Chronic (Se7en Deadly SEALs Book 2) by Albertson Alana

Author:Albertson, Alana [Albertson, Alana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bolero Books
Published: 2015-08-07T07:00:00+00:00

AUTUMN PICKED ME UP IN the morning to drive to Temecula—a small town an hour north of San Diego. My hands trembled as she handed over the coffee she had picked up for me at Starbucks.

Tiffany. After all this time, I would get a glimpse into the life of the woman my brother was accused of murdering.

Autumn’s car sped north on the freeway. “Thanks for coming with. Most of the other Russian girls I’ve met were like super stuck up, but you’re not. I feel like I know you.”

“You are very welcome. I’m from the Ukraine, not Russia.”

She tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel. “Right, I know. Eastern Europe I mean. So why did you start dancing?”

God, this girl needed a friend. She oozed loneliness. And I hated that she called stripping dancing. I cringed at the comparison. Dancing was an art form, like acting. Stripping was nothing more than a way for men to get off and perpetuate an unhealthy perception of women. “I live with my grandmother. She died, and I pay the bills. My English, it is not so good. I am ballroom dancer. Now, I dance for men. Why are you dancer for men?”

She let out a sigh. “Wow. Your story is way cooler than mine. I was a fuckup in high school, dropped out. I started dating this guy Jeff—real jerk, loser, used to hit me.” She looked away from me, the color draining from her face.

Poor girl. I used to always lecture Grant that most strippers were abuse survivors. Or plain bat shit crazy—I clearly fell into the latter category. Some mornings I woke up completely shocked that I’d actually gone through with this crazy plan.

“Anyway, he told me I could make good money at Panthers so I tried it out. Him and me broke up and all. One day, I want to go to beauty school. But for now, I like dancing. I mean I meet super interesting people. Like you . . . and Grant. You know he’s a SEAL right?”

Yup. Painfully aware. I was the girl who gave him massages, prepared Epsom salt baths for him, and bandaged his feet every night for six months during BUD/S. “He told to me.” I paused, an ache growing in my throat. This girl was clearly still hung up on Grant, and here I was mind-fucking him, no hope of being serious again because I was lying about whom I was. Using him for information. But I didn’t have a choice anymore—I was in too deep. I needed him now.

“Don’t worry. I’m not like in love with him or anything,” she said playfully like she could read my mind. “I just think he’s super hot, and it’s so cool that he’s a SEAL. I’d love to be with a guy who could protect me, you know? Maybe you can hook me up with one of his friends?”

“Sure. I invite you to next party.” I really liked her. I had learned since I started this experiment that I needed to be less judgmental.

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