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    Heal Me: Club Surrender
    Heal Me: Club Surrender
    Heal Me: Club Surrender
    Ebook123 pages2 hours

    Heal Me: Club Surrender

    By A.C. Nixon

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    About this ebook

    Ryann

    All I wanted to do was get out of Chicago and away from my abusive ex, but one Versace clad assassin (and inspiration for my battery powered fantasies) had other ideas. One glance at Dorian Zuba, and I knew he was dangerous in a way that left a trail of mangled hearts and sated women, but it was too late. I was hooked, and there was no turning back. Had I known falling for this man could lead to my kidnapping and my inevitable undoing, I might not've let myself get so close to Dorian.

    But even I knew that was a lie.

    Dorian

    My job was simple: Find the person responsible for drugging women at Club Surrender and get rid of them. What I wasn't counting on was her. Ryann wasn't just sexy as hell, she challenged me in ways I didn't think were still possible. But caring for her meant she was a target. The people I was hunting would do anything to stop me, even if that meant hurting Ryann. How could I put the woman I cared for in danger?

    But more importantly, how could I let her go?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherA.C. Nixon
    Release dateFeb 13, 2017
    ISBN9781386202486
    Heal Me: Club Surrender

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      Book preview

      Heal Me - A.C. Nixon

      Chapter One

      Dorian

      I didn’t do good girls.

      Finding a partner or two and scratching that itch was easy enough—as long as they didn’t expect pillow talk and breakfast.

      It ain’t that kind of party.

      I’ll fuck a woman until we’re both so sated neither of us could walk—unless it’s out the door.

      I own a nightclub; that alone offers a smorgasbord of pussy—White, Black, Asian, Hispanic—you name it, I’ve tapped it. So why did I keep driving to Centerville, Wisconsin from Chicago for halfway decent food and second-rate liquor?

      Maybe I was losing my shit. This could be one of those midlife crises.

      Nah, forty-two was too young for that. I have a life most men dream of—more money than I’ll ever need, a business I love, and surrounded by the best fucking friends on the planet.

      Yet here I stood, at Chuck’s Chop House. How original.

      Welcome back. The perky and way too young for me hostess led me to my table. She tried to seat me in someone else’s section last time—not happening. My table happened to be in whatever section Ryann worked. Jesus, I was a sick fuck. And if she knew just how twisted I was, she’d get a damned restraining order.

      It wouldn’t stop me, but it might make the chase that much more interesting.

      The object of my current—and only—obsession walked toward my table with the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. She didn’t fit my usual type, but everything about her worked.

      She reminded me of a piece of sculpture in the making. As the sculptor chipped away at the marble, it appeared unimpressive, insignificant, and quite boring. Then, with a flick of his wrist and a swipe with a rasp, bam, a masterpiece lay before you.

      Even the drab uniform of a white shirt and black slacks failed to dim her radiance. I wanted to remove that offensive polyester uniform and cover her in nothing but the softest of wools and the most delicate of laces.

      Of course that would be after I filled her with my cock. Her long, elegant neck begged for a collar. Maybe I could bring her down to Chicago and set her up in a place. It helps to own a building. And she’d have to live close, so she could satisfy my cravings whenever the fuck—

      Hello, Dorian. Ryann placed a menu and a glass of water, no ice, in front of me and licked her lips. How are you?

      I’m good, sweetheart. I couldn’t decide which part of her body I liked best. A lot of men liked tits, legs, or ass, but me, I loved the base of a woman’s back, right where her ass begins its curve. Which was why the ass-less need not apply.

      Don’t get me wrong, I loved women—all women. But the only ones allowed in my bed needed curves—the more the better. This woman wasn’t just a soft place for my cock to slide into. No, not my Ryann. I wanted to fuck her unconscious, then wake her up with my mouth on her beautiful—

      You going to take a walk on the wild side and order something different today? She pulled a pad and pencil out of the black half apron and waited.

      What would you recommend? Other than me bending you over this table and making you my dinner?

      That you go to a better restaurant, she said with a smile that chased the sadness I sometimes saw in her eyes away. Then again— She shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the thought.

      Too late. No need to fight it; at this point it was useless. We should just do this thing and get it out of our system. A couple of months, a couple of weeks, it didn’t matter—we wouldn’t last.

      I’ll take the usual. I’d cut her some slack—for now. But this night would end with us in my bed. We didn’t have to fuck tonight; I wasn’t a damned animal. I could wait—until the morning.

      I stopped hiding, stopped feigning mild interest. I put every bit of heat in my gaze. I put in every dirty thing I wanted to do to her body and dared her to accept the challenge.

      The widening of her eyes and the tiny whimper told me I wouldn’t be waiting until the morning. As a matter of fact, if she kept looking at me like that, she wouldn’t finish her shift unfucked.

      Okay. She spun and left so fast I felt a breeze behind her.

      No way in hell should she be working here, and she sure as hell shouldn’t be living in that dump she called home. I’d never be a knight in shining armor rushing in, offering happy ever after, but I sure as hell could and would help her out of a tight spot.

      Something about being around her made me feel clean. Not my thoughts, because when it came to her, they were downright filthy. She also eased me.

      Centerville was a shithole. I should know, I grew up here. Thank fuck for football and the scholarship that changed my life. Too bad it didn’t stop me from being...well, me. No one in the neighborhood figured Dorian Zuba—the bad Polack—would amount to anything.

      But Northwestern put me in the path of two men as fucked up as I was and we clicked. The rest, as they say, was making history, chasing woman, and making a shit-ton of money—most of it legal.

      And that business put Ryann in my path.

      The hostess sat an older couple, probably in their eighties, a couple of tables over. The sweet open smile Ryann gave them as she approached the table twisted something in my chest that I thought died a long time ago.

      They didn’t look like they had a lot of cake to throw around. Hell, coming here was probably a big deal, but you wouldn’t know it by the way Ryann treated them. I liked that—she treated everyone the same until they pissed her off. Rich, or spending their last two nickels, I watched her treat everyone with courtesy and kindness—even those that didn’t deserve it.

      The last asshole I saw disrespecting her won’t be coming back. It’s kind of hard to dine out with two broken arms. What can I say? I hate assholes that take pleasure in treating someone like crap because of what they did for work. All those businessmen kissing my ass and wanting my money would cross the street and avoid eye contact if I were broke.

      I was born with the opposite of the Midas touch, and with the exception of few things, I fucked up everything I came in contact with. With a clarity that damned near blinded me, I knew if she got involved with me, the trappings might be prettier, but sooner or later, I would ruin her. Maybe... No, no maybe about it. The best thing that could happen for her was me walking the fuck away.

      Maybe I wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole after all.

      I slid out of the booth and tossed all the cash I had on the table. One thousand dollars should be enough to cover my dinner and help her out of whatever jam she was in.

      Of course, this being me, it happened as my fucking T-bone arrived.

      You’re leaving? Ryann looked down at the stack of fifties then back up at me. I hope everything is okay. She sat the tray on the table and reached for my hand, and I jerked away.

      Pay for their meal too, and the rest is yours.

      It’s too much. She shook her head.

      No. I wanted just one taste, but I knew sure as shit one sip from her sweetness would never be enough. You deserve more than that, and I wish I could be the man to give it to you. Goodbye, Ryann.

      I didn’t wait for a response, I couldn’t.

      I walked into the crisp April night, taking one last look at Ryann and the surprise and sadness on her face, and wished she knew that I was one apple she should never take a bite of.

      Chapter Two

      Ryann

      What the hell was that? Maybe the mafia called and wanted their assassin back. Okay, that wasn’t fair. From the way my big-hearted gangster looked, it very well could be. I cleaned the Goldstein’s table, smiling at the generosity of my bad boy. Not only did he make their night special, but I found myself one step closer to Seattle.

      If my stupid pride would get out

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