Beneath These Chains by Meghan March
About Beneath These Chains
I
was raised on the streets, so I know things are rarely as simple as
they appear—especially this rich girl showing up at my pawnshop
demanding a job. She’s the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen,
and I’ll be damned if I can make her leave. Shit just got
complicated … but when it comes to her—I want complicated. We’re
both fighting our own demons, and our only chance at a future is to
let go of the past. But will we be strong enough to break free from
beneath these chains?
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SNEAK PEEK:
Chapter 1
I fucking hated
people who stole from me. Which was ironic, considering the only
thing that had kept me from starving as a kid had been picking
pockets and snatching purses. I dropped my elbows to the desk and
rubbed a hand over my buzzed head.
“Goddamn, karma’s
a bitch.”
“She the bitch you
fucked last night, bro?” The leather of my office couch creaked as
Mathieu sank his tall, lanky frame into it.
“How many times do
I have to tell you not to call women ‘bitches,’ boy?”
My words were met
with a long sigh from Mathieu. Ever since he’d walked into Chains
and tried to grab a guitar and run back out the door—only to be
tackled to the ground by yours truly—he’d been a fixture in my
life. To be fair, his choices had been to work off the price of what
he’d attempted to steal, or go directly to the nearest cop shop.
The entire situation had been such a blast from the past, I’d
caught myself smiling when I should’ve been glaring and scaring the
piss out of the kid. But apparently I’d done an okay job of it
because he’d decided starting a rap sheet at seventeen wasn’t a
good plan. Thank fuck.
Almost two years later, the kid was my right hand.
And now that Chains
was mine, someone was stealing from me—but not just someone. An
employee. Someone I should’ve been able to trust. The cameras I had
installed on her day off had already paid for themselves.
I rolled my head
from side to side, cracking my neck. I hated firing people. It never
got easier. And this time? This time it was going to be even worse …
because there would be tears. And quite possibly claws.
Pushing up from the
chair, I strode to the door without looking at Mathieu. Over my
shoulder, I tossed, “You might want to stay here; Brianna’s ass
is about to get canned.”
“For real?” His
words followed me out, but I didn’t bother to reply.
Every time I stepped
foot onto the shop floor, a feeling of pride surged through me—pride
that I’d helped build this business into one that was not only
honest, but profitable. At least, it was profitable when one of my
employees wasn’t skimming off the till and messing with my bank
deposits.
Finger twirling in
her long, dark extensions and gum snapping between her teeth, Brianna
flipped the pages of a magazine with a giant black Sharpie in one
hand, circling shit. Probably shit she wanted to buy with the money
she’d been stealing from me. The store was empty, which made what I
was about to do a little easier.
“Bree, need a few
minutes.”
Her head popped up,
lips pursing as she took me in. “You can have all the time you
need, boss.” Her gaudy fake eyelashes batted at me in what I
assumed was supposed to be a sexy move. I stowed the urge to tell her
to save it for someone whose dick got hard at the sight of her …
but since I was about to fire her, why add insult to injury? The
woman had been unsuccessfully trying to add her notch to my bedpost
since I’d hired her. Bringing her on had been a mistake, and I’d
known it from the minute she’d walked in the door, but a friend had
called in a favor.
“Boss? You had
something to say?” she prompted.
I watched her, not
speaking.
She stopped the hair
twirling and capped the Sharpie, resituating herself on the stool and
folding her hands in her lap.
“Lord?”
“You’re done.”
Bree’s dark eyes
flew wide. “Done? You mean done for the day?”
“Done. For good.
Get your shit and get out.”
Bree lost the
innocent pose as she crossed her arms and stared me down. “Not
until you tell me why.”
In two long strides,
I closed the distance between the register and me and pressed my
hands to the counter.
“I gave you a job.
Gave you a paycheck you didn’t have to suck a dick to get. But that
wasn’t enough for you. You had to have more, and instead of coming
to me and asking for a raise, you decided to make it happen
yourself.”
The color faded from
her face, leaving her mocha-colored skin sallow. “Wh-what?”
“Get your shit.”
“I swear, I
didn’t—”
“Don’t fucking
lie to me. I can show you the tape if you want to see what I saw.”
Her lower lip
started to wobble. It wasn’t going to work. I’d given her the
benefit of the doubt, hoped I was wrong or it was just a one-time
thing. But she’d gotten too bold.
“But I need this—”
I cut her off. She
wasn’t even going to deny it. Not that she could. We both knew
she’d done it, and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to her beg or
justify her actions. Even though she didn’t know it, I’d already
given her a second chance. And all that had done was cost me even
more than I could afford to lose. “I needed someone to work the
shop—someone who wasn’t going to fuck me over and steal from me.
You weren’t capable of that, so you’re out. Now get your shit.”
“But—”
“Save your breath,
Bree. I ain’t listening unless you’re here to tell me you’ve
got all the money you’ve taken, and you’re putting it right back
where it belongs.”
Her face twisted
into an angry glare even as the tears started falling. “You … you
don’t understand.”
“No, I really
don’t understand.” I crossed my arms and waited her out. When she
realized the water works weren’t changing my decision, she spun off
the stool, grabbed her giant purple purse from behind the counter,
and stalked toward the door.
“You get all
self-righteous with me about a little cash while you basically steal
from people? Giving ‘em twenty dollars for their shit? Like you’re
one to judge.”
A little cash?
She’d skimmed enough
to buy a nice used car, and I’d been too trusting to even realize
it until the numbers hadn’t added up in a big
way.
She slowed near the
guitars at the front of the store and malicious glee lit her eyes.
She wouldn’t.
Oh, but she did.
Bree grabbed a
guitar and swung it toward the rack as the chimes above the front
door jangled. Wood crashed against wood, and two female screeches
erupted.
Shit …
if she injured a customer…
I charged Bree and
ripped the guitar from her hands before she could swing again. A
swirl of red hair caught my attention as the other woman dodged out
of the strike zone.
Bree struggled
against my hold, and I wondered if I was going to end up with a face
full of the acrylic claws tearing at my arms. “Let go of me, you
asshole!”
“Whoa, boss.
Getting the door for ya.” Mathieu bolted across the shop and yanked
the door open again. I hustled Bree out and set her free on the
sidewalk.
She spun to face
Mathieu and me. “You’re gonna regret this,” she hissed. “I
swear, you will.”
A soft laugh came
from the open door. “From what I’ve seen, I highly doubt it.”
Bree opened her
mouth to spew something else, but I shut her down. “Get gone. I
don’t ever wanna see you near my shop again.”
Bree’s flinty eyes
narrowed as she shouldered her purse. “Fuck you, Lord. You think
you’re better than me? Not a chance. You’re just thievin’
street scum. Fuck you.”
“And now she’s
getting repetitious,” the husky female voice commented from behind
me.
Lip curling in
disgust, Bree turned and marched toward the corner, never looking
back.
“Her exit could
totally use some work, but all-in-all, that was one hell of a
welcome.”
I turned to survey
the woman standing in the doorway of Chains. Even without a
photographic memory, I didn’t think I’d ever forget this
particular pose: one arm braced on the doorframe and the other
propped on her hip, a green dress hugging curves that had my entire
body sitting up and taking notice. Matched with her long, curling red
hair, she was a goddamn knockout. What
the hell is she doing
here?
“You lost, sweet
thing?”
She stepped onto the
sidewalk and tore the HELP WANTED sign off the bottom corner of the
front window. Holding it between two fingers, she smiled. “Nope.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m your newest
employee.”
About Meghan March:
Meghan March is the author of contemporary and erotic romance novels.
Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at
meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.
Catch Up on the Beneath Series:
Beneath This Mask (Beneath #1)
He loves me, and he doesn’t even know my real name.
The limelight that follows him could expose everything I’m hiding. But even knowing the risks, I can’t force myself to stay away.
I’m going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it.
Will we lose it all when I reveal what’s beneath this mask?
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Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)
I’ve always known she was too good for me, but that never stopped me from wanting her.
And then I finally had her for one night.
A night I don’t remember.
I figured I’d blown my shot.
But now she’s walked back into my life, and this time, I have the upper hand. I want my second chance.
Will she be able to see the man beneath this ink?
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