Exit Strategy by L. V. Lewis Read Free Book Online

talk to you,” Byron says through a hardened sneer. No “hello” or anything. Carmelo immediately picks up on the tension.
“Yo, McCaskill,” Carmelo says. “Slow your roll.”
“Stay the fuck outta this, Rojas. This bitch is trying to ruin my life.”
Carmelo stands up with his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, but his posture says, I’m ready to scrap if you are, brother.
“I just got back in town, and I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you’d better watch your mouth. Keisha is out with me, and I won’t have you dissing her like that.”
  Byron reins in his hostility a bit. “This doesn’t concern you, C. I just want to talk to Keisha for a minute so she can get this monkey off my back.”
Carmelo looks back at me dubiously. “You want to talk to him?”
“No, and he shouldn’t be within a hundred yards of me, according to the restraining order .” I emphasize the words as a reminder to Byron, who seems to have forgotten that little detail.
Carmelo turns calmly back to Byron. “You have your answer, dude.”
Byron looks as if he wants to say something else, but when Carmelo  pushes his sweater sleeves up on both arms, Byron gets the message and storms away.
I flash what I hope is a reassuring smile at Carmelo as he takes his seat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to tell you what was going on before he was over here.”
“What happened between you two that necessitated a restraining order? I always thought that brother was wound a little too tight.”
I want to answer Carmelo’s question, but Byron’s confrontation was the last straw. I am so exhausted emotionally that I am physically tired. “Can we just... get out of here?”
He eyes me with concern but acquiesces and signals the waitress for our check. “Sure thing.”
     

     

CHAPTER FOUR
    Tristan
     
Trolling his club in search of a one-nighter who would only serve the purpose of a temporary sperm receptacle has to be the most pitiable of all the activities he’s ever engaged in, bar none. Tristan frowns at the level to which he’s sunk. There is no dearth of willing young women to select from, but he’s being more selective than usual. The three women he’s met so far tonight have not met his exacting standards.
The most disconcerting part of the whole ordeal is the fact that he’s never found himself in this situation before. Usually he’s the one who ends things with a fair amount of premeditation on his part. Therefore, he would’ve invariably already taken steps to replace his displaced submissive.
If he were honest with himself, he wants Keisha, but she doesn’t want him, and he’s not one to grovel, nor does he entertain do-overs. With some reluctance, he requested the dossiers of several possible new submissives and looked them over, but something was lacking in each of them. Thus, his foray into Wicked tonight. 
A leggy brunette at the bar has her eyes trained on him.
Too angular. Before Keisha, she might have been just the body type he would’ve selected—excellent rack and almost as toned as a female body builder. But no more. Now he craves softness. Curves.
He shares his private section of VIP with a rock band and their entourage, but he might as well be alone for all the attention he pays to them. One of the groupies he conversed with earlier, a busty blonde, has given up on him and set her sights on the band’s drummer.
Tristan stands near the glass wall, nursing a scotch, and looks out over the club patrons dancing below. There are hundreds of women in this venue, and he can’t find anyone suitable for his needs?
He’s all but decided to go home since he’s been unsuccessful in his quest to find someone—anyone—to provide him with much needed release. As he looks down over the throngs of writhing bodies, he sees Sara Fielding on the dance floor, his sub from three years prior, who notified him of her renewed availability at the KSR Party.
As much as he loathes revisiting where he’s