Free Shooting Dirty by Jill Sorenson Page A

should fuck him,” she repeated.
    “Be serious.”
    “I’ll fuck him first, and tell you if he’s worth the trouble.”
    Janelle smothered another laugh. “Okay.”
    “Somebody needs to fuck somebody,” Tiffany said, gesturing with her bottle. “It’s dry as the Sahara around here.”
    “Why haven’t you gone out with anyone lately?”
    Tiffany just sighed, leaning back in her seat.
    Janelle remembered the threesome Tiffany had engaged in a few months ago. “Did that couple ruin you for everyone else?”
    Tiffany shook her head, wistful. “They were crazy in love with each other. I could tell. That’s what was special about it. He was totally whipped on her. I can’t stop wishing someone would love me like that.”
    Janelle was stunned by the sound of tears in her voice. Tiffany never got choked up. “What do you mean? Everyone loves you.”
    “Nice guys don’t.”
    “Sure they do.”
    “Your cute brother-in-law never called me back.”
    Janelle put her arms around Tiffany, stroking her golden hair. Owen had gone out with her once, about a year ago. Janelle suspected that he’d been in love with Penny, his current girlfriend, at the time. He just hadn’t realized it yet. “You’re young and beautiful and funny. You’ll meet someone.”
    “I only attract jerks,” Tiffany said. “I’m a jerk-magnet.”
    Janelle wondered if that was true. They said blondes had more fun, but maybe Tiffany was too pretty for her own good. That kind of beauty acted as a beacon, drawing bad men from miles around. A few years ago, Janelle had watched a television documentary about a Playmate who’d been killed by her jealous boyfriend. Tiffany strongly resembled her.
    “Who’s that?” Tiffany asked, looking over Janelle’s shoulder.
    Janelle followed her gaze. The only remaining vehicles in the parking lot were theirs, along with an old work truck.
    “It’s your stalker.”
    She stared across the space with trepidation. Maybe it
was
him. The truck looked familiar. There was a man inside. He was slumped over the steering wheel with his head resting on his bent arms.
    Tiffany honked her horn.
    Janelle jumped at the sudden sound, swearing.
    The man in the truck startled also. He straightened and glanced their direction, dragging a hand down his face. Although the parking lot lights were dim, she could make out his tattooed knuckles.
    “Is that him?” Tiffany asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “See what he wants. I’ll wait here and make sure you’re okay.”
    Janelle hesitated, her pulse racing. She felt like a teenager at a stop sign, gaping at the cute boy in the next lane. Only she was no teenager, and Ace wasn’t a boy. He was a grown man with dangerous connections.
    Although she found his actions disturbing, she sensed that he knew right from wrong. He’d killed a fellow criminal and left her unharmed. He’d stepped in to prevent her son from being beaten up by bullies. Ace followed some kind of moral code. That didn’t mean he was an appropriate bed partner, of course.
    If she was smart, she wouldn’t go anywhere near him. But she wasn’t that smart, as Jamie had reminded her earlier. Making wise decisions had never been her strong suit. She’d struggled to be a responsible parent and come up short. She was a disappointment to her mother. An embarrassment to Jamie. The admissions panel had rejected her. Even Kevin had dismissed her as unworthy of the finale performance.
    She was tired of failing. She was tired of
trying
. Tired of caring.
    Engaging in a flirtation with a professional criminal was a bad idea. It was irresponsible and self-destructive. But it felt good to be wanted by a non-customer, outside of the club. There was something between them that went beyond sexual chemistry, too. She liked the way he looked her in the eye when they spoke.
    He saw her. He saw more than her body.
    That was incredibly appealing.
    She got out of the Jeep and strode toward him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. Her