Saint View Strip, #1
I’m the ruling queen of Saint View Strip. After growing up poor, taking my clothes off and dancing for men is all I know. My thriving club and the people I employ are everything. They’re my ride or die, and I’m theirs.
Nobody is taking them away from me.
So when a local politician announces plans to bulldoze everything I’ve spent the last ten years working for, I won’t be silenced.
Not by some suit.
And not by the cops.
Joshua Boston can arrest me all he wants. He can come at me with strong arms and piercing eyes that make my insides tingle. He can push me up against the wall and cuff me all day long.
I’ll still hate him.
I’ll still want him.
In this town of gangs, shootings, and dangers around every corner, no one is safe. I’m no damsel in distress, but when a violent threat ups the stakes, it’s Boston I’m forced to turn to.
We may hate each other, but the real enemy is the one neither of us will see coming.
Evil Enemy is a dark romance that may have triggers for some readers. It was first published in the Hate to Want You Anthology.
A male/female romance set in the Saint View world. No prior knowledge of the world is needed to start this hot new series.
Here's a taste of what's inside!
Boston: What are you doing?
Why did just the sight of his name send a thrill straight down low between my legs?
Eve: You ignore me all day and now you message me at nine? Is this a booty call?
I cringed after I sent it. It was a joke, but from the little I knew about Boston, there was a good chance the man couldn't take one.
Boston: I would have waited 'til ten for that.
Well, well. What do you know? Mr. Straight and Narrow did have a sense of humor.
Eve: Just as well. I would have turned you down.
Boston: You don't do booty calls, huh? Is that why you need a massive dildo with my name on it?
I blew out a breath and realized I was smiling. Touché, Officer Boston. Touché.
Eve: It was just a gag gift my friends got me. I really am sorry about that.
Boston: Don't be. Sorry I was short with you earlier. Shit day.
Eve: Me, too. Want to tell me about it?
Boston: You ever feel like you're having a midlife crisis?
Eve: I'm only thirty, so I hope not.
Boston: Same. But somedays I feel like I am.
Eve: You gonna spend your life savings on a flashy car and start dating an eighteen-year-old?
Boston: I'm a cop. My life savings total about three dollars.
Eve: Want a stripping gig? Pay is good, and I know someone who could hook you up.
There was a long pause before he finally wrote back.
Boston: Is that your way of saying you want to see me naked?
I raised an eyebrow. Okayyyy. Well, that took a turn I wasn't expecting. It almost read like flirting.
Eve: Seems fair. You've seen me naked after all.
Boston: Yeah, but you look better than I do without clothes on.
I flushed hot at the compliment. Though I was pretty sure it was a lie. I'd seen the way his shoulders filled out his shirt, and the way his pants hugged his ass. He was a beat cop, and that required a fairly high level of fitness. Without him even removing a stitch of clothing, I was sure Joshua Boston's body was nothing short of exceptional.
Boston: Sorry. Inappropriate.
I typed back quickly.
Eve: Not inappropriate. Do you always do the right thing?
There was a pause, and then…
I stared at that no for a long time.
Too long apparently.
Boston: Did you keel over from shock?
Eve: No, I'm just thinking about you being bad and I kinda can't picture it.
Boston: I've never been arrested if that's what you're thinking.
That was so not what I was thinking. My mind had gone straight to the gutter. I typed out a response with the hugest grin on my face.
Eve: Actually, I was still thinking about you naked.
I tapped long fingernails on the tabletop, knowing I should cut this off and go get ready for the show. I was still in the denim shorts and T-shirt I'd worn to my parents' place. It wasn't exactly stripping attire. But I knew the girls would cover me for as long as I needed.
And right now, I needed this. It had been a shitastic day, and flirting with Boston was a nice distraction from it.
Boston: Funny that. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you naked, either.
Eve: Seems unfair you've actually seen the real deal, though. I have nothing to base my daydreams on. I could be picturing you all wrong.
Boston: Tell me what you're seeing in your head, and I'll tell you if you're right.
Heat flushed the back of my neck. This was rapidly moving in the direction of sexting. I hadn't been expecting it, but I certainly wasn't going to turn it down. Not with Boston. I got up off my chair and locked the door before I replied.
Eve: Hairy back, bit of a hump, possibly a few scales…
Boston: I just spit my Coke out laughing.
I liked the idea of him smiling at my messages. I imagined him stretched out on his couch in a pair of gray sweats, one hand tucked behind his head while the other worked his phone. He was hot when he was scowling, I could only imagine how a smile would transform his face.
Eve: So, no scales?
Boston: No scales or humps. No hairy back either, for the record.
Eve: I don't believe you.
The next message that pinged in was an image.
I've never come so close to falling off my chair. “Jesus fuck,” I whispered.
It was a selfie in his bathroom. His back turned, one hand up, holding the phone to take the photo in a mirror's reflection. It didn't show his face, but it did show every inch of delicious, sculpted back.
No hair, scales, or bumps in sight.
I swallowed hard.
Eve: Okay, so your back is good. But now I'm thinking you're hiding something on your chest, since you conveniently left that out of the photo.
I went back to admiring the photo of his back, in particular, the lower half that narrowed into his hips and ass.
His ass looked damn good. And I knew he was a gray sweatpants sorta guy.
When my phone binged again, it was another bathroom selfie.
His body was more perfect than I could have even imagined. Any daydream I might have had about defined pecs and ripped abs was blown away by the real thing. For an insane moment, I considered licking the screen. That was how hot the man was.
Eve: Jesus Christ. Do you live at the gym?
Boston: Only every other week.
He lied. Nobody got a body like that by working out intermittently. His sweatpants hung low on his hips. So low they showed off his V lines and a tiny sliver of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband.
Perv that I was, I tried zooming in to check out what he had going on beneath it, but he was hidden behind the bathroom sink.
A flash of disappointment joined the heat coursing through my body. Did I dare carry on the game? Just how far could I push the man before he said stop?
I really wanted to find out. “Ah, fuck it. We've come this far, might as well push my luck a little more.”
Eve: Photo stops at your waist? Shame. I'd hate to think it was your dick that is your problem area.
Boston: Did you just ask me for a dick pic? I thought girls hated those?
Eve: We hate the unsolicited ones… Different story if we asked for one.
Boston: Are you asking for one, Eve?
Fuck. I think I was.