Under the Lights (4 page)

And while you’re waiting,
why not read about Emma, Jack, Travis and Shea in the other
Scoundrels books,
Black Jack
and
White
Knight
, available now.

Black Jack

By Mari Carr

When pirate Black Jack captures a ship at
sea, he considers the territorial governor’s haughty daughter part
of the spoils of war. Tying the fiery beauty to his bed, Jack
claims Emma as his…over and over again.

Jack has a secret. One he’s kept hidden from
his best friend Emma…

When she calls in a favor, asking Jack to
perform in a pirate fetish fantasy at the nightclub she manages,
Emma inadvertently opens Pandora’s box—for both of them. As
portraying a dominant pirate forces more of Jack’s secret desires
to light, Emma finds herself enmeshed in sensual explorations of
BDSM, wax play, bondage and sex in public that leave her
questioning her vanilla existence.

When a second heated interlude on the stage
finds her submitting to Jack, Emma suspects she’ll never find her
way back to her simple missionary lifestyle. But with Jack in
control…she’s not sure she wants to.

An Excerpt From: BLACK JACK

Copyright © MARI CARR, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave
Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

“Let go of me!”

“Take it easy, lass. Come peacefully and no
one will be hurt.”

“No one will be hurt because I’m not going
anywhere with you.”

Black Jack Carlysle tightened his grip on
the young woman’s arm. He wasn’t accustomed to backtalk from any of
his subordinates and he sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to it
from a mere female.

“I don’t think you fully understand your
position here. My men and I have taken over your ship. Now we’re
seizing our reward.”

“Stealing is more like it. You haven’t
earned anything on our ship. You’re a thief and a heathen and—ouch!
You’re hurting my arm!”

“I may be all you say and more, my dear, but
the fact remains, I am the captain of this ship and you are part of
the spoils of war.”

The haughty woman slapped him. Hard. “We’ll
see about that.”

Jack was shocked momentarily. He heard a
sharp gasp behind him and knew his men had witnessed her assault.
He’d intended to take her below deck and lock her in the room next
to his. He knew who she was. As daughter of the territorial
governor, she’d fetch a fair price in ransom.

Her blow and fiery rage ignited his temper
and his final destination changed as he pushed her toward the
ladder that would take them to his cabin.

“You will pay for that, my lady. In my
bedroom.”

His threat pulled her up short and her
struggling ceasing. “You can’t be serious. Do you know who I
am?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “I think the
question that should be asked is, do you know who I am?”

Her gaze narrowed, drawing his attention to
light blue eyes surrounded by thick, long black lashes. Her cheeks
were flushed a lovely pink due to anger and exertion. Her breathing
had accelerated, each hastily inhaled breath thrusting her full
breasts forward. She’d fill his hands nicely.

No, Jack thought. It wouldn’t be a hardship
bringing this hellion to heel.

“I know exactly who you are, Black Jack. And
if you think I’ll quiver at the mere mention of your dreaded name
like the rest of the fools on my father’s ship, then I fear you’re
destined for disappointment.”

He grinned, pushing her harder than
necessary toward the ladder. She stumbled slightly before catching
herself. She was provoking him, daring the devil inside to come out
to play. She’d struck him in front of his men. At that point, she’d
lost the right to be treated with courtesy. Now he needed to make
an example of her. Regardless of how much that idea rubbed against
the grain.

He liked to consider himself a
gentleman—usually beyond kind with the terrified women they’d
kidnapped in the past. More than a few times, he’d had to gently
convince the captive ladies to return home once their ransoms had
been paid.

Clearly that wouldn’t be a problem this
time.

She turned to face him once more, but before
she could speak, he raised his finger. “Silence, woman!”

He didn’t intend to wage this battle in
front of his men. It was high time she realized who she was dealing
with.

“How dare you speak to me—”

Jack growled. Bending forward, he put his
shoulder to the lady’s middle and lifted until her upper body hung
upside down along his back.

“What the—”

“I’ve warned you more than once, my lady.
Now you’re going to pay the piper.”

“Awesome,” Emma Potter said, wiggling loose
from Jack’s hold. “That was perfect.”

Jack pulled the bandana off his head and
stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans. “I feel like an ass.”

Emma laughed. “I owe you a big one for this,
Smacker.”

Jack ignored her use of the annoying
nickname. After years of friendship, she still persisted in calling
him by the silly name. She’d given it to him after they’d gotten
more than a bit tipsy at a bar the night Emma turned twenty-one.
She’d tripped and spilled her strawberry daiquiri down the front of
his shirt. He’d spent the evening smelling like a little girl’s
tube of Bonne Bell lip gloss. Emma had teased him the entire night,
calling him Lip Smacker. Sadly, fourteen years later, the shortened
version of the name still stuck.

“I don’t think there’s a favor big enough in
the world to repay me for this.” Jack leaned against the railing of
the fake ship, looking out at the empty tables and chairs of the
nightclub as he considered the fact they’d soon be filled with
clubgoers, all watching his weak attempt at piracy.

“True that,” Emma conceded. “You’re a
lifesaver, Jack. Really. I was at my wit’s end this morning. I bet
I made at least fifty phone calls.”

“Glad to know I’m so high on your list,” he
said sardonically, chuckling.

“Believe me, that call list isn’t one you
want to be on top of.”

He looked around and shook his head. “Still
find it hard to believe that you plan fetish fantasy shows for a
nightclub. I’ve got to admit, when you were making your valedictory
speech in high school, this wasn’t exactly where I pictured you
ending up.”

“Maybe not, but I bet you knew I’d be
organizing awesome parties attended by all the biggest names,
right?”

Emma had been the queen of the social scene
in high school. Jack thought it had probably surprised more than a
few of their peers to discover she had such good grades, given her
love of partying. Begrudgingly, he had to admit she was one of the
most naturally intelligent people he’d ever met. She had a
razor-sharp mind with a quick wit to match. Her photographic memory
didn’t hurt either. Quite frankly, it had taken very little work
for Emma to maintain her position at the top of their class. Not
that it had been a very large class.

They’d both enrolled in USC and moved to Los
Angeles from Bumfuck, North Dakota, determined to escape their
small town. The third in their small gang of friends, Travis, had
come along for the ride as well, mainly because he thought living
in L.A. would be a lark. Little did Jack and Emma know their
unmotivated, antisocial best friend would find his niche in the
City of Angels.

“Yeah, I knew you’d plan awesome parties.”
Jack reached up to rub his cheek. “Hey, did you have to slap me so
hard?”

She rolled her eyes. “You big baby. It wasn’t
that hard. Besides, the sound has to carry through the room to make
it authentic.”

Jack crossed his arms. “I hope your actress
doesn’t have your right hook or I’m likely to suffer a
concussion.”

“Not my fault. If you’ll recall, it was you
and Travis who taught me how to fight.”

“You were supposed to use those moves on the
frat-boy assholes at college. Not me.”

Emma shrugged. “Looks like I got a bonus from
my lessons.”

“Yeah, well, you try to lay another one of
those bonuses on my face and I’m gonna return the smack. Only I
won’t be aiming at the cheek on your face.”

“Promises, promises.”

White Knight

By Mari Carr

A sequel to Black Jack.

Shea Landon knows this is a bad idea. But
when you’re broke, tired and homeless, you do crazy things. She
decides to crash in her new place of employment, a fetish club,
borrowing the big, comfy bed that’s used as a stage prop. She
doesn’t realize she’s not alone…

Travis Knight knows this is a bad idea. As he
views his new waitress sneaking around the club after hours, he
realizes he should fire her, call the police. Instead, captivated,
he watches her on the same security monitors that separate him from
the world. Until watching isn’t nearly enough…

Two people—one desperate, one broken, both
hopelessly alone. Two people assuaging their needs through spanking
and sex games, bondage and taboo fantasy. It’s enough. It has to
be—when the biggest secret between them might be a tragedy neither
can overcome.

An Excerpt From: WHITE KNIGHT

Copyright © MARI CARR, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave
Publishing, Inc.

Pulling out her tips for the night, Shea
counted the money. She had a little over two hundred dollars. She
sighed with relief, so happy to have money in her hands. It was
enough for a room at the fleabag motel—as she liked to call the
crummy place she’d been staying—and some food. Unfortunately it was
two a.m. and she didn’t like the idea of venturing into East
Hollywood so late. While she was desperate for a roof over her
head, especially after spending last night dozing in a Laundromat
chair, she wasn’t stupid enough to put herself in danger.

She rubbed her eyes wearily, too tired to
think. She couldn’t keep trying to exist from day to day. When
she’d come to L.A., she’d had a plan, a goal. She looked one last
time at the comfortable bed, wishing she could lay her head on the
pristine white pillow. Then she stood up and headed back to the
bar.

“How you doin’, kid?” Bill asked.

Shea had instantly liked the bartender. He
was a gruff-looking man—ex-Marine, according to Emma—in his
mid-forties. He was quick to laugh and just as quick to eviscerate
rude drunks. As long as patrons behaved at his bar, all was
well.

“Fine. I finished cleaning in the
theater.”

“Great. The other gals took care of the dance
floor area and the bar. I’m just about to finish a few things. You
mind checking the bathrooms for me one last time? Make sure there
aren’t any drunks curled up in the corner and the lights are
off.”

She grinned. “I don’t mind. I’ll do it before
I head out.” The back door to the club led to a parking lot. Shea
recalled seeing an all-night diner across the street from the lot.
Maybe she could have a cup of coffee there, caffeine up and try to
figure out her next move. If she could remain awake until daybreak,
she could hit the subway with the commuters and head back to the
cheap motel to catch a few hours of sleep on the lumpy
mattress.

“Oh hey. Here’s your bag.”

She’d asked Bill to stow her duffel behind
the bar. She was ashamed to say everything she owned in the world
was in that bag. He’d remarked on the size of it when she’d come to
work, but mercifully hadn’t questioned her. “See you tomorrow,
Shea.”

She took the bag and hitched it onto her arm.
“Good night, Bill.”

Walking down the hallway, she heard Bill
humming as he worked. She opened the door to the men’s room,
peering inside. The place was empty. Switching the lights off, she
crossed the hall to the women’s bathroom. It was also deserted.

She recalled the bed on stage…the clean
sheets, the soft mattress.

An idea formed. A terribly stupid idea.

Glancing back toward the bar, she noticed
Bill had gone to the kitchen. She took a deep breath for
courage—then walked into the bathroom and turned off the
lights.

The room was plunged into darkness and her
heart began to race. Her earlier exhaustion gave way to nervousness
and fear. What the hell was she doing?

Feeling her way across the room, she let
herself into the stall farthest from the door. Sitting down on the
toilet, she waited in silence. Too many minutes later, she heard
the sound she’d been dreading and anticipating. She lifted her feet
and sat frozen. The back door opened then closed. She heard a lock
being thrown into place.

Shea remained where she was for fifteen
minutes longer then lowered her feet and stood.

She’d done it. She was locked in the club.
Christ, she was insane. She’d just gotten the job and with one
foolish, rash act, she’d probably jeopardized it.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her
mini-flashlight. Switching it on, she pulled off the white blouse
and black mini Emma had supplied her with earlier. She didn’t want
to wrinkle the material since she’d have to wear it again tomorrow
and she certainly didn’t have an iron.

She pulled on a t-shirt and loose sleep
shorts, brushed her teeth then left the bathroom, walking toward
the stage, grabbing a blanket from the hutch along the way. If she
was going to lose her job, she’d at least make it worth her while.
When she reached the bed, she slipped off her shoes and lay down.
She covered herself with the simple blanket but didn’t dare crawl
between the sheets, already feeling guilty for taking advantage of
Emma’s kindness. She took out her small travel alarm clock and set
it for eleven. She prayed no one found her. Maybe after a good
night’s sleep, she’d be smarter, be able to figure out what the
hell she should do next. For tonight, she was too tired and the bed
was too soft.