OGs:Deep Down(4)

By: Elle Aycart

They stared at each other for a long second.

Man, to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

How the fuck was he going to pull this off?

“Mike,” Kyra greeted him, her voice clipped.

She wasn’t happier than he was at this moment. She stood stiff, eyeing the door as if she might bolt at any second. But he knew she wouldn’t. Like him, she’d always had a soft spot for his grandmother. Never mind how badly Kyra might need the money, she would be running out the door if this gig didn’t involve the OGs. Or maybe not. Who the fuck knew her now? Certainly not him. He wondered if he ever did.

Shaking those thoughts away, he nodded in her general direction. His cock followed suit.

Christ. He had to get the fuck out of here.

He threw a dirty glance to his grandmother, who now was shamelessly smiling. Wilma and Greta, her sisters in mischief, were smiling too.

“Let’s get cracking,” the evil woman said, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him forward. “Come stand here in front of Kyra.”

He lifted his gaze up, chanced another look at Kyra, and his dick twitched again. Oh hell. These boxers were no barrier. At all. They were going to start tenting in three…two…one.

And cue public humiliation.

Well, if his cock burst straight through his pants and gave her friends a collective heart attack, his grandmother would have no one to blame but herself. Then again, sending half the senior population in Alden to the ER would be a hell of a way to end his Wednesday. He would never live that one down.

He took in a slow breath, and reaching deep inside into the place where he kept it all locked away, he released every ounce of pain that came hand in hand with Kyra, allowing the memories to flood into his mind. And with that, he felt his dick retreating.


Now he could do this.

OH GOD. HE was coming back. Stalking into the room like a cornered panther, baring his teeth. His body tense, his huge muscles bulging.

He was breathtaking.

Kyra had almost fallen on her ass the second she’d seen Mike there. Only a lifetime of training in not showing her emotions had kept her standing.

He’d been smiling. That lazy, drawn-out smile she’d loved so much. Until he’d seen her. Then his face had fallen along with his smile and his expressive eyes. Now his gaze was blank. And his jaw about to split in two.

She would have loved to run away, much in the same manner he’d done. And not just out of this room, but out of this town and this state. Out of her frigging life. But she couldn’t. And there was Sam to think about.

She needed the money, so she hid her shaking hands behind her back, breathed in deep and slow, and brought up that memory, the one of Mike looking straight at her and shattering her world. Rage filled her, cracking up her spine. Stilling the tremor in her hands.


Now she could do this.

Chapter Two

Two days later

A couple of miles outside Alden

“Oh no, no, no. Please don’t die on me. Not today on top of everything else. Just hold on a bit longer.” Kyra tried negotiating, but the little white car rattled some more and then, with a big rumble and a final shake, came to a stop, a thick curtain of smoke rising from it and clouding the windshield.

Kyra would have punched the steering wheel if she wasn’t scared her forty-year-old Fiat 600 would crumble into dust from the small hit.

Jeez, there must be someone up there who really had it in for her.

She reached for her cell, just to remember the battery was dead. Damn. She could walk the couple of miles to town, but she was already late, and Angie was probably waiting for her in the diner. Not to mention that after the hell of a day she’d had, she was completely exhausted, physically and emotionally.

She scanned her surroundings, all empty lots except for a strip club named Bottoms Up less than a hundred yards ahead.

Okay, so when given lemons…bottoms up, right? She would have laughed at her stupid joke, but she was afraid she’d break into tears, and God only knew when that pity party would finish.

She walked to the entrance of the club and, with an apologetic look, showed her phone to the bouncer. “My cell died. Any chance I can come in to make a call?”

The bouncer looked at her, then turned to her smoking car across the street. “It looks like your marshmallow died too.”

“Nuh, the old lady’s overheated. In two hours it will be as good as new.”

Well, two hours, a new motor, massive restoration, and a boatload of fairy dust, but who was splitting hairs here?

The bouncer gave her an amused look and, moving aside, motioned with his chin toward the door. “There’s a pay phone by the counter.”

Although it was early in the evening, the music was loud and the place was busy, with a fair number of patrons watching a pretty, heavily made-up girl with gravity-defying assets dancing around a pole on the central stage.