Hard for the Money (A Bangers Book) Page 3

  “There’s a tip in there for you, too.”

  I take it, smiling at her. “You’re pretty amazing, Emilee.”

  “So are you, Ridge.”

  We leave the room hand in hand. She stops and my chest feels tight.

  “Maybe we can do this again – like I said, he’s out of town a lot.”

  I don’t have to ask who ‘he’ is. Instead, I nod.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Me too.”

  We smile at each other and I have to ask.

  “Any regrets?”

  “None.”

  And I believe her.

  I take her back to the VIP area and leave her with her very drunken friends. They don’t even notice how long we’ve been gone.

  It’s almost time for my next routine on stage, so I kiss the top of her head.

  She hugs me, whispering, “I’ll be calling you soon. I have a list of things I want to try.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  And I am.

  She nips my earlobe and I pull away from her.

  I walk away from the VIP area without looking back. Someone calls my name on the main floor and I stop by their table, smiling.

  And just like that I’m on to my next customer.

  You might not understand me.

  You might not like what I do.

  But fuck you.

  I get hard for one thing and one thing only…

  Coming Soon

  Need more Bangers in your life?

  Hard Lessons

  Available 8/8/17

  I get hard for on thing and one thing only.

  Power.

  My name is Diesel and I’ll rock your world… if you submit to me.

  When she walks into my club giving me that look that’s drove me crazy since high school, all bets are off.

  I never let a woman get the best of me and it’s time to show Ms. Bliss who is boss.

  Hard to Handle

  Available 8/15/17

  I get hard for one thing and one thing only.

  Respect.

  My name is Rod and I’ll rock your world… if you beg.

  When they walk into my club offering me what I crave all bets are off.

  I’ve wanted them both for a long time and once I have them I’ll finally quit the game.

  Also by Sarah Bale:

  Virgin Wars

  Wedding Wars ** Fall 2017**

  The Contender (Wrestling Diaries #1)

  The Rematch (Wrestling Diaries #2)

  The Main Event (Wrestling Diaries #3)

  Daisy and the Dead

  Elijah and the Living

  Daisy and the Lost Souls ** Winter 2017**

  Hard for the Money (A Bangers Book #1)

  Hard Lessons (A Bangers Book #2)

  Hard to Handle (A Bangers Books #3)

  Daisy and the Dead- Chapter One

  I ran like hell when the first gunshot boomed through the air. Everyone around camp jumped. I wasn’t stupid- gunfire was never good. It would draw the attention of the hordes, then things would go from bad to dead. The others looked around stupidly, but I couldn’t help them, not when they wouldn’t listen to me. They didn’t even have the sense to grab their weapons from the makeshift tents.

  I ducked under low tree branches, ignoring the sting as bark scraped into my skin. There were far worse things that could happen than that pain. Ahead, I saw a barn that was on the verge of collapsing. We’d checked it the other day for supplies and I knew all I’d find was a ladder leading to a loft. It might be safe to hide there until… well, until I knew what in the hell was going on. My short breaths were the only sound I could hear and I didn’t know if that was good or not.

  Had whoever fired the gun killed everyone at camp? There would only be one way to know for sure. I’d have to go back and check. Eventually. Saving my own ass was priority one.

  Reaching the barn I opened the red door and slipped inside. The sunlight filtered in so that I was able to find my way around. I coughed as the musky air assaulted my lungs. Thankfully the horse stalls had been cleaned out at one point, so the only scent was the decaying hay.

  I climbed the wooden ladder that led to the loft. When I got to the top I tried pulling the ladder up, but it wouldn’t budge. Shit. If someone came in I’d have to try to kick it down. My mind raced. And then I’d have to either jump out of the large grain-window or wait for someone to get me. I’d cross that bridge when I got there.

  Peering out the window I could see smoke coming from the direction of camp. That was not a good sign.

  We’d stopped building fires when we discovered the hordes could smell them. If there was smoke then it was because someone else had set something on fire. My breath felt like it solidified in my throat. Would I ever catch a break? All I wanted was to find a way back to my family- my mom, my dad. But the universe seemed to have a different plan in mind because I kept running in to dead ends.

  The barn door groaned as if someone or something pressed against it. I held my breath and lowered to my stomach so I couldn’t be seen. Had I been followed? A shadow fell in front of the little opening in the door and someone hit the wood. I flinched and waited. Friend or foe? That was always the question.

  The shadow moved. No. A zombie moved.

  I cringed, smelling the decayed flesh. I couldn’t ignore the wet snorting as it sniffed the air. Shit! It grew still and reached for the door.

  I didn’t have a fucking weapon!

  “I saw one go over here,” a voice called out.

  The zombie continued to claw at the door, ignoring the voices. Gunfire rang out. Oh bad… this was so bad. Were they talking about the zombie or me?

  “Head shot!” another voice called out. “Better check inside to see if there are supplies.”

  “Boss isn’t going to be happy if we’re gone too long…”

  “Bah. He’ll be fine if we bring goods back. That camp didn’t have shit.”

  “And he’s definitely not going to be happy you killed everyone back there before he gave the okay.”

  These men had killed everyone? My heart pounded against my ribcage. What about the children? Had they been slaughtered, too?

  “Not my fault they were pussies. They didn’t even try to fight.”

  Two shadows fell in front of the door and I made a decision. If they came inside they’d go up the ladder, just as we’d done. And I’d be dead. Using both feet I pushed until the ladder gave and fell to the ground with a thud.

  “Did you hear that? Must be another biter inside. Come on.”

  The door slid open as I scurried to the shadows, hoping they would hide me. Two men with guns drawn entered slowly, scanning the area. The first thing I noticed was their clothing. They were both dressed in blue jeans and white shirts that looked remarkably clean. And they weren’t covered in grime like most people were, including myself.

  The taller man with red hair tapped the ladder with his boot. “No biter here. Must have just fallen down. We better go before the boss comes looking for us.”

  The other man with a balding head looked up and I wondered if he could see me. I held my breath as if that might help conceal my presence.

  “Think someone’s up there?”

  Red shook his head. “Nah. Let’s go.”

  He started to walk away when Baldy raised his gun and fired. I jumped as hay exploded in the air leaving a thick dust behind. Baldy fired a few more times, each getting closer. I eyed the window. I could run and jump…

  “What in the fuck are you doing,” a deep voice with a slight draw asked.

  Red and Baldy dropped to their knees as a third man entered the barn. The entire mood changed. Before they were cocky. Now they were terrified.

  “Boss! We didn’t know you were here,” Baldy said. “We were checkin’ the-”

  “I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is. Why are you wasting my bullets like that? Did I give you permission to shoot the air? Huh?”

  Ba
ldy’s voice cracked. “No, Boss. I’m sorry, Boss.”

  The man turned to Red. “Did you find anything at the camp?”

  “Only a few supplies, Boss.”

  His presence commanded respect and I could see why Baldy was trembling like a scared dog.

  “And what did you do to the people at the camp?”

  Red glanced at Baldy, who swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Ah.” The man turned his attention back to Baldy. “Am I to assume you took it upon yourself again to take care of the situation?”

  “Boss, I swear it’s not like that. They ran. I didn’t have a-”

  The man moved quickly and sliced Baldy throat open with a knife. Baldy’s eyes were frantic as he grasped his gushing wound. His breaths gurgled and I closed my eyes knowing the wound had been fatal. There was one more gasp and then silence.

  “I never liked that prick,” the man said. “Take care of him.”

  Red pulled a knife from his boot and pushed it into Baldy’s temple, ensuring he wouldn’t turn.

  “We’ll move his family closer to the main base and make sure they’re taken care of. How many kids did he have?”

  Red’s throat bobbled as he swallowed. “Three, Boss.”

  “They’re better off.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Now… what are we going to do about the person hiding?”

  Icy fear filled my veins and I couldn’t move. There was no way he’d seen me! Was he bluffing?

  “Boss, we didn’t see anyone in here. Just a biter outside.”

  “Try again. See anything that stands out, other than this ladder that was so clearly nailed into the post that’s now on the ground?”

  I pushed myself as low as I could go, praying the hay was covering me. My heart pounded and my breaths came out in unintentional gasps. My fingernails curled into my palms, breaking the skin as I frantically tried to stay calm.

  I needed a plan! My gaze darted to the window. Could I make it if I jumped? My shaking limbs said no. The adrenaline coursing through my veins said yes. But fear won, telling me to stay in place. If I ran I was dead.

  Virgin Wars- Chapter One

  “They are going to kill me,” I muttered as I maneuvered my car through traffic.

  Thursday night meant pizza night and I headed across town to meet my three best friends at our favorite pizza place. I hated running late, which is something that rarely happened unless I was on deadline. And boy, was I on deadline. Luckily I found an open spot and parked without having to walk several blocks to the restaurant.

  Inside, I slid into the booth and noticed my friend, Amy Murphy, pushed her salad around the plate with a disgusted look on her face. Uh oh. She must be on another diet, but I thought better than to mention my observation. No telling what made her decide she needed to lose weight this time.

  She glanced at me. “About time you showed up, Stacie.”

  “Sorry guys,” I apologized.

  “Why are you so late?” Jeremiah asked as he slid a drink toward me.

  Jeremiah Foster held the spot as my oldest and dearest friend and I loved him to death. Too bad he was gay. Otherwise we might have ended up getting married right out of high school and have a house full of dark haired babies by now. Sometimes the thought made me laugh. And sometimes the idea made me really sad… sadder than it should.

  “I had to turn in my edits. This is the last round before the book comes out and I needed to get the love scene just right.”

  And for some reason that stupid love scene was giving me more hell than any other scene in the book.

  Lori, who sat next to Jeremiah, broke into my thoughts and said, “I can relate with the deadline. I messed up big time.”

  “Uh oh. Did you procrastinate again?”

  A journalist, Lori wrote for our local newspaper as well as any freelance gigs she could pick up. Unfortunately she had a bad habit of waiting until the last minute to work on her projects, which often landed her in trouble with her editors.

  “Yeah. It’s the bull-riding piece. It’s just been hard to write it because of all the memories it brings up about Daddy.”

  Knowing both Lori and Amy’s past with their father I could see how writing about the rodeo might be hard but she needed to put her feelings aside and do her job. The newspaper would only give her so many chances before they got tired of her last minute style and find someone else.

  Amy asked, “Does Mom know you’re writing the article? You should tell her if she doesn’t.”

  Older by fifteen months, Amy often felt the need to lord those months over Lori and boss her younger sister around.

  Lori shook her head. “No, you know how she would react. She still changes the TV if a rodeo commercial comes on.”

  And since we lived in Oklahoma the rodeo came to town a lot…

  “What are you going to do about the article?” I asked.

  “My editor wants me to interview one of the bull riders. He’s ranked number two or something like that, but everyone thinks he’s going to win the grand prize. I did see a picture of him, though. He’s hot. V-card worthy hot.”

  I held back a laugh. She’d been on a kick lately, rating guys on a scale of “hell no” to “V-card worthy”, which meant she might give them a shot at her still present virginity. Lori talked a big game, but I wondered if she would follow through if given the chance.

  Jeremiah asked, “And how does the waiter over there rate?”

  We all turned to look at the same time and Jeremiah groaned.

  “Girls, have I taught you nothing?” He said with a shake of his head.

  “He’s all right. Definitely do-able, but not my first choice,” Lori said.

  Amy disagreed, as they often did when it came to men, and said, “You’re nuts. He’s hot!”

  “Gay.” I chimed in. “He’s too perfect to be straight. Plus, I think he’s cute, which automatically means he’s gay, married, or a douche bag.”

  I had the worst luck ever when it came to the opposite sex.

  “Stacie’s right, he’s gay, or at least according to my dating app. I just wanted to get your official V-rating,” Jeremiah said with a grin. Then he said, “Back to your article. When is it due? I hope you’re not sitting with us when you should be writing.”

  “My editor wants to see a first draft by tomorrow.”

  Everyone groaned and Jeremiah slid out of the booth.

  “Girl, get out of here.”

  Lori rolled her eyes as she grabbed her jacket and stood. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  We watched as she walked away with her shoulders slumped. Oh yeah - she had her work cut out for her on this one.

  After Lori left, Amy sighed. “I don’t know why she waits until the last minute! She’s always done that.”

  Lori and I worked together briefly one summer so I knew this was a true statement. Even back then she’d wait until the last moment to do anything assigned to her, to the point that I would help cover for her. Her procrastination felt maddening a times.

  Jeremiah picked up a slice of pizza and said, “Well, I have some news, too. Treadmill asked me out on a date.”

  Jeremiah never called his dates by their real names. He said using the nicknames made him feel safe. I felt like withholding their names became his own way of protecting his heart. Sometimes this method backfired on him because he became too guarded and didn’t give people very many chances.

  But I couldn’t exactly say anything since I had my own issues when it came to the opposite sex.

  “That’s exciting. Where are y’all going?” I asked.

  “A fitness expo.”

  I stared at him in awkward silence and finally said, “Uh, that’s cool.”

  Another thing about Jeremiah – his interests always mirrored those of the people he dated. When he dated Lumberjack he liked to go camping. Twelve Gauge brought on an interest in gun shows. And don’t even get me started on the time he dated the gynecologist. The traumatic aftermath was still too mu
ch to remember.

  He must have sensed my thoughts because he said defensively, “It’s not like that this time. This time it’s different.”

  As it always was…

  Amy smiled. “I’m sure it is.” Then she said to me, “I saw another billboard with your book ad on it. I almost stopped to take a picture so I could text it you.”

  Always the peacemaker in the group, Amy knew how to smooth issues so things could get back to normal. And none of us liked change so her mollifying skills were perfect.

  “I can’t believe how quickly they got the ads out there.” I said with a grin.

  I still got excited as hell to see my books being advertised in such a big way.

  “Well, what’s new with you?” I asked Amy.

  This question was more of a formality since we talked on the phone or through texting several times a week when we weren’t hanging out, but asking became apart of our ritual. And so we answered.

  “I’m just trying to make sure everything is ready for the opening in November. I still haven’t got the Chef with the catering company to confirm, so I may need your help with that.”

  “Are you still nervous?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I feel like this could make or break me. I’m so lucky that people are even interested in what I’m doing and I know it’s partly because of the two of you.”

  Right before the holiday season Amy’s art gallery would be reopening to the public featuring a well-known artist’s sculptures as well as her own pieces. Truly talented, each of her paintings told a different story.

  Jeremiah reached across the table and held her hand. “Doll, this is all you. All we did was tell people about it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her tone suggested she didn’t believe him, but she would after the opening. People would be lining up to buy her art. Heck, I even had my eyes on one of her pieces. I wouldn’t tell her, though, because she’d try to give the painting to me and I wanted to make sure she was paid for it.