Wicked Game

WICKED GAME

Erica Lynn

www.loose-id.com

Wicked Game

Copyright © July 2016 by Erica Lynn

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

eISBN 978168252

Editor: Mary Harris

Cover Artist: Mina Carter

Published in the United States of America

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 170549

San Francisco CA 94117-0549

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

For all the enemies to lovers out there! :)

Acknowledgment

Billy, my number one boo. Haha! You’re probably rolling your eyes at that, but you know I love you!

Mary Harris, thank you for your continued help and support.

My cover artist, for the wonderful cover.

Everyone at Loose Id. What a fun idea for the Summer Tropes Poll!

Holding her breath to the best of her ability, Kara Smith squinted and turned her head to the side in disgust as she wiped the puddle of vomit off the kitchen counter with a paper towel.
Looks like Dad of the Year had another bad night. Surprise, surprise.
She tried to keep the bitter thought out of her head as she chucked the now soiled napkin into the trash can. Doing her best to keep the sadness at bay, she took a deep breath and looked around her childhood kitchen. When she was a little girl, it had seemed so…
vast
. The bright-white counters and cabinets were now dingy, the originally gorgeous wood floors scratched and chipped. Years of drunken fights had turned the once quaint room tragic, as if the dark energy of her childhood had somehow seeped into the kitchen’s pores.

Kara shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She didn’t have time for this. Her plan was to meet her best friend, Crissy, and Crissy’s husband, Ben, at Crossroads to celebrate Ben’s promotion.
Crossroads can bite me.
She rolled her eyes as she began to grab the multitude of empty liquor bottles that littered the counters and table, then toss them in the trash as well.

Crossroads was the new
it
club in Houston. It had been open for eleven months and had managed to rope in most of Kara’s clientele. At least the younger ones. Truth be told, while she’d never admit it to another living soul, her little hole-in-the-wall bar couldn’t compete. Kara’s grandfather had built the bar dead in the heart of Houston but could never figure out an appropriate name, thus naming it the Bar. As the story goes, one day, when her father’s wrath had become particularly beastly, her mother had taken her to spend the weekend with her grandfather, who lived next door. That night they’d watched cartoons and drank hot cocoa, and as he sat and brushed her strawberry-blonde hair, he’d told her he’d never looked upon anything more beautiful than his granddaughter. After that, he’d named his beloved bar Kara’s.

Kara’s eyes burned with tears at the thought of her grandfather. She missed him terribly. With her father an out-of-control alcoholic and a mother who’d finally decided she’d had enough and hit the road, Kara had spent most of her younger years at her grandfather’s house. Hell, he’d been the one to raise her. He’d helped her study in school, taught her not to put up with any crap from the boys, and when she’d graduated high school, he’d bought her a red Ford Mustang. The memory of him taunting her with the keys had her smiling as she took the cleaning spray from beneath the kitchen sink and proceeded to wipe down the counters. He’d died three years ago, old and ready to go. Kara hadn’t been shocked when the lawyer told her he’d left her his house and the bar; he’d always said both would be hers. Unfortunately, times were different, and now people didn’t want a small, comfortable place like Kara’s. They wanted grand dance floors with bass-heavy music and bright lights.

Kara finished cleaning as best as she could, then quickly washed her hands before grabbing her purse. She tiptoed out of the kitchen and stopped for just a moment to peek in at her dad, passed out on the couch. Once incredibly handsome, he now looked much older than he was. Filthy white shirt, torn jeans, arm thrown over his head as he snored into the couch cushion. Her dad never ceased to be a complicated subject for her. As a child, she’d been terrified of him. She never knew whether he’d come home reeking of alcohol and screaming at the top of his lungs, or if he’d have a stuffed teddy bear for her and a piece of jewelry for her mother. Once upon a time he’d had a great job at a top plant in the area. Shift work, great pay, benefits, the whole enchilada, but he’d let his daemons destroy that life.
His disease, Kara. Right; not daemons, disease
. Kara took one last look at her dad, then silently made her way out of the house and quickly locked the door behind her. The last thing she wanted was her dad to wake up, and she thanked the heavens she’d been able to get in and out with no incidents.

She tiredly slid behind the wheel and pulled some clear lip gloss from her purse, glancing in the mirror to check her appearance. Usually she thought she looked all right—long, dark strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes—but tonight all she could see was her father staring back at her. She’d definitely inherited his looks, and now they screamed at her through the reflection. She grabbed some grapefruit body spray from her purse and spritzed it on as she looked at the house. To the outside world, it was a beautiful, two-story, red brick home with a large screened-in porch, bay windows, and a spacious front yard. To her, it was the place her dreams went to die. Her ringtone interrupted her thoughts, and she hesitated briefly before picking up.

“Hey, love. Am I still meeting you at that dreadful Crossroads tonight?” Trevor Black’s smooth voice filled her car.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m headed that way right now.” Kara hoped she didn’t sound as exhausted as she felt.

“All right. I have some errands to run first that can’t wait. I’ll meet you there afterward.” The line disconnected without so much as a good-bye.

Kara stretched her neck from side to side, wincing as her tight muscles protested, then pulled out of the driveway and made her way toward the club. Trevor was an old friend from the neighborhood; their dads had been drinking buddies. Trevor had managed to find success in marketing and leave the old life behind. They’d always gotten along well enough; he’d even taken her to his prom. Afterward they’d sneaked into his room, and she’d awkwardly let him have her virginity. She’d never forget the experience: her head buzzed from wine coolers and the beautiful sounds of Nine Inch Nails playing in the background. Kara smiled as she shook her head. They’d never discussed their night together, had just moved on, business as usual. There were plenty of times she wished she could feel
something
for him; after all, nobody knew her as well as he did, but it just wasn’t there. She suspected the same was true on his side as well.

As much as she couldn’t wait to spend some time with Crissy and Ben, she was beyond grateful Trevor would be there tonight. She was in desperate need of a reprieve from reality, as she always was after she checked in on her father. Trevor would also help distract her from the one person on earth whose ass she’d like to strap to a rocket and send straight out of the damn stratosphere. William I-Think-I’m-So-Fucking-Hot Richardson.

William sat with Crissy and Ben at Crossroads, a beer in his hand as he checked out the scenery. Crossroads never lacked in beautiful women, and tonight was no exception. Scantily clad bodies covered the black dance floor, swaying seductively to the music. He often wondered if they enjoyed dancing or if they simply felt it was necessary to get the attention they craved. If he was being honest about his feelings, which he hated doing, he’d grown tired of the kind of women he attracted. They were all undoubtedly gorgeous, but fuck, none of them seemed to have a coherent thought outside of clothes, makeup, and who was fucking who in Hollywood. He’d never known people actually
cared
about that shit.

He’d discovered early on that being a Jones—as in
the
Jones family who owned multiple nightclubs in the area as well as the one he currently sat in—automatically attracted a certain type of female. Young, usually beautiful, but the positives ended there. Not that there was anything
wrong
with that type of companion, but William never had been, and still wasn’t, interested. He’d started going by his mother’s maiden name, Richardson, right out of high school, to try to distance himself from his family and the lifestyle people assumed he wanted. But somehow, it hadn’t done him any good.

“What’s wrong over there, Romeo?” Ben asked him as he put his arm around his wife, Crissy. “The ladies not up to your standards tonight?”

William shot him a go-to-hell look as he took another drink of his beer. “Ah, you know. They’re the usual.”

Crissy smiled and shook her head. “I hate to tell you, honey, but if you plan on finding someone you can have an actual conversation with, you might be out of luck in this place.”

William couldn’t help but smile as he nodded in agreement. He absolutely adored Crissy. Short blonde hair, blue eyes, and the sweetest smile imaginable, she was the quintessential girl next door. His best friend was a lucky son of a bitch. “I hate to say it, but I think you’re right. I don’t get it. I’m a fun guy, easygoing, but shit, I do like to
talk
about things too. I want someone I can have a meaningful conversation with at dinner, maybe enjoy a movie or something, and then, pardon my French, Crissy, take home and fuck like we’re wild dogs.” He smiled when Crissy and Ben broke out in loud laughter. “Why can’t I find someone who wants the same things? Is it me? What do I need to do?”

“Have you considered not being a total douche bag?” His entire body tensed as he watched the red-haired devil take a seat next to Crissy and then take a drink of her beer, all the while arching an eyebrow at him. “I mean, that’s what I’d do if I were you. What? The thought never crossed your mind?”

William lowered his beer and glared at Kara. She was such a pain in his ass. Hot as hell, but fuck, she made him want to jump off a bridge. It had been downhill from the first night they met. Ben, in his infinite wisdom, had decided they were made for each other. William had met up with them at some shithole bar, and when he’d mentioned someone needed to demolish the place, he’d quickly been informed she owned it. Seemed like information he should have been given upfront, but he digressed. He’d apologized profusely. Needless to say, she’d turned her nose up at him ever since. He’d felt awful, but how the hell was he supposed to know she owned it? Turned out, if he’d only looked at the damn sign, he’d have made the connection. The place was named after her, for fuck’s sake. “Ah, Ms. Priss Pot Smith, so nice of you to join us. I must say, you look
almost
happy tonight. I mean, your face is damn near glowing. Did you eat a small child on the way over here? Perhaps find a cute little puppy or kitten to decapitate? I know it can’t be that you got laid because, well, we all know you devour the souls of anyone with a dick.” William watched in delight as annoyance spread over her face. Childish, yes, but so fucking worth it.