from him and stand. He sticks his lips out on a pout and I wink before ripping my shirt open, exposing my all natural D cups. No sense in teasing them any longer. I only have three minutes to make bank, and by the money that litters the stage, I know my choice to go braless was the right one.

  I work the front of the stage, dancing and rubbing my hands suggestively over my body. The feeling is heightened due to my high and I fight to keep from rubbing my pussy in search of release. My eyes drift to the leather clad men at the bar. Luke sits with his arms crossed, scanning the men at the stage with a murderous glare on his face while Regg looks at nothing but me. His eyes are hooded, the cute smile he once wore is now a sexy smirk and instead of ogling my bare chest, he meets my eyes. I’m not self-conscious about my body. There is no room for doubt on the stage. But, his appreciative stare has a different effect on me than any other man’s in the room. He doesn’t look at me like I’m some potential quick bathroom fuck or a poster girl for masturbation. He looks at me like he wants me. And not just in the bathroom, but in his bed, on the back of his Harley and in his arms.