The 27 Club - Softcover

Karr, Kim

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0451475666 ISBN 13: 9780451475664

Publisher: Berkley, 2015

Synopsis

From the New York Times Bestselling Author of the Connections series comes an exciting and passionate new romance....

Janis Joplin. Kurt Cobain. Amy Winehouse. Zachary Flowers. I always knew my brilliant brother would one day be listed among the great artistic minds of our time. I just didn’t know he would join the list of exceptional talents who left us too young, too soon.
 
I was always the calm one, the perfect foil to his freewheeling wild spirit. But since his death shortly after his 27th birthday, I’d found myself adrift and directionless.
 
I knew it was time to face my destiny, and I was ready to yield. But then I met Nate, Zachary’s best friend. Only he could help me put the pieces together, fill in the blanks that Zachary left behind. I needed him to answer my questions—and I wanted him for more. He awakened in me a sensuality that had never been explored, never satisfied. Nate’s presence controlled me, his touch seared me, and it was up to me to convince him that he was brought into my life for a reason....

NO CLIFFHANGER ENDING.  THIS IS A STANDALONE ROMANCE.

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PRAISE FOR THE CONNECTIONS SERIES

ALSO BY KIM KARR

PROLOGUE

Zachary Flowers | August

Let’s be honest.

Nightclubs aren’t about dancing. They’re not about drinking. They’re about the chase—about scoring.

So any guy volunteering to wait in line and sweat his balls off to be given the privilege to pay a ridiculous cover, squeeze his way through a jam-packed bar, spend twenty-five dollars on a Red Bull and vodka, and scream over the blaring music—all with no guarantee of getting laid—is out of his fucking mind.

I mean, come on!

The corner joint has just as much potential as any fancy-ass club, if not more, with its far less discriminating patrons and cheaper drinks.

Nate’s mouth stretches into a huge-ass grin. “We’ve arrived.”

“No shit.” If Nate’s a-little-too-excited announcement hasn’t alerted me, the flashing lights of the neon sign that read THE BALLROOM certainly has. Fucking A, the sign nearly blinds me. One glance out the window and I’m ready to turn around and go home. The line is just as I expected—miles and miles long. I consider making a quick exit with a more than friendly “Peace out,” but something makes me stick around.

Nate slows the car to wait in traffic and grips my shoulder. “I almost forgot. Happy birthday, my friend.”

I shrug his hand off me. “Fuck birthdays. I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

The CEO of Skyline Holdings, who also happens to be my best friend, pulls his decked-out Range Rover up to the curb. “Come on, man—it’s not every day that a guy turns a year older.”

Yeah, twenty-seven—what a great fucking year to look forward to.

Generation after generation, several members of my family have died—not all of them, but enough of them to warrant concern—at the age of twenty-seven.

My great-great-great uncle jumped from the roof of a building during the depression; my great-great aunt’s daughter drowned in a lake; my grandfather died in the Vietnam War; and my mother overdosed.

All were twenty-seven.

All died tragically.

Based on those odds, there’s a very good chance I could be next.

So yeah, like I said—great fucking year.

“You know what they say, don’t you, Z?” Nate’s enthusiastic voice brings me out of my sullen disposition.

“I think I do, Nate, but please tell me again.” I try to suppress the sarcastic tone oozing through my words, but it isn’t easy.

Some douche bag wearing a red jacket pulls Nate’s door open and Nate practically howls at the moon, “Live life in the fast lane!”

My door swings wide seconds later. I step out while reaching into my pocket to retrieve a pack of Marlboros, needing a quick one before we enter the nonsmoking zone. “I hope that’s just what you’ve been doing, because I might just kill you after I wait in this line.”

Nate hands the valet a wad of cash and waits for a ticket. “Please, you know me better than that.”

I can’t stop my lips from tilting upward. “I should have guessed you’d have an in,” I mumble while sticking a cig between my lips. “How’d you swing something like this?”

He shrugs. “A friend of mine works close by, and she wanted to introduce me to someone.”

“She?” My brows wiggle in excitement.

Nate just shakes his head at me.

Whatever.

Typically, Nate’s an all business or all play kind of guy; so coming to a club doesn’t fit his MO. Skydiving, the track, a quick trip to the casinos in the Bahamas—that’s more his speed. I was wondering what brought this outing about, and now I know.

A girl.

Nate and a girl.

My curiosity is piqued. For the five years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him with the same girl twice. In fact, he’s a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy.

Over the flare of the lighter, I study my friend as he circles around the car. Nate Hanson, a freak of nature—a geek and a god all in one. A guy who gets what he wants without even trying. And oddly enough, he just doesn’t take advantage of all the beautiful women at his feet like he should.

I couldn’t even tell you the last time he got laid.

Mind-boggling.

Me—I’m the complete opposite. I take what I can get whenever it’s offered.

With a deep inhale, I let the smoke slowly slide from my lungs. Nate meets up with me on the sidewalk and I can’t help but tell him, “You know, I’m actually looking forward to tonight.”

He looks over at me. “Glad to hear it. Now let’s go inside so we can start celebrating.”

I roll my eyes at that.

Enjoy the beginning of the year I might die?

Hard to do.

The thought of new beginnings strikes a chord somewhere deep within me. I look right at him. “Starting tonight, I have a new motto to try out.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.”

“Screw living life in the fast lane. How about: Live like you’re dying?”

I haven’t told Nate what this year means, but I will soon.

Seemingly unfazed by my changing our long-adhered-to motto, he grins at me. “Sounds like a great plan. Let’s get started.”

That’s the problem—I don’t have a plan, but I need one for the first time in my life.

Nate walks toward the entrance, ignoring the fact that the back of the line is miles in the other direction.

Horns blow as a pack of chicks with banging bodies walk by, taking my head with them.

I love women—every single one of them.

God knew what he was doing when he created them.

In fact, I think fucking would be the thing I’d miss the most if something happened to me—if you can actually miss anything after you die, that is.

Nate looks over at me. “What’s the smirk for?”

My head snaps back, and I point behind us. “Didn’t you just see them?”

He raises his shoulders as if he doesn’t have a fucking clue what I’m talking about.

“Never mind. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I think this might be the year I finally settle down.”

“You’re fucking nuts. You know that?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Never said I wasn’t.”

“Who knows, Prince Charming? Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life inside.”

My mood having lifted with my outlook on life, I respond, “That’s the problem. How to pick just one when I love them all?”

He picks up the pace. “Come on. Keep up with me, will you?”

I exhale my last puff, looking for a place to put my cig out before catching up to him. A skirt walks by with legs longer than any supermodel. “Fuck, she’s hot.”

Nate shakes his head. “You’re one horny motherfucker. Screw finding your Cinderella. Face it, you could never settle for just one.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I can’t help it though—there’s nothing like the touch of a woman. And at least I take the time to admire what this beautiful city has to offer, unlike some people I know.”

He shoots me a glance. “Waste of time, man.”

I grab my chest and stumble backwards. “Yeah, so you’ve said many times. Your philosophy on romance always breaks my heart.”

“Well, get used to it. You should just stop searching now because if you do find someone, she’ll only end up breaking your heart in the end.”

The truth is, I’ll only break hers if my fucking legacy ends up fulfilling itself. But I already decided that I can’t live this year thinking that way. Instead of crying the blues, I tell him how I feel about his outlook on love. “You kill me, man, you really do.”

“Gives you something to talk about.”

My cell vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket. I glance at the screen and can’t hide my grin. It’s a text with a picture attached of my sister next to a chocolate birthday cake. Chocolate because it’s her favorite, and she’ll be the only one eating it.

Nate glances over. “Your booty call for the night?”

I glare at him. “No, it’s my sister wishing me happy birthday.”

Zoey has called me about five times today. I usually go home for my birthday, but running the gallery full-time means I just can’t swing it this year.

He grabs my phone to look at the photo. “Why is it she’s never come to visit in all the years I’ve known you?”

I shrug. “Mimi was sick most of the time, so it was just easier for me to go home.”

Zoey is the single most important person in my life. She’s the ray of sunshine you can see through the clouds. She’s the light at the end of the tunnel. She has always believed in me when no one else has. She has also always kept me moving forward when there were times I thought I might not be able to.

I owe her everything.

All I want is for her to be happy.

She deserves it.

I’m hoping she’ll find happiness as soon as all the shit she’s had to worry about is taken care of; then she can finish her schooling. I need to find a way to help her—soon. No matter what, her name will have the abbreviation “Dr.” before it.

I’ll make sure of it—no matter what. I’ve let her down too many times already in my life not to come through this time.

“The birthday cake is sweet, but it’s time to put sweet away and celebrate for real,” Nate says.

I fire back with a little sarcasm. “The anticipation is fucking killing me.”

“You know what, Flowers? You’re a piece of work,” he laughs.

I laugh along and allow my gaze to wander. Nate patiently waits for the chick in front of him wearing a very short skirt and sky-high heels to pay her fifty-dollar cover. I give her a once-over; but when she turns around and I see her buttoned-up blouse, I look elsewhere.

She’s hot but not my type.

We’re in the heart of South Beach on Miami’s colorful Washington Avenue. The Ballroom has to be the most insane club around. This crowd is unreal. There are hundreds of people anxiously waiting outside to get in, and we get to walk right in. But the chicks here, they might not be for me. Pretentious, bitchy women are the only type I can’t stand. And I can spot them a mile away.

When we finally reach the front, the velvet rope blocks us from going any farther. “Tell Jeremy McQueen I’m here,” Nate says in a stern and even voice.

The giant muscled man looks him up and down. “Your name would be?”

“Nathaniel Hanson.”

The man’s head snaps up. “Sir, nice to meet you.”

Sir? I’m impressed.

Nate pulls out his wallet.

The bouncer dismisses him with the wave of his hand. “Your money isn’t welcome here.”

Sweet.

Nate’s chin dips. “Appreciated, but not necessary.”

Before the bouncer unhooks the velvet rope, he looks right at me and grunts, “Next time wear a tie.”

I ignore him. Do I look like I’ve ever worn a tie? When he doesn’t let us pass, I give in and nod.

The dude finally opens the rope and I quickly move inside. I look over to Nate, who’s dressed in a black button-down and expensive black slacks. “You’re not wearing a fucking tie.”

He shrugs. “Just forget it and have fun.”

I let it go and look around, actually feeling like coming here is just what I need to kick off this new year of mine—the one that just might be my last.

The vibe inside is nothing like I’ve ever seen. There’s a lobby of sorts, with an old-fashioned, huge-ass chandelier. The archways into the bar area are covered in mirrored glass panels with LED lights. There’s a towering ceiling over the dance floor and the area beside it is filled with leather couches and ornate fireplaces.

“Nice! Right?” Nate scans the crowd.

“Yeah. This place is swarming with chicks, and not just pretentious ones.” The club is wall-to-wall tits and legs. Deep-cut dresses, short skirts, and high heels surround me.

It’s fucking heaven.

He lifts a brow. “Knew you’d like it. I’ll grab us a drink. What are you feeling?”

“Beer for now. Thanks, man. I’ll just be here checking out the scene, waiting for my chance to blow out a candle or two.”

He shakes his head before walking away. His stride is full of confidence and, as always, he’s in no hurry. We both stand over six feet but I’m much bulkier. However, don’t let that fool you. I might lift weights, but Nate has trained in martial arts his whole life. Although I’d never admit it, he could kick the shit out of me.

The music booms as I take in the competition—guys in suits, most of them clean-cut like Nate. I stick out like a sore thumb in my jeans, work boots, and black T-shirt.

Like I care.

A group of cute girls are standing together. I zero in on them until I notice one is wearing a crown or some shit like that.

Way too girly for me.

My gaze shifts to a trio of chicks.

One is dressed in leather.

More my speed.

I’m just establishing eye contact when a raspy feminine voice whispers in my ear, “You new here?”

My neck whips around. A vision of utter splendor is standing next to me—an exotic woman with dark hair, dark eyes, and an olive complexion that practically glows. She has ruby red lips and high cheekbones and looks like Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra. Mimi made me watch that movie at least fifty times—it was her favorite.

I can’t move.

I can’t talk.

I’m completely taken—bewitched.

“Ummm . . . yeah, it’s my first time,” I manage to say.

“I can always tell a new face.”

The knockout that I can’t believe is still talking to me is wearing a low-cut blouse and a hip-hugging skirt.

Hot. Totally fucking hot.

Pulsing, searing heat goes straight to my cock.

Fuck me.

My dick is throbbing and my heart is beating at double speed. “Do you come here often?”

Holy shit! Did I just use the oldest line in the book?

She laughs. “I’m here a lot and I’ve never seen anyone quite like you in here before.”

My headshake is subtle. If she were anybody else I’d have responded by talking shit or walking away.

“I didn’t mean that how it came out.”

I shrug. “I get it.”

She pulls her hair to one side.

It’s then I notice her nametag.

It has THE STYLIST printed on it.

“So tell me—do you work here?”

Her smile wanes as she fumbles to remove the name tag. “No, but I work close by. I forgot I was wearing this.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

Her eyes catch mine. “It’s complicated.”

My brows draw together. “Mysterious.”

“It can be.”

“Do tell.”

She bites her lip in contemplation, but before she can respond a beer is shoved in my face and the person holding that beer wraps his arm around my girl’s shoulder and kisses her.

Every instinct in my body goes live wire and the urge to punch, to kill the motherfucker, roars loud in my ears until I hear a deep, familiar voice.

“I see you’ve met Gisele.” Nate grins at me.

Fuck, he knows her!

“Z, this is Gisele. Gisele, this is my friend Z, and tonight is his birthday.”

“Happy birthday.” She smiles at me, and I know immediately what I want for my wish.

Gisele better not be Nate’s girl.

I extend my hand, but when she places hers in mine, I have an urge to kiss it rather than shake it. So I do.

My lips against her skin ignite a fire within me.

Gisele gives Nate a knowing glance. “Jeremy is at the bar. Over there.” She points. “L...

About this edition

• Publisher: Berkley
• Publication date: 2015
• ISBN 10: 0451475666
• ISBN 13: 9780451475664
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 448