Losing Streak (The Lane) Read online

  Losing Streak

  By Kristine Wyllys

  Happiness doesn’t come without a price.

  Rosemary Young knows the Lane. It’s where she grew up, raising a brother barely younger than she was. It’s where she served drinks, wearing a gaudy uniform in a low-lit bar to support her mama. It’s where she fell for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Brandon Williams might’ve had a taste for gambling and been headed nowhere fast, but something about him made her almost forget every promise she ever made.

  These days when Rosie walks the Lane, it’s on the orders of the man who owns it. The man who owns her—Joshua King. A bet gone wrong ties her to him, serving as the collateral Brandon didn’t have. For Brandon the guilt is a white-hot brand, but Rosie can’t bring herself to regret it completely. The safety of those she loves is worth the sacrifice.

  Now King’s called Brandon back to town early and given Rosie one last job to do before they’re free. Nothing—not even King—will keep Brandon from Rosie, not after three years of simply existing without her. And before it’s all over, everything that had been done in darkness will come to light and nothing in their lives will ever be the same again.

  67,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  September might herald the end of summer fun and the vacation season, but the one thing you and I both know, as avid readers, is that we can always escape the daily grind thanks to books! This month, Carina Press is placing extra emphasis on the mystery genre, with the last week of September dedicated to not only our entire backlist of mysteries, but also four brand-new frontlist releases in four different subgenres of mystery.

  Within the mystery program, we welcome debut author Ricardo Sanchez with his novel Elvis Sightings. In this unique mystery that absolutely delighted our team from the first moment we read it, Floyd is a private detective who lives his life the way he thinks Elvis would have wanted him to—fast and hard in a sequined jumpsuit—and if he can avoid the billy clubs of government agents, a Viking reenactment and the amorous attention of the bearded lady sheriff, he just might prove, once and for all, that Elvis is still alive.

  Rosie Claverton brings us the second book in The Amy Lane Mysteries (a series that has some of my favorite Carina Press covers!). Welsh amateur sleuths Amy and Jason return in Code Runner, with Jason framed for the murder of a gang runner. When his prison transport is broken open, Jason is caught between the police, the gangs and the mastermind behind Jason’s downfall, while Amy races to prove his innocence.

  In Mistress of Lies, a historical mystery by Holly West, a young beggar girl claiming to be Isabel Wilde’s niece—previously unknown to her—shows up unexpectedly and reveals that Isabel’s brother Adam was murdered, compelling Isabel to take up an impossible task: discover the truth about her brother’s death, twelve years later.

  And joining these three in the mystery category, with a new release in her Patience Price Mystery series, Julie Anne Lindsey brings us Murder in Real Time. When a popular reality show host is murdered at the local bed-and-breakfast, Patience’s small town is overrun with grieving fans, paparazzi and a gunman who puts Patience in the crosshairs.

  If mystery isn’t your favorite genre, we have nine new releases in September in romance subgenres. Starting with contemporary romances, first up is Breaking His Rules by Alison Packard. If you love the friends to lovers trope as much as I do, you’ll love this story of two good friends pretending to be a couple at a coastal wedding, who find things get passionate when their true feelings rise to the surface.

  Rebound flings are supposed to have soft landings, but one sexy cop is about to fall hard in Christi Barth’s fun romantic caper Love on the Boardwalk. And in Emma Barry’s Private Politics, when a glamorous non-profit fundraiser becomes entangled in a political scandal, she turns to a savvy DC blogger for help clearing her name. As their hearts and ambitions collide, they find that everything in Washington comes with a price.

  If you like contemporary romance with an edge, reach for new adult romance Losing Streak by Kristine Wyllys. Rosemary Young was just another bartender until her boyfriend, Brandon Williams, lost a bet, leaving them with no choice but to sell their souls to the Lane’s crooked king.

  Author Stina Lindenblatt returns with Let Me Know, a contemporary romance with a new adult flavor. College freshman Amber Scott is propelled into the media spotlight when love letters she supposedly sent to her stalker surface prior to his upcoming trial.

  Switching gears to three books outside the contemporary romance genre, I’d like to turn your attention to Tyler Flynn’s newest male/male historical romance, Hunting the Spy. Nathan Kennett is hunting down a traitor who is selling the secrets of England’s defenses to the French rebels—could it be Sir Peter Ross, the man he loves?

  Don’t miss the final book in Jeffe Kennedy’s fantasy romance Covenant of Thorns trilogy. In Rogue’s Paradise, our scientist heroine discovers the origin of the fae and of her own nature, and whether she can make true love actually work. And it’s not too late to catch up with the first two books in this fantastic trilogy, Rogue’s Pawn and Rogue’s Possession.

  Eleri Stone’s Gun Shy has a wonderful Firefly-esque Western feel in a paranormal romance world. When criminal boss Gideon Moore sends men to steal the fort’s dwindling supply of Reaper cure for sale on the black market, Jane Fisher offers to guide Lieutenant Lyle Dalton through the shady side of Storm King Territory in an attempt to recover the serum.

  And last this month, we’re thrilled to present Shattered Bonds, the final book in Lynda Aicher’s Wicked Play erotic romance series. At the same time, we’re sad to see these characters go, as Lynda has captivated us with the emotional ups and downs of the relationships between this compelling cast of characters. Don’t miss this book, in which everything could change when the past comes back to destroy the members of The Den. Look for Game Play, the first book in Lynda’s new erotic romance trilogy, in spring 2015.

  Coming in October 2014, Dana Marie Bell returns us to the world of Maggie’s Grove, we welcome co-authors Eileen Griffin and Nikka Michaels and their incredible male/male romance duology, and R.L. Naquin is back with her urban fantasy Monster Haven series.

  Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Dedication

  To Bill.

  “Screw ’em, kid. I’m proud of you.”

  Thank you for letting me borrow from your story.

  But mostly thank you for letting me be one of yours.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing has always been an intimate thing for me. It’s always been me alone in my cave, playing with imaginary people in my head. So throwing the doors open has been weird and almost unnatural, but mostly magical. I will be forever grateful for everyone who came in, kicked off their boots and hung out with me. You all have made this a wonderful and exciting adventure.

  To my editor, Deb, thank you for always pushing and pulling and poking until you got me to bleed my very best. My hands have been clumsy but you never cringed at them. You’ve been absolutely brilliant to work with.

  To the folks at both Carina Press and Harlequin, thank you for every ounce of suppor
t and all you put in to me and my crazy Lane kids. It’s been a dream.

  To my Plus One, Nina, you walked every dirty, shadowy inch of the Lane with me and let me come hang out in your orange grove. We’re daughters of the labyrinth, born under crooked stars, and you’ve made it absolutely fantastic. Now get your coat.

  To my loveliest of lovely betas: the rocketship Rachel, Alissa, Micah, Sahara and Rachel S., you guys are the best.

  To my group of 2014 debut NA girls, thanks for making this journey even more amazing as well as side-clutchingly hilarious.

  Big, big thanks to the greatest stripper who has ever stripped, Dejah Shea. You’re awesome and a good sport and your hair is glorious.

  To all the bloggers in general, and Nicole in particular, sonnets should be written in your honor. Shrines should be built. Thank you so much for your reviews and your enthusiasm and basically making me feel like the real deal.

  Thank you to Pam, Aunt Boo, Aunt Julie, Aunt Maria, Dad, Tara, Nana, my mess of siblings and the rest of my insanely large, supportive, crazy family for being mine by marriage or blood or simple claim. Your noise has always been my favorite soundtrack.

  Mom, Da and Grandma, I love you all so much. Thank you for always being the loudest.

  To my sister, Kortny, having you made writing about a sister’s fierce love and devotion easy. Every dark I’ve ever known has been filled with your voice. Thanks for being the reason I never feared it.

  To my husband, thanks for making me eat and wrangling our kids and never minding when I call you Betty. Ours might not be a love that books are written about, but if I had it to do all over again, I’d choose you every time.

  My wild beasts of boychildren, out of every story everywhere, you two will always be my favorite.

  Rapid-fire round: Ariel, Bonnie, Jaime, Sarah, Ashley, Nicole, Kyle and the old NLA girls, thank you for showing so much support from day one. To the readers of Wild Ones and now Losing Streak, thanks for giving me and mine a chance.

  Finally, while working on Losing Streak, we lost my father-in-law. He was a lion of a man, a wonderful guy and a quiet, determined hero. His fight with cancer was long and both heartbreaking and humbling to witness. It’s easy, I think, to romanticize the deceased, but everyone who had the honor of knowing him will agree he was truly one of the good ones. The world will always be a little less for him leaving it.

  “My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,

  Or else my heart concealing it will break.”

  —William Shakespeare

  Contents

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Quotation

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  “Hey! You planning on working tonight or are you just going to keep swiping at that same patch of wood?”

  I glanced up at the wild-haired brunette scowling at me, a bucket of ice dangling from one hand, the other posed on her narrow tweed-covered hip. You almost had to be a boy to make the behind-the-bar uniforms at Duke’s look good. The V-necked white shirt and suspenders paired with a newsboy cap looked great on, say, Jackson, but not so much on our bar-back Bri Martin or me. Too much chest, maybe. At least in my case. Too much hair in Bri’s. Between the two of us, she came closer to pulling it off, though. Mostly because she was practically shaped like a boy.

  “I’m fine,” I replied. Around us, voices blended until they blurred as their owners shouted to be heard over one another, and one of the two baby grand pianos lifted up above the floor on a makeshift stage. Combined, it created a chaotic symphony that might have been overwhelming to any of Duke’s newcomers. But it wasn’t to me. It was a soundtrack, a familiar song on a worn record that I’d spent too much of my life listening to. It obviously wasn’t a distraction of any kind for Bri either. Her eyes flashed down to the group gathered around Jackson, waiting to have their orders taken, and a smile flirted with my lips. I knew what would be coming next. Lord knew we went through it nearly every night that she and I worked together. She didn’t give up, however, I’ll give her that. That kinda blind determination could be considered admirable enough, I supposed.

  “Joshua came in about twenty minutes ago.” Her voice lowered to just above a whisper when she glanced back at me. This was different. I merely arched an eyebrow, earning myself a glare. “So don’t you think you should at least try to look busy?”

  “Joshua and I have an understanding.”

  The look she gave me was simultaneously both skeptical and curious.

  “Yeah? And that is?”

  “As long as I look pretty I can do whatever I want.”

  She was torn between amusement and aggravation—they danced across her pretty features, battling for dominance. I found myself almost hoping she’d tip toward the irritation and try to press it further, really try to get in my ass about my lack of trying like she hadn’t ever before. She looked as though she was capable of doing it. As if tonight was one of those nights where she hadn’t met with any trouble so maybe she’d make it herself. As though the moment needed a track to set the mood and help her make up her mind, Duke’s piano player, a scrap of a boy named Andrew, moved on to Johnny Cash’s “A Boy Named Sue.”

  “Maybe you could do it for Jax then,” she said in a far too casual voice, tipping toward me on the balls of her feel, just enough that I knew it was intentional but without actually getting into my space. Only a little aggressive. A quiet growl, a whisper of a warning. She was attempting to remind me that she wasn’t the type to run from a confrontation, nor was she afraid to create it. “That way he’s not forced to pick up your slack all the time.”

  There was a place down deep inside me—but not deep enough, not nearly deep enough—where a beast lay slumbering restlessly. But now it was stirring. It perked its head up and sniffed the air before letting out a returning growl, as if it sensed that I might actually let it out tonight to play. It always wanted to play.

  And I kinda always wanted to let it.

  “My slack, huh? Is that what Jackson does? Pick up my slack?” I kept my voice low, no point in attracting unnecessary attention, but it was enough. Bri’s eyes, so heavily made-up only to be our errand girl, narrowed to slits.

  “Only every damn night, yet you still walk with half the tips either way. And he doesn’t say a damn thing about it because he’s too good. He lets you do it because he thinks that’s the right thing to do. You take advantage of that, Rosie. You take advantage of him.”

  The beast was snarling in earnest now and it tested the bars I used to keep it mostly locked in. They were fragile, so fragile, made of flimsy necessity rather than anything actually solid. It took work to keep them in place. Especially since I so rarely wanted to.

  “Listen here, little girl.”

  Bri’s eyes flashed with uncertainty at my tone but it was quickly shoved aside by the burning of her sudden and righteous rage. Bri hated few things more than being made to feel like someone was trying to assert any kind of control over her.
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  I’d learned that early on, saw the way she stiffened and the fury that would cloud her face when it happened. Of course I’d filed it away immediately. You never knew when information like that would prove useful. “You may live under the same roof as us, but don’t assume, for two seconds, that you know anything about what Jackson does or doesn’t pick up, or ever talk to me about taking advantage of someone. You got that? If anyone here takes advantage of anything, it’s you letting him lift bottles so your underaged ass can get shitfaced.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but I cut her off with a finger pointed in her face. “No. You listen and listen well. My brother may consider you his best friend or pet or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I have to. And I won’t if you keep trying to insert yourself into shit you know nothing about. You understand me?”

  She hesitated only for a moment, and in that pause I could see that she wanted to keep pushing, because that was what Bri did at the best of times, push just to see what happened, just because she was curious. She especially wanted to now that she was having her buttons pushed. Every instinct she possessed said to lash back out, to not stand for it.

  Something in my expression must have made her think twice, however. Or maybe she was worried that if she did shove forward too hard and too far, I’d make her leave that tiny room next to mine and take refuge on the streets once more. Maybe in that rare moment she stopped and thought before plunging ahead, visions of cold concrete corners flashing in front of her eyes, and she didn’t want to go back to that, didn’t want me to send her back to that, no matter how angry she was.

  Not that I would have. I needed her part of the rent money and I wasn’t nearly so stupid that I’d cut off my nose to spite my face. But she didn’t need to know that. Sometimes it was best to let people think the absolute worst of you.

  Kept them from trying too much.

  Finally, she gave me a curt nod.

  “Good.” I attempted a smile but I could feel that it came out more like I was baring my teeth. Just as well, really. “Now go wash some cups or something. Remember—Joshua is here.”