Somethin' Bad

Somethin’ Bad

A Corps Security in Hope Town Story

By Cat Mason

Table of Contents

Title Page

Somethin' Bad

Chapter One | Sienna

Chapter Two | Sienna

Chapter Three | Matt

Chapter Four | Sienna

Chapter Five | Matt

Chapter Six | Sienna

Chapter Seven | Sienna

Chapter Eight | Sienna

Chapter Nine | Matt

Chapter Ten | Sienna

Chapter Eleven | Matt

Chapter Twelve | Sienna

Chapter Thirteen | Sienna

Chapter Fourteen | Sienna

Chapter Fifteen | Matt

Chapter Sixteen | Sienna

Chapter Seventeen | Sienna

Chapter Eighteen | Matt

Epilogue | Sienna | One year later

Acknowledgements

Sign up for Cat Mason's Mailing List

All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic or photographic) in part or whole without expressed written consent from Amy Cox a.k.a. Cat Mason.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, brands, and events are either products of the author’s imagination, borrowed with permission from the fabulous mind of Harper Sloan to participate in her Hope Town World, or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual events or persons living or deceased are completely coincidental.

Copyright © Cat Mason Books 2017

First Publication September 2017, previously featured as a part of Amazon Kindle Worlds.

Cover Design by: Drue Hoffman, Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

Editing by: Asli Fratarcangeli

This work was made possible by a special license through the former Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Harper Sloan.  All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Corps Security and Hope Town series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Harper Sloan. 

Chapter One

Sienna

WORK IT, BABY! BRIGGS shouts, her hazel eyes dancing with amusement as she watches the shirtless man dancing on top of the bar closest to us. With a sexy grin, he grinds his hips, fucking the air in perfect time to the music. Licking her bright red lips, Briggs nods in satisfaction. I’d rip the denim off that ass with my teeth, she adds with a growl.

The club name, Dirty Dog, couldn’t be more fitting to describe the place my two best friends, Briggs and Kelsie; they demanded we go tonight to celebrate my birthday. Each of the perfectly sculpted, shirtless men dancing and tending bar instantly have your mind thinking the dirtiest thoughts the moment you lay eyes on them. Everything about the music and the bodies moving rhythmically to the beat scream sex and excitement.

Something that I’ll be the first to admit has been lacking in my life lately.

The music is thumping, the bass vibrating beneath my feet as my hips sway slowly as if they have a mind of their own. When we first stepped inside tonight, the overstimulation of the bustling nightclub, and the huge crowd of people waiting in the large indoor staging area, had me overwhelmed and ready to take my ass right back home. That was before Briggs handed a bouncer at the door some tickets that, somehow, managed to get us around the long wait I anticipated standing in all night.

However, Briggs pulled out all the stops. Once inside, we snagged a table far enough away from the dancefloor and speakers to be able to carry on somewhat of a normal conversation without having to scream. Now, having gotten a few drinks in me, I am having a blast.

If he dances like that... I let the thought hang in the air as I stare shamelessly.

Mhm, Briggs agrees. A man like that leaves scorch marks on your bedsheets.

I wonder when he goes on break, Kelsie says, fanning herself. Ten minutes in a bathroom stall is all I need.

The bathroom? I ask, turning to her and arching a brow. You’re such a slut.

Am not! Reaching over, she slaps my arm. I’m a sexual opportunist.

Mhm, Briggs snorts, tossing her curly black hair over her shoulder so that it tumbles down her back. You’re also crazy as hell for thinking you’ll be able to walk after ten minutes of those hips pounding into you. Whew. She presses the back of her hand to her forehead. He would put your ass in a cock-induced coma for days.

You honestly think he’d even last the whole ten minutes? Kelsie asks skeptically.

Dancers. Have. Stamina, Briggs answers, enunciating each work with a roll of her hips. They don’t call the man Dent for nothing.

I’m pretty sure they call him that because it’s his name, Kelsie argues, blinking slowly as she stares Briggs down.

Don’t ruin the fantasy, B replies, flipping her off.

Laughing, I move my eyes back to the dancer. Wearing only a pair of faded blue jeans, that stretch perfectly over his ass and thighs, and black cowboy boots, he spins before dropping to his knees on the bar top. The top half of his body bounces, almost as if he were on a spring, sending the women gathered around the bar, begging for his attention, into hysterics. Especially a very frisky seventy-year-old in a pair of rainbow striped sneakers.

Tessa! I shout, my voice lost in the distance between us to the music and screaming ladies. Oh my God! What the hell is she doing here? I ask, knowing she has to be up in four hours to be at work. After all, she does work for me.

Looks like she’s about two seconds away from climbing up there and showing him how it’s done, Briggs laughs, bumping me with her hip.

Dear God, I groan, knowing that, with Tessa, anything is possible. I hope not.

A waitress wearing a skin-tight black corset and the shortest black shorts I have ever seen, struts up to the table carrying a tray filled with several shots of what looks like tequila. Here we go, ladies, she says, placing it down in front of me. Bottoms up.

Oh no, I blurt, holding up both my hands. I’m at my limit.

Fuck that. Shifting the tray, Briggs takes two of the shot glasses and places them in front of me. Limitations are forbidden on your birthday.

Until midnight, I remind her, tapping the face of my watch. Which is in twenty minutes. I should call it a night.

Not a chance, she replies, shaking her head. We’re staying. I’ll get us a hotel if I have to. Waggling her brows, she smiles wickedly. "Tonight, you let loose. Do somethin’ bad."

You do realize that never ends well, right? I ask, trying to be the voice of reason. I know all too well how it goes when I let my guard down and act reckless.

Two against one, Kelsie chimes in as the screaming from over at the bar begins to die down. Yanking some cash from her wristlet, she hands it to the waitress before grabbing my arm. You’re too damn serious lately, Sienna. Taking a wobbly step closer, she pouts her bright pink lips. For one night, let your inner slut come out to play.

She’s no competition for your outer slut, babe, I tease, earning me both of Kelsie’s freshly manicured middle fingers. And it’s called being responsible. There’s worse things I could be.

Don’t be a hater, bitch, Briggs taunts with a smile. You need to lose that stick you shoved up your ass since your break up with that mechanic and find a dick to replace it with.

Timmy, Kelsie says, nudging her in the ribs with her elbow. His name was Timmy.

His name was Jimmy, I correct them both, not wanting to get into the issue further. The last thing I need to do tonight is rehash the ending of my failed relationship with Jimmy Anderson. The man was smooth enough to make me believe every lie he ever told, while he actively scoped out other women like he was sampling ice cream flavors. I came home to catch him bending a fucking pizza delivery girl over the arm of my couch. The son of a bitch broke my heart, along with ruining my ability to ever order my favorite pizza again.

Fuck love.

Who needs love when you have tequila and shirtless gyrating men?

Who gives a shit about that loser, Tessa interrupts, shoving up to the table. Climbing onto the bar stool, she grabs both shots in front of me, downing them in quick succession. Whistling through her teeth, she meets my eyes. It’s been long enough, Sienna. Time for a palate cleanser.

What are you doing here? I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.

Don’t you worry about what I’m doing here. Flinging her purse up onto the table, she fishes out some cash. Worry about what you’re doing here, she chuckles. "More like what you’re not doing."

Huh?

I think she means you need a random cock chaser to wash away your pissy mood, Briggs chimes in. A transiti-dick.

Oooh! Kelsie cheers, clapping her hands together. That’s a great idea.

"I highly doubt a random D all up in my V is going to cleanse anything," I inform them all, taking a shot from the tray. The alcohol burns slightly going down, followed by a sudden rush of heat that floods my body almost immediately. Grabbing two more, I swallow them quick, feeling relief when they go down easier than the first.

Why the hell not? Tessa asks. You should flaunt it while you’ve got it, sweetheart. Trust me, she says, gesturing up and down her body. Before you know it, gravity will have your boobs sagging into the front pockets of your jeans.

I think you’re being overdramatic, I deadpan, rolling my eyes.

Overdramatic would be picking you up a male prostitute, she counters, her lips quirking up into a thoughtful smile. Actually, that’s not a bad idea.

No! I shout, holding up both hands. Absolutely not.

I’m kidding, she assures me with a cackle. Mostly. Dropping from the stool, she gives my arm a reassuring pat. Don’t waste that buzz, Sienna. I’m going to work myself through those specialty drinks up on that board. She waggles her brows suggestively. I hear some come with dance numbers.

Tess— My sentence is quickly cut off by a dismissive wave of her hand as she heads back to the bar.

Did you bring bail money? Kelsie asks, looking to me with an amused smirk.

Nope. Shaking my head, I take another shot, watching as Tessa struts her ass right up to the man who had just been dancing and hands him the entire wad of cash in her hand. "I know the drill. If Tessa