Everly (Striking Back #1)

Chapter One

Horns honking, angry voices cursing the rush hour traffic, the smell of exhaust, yeah, I’m home. “Welcome back, chick,” Amy exclaims with a grin, sliding into the booth at Huddleston’s, our favorite diner. “How was your trip?”

“I’m covered in mosquito bites, sunburned, and I think I have poison ivy. It was amazing.”

Amy’s face scrunches. “Sounds awful.”

“The air in Tennessee is so clean. You can actually breathe without tasting the air. I swear I never realize how much the city stinks until I leave for a few days. The kids had a blast. We spent the days at the lake and had a campfire every evening. We slept in tents and roasted hot dogs for breakfast.”

“Everly, every now and then I’m tempted to check your panties for a set of balls. You’re such a guy.”

“Keep your hands out of my panties,” I reply, tossing a straw wrapper at her. Amy is one of my oldest friends and one of only two people in the world I actually trust.

“Speaking of balls, tell me you got some action from that blond cutie that was chaperoning with you.”

“The momma’s boy?” I scoff. “Hardly. He wouldn’t even join in the mud fight with the kids. A grown man that’s afraid to get dirty? I’ll pass.”

“That’s your requirement of your dates? They have to like dirt?”

“They have to be a man. Real men get dirty.”

“I know you like them dirty.”

Lacy, our waitress, arrives with our usual order of waffles and orange juice. “Eat up girls. You’re too skinny.”

“And you’re far sighted.” I laugh. “You hire a new girl?”

Lacy glances at the harried looking girl taking orders across the aisle.

“We’ll see how long this one lasts. If she makes it through race weekend, I’ll make her a name tag.

” Amy steals a slice of strawberry from my plate as a group of three men come in and sit a few tables away.

“Whew, girls, must be my lucky day,” Lacy mumbles, darting away to wait on them.

I don’t blame her. All three are cover model material, muscular, tan, and sweaty from the early spring heat wave.

Amy fans herself. “God, he’s almost hot enough to make me reconsider my no dick policy. Did you see those eyes?”

I can hardly miss them since they’re locked on mine. Bright, cornflower blue and so intense. A smug little smile lifts his lips and he winks at me. Great. Into the arrogant asshole file he goes. “He’s not bad,” I remark.

I try to focus on my food and our conversation, but he’s distracting.

As if the eyes and fantastic body aren’t enough, tattoos sleeve one arm and disappear under his shirt only to peek out his collar.

His ink black hair hangs messy and wild around a face that would stop any woman in her tracks.

This guy has trouble scrawled all over him.

“Ev…” Amy snaps her fingers, laughing. “Everly! Get a grip. You look like you’re going to throw him down on the table and ride him like a circus pony.”

“Sorry, I was…daydreaming.”

“You mean dayfucking. Go talk to him.”

A quick bite of my waffle gives me a chance to consider my response. “No way. That guy has danger stamped all over him. I don’t do bad boys.”

“You don’t do anybody.”

“How are things with Wendy?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.

“Subtle, chick. We hung out again all weekend and I met her friends. She wants me to meet her family.” She looks up with a grimace.

“Are you ready for that?”

“I don’t know, but, I think we’ll be together awhile so…” She shrugs.

“Holy shit. Is Amy Blaine entering a serious relationship?” Smiling, I peek out the window. “It doesn’t appear that hell has become a glacier, but…”

“Shut up! I didn’t say that.”

“Are you in love with her?” Amy remains silent, but a slow smile spreads across her face as she lays a twenty dollar bill on the table next to the check. Before she can escape, I grab her in a quick hug. “I’m happy for you, girl.”

“Thanks. I have to run. I’m late for work. Tell Ian I said hi.”

“I’ll call you later,” I reply, following her toward the door and trying to ignore the tatted Adonis as he meets my gaze again.

“Have a good day, ladies,” he says, his voice smooth and deep.

“Thanks. You, too.”

Amy laughs at my flippant reply. We step out into the heat. “Do you need a cab?”

“No, I’m going to grab a few things from the drugstore and stop in the bank.”

“Okay, see ya.” Amy’s long blond waves bounce on her shoulders as she signals for a cab.

Two taxis pull up instantly and I shake my head in amusement.

Amy is my age, but aesthetically we’re complete opposites.

She’s that perfect five pound blond all women love to hate.

Beautiful face, beautiful body, and a great personality to boot.

It’s enough to make you sick. My common brown hair, brown eyes, and fat ass make me invisible to the opposite sex when I’m with her.

Still, it’s amusing to watch men trip over their tongues when she enters the room, knowing they aren’t even on her radar.

Amy’s in love. Who would’ve thought? We met in our last year of high school seven years ago and we’ve been through a lot together.

She was by my side through my horrible breakup with Sean, and I helped her through her struggle to come out to her family.

She’s the closest thing to family I’ve ever known.

After half an hour in line at the drugstore, my patience is thin. All I needed was a stick of deodorant and nail clippers for hell’s sake. Sweat drips down my sides as I enter the bank, the push of cold air like heaven on my clammy skin. At least the line isn’t too long.

My breath catches in my throat when I look up from my phone into an intense blue gaze.

He’s here. The hunk of inked up sex from the diner stands at the last teller window, a small smile on his face.

His eyes travel from my feet to my head, dissolving every stitch of clothing in the process.

Shit, Everly, don’t look at him. I’m not unattractive in a “she never outgrew her tomboy phase” sort of way, but this guy is miles out of my league.

A sudden pop behind me causes my ears to ring and cold fear trickles down my spine. When I turn to face the source of the gunshot, I’m horrified to see four men with automatic weapons blocking the exit, their faces hidden behind white Playboy Bunny masks. Fuck me. It’s The Naked Bandits.

A viral sensation the cops can’t seem to catch, they strike small banks in the mid-morning lull.

They’re typical armed robbing assholes except for one thing.

They force the employees and bystanders to strip.

Cops can’t say if it’s a strategy to keep people from running, a way to fuck with people’s heads and keep them under control, or if they’re just perverts who get off on watching naked people.

On the plus side, they never hurt anyone, and even remove the children and elderly to an office before the skin fest begins.

The largest of the four bandits leaps to the counter, his voice carrying across the room.

“You lucky fucks are in the presence of greatness. I’m sure you’ve heard of us so you know the routine.

Get it all off and nobody gets hurt. Don’t be shy, now.

You, sweetheart.” He gestures to the teller.

“Fill up those bags. Don’t even think about hitting an alarm or you’ll be responsible for the pile of naked bloody bodies I’ll leave behind.

” Nodding, the poor woman goes from drawer to drawer, filling the bag.

His skinny partner stalks through the center of the room, sweeping the assault rifle over our heads. “He said get naked, bitches! What are you waiting for?”

Shit. This can’t be happening to me. Especially not in front of the tatted Adonis.

My hands tremble as I pull my shirt over my head, revealing my plain cream colored bra.

Is it weird that I’m more embarrassed than afraid?

I’m not skinny by any account, but I’m not ashamed of my size eight curvy shape.

Usually. Of course, I’m not typically naked in a room full of men, one too gorgeous to be real.

Glancing around me, I see the others slowly removing clothing.

A couple in their fifties huddle together, the man shielding his wife’s nudity as best he can.

Two burly men who look like construction workers stand side by side, hands over their privates.

A sympathetic pang shoots through me at the sight of two obese ladies, formerly dressed in designer clothes, lowering their panties with tears running down their faces. What a nightmare.

My face ignites as I slip off my shorts, exposing my blue cotton boyshort panties that just scream sexy. Apparently, I’m not moving fast enough for the third gunman and he steps in front of me with a sneer. “All of it, sugar.”

“Don’t touch her.” A cold voice cuts through the room, silencing the sobs and whimpers. I know that voice. When I dare to look up, I’m met by those intense cornflower blue eyes. Completely naked, Mr. Adonis steps between me and the asshole with the gun.

“You want to be a hero? I can get your face all over the news. Give you fifteen minutes of fame when you’re the first to die.”

“Stop!” I cry. “I’m doing it! Don’t hurt anyone, please.” I unfasten my bra and rip down my panties before I can chicken out. At least I waxed. The stupidity of that thought makes me giggle. The gunman moves away, but my protector stays in front of me, shielding me from the view of the others.

His eyes never drop below my chin when he faces me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I whisper, one arm draped across my breasts, my hand cupped between my legs. “Just wondering if one can die from embarrassment.”

“No one can see you right now.”

“You can.”

“I’m trying not to look.” My face grows warmer at the sight of his impish grin.

“I appreciate that. I promise to keep my eyes above your waist.” There’s plenty to look at there. A chiseled chest and rippling abs lead down to a trim waist and hips, the distinctive v of abdominal muscle stretching down to…