Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Who the fuck was he kidding? He wasn’t going to get another wink of fucking sleep until he took the edge off. There were possible two ways to do that. Booze or knocking one out.
Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he moved over to the kitchenette in his apartment and opened a cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of Jack, unscrewed the cap and tipped it to his lips.
Dawg held his breath as the liquor filled his empty stomach then he slammed the bottle onto the counter, wincing through the burn.
Maybe that would help.
Dawg peered down at his still-hard dick. Maybe not.
Chapter Three
Emma shut her car off and took a slow, deep breath. She glanced down at her outfit one more time. She made sure to pick something out of her closet this time that might not reflect her day job.
Or what used to be her day job. Before she had been “let go.” Like those words softened the blow.
They didn’t.
She needed this job at Heaven’s Angels. The school year was over, and no one was hiring teachers anywhere at the moment. And even if they were, the salary wouldn’t be enough for her needs.
So, she had dragged out her oldest snug jeans with a ripped-out knee, her tightest blouse—leaving enough buttons undone to give him a good eye full of her cleavage—and yanked on an old pair of heels she found at the back of her closet. Unfortunately, her feet were already killing her and all she did was walk in them out to her car.
She also had given the club manager plenty of time to cool down while she went home, got on the internet and did some research. Who knew that YouTube was a wealth of information on how to strip?
After dragging out her full-length mirror, she’d set her laptop up where she could see it and practiced for the past few hours. Until she was pretty sure she had a routine down pat.
When she came back more determined than ever to show this strip club manager how serious she was, she found the front door to the club locked. Not willing to give up that easily, she drove around back hoping she’d find another entrance. Like an employee entrance. A way to get back inside and beg for a second chance.
As she was preparing herself mentally in what she could assume was the employee parking lot, another car pulled up next to her and a female got out.
Emma scrambled from her car and called out to her. “Hi!” She added a little wave to be extra friendly, to show she was harmless and not some stripper stalker.
The woman wrestled a huge purse out of the car and slammed the door shut, before turning and giving Emma a suspicious look. “Yeah?”
“I... uh... I’m looking for Dawson.”
The platinum blonde gave Emma the side-eye and a frown. “Dawson?”
What the hell was his nickname? Doug? Dog? Ah... “Dawg.”
A knowing look crossed the other woman’s face. “It’s early yet. He’s probably up in his place.” She lifted her chin toward the back steps of the building.
“His place?”
The blonde pursed her bright red lips and studied Emma for a second. Probably wondering if she was some psycho bitch ready to take down her boss. “Yeah, he lives above the club. In the apartment there.”
Emma glanced up and saw a light on in one of the windows. When she dropped her gaze, the dancer was gone and the back door with the sign “Employees Only” was shutting.
“Hey!” Damn it. She was hoping the woman would be willing to give her some pointers.
She sighed, then wobbled in her heels over to the metal steps to stare up them.
She was about to put herself in a position she knew better than to put herself in., but she had no choice. A minimum wage job just wouldn’t cut it. She needed cash, and she needed a lot of it as soon as possible. And the banks refused to loan it to her. She had no assets, no income, nothing.
Not even family to beg, borrow or steal from.
She was desperate, and she was not leaving until she had this job.
She would do whatever she had to do to get her daughter back.
The first step was the most difficult and once she took that, Emma hurried up the rest of the stairs until she was staring at the plain steel door to this Dawg’s apartment.
Taking a bolstering breath, she raised her fist and rapped on the door.
She waited.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Nothing.
The third time she thumped as loud as she could. She got an answering shout but had no idea of what it consisted of.
As who-she-assumed-was-Dawg approached the front door, she heard a muffled grumble and a curse.
Crap, he was still in a bad mood. That didn’t bode well for her.
The deadbolt clicked, and the door was thrown open.