When you’re this close to the redline, there’s no room for error —or second chances.
A Dark Erotic Serial from Skye Callahan
IgnitionA sought after car thief for hire, Colt will do anything for a high—anything for the deafening rush of blood and chemicals that tames the ongoing anarchy in his mind. Fast cars, pain, alcohol, women… his vices come in many flavors, but one woman tempts him closer to the line he can never come back from. She’ll be his hardest theft yet—an action that will set the looming conflict with his brother on a new and violent path.
Aubrey has two choices. The first she knows too well: the alluring businessman who entwined her in his deceptive plots. The second is a stranger. He makes his promises not with a silver tongue but with harsh, blunt observations that Aubrey can’t ignore. Either way, she’s caught between two brothers each seeking the other’s downfall—and neither has a problem taking her down in the process
Spotify Playlist: Redline
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Excerpt©Skye Callahan 2015
“I need to get to work.” I shifted my weight to relieve the pain in my feet and to keep myself going. No one mentioned the post-dance adrenaline crash could be so intense.
“You are working.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thighs. His breath moved against my stomach and up between my breasts as he stared up at me and spoke again. “I believe what you mean is that you need to earn your share. Would you rather be standing there looking tasty or outside rubbing skin with the crowd while doing it?”
He had a fucking point there, but I wasn’t fond of being described by a stranger as “tasty” and it didn’t make standing under his accessing gaze any more desirable.
His hand grazed my side and I stepped back. “No touching.”
“I touch what I want.” Grabbing the pocket on my apron, he pulled me closer and kept me there. “We can call in Devlin to set that straight.”
Contest it, my brain shouted, but his expression was unchanging and calm, and all I needed was to piss off Devlin. Again.
“Your friends with him?” I asked.
“When it’s convenient,” he said with a slight scowl darkening his face. It quickly faded as his gaze settled on my face. “And you? How did you get involved with him? Tell me how he convinced you to work in his club.”
“I needed the job,” I said, eager to finish the conversation and be done with him.
“You needed the money—you suck at the job.”
I tried not to take the sting of his insult too personally. I knew he was right, but hearing the truth from the mouth of a stranger was a blow to my tenuous grasp on self-confidence.
“You’re not like the other girls.” He reached to touch my hair, but I swatted his hand away.
“It’s just first night jitters.”
“Jitters.” He made a sound in his throat. “Pick up that glass,” he said gesturing to the second glass on my tray. I did as he said, but he didn’t move to take it. He simply stared at it, so I instinctively followed his gaze, curious as to what was so interesting. The liquid sat there, steady in my outstretched hand with barely a ripple of movement that was more likely a result of the deep bass of the music rather than a shaky hand. We both stared in silence for a moment—and I wondered if he’d been testing me the whole time.