Cover

Prologue

Lincoln

There’s rock bottom, and then there’s the underbelly of rock bottom.

My underbelly?

Getting arrested and going to federal prison.

Today, I’m being released from the hellhole.

With my chin held high, I salute the guard and exit the place where I’ve been held hostage for two years.

There’s no stronger high than freedom.

No drug.

No booze.

No sex.

Nothing.

Everything I took for granted in the past I’m grateful for.

Hello, fucking freedom.

It feels damn good, being released from prison for a crime I didn’t commit.

I’ve been humbled like a motherfucker.

I went from owning a million-dollar penthouse to sleeping in a prison cell to crashing in my brother’s guest bedroom.

From being the VP of a million-dollar empire to broke.

The feds took possession of nearly everything with my name on it.

Underbelly of rock bottom.

It’s been a long-ass day. After leaving the prison, I was treated to a steak and lobster dinner, courtesy of my mother.

“I read that people like a nice, big meal after being released from incarceration,” was what she declared.

I replied with a forced smile and enjoyed the meal.

Who turns down a steak and lobster dinner?

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that all this guy wanted straight out of prison was solitude, peace and quiet. One more luxury I’d taken for granted.

After showering, I slide into the king-size bed—the silky sheets yet another relic of my old life—and snatch my phone. Just as I plug it into the charger, a text comes through.

Unknown number: It’s Isla. Can we talk?

My blood boils, and my grip tightens around the phone.

How’d she get my number?

I had my brother, Archer, change it, so I could have a fresh start when I was released.

Cursing, I delete the text, toss my phone onto the floor, and sigh as I soak in the silence.

Had it not been for Isla, I might not have been incarcerated.

Had it not been for Isla, my father might not be in a prison cell, awaiting his own freedom.

Chapter One

Cassidy

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Since I’m walking out of the county jail, my brother’s question isn’t a shocker. Barefoot with my heels in my hands, I hop down the concrete steps one at a time. Call me classy.

Don’t judge.

Get Arrested wasn’t on last night’s bingo card.

Kyle leans against his Jeep with crossed arms and a deep scowl. I gulp back the dread of the interrogation he’ll deliver on our drive back to my sorority house.

“Yes, you’ve definitely lost your mind,” he adds when I fail to answer.

I squeeze my forehead to ease my pounding skull while facing him. “Can you not be so loud?”

My head throbs.

My body aches.

My heart is wounded.

Everything hurts.

A drove of emotions kicked through me while I sat in the jail cell, waiting to be bailed out.

Sadness. Anger. Abandonment.

Last night was supposed to be a parade of romance while celebrating six months with my boyfriend, Quinton.

Correction: ex-boyfriend after he deserted my ass.

What great taste I have.

Fall for a man who bails when the cuffs come out.

Instead, my night ended with me incarcerated and him walking free.

“What?” Kyle shouts.

I wince.

He raises his voice. “You don’t want me to be loud?”

I roll my eyes, yank the door open, and hop into the passenger seat while Kyle slides into the driver’s side.

“Thanks for bailing me out,” I grumble. Frustrating or not, I have to respect the man who rescued me from jail.

He shakes his head and starts the Jeep. “You’re not goddamn welcome.”

“I should’ve called Rex.” I jerk the seat belt across my body. “He wouldn’t have freaked out like this.” My younger brother would’ve arrived with an iced coffee and offered me a high five.

“Had I not been able to pull strings, I’m sure you would’ve.”

Facts.

Kyle is a cop, and with his help, I hoped for a speedier release.

Which happened.

I chose less jail time over an iced caramel macchiato.

Proof I don’t always make stupid decisions.

Kyle runs a hand through his dark hair. “You ready to face Mom and Dad?”

“Hell to the no.” I pin my gaze on him. “Which is why, dear brother, you’re keeping your mouth shut about this little adventure.”

I’m twenty-one. My parents don’t need to be filled in on every component of my life. There are things a lady should keep private and all.

“Too late. The university called to inform them of your expulsion.” A heavy sigh leaves him. “Hell of a wake-up call for Mom.”

The fuck?

“They can do that?” I shriek. “Don’t they have, like … a HIPAA for criminal records?”

His lips twitch as he fights back a smile. “You lose confidentiality when you break the law.”

“Remind me to write to the attorney general about that bullshit.”

“I have more news.” He offers me a pitying glance.

“This is all a prank, and I’m on some reality show?”

“You wish.” He snorts. “Our next stop is your little sorority house to pick up your shit since they’re evicting you.”

My lips tremble. “How can they do that? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

When it rains, it apparently pours and kicks you out of college.

I’m throwing out humor. It’s who I am.

On the inside? I’m choking back the urge to vomit.

The urge to break down in tears.

This arrest will ruin every life plan of mine: college, law school, becoming a successful attorney.

One mistake.

All aspirations shattered.

“This is ridiculous,” I snap, tossing my bag on the floorboard.

“You broke the rules—broke the law.”

I didn’t break shit. I cried to the officers, claiming my innocence, but someone had to take the fall. That someone ended up being me. With tearful eyes, I begged Quinton to confess. He refused, and his lie resulted in my arrest. The asshole didn’t even bother to bail me out either.

“Oh, like Becky didn’t break the law, forcing us to take ecstasy during rush,” I scoff. “Or when Sam drunkenly smashed a cop car’s windows? Neither were booted.”

Kyle shakes his head. “You should’ve taken tips from Becky and Sam on how not to get kicked out then.”

I slump in my seat. “I’m fucked.”

He nods. “You’re fucked.”

Expelled.

Kicked out.

Criminal.

All for a crime I didn’t commit.

Chapter Two

Cassidy

One Month Later

One bad date destroyed my future.

Booted me from my sorority.

Granted me with a criminal record.

My present-day life, ladies and gentlemen.

Following my arrest, my world became a shitshow. My mom sobbed. My father threatened to ship me off to military school. I reminded him that wasn’t possible since I was an adult.

What was possible?

Him cutting me off.

Which was what he did after my little I’m an adult remark.

“You’re a college expellee and irresponsible,” he said after breaking the news that he’d no longer support me.

They did at least foot the attorney bill that helped drag me out of the mess Quinton had thrown me into. My punishment ended in probation and community service.

Word of advice: don’t listen to the sugary pop songs.

Bad boys are never good for you.

After collecting my belongings from the sorority house, I moved in with my older sister, Sierra, in our hometown of Blue Beech, Iowa. News travels fast in small towns, so it didn’t take long for my arrest to hit the gossip mill. Everywhere I went, I was asked about my jail stay.

“What did you do?”

“Are you a drug addict?”

“Were you, like, dealing with the Mafia?”

Like, no, Karen. I was put in a crappy situation and screwed myself.

No hot Mafia heroes here.

I decided it was time to leave my old life behind. The problem was, I was on probation, and I couldn’t legally venture too far. Sierra stepped in and found me a job. I used my savings to rent a one-bedroom apartment in Anchor Ridge, two towns over from Blue Beech. Even with the short distance, there’s a relief, walking into a coffee shop without being known as the troublesome daughter of Blue Beech’s mayor.

Now, I’m just the customer who orders a deathly amount of espresso shots in her coffee. One employee actually wished me well in the next life, claiming no one could survive that much caffeine. Taking that as a challenge, I ordered an extra shot the next day.

All of that led me to my new job at the sports bar, Twisted Fox. Maliki’s—Sierra’s boyfriend—best friends own the place, and they agreed to hire me. My first shift is tonight, so I’m dealing with a ball of nerves in my stomach the best way I know how—by drinking two vanilla lattes and cramming four mini Snickers bars into my mouth on the drive there.

I walk into the crowded bar, and Finn, the bouncer, jerks his head in greeting. Casually dressed patrons with beers in their hands yell at the display of mounted TVs—a different sport on each screen. A long wooden bar is stretched along the back, a mirrored wall behind it, throwing back the reflections of the happenings in the building.

The sweet aroma of fried bar food trails with each step I take toward the employees-only door in the back, following the directions I was given. Venturing down a short hall, I knock on Cohen’s office door.

The co-owner answers and waves me into the room. Since Cohen is Maliki’s best friend, I’ve met him a few times. Last weekend, Sierra dragged me to his birthday party and introduced me to my new coworkers.

We briefly chat before he passes me a stack of forms to complete. Twenty minutes later, I return to the front of the bar in search of Georgia—my trainer for the night and Cohen’s younger sister.

I do a sweep of the bar and spot Georgia waving me over in a similar fashion as her brother did.

“Hey, girl!” she shouts.

I wade through the crowd, dodging a group of guys arguing over a sports call while women yell at them to grow up, and join Georgia and her friends at the pub table.

“Hey.” I pull out the stool and plop down next to her before exchanging hellos with her friends—Lola, Grace, and Silas—all people I met at the party.

While they make conversation around us, Georgia guides me through the employee handbook and training packet. I’ve never waitressed before, but the job seems simple enough. I’m a people person. I got this.

Georgia claps when we’re finished. “You ready?”

“I think so.” I twist my watch and do another scan of the room.

That’s when my gaze lands on the man behind the bar, and all background commotion fades. A black shirt, sleeves rolled up and cuffed at the elbows, reveals his muscular frame. Biting into my lip, I drink him in as if he were the cocktail he’s pouring into a glass, a bachelorette party cheering him on in the process. He’s older—my guess, five to six years on me. Thick raven-black hair is trimmed short on the edge and longer on top. I play with my fingers, wishing I could run them over the scruffy stubble stretching along his cheeks and strong chin.

The woman’s eyes light up with as much desire as mine as he slides the glass to her.

It’s him.

The type of man I shouldn’t want.

The type of man who is nothing but heartache and criminal records.

Dear heavenly father, please forgive me. I want to sin with this man.

“Who is he?” I point at my future boy toy. “I want him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

The table falls silent while all focus moves in the direction of the guy I’m nearly drooling after. The mood has shifted, and everyone’s eyes avoid me.

“You might be eating those meals through a straw if you keep staring at Archer like that in front of Georgia,” Silas says.

“Archer?” I shake my head and look away from my new man crush.

No wonder everyone is shooting me death glares. They think I’m referring to Georgia’s boyfriend.

“Not him,” I clarify before I’m fired or stabbed. “We met at the barbecue. I’m talking about the guy next to him.” Mentally, I slap my forehead and inhale a sharp breath.

Dear heavenly father, it’s me again. Please do not let that guy be one of the other girl’s boyfriends.

That’d be just my luck.

“Lincoln?” Silas asks, cocking his head to the side while staring at me. “Archer’s brother?”

My muscles relax, as a drink hasn’t been thrown in my face. “If that’s the man next to him, then yes. Is he single? Can I have him? What’s his favorite breakfast, so I can make it for him on our morning after?”

Everyone laughs while I do the same.

“Be careful, newbie.” Silas scratches his cheek. “We have a strict no relationship between employees rule around here. Too much drama.”

I glance at Georgia, raising a brow. “Aren’t you and Archer dating? They both work here.”

“They’re the exception,” Lola states matter-of-factly.

I smile, perking up. “Maybe I can be the exception too.”

Although I have no pull around here. Georgia has the advantage of dating the co-owner. Pretty sure they make the rules but don’t have to follow them. Maybe I can have the benefit of nepotism on my side, and Archer will allow his brother and me to fraternize.

Instead of replying, Georgia checks her watch and stands. “All right. Time to get this training party started.”

Georgia reminds me of myself. She’s quirky and a ball of energy, and everyone loves her.

I slide off my stool and am on her heels as she gives me a tour of the bar and introduces me to the employees I haven’t met.

Oh shit.

Here we go.

My heart freezes and then pounds when we stop at the bar. The new closeness provides me with a better look at Lincoln, a better look at every physical feature I find attractive.

I know; I know. Boys get me in trouble.

Literally.

Something about this man is different.

Maybe it’s my being on a strict no-guys diet and my weakness is standing in front of me.

Maybe it’s that the only eye candy I had for months was Blue Beech eye candy, and that shit hasn’t changed since middle school.

A little flirting won’t hurt, and it’ll keep me entertained in this new, boring life of mine.

“You met Archer.” Georgia’s sugary-sweet voice snaps me back into reality. “And this is Lincoln. They’re our bartenders for the night.”

I display my flirtiest smile, hoping it’s not overkill.

He returns the smile; it’s friendly, easygoing, nowhere near as desperate as mine.

Dammit.

“Hi, I’m Cassidy.” I step in closer. “Your future wife.”

I was voted Most Outspoken in my senior class.

Talk to a crowded room? No problem.

Meet new people? Sign me up.

My lack of shyness and wit is why my parents said I’d make a great attorney.

Thanks for ruining that, asshole ex.

I went from studying the law to breaking it.

Georgia snorts behind me as I level my attention on Lincoln. He throws his head back and laughs. It’s deep, rumbling, masculine—my new favorite sound.

“You working here?” He tilts his head forward and smiles. It’s a smile that nearly buckles my knees. “Are you even old enough to legally buy a drink?”

Hot and a smart-ass.

One point for Lincoln.

This will be fun.

“Obviously,” I fire back. “Or they wouldn’t have hired me.”

“I stand corrected.” He winks. “I’m the fun bartender.” He jerks his head toward Archer. “He’s not.”

Archer gives him a warning glare.

Lincoln shrugs with a smirk.

I grin harder.

Archer murders our flirting when he says, “You go train away, baby,” to his girlfriend. He slaps her ass with a towel and kisses her.

I’d place my hand over my chest and moan aww had he not thrown off my flirting with his brother.

With a silent groan, I shuffle away from the bar on Georgia’s heels, forcing myself not to check if Lincoln is watching me.

“So … why aren’t you working at Maliki’s bar?” Georgia asks.

I expected that question. Maliki owns the Down Home Pub in Blue Beech. It’d make sense if I needed a job, he’d give me one. He offered, but I declined.

“I got into some trouble.” I mentally curse myself at the admission and backtrack to what I planned to say. “And we decided I needed to get out of town for a while.”

I decided.

My mother claimed it was a terrible idea. My father swore I’d fall into more trouble, working at a bar.

Georgia perks up, fanning strands of thick brown hair out of her eyes. “What kind of trouble?”

“Just stupid stuff that got me kicked out of college.” I wince, wishing I hadn’t said that either.

“Oh, I’m going to get that story out of you some time.” She laughs and swats my shoulder.

I’m grateful she doesn’t push for more.

Waitressing isn’t as easy as it looks.

Twisted Fox’s crowd has nearly doubled since the start of my training, and as the night grows later, the customers grow needier.

More handsy.

Ruder.

Drunker.

After shadowing Georgia for an hour, she gave me two tables of my own to serve. All of them are easy two-tops, but hey, I’ll take it. She instructed me to tell Finn if anyone gave me trouble. As a girl who attended frat parties like they were her second major, my creep meter is legit. I can spot a dude who’s contemplating catching a feel or slipping a roofie in seconds.

“You bitch!”

Whipping around at the comment, I spot Georgia across the room with a man standing in front of her.

He pulls his shirt out, his face wild and inebriation bleeding through him, and inspects a red stain. “You ruined my shirt!”

“You okay, Georgia?” I yell, a chill snaking up my spine.

Creep meter is losing its shit over here.

She nods, giving me a thumbs-up, and talks to the guy. When he grabs her ass, I dash in their direction. Her tray crashes to the floor, and he stumbles when she shoves him.

“What the fuck?” Archer screams, jumping over the bar like a damn hyena and storming toward them.

Oh shit.

My throat turns dry as I witness the fiasco along with everyone else in the bar. Not one TV is getting an ounce of attention at the moment. Not one drink is being sipped. This is now tonight’s show, and it’s better than any Real Housewives reunion.

“Archer, no!” Georgia yells at her boyfriend.

“Fuck that shit,” Archer roars. “Move, Georgia.” He levels his gaze on the asshole and tightens his fist.

The murderous glare on his masculine face has me convinced the drunk dude isn’t leaving in one piece tonight.

“He’s drunk,” Georgia pleads. “Let Finn kick him out.”

“Nah,” Archer says, spit flying from his mouth. “I’ll take the trash out myself.”

I cover my mouth to conceal my chuckle.

Good comeback there, Archer.

Lincoln appears at his brother’s side. “I got this.” It’s a failed attempt to ease his brother.

“Oh, look,” the jerk mocks. “The assholes are coming to her rescue.”

I throw my arms up.

Dude deserves at least one punch from Archer.

“Georgia,” Archer yells, advancing toward the man, “goddamnit, move.”

My attention flicks to Georgia when she calls out my name and asks me to round up Asshole’s friends.

I nod and scramble toward their table. “Seriously, grab your friend and get out of here before he gets his ass handed to him.” As much as I’d love to witness Archer teaching him a lesson, it can’t happen here.

With a string of curses and glares, they down their drinks and stand. I snort when one mutters, “Chad is done being invited to guys’ night. Dude is a fucking hothead.”

We’re too slow to save the day. Archer circles around Georgia to kick Chad’s ass, and she attempts to block him. It all becomes a blur of movements and shit-talking, and in the end, Georgia falls and smacks her head on the ground.

Chapter Three

Lincoln

It happened faster than when I’d come the night I lost my virginity.

Two pumps, and I had been apologizing to my unsatisfied date.

Two seconds, and Archer attempted to kill the guy who had grabbed Georgia’s ass.

The problem was, he hadn’t planned on her jumping in to stop him.

I stand out of the way as the ambulance wheels an unconscious Georgia out on the stretcher. With flaring nostrils and not a word to anyone, Cohen rushes out of the bar behind them. Archer sprints out seconds later.

The instigator and his friends fled the scene at the mention of cops. When the cops and EMTs arrived, everyone turned silent, so there were no distractions as they took care of Georgia. An uncomfortable silence—something I’d never heard in Twisted Fox—hung in the air as people pleaded for Georgia to just open her eyes.

Terror took residence on my brother’s face, regret flashing alongside it, and I cracked my knuckles. Everything would change after tonight.

How much? I’m not sure yet.

“You okay to keep the bar covered?” Silas asks, chewing on a toothpick while eyeing the bar—customers staring at each other in question, unsure if they should return to screaming at ref calls or go home.

Archer being gone leaves me slinging drinks solo. Not that I mind. Even if he’d tried to stay, I’d have forced him to go be with Georgia. Half the bar cleared out after the cops arrived, so it’s manageable. Even if it wasn’t, I’d lie.

“I got this,” I answer with a nod.

“Appreciate it, man.” He slaps me on the back. “Prepare to be there for your brother.”

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