Free A Night With Knox by Eve Jagger Page B

grab one of the other bartenders. “I
need to work the front,” I tell him. “You take it from
here.” Then I fight my way out from behind the bar, heading
blindly down the back hallway and out to the alley behind the
building. My building – or at least, part of it is. People take
it for granted that I’m just the hired help here, but I own the
place in partnership with the other guys. I paid my own way through
college too, I never took one dime of my parents’ money, not
after I learned the truth about just how dirty it really was. I left
that life behind me: prep schools, and country clubs, and all the
bullshit that goes along with it. Only Jackson knows a little about
where I came from, but the others are in the dark.
    But I guess there’s no escaping
the past. There’s always something, pulling me back. Reminding
me about the debt I owe.
    Until I find another girl to distract
me. Yeah, that’s just what I need.
    I take another breath, then head back
inside to go find tonight’s distraction.
     
    What happens next? Discover the rest of the story in CASH .
    Available now !

Prologue
     
    My
muscles scream, chest on fire, nerve endings twitching like a million
thunderbolts across my torso. I can feel the beads of sweat on my
forehead running down my tensed neck. I glare at the fluorescent
light on the gym ceiling, feel the cold metal of the bar against my
chest.
    That
twinge in my triceps should worry me. Gotta meet Jax at the club for
drinks in a couple hours. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this big a
lift at the end of a workout. Last time a lift went wrong I messed up
my thigh so bad I was finger-fucking girls for a month.
    Thoughts
bear down on me like a load of bricks, pressing down on the ends of
the bar, making it even heavier than it really is.
    Don’t
think, Brando. Just fucking lift.
    I
repeat the words like a mantra. A rhythmic drumbeat that focuses my
mind. I exhale as I push, the rush of adrenaline leaving no room for
thoughts, the heat burning all doubt out of me.
    Don’t
think. Don’t
think. Don’t
think.
    As
I pump the bar up and down it feels like I’m
lifting the entire building, like I’m
trying to push a planet away from my chest. I feel like I’m
calling on strength that doesn’t
belong to me, strength that comes from the same deep pit of hell the
pain in my muscles comes from. I exhale and my breath comes out with
a long, low grunt.
    The
pain and the heat and the testosterone and the adrenaline swirl
inside of me, and I direct it all against this fucking barbell.
    When
my set is finished I have just enough energy to bring the barbell
back onto the claws. My fists sting as they let go of it, palms
almost melded to the metal. I drop my arms and breathe deeply for a
few seconds before sitting upright. My blood pumps, veins throb, and
I feel the satisfied ache of a post-workout high seep into my skin.
    “Pretty
dangerous, benching that much without anyone spotting you,”
a throaty female voice says from
behind me.
    I
look up. The gym is almost empty except for a guy listening to his
headphones as he runs on a treadmill in the corner. I save myself the
trouble of turning around to see her and just look at the reflection
in the wall-sized mirror in front of me.
    “Looks
like you spotted me just fine,” I
drawl, eyeing her in the glass.
    Even
by gym standards, she’s
unbelievable. She’s
in tight black spandex pants, with nutcracker thighs and hips that
seem custom-made for my hands. Her sports bra is so tight she may as
well be naked, and the thought instantaneously sends about a million
X-rated images through my mind. Judging by the hungry look in her
eyes, I know exactly where this is going—but
I’m enjoying the
foreplay, so instead of just cutting to the chase and inviting her to
suck my dick in the locker room, I grab the barbell and force myself
through one more punishing set of reps.
    It
takes everything I have to keep my arms steady, my muscles screaming
all the while, before