Nova (MorningStar MC Novels, New Orleans Chapter #2)

Prologue

Six Months Ago

“ A nother?”

I sigh as I tap the bar to acknowledge the bartender’s question. I had another hour to kill before my client arrived.

I’d flown into Vegas for a job with a regular. She was a pleasant older widow who needed a little eye candy on her arm for a corporate event. She pays well and never asks for…extras.

When you’re a male escort, that is a plus.

Gladys’s flight was late, so here I am, sitting at a random bar on the Strip, waiting, drinking, and thinking.

Those last two never go well together.

I love what I do, and I protect my employees fiercely. I have two loving families that I wouldn’t trade for all the world, but yet I feel empty. Something is definitely missing, and the older I get, the more pronounced that vacancy grows.

It’s a hole in my chest that I try to fill with sex.

Some may call it an addiction. I call it a work hazard.

The bartender delivers my second drink as the front doors burst open. I turn to see what all the commotion is about and lock eyes with the most magnificent woman I’ve ever seen.

Her eyes are full of tears, and I’m standing to kill whoever’s hurt her in an instant.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This chick is a complete stranger, but my chest is burning to right her wrongs.

“Simone, wait! It wasn’t what you think!” A tall, muscular man chases her as she moves to stay out of his reach.

“Are you fucking serious? So your dick just fell into my sister’s mouth during her wedding rehearsal? Right.” She throws the words over her shoulder as she heads my way.

I take my seat again but never drop my gaze.

“Simone, please let me explain.” Her purse lands next to my arm, and her arm flies up to get the bartender’s attention like an eager student in a classroom.

I lift my drink to my lips, white-knuckled.

She smells fucking amazing. It’s taking all my will power not to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her onto my lap to get her away from the douchebag still trying to talk to her.

“White wine,” she sighs the words as if she’s praying the alcohol she ordered would right her world.

I turn my eyes to the guy. Tyler? Yeah, that name fits him. He had Trust Fund, a country club asshole, written all over his stance.

He catches me watching them and sneers at me.

I raise an eyebrow and size him up. When I look back at his face he swallows hard.

That’s right, asshole. I’m no one to be fucked with.

“It was one last time!” Wow.

I can’t even hide my chuckle at this idiot’s words.

She turned to him slowly, and the motherfucker had the decency to drop his eyes when he realized his epic mistake. I sit back, ready to watch the show, and take another sip of my whiskey.

“Last time? Tell me, Tyler, how often have you been fucking my sister? Does your brother know?” I choke on her words.

My eyes flip to the douche who has the audacity to smirk.

“Well, yeah. We’ve been switching on our girls since high school. But tonight was the last time, I swear!” Is he fucking serious?

This man gives men a bad nane. If I weren’t a twin myself, I wouldn’t have known what he meant. Thank God Mav and I never did that shit. Our mama raised gentleman.

Suddenly, the woman, Simone, I believe he called her, slaps him so hard that the sound echoes across the bar.

“Simone,“ he rubs his jaw as she works the ring off her finger and throws it at his chest. It bounces and rolls under a nearby table.

She was going to marry him!

“Sir, I think you should get that and leave.” I stand and flex my muscles to loosen my shoulders.

“Stay out of this!” He hisses in my face, and I smile.

“Do I need to call the cops?” The bartender asks as he sets her wine glass down.

“Yes.” Her voice says.

“No,” Tyler hisses in my face before she can finish talking.

I lean into Tyler and whisper not so quietly, so she can hear every word.

“Tyler, is it? From what I just heard, you admitted to letting your brother rape your ex-fiancee. I’d take the ring and find a good attorney.” Tyler’s face drains of all color.

“Oh god.” Her voice sounds off, and I glance to see her stumble and grab the bar.

Tyler reaches for her, but before I can stop him, her voice sounds out strong.

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Her scream forces him to back away slowly, with his palms up.

He grabs the diamond ring off the floor and looks at her before turning for the door. Before he leaves, he yells four words in her direction that make me want to commit murder.

“You aren’t worth it.” The door slams, leaving the bar quiet.

She takes her wine and drains the glass.

“Another,” She calls out and sits down quickly as if she’s afraid her legs will give out.

“Thank you,” I incline my head at her.

“Nothing any decent human being wouldn’t do. Sorry, your night has been so horrible. Maybe I can help turn it around.” I smile at her.

“How?” The skepticism on her face is all the challenge I need.

“Play a game with me. It’s easy. Just forget him.” I point over my shoulder at the door.

“So, pretend like that didn’t happen?” She nods at the bartender, who’s pouring her wine, and then grabs his wrist.

“Just leave it.” He hesitates for a moment and then does as she commands.

“If your life was different and you walked into this bar and saw me sitting here alone, what would you ask me?” I turn my body to face her fully.

“I don’t know. Probably something boring and normal.” I chuckle and wave her on.

“Seriously?” I nod, hardly able to wait for her to speak again.

“What do you do for a living?” I smirk and think of my answer carefully.

“Wet work.” She chokes and spits out some of her wine.

I pass her some napkins and clean up the spill on the bartop.

“You’re an assassin?!” She whispers hisses, looking around us to make sure we aren’t causing another scene.

“Of vaginas, yes.” I enjoy her reactions entirely way too much.

Her large eyes widened more, and her cheeks glowed pink.

This woman could become my newest addiction and cure the aching hole I feel. That should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn’t.

It feels like hope, and that is a dangerous emotion.

“What?” She laughs at me until she seems to see I’m serious.

“It’s wet work. If done correctly. Should I show you?” I lean into her slightly.

“I think I need any other drink.” She refills her glass and then shakes the empty bottle.

“Or you could let me drink you. I promise there isn’t an alcohol or drug on this planet that will compare to the high I’d give you.” The bottle slips from her fingers, and I catch it before it crashes to the floor.

“Jesus,” She whispers at my words or my reflexes.

Either way, she seems impressed, and that goes straight to my ego, which needs no stroking.

“Not my name, gorgeous, but I’ll let it slide. Christ, Lord, and God are also acceptable, until you know my name.” I know hers since the asshole who chased her into my life wouldn’t stop saying it, but I need her to ask me mine.

So I prompt her and grin when she takes the bait.

“Who the fuck are you?” The word fuck causes my dick to throb.

“Maddox Deacon.” I offer my hand to her and enjoy the way she hesitates, but finally, she slips hers into mine.

I gently rub the inside of her wrist with my long fingers.

“You say that like I should know it already.” She tries to pull away, but I’m not ready to let her go yet, so I pull her into me and whisper into her ear.

“Well, you should since I’m going to father your children.” Where the fuck did that come from?

“Excuse me?” She glances at the empty wine bottle, which gives me a chance to get my shit together.

“Come now, Dove, don’t play coy. You sat your fine ass down at this bar, looking for someone to change your life. I’m that man.” I guess I’m going for broke tonight.

I watch her reactions closely. Confusion is followed by understanding, and then her eyes are filled with resolve. I decided right there and then that this is the look I want her to have on her face forever.

And it’s my fucking job to ensure it stays there.

“Rather sure of yourself, Mr. Deacon,” She smirks at me.

“Mmm, that won’t do at all. Let me prove it to you.” Her doubt of my abilities ends tonight.

“How?” She whispers the word.

“When was the last time that a man made you come?” She shakes her head at my words.

“That’s none of your business.” She finishes the last bit of wine and picks up her phone.

“Humor me, please.” I cover her hand and phone screen with mine, drawing her eyes back to me, where I want them forever.

Christ, I need to have my head checked.

“Fine, three months.” She lets the lie fall from her lips so easily.

“So years? I promise I can make you come before our next round of drinks arrives.” She seems flustered when I call her out on it, but I’m a blunt person, and she better get used to it.

She seems to get lost in her head momentarily, and I allow her her thoughts.

“I highly doubt that. But go ahead, try. I’m not moving, though.” Oh, this is going to be fun.

I call the bartender over to take away our glasses but then check her to make sure she doesn’t need any more liquid courage. She shakes her head, and I’m grateful. I, on the other hand, need one more, and I nod, so he brings me a refill. I don’t want her to regret this decision or blame it on the wine, but I’ll need it to walk away from her.

“Who said you had to?” I stand and slip between her thighs.

“May I?” I wiggle my fingers over her shoulder, drawing her eyes away from me.

I watch her throat work on a hard swallow before she nods.

My hand gently runs down her arm, goosebumps rising in my trail. She’s in a light dress that has ridden up her legs. She has one hand on her thigh, and I pick it up and kiss her pulse point before placing it on my shoulder.

I lean into her ear and whisper.

“Breathe,” my hand traces the outside of her thigh from knee to hip until they slip under her dress.

She gasps as I find her sans underwear.

I hum, and her head turns into the sound. Her nose bumps my throat, and she inhales deeply.

“You smell so good,” She sighs and I let my fingers open her folds.

She grabs my arm and tries to clench her legs closed.

But I move her face and capture her lips. My thumb finds her clit, and I circle it while two other digits slip inside her. She gasps, but I swallow the sound.

This kiss is going to kill me.

It’s unlike any other, and alarm bells start going off in my head, warning me of the danger I’m in. I haven’t kissed a woman in years. It’s an intimacy I don’t allow in my life because of my profession.

I can’t afford it.

When your business is pleasure, mixing it is mandatory. I have to keep something apart. Special just for me.

She clutches my dress shirt and pulls me closer. She groans when her orgasm flares, and I bite her lip to remind her we’re in public. I pull away from the kiss and leave her panting, looking up at me.

I would burn the world to the ground just so I could see her look at me just like this every morning.

FUCK.

I remove my fingers from her soaked folds and dip them into my whiskey, swirling the liquid and then bringing them to my lips. I suck them dry and then empty my glass, all the while never breaking eye contact with her.

“Sweetest whiskey I’ve ever tasted. Good night, Dove.” I slip a hundred-dollar bill out of my pocket and a business card, leaving them on the bar right before I kiss her cheek.

I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something stupid like drag her to the Chapel down the road. My phone buzzes as I exit the bar, not once looking back because if I do, my soul will shatter.

Landed.

I sigh and shake off the best fucking encounter of my life. All I can pray for is that she’ll call.

“Time to work.”