Archangels Creed Series (Summon Kassern) #1

Excerpt #1 The Preacher and the Stripper

Devyn Karnes, or DeVyne, as she was known at work, scrubbed the half inch of gaudy makeup off her face. The shit looked like it had been applied with a putty knife, especially at the end of the night. It nearly took one to get it off.

She winced when the washcloth passed over her lower right jaw. The bastard left a bruise when he tried to strong-arm her into his lap. Of course, security had wasted no time showing him to the door, but that wouldn't stop it from happening again. The only thing that could prevent the patrons from trying to manhandle the dancers would be to keep the girls off the floor, and no one wanted that. Except maybe Devyn.

With the makeup gone, she brushed the glitter and spray out of her hair and pulled it back into its customary ponytail. One last check to ensure the lock closed securely on her locker, and she was ready to get the hell out of Lucky's Sand Castle.

Dead tired, she shoved out through the emergency door that led from the changing room into the alley behind the Castle. The smell of piss, puke and other things best not thought about greeted her, but it was better than going out the front and fending off drunks.

Even in her comfy sneakers, Devyn's feet hurt. The block and a half to the bus stop seemed like ten miles from just starting out. Dancing and six inch stilettos were not meant for each other. Too bad for Devyn that her floor manager didn't agree. The bitch insisted that, as the new headliner, Devyn had to set an example for the other girls. Like breaking her ankles or neck would do that.

Occupied with her thoughts, Devyn nearly walked head-long into the small crowd gathered on the sidewalk at the end of the alley.

What the hell? Standing on tiptoe, she managed to peer over the shoulder of a man, most likely one who'd recently tucked bills into her G-String, to see what was going on.

In the middle of the knot of people, a clean-cut young man stood, trying to convince one of her co-workers to take his flyer. Krystal refused in her harsh, loud voice and shouldered her way back through the spectators.

Some drunk-ass shoved past Devyn and nearly toppled her over. A strong hand caught her upper arm and steadied her.

A quick glance up put her nearly face to face with none other than the clean cut guy, a concerned frown marring his handsome brow. Earnest, warm hazel eyes gazed at her until heat flooded her cheeks. "Thanks."

Before she could hurry off, he grabbed her arm again. "Wait! Do you work here?" The smooth voice sounded as clean-cut as the man looked.

"What do you care?" Did this guy think he had the right to ask where she worked just because he'd kept her from a face-plant?

"Um… Well, I'd like you to take this." He pressed his flyer into her hand. "I'm starting a mission for exploited women-"

"What do you mean 'exploited'?" Figures, she'd run into some goody-two-shoes who thought she needed saving. She did, but not that kind.

"Well… See, women who are being taken advantage of." He swallowed hard, Adams apple rising and falling in his strong neck. "I mean, um… forced into a life… into doing things-"

"Whores?" Cruel, maybe, but the guy's discomfort refused to be let alone. "You're trying to say whores?"

"Well, that is one word some-" His high cheekbones flushed dark with shame.

"Look, Sugar, go back to your Sunday School class. You don't belong down here, and you're not going to save anyone." She started to turn away, then looked back. "The only thing you might accomplish is getting one of the girls beat to death if a pimp thinks she's considering leaving."

Ignoring the guilty horror on the handsome face, Devyn turned and headed down and across the street, angling for her shortcut to the bus stop. Damn, where did that guy get off? Coming down to the bad part of town like some knight in shining armor to save damsels in distress was one of the stupidest things she'd ever heard of. What a fucktard!

Wary of the loose bits of pavement and gravel, she almost jogged through the alley. If she didn't hurry, she'd miss the bus and have to wait two hours for the next one.

Her forward momentum came to an abrupt halt, her left arm caught fast, leaving her in an awkward solo version of Crack-The-Whip. Her chest slammed against a solid surface, knocking the breath out of her. A rough hand sank into her hair and yanked her head back. 

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more to come tomorrow...