CHAPTER ONE

Vaughn

Vaughn Ayers dipped the woman over his arm, gliding his hand down her slinky, sequined shirt until he reached her navel. His heartbeat matched the rhythm and bass from the salsa music, the song ingrained in his soul. At least ingrained in his memory, he’d heard the tune fifty times each cruise.

After six years working for the cruise line, he had the DJ’s playlist memorized. Dozens of assignments all over the world, countless ports, and even more countless women.

But the dancing would never get old.

Courtney lifted her head, and stared, still poised in the dip, both of them lost for breath. That glint in her eyes proved the hours of flirting over the day just paid off.

With one move.

That was why Vaughn loved dancing. He literally swept women off their feet.

Worked every time.

The ship swayed against a wave, making everyone on the illuminated floor stumble. He wrapped his arm around her tighter, and helped her stand. He barely noticed the swaying now, so used to it after years of working among rough seas.

The blonde gripped his neck, and pressed her mouth to his. Her tongue forceful against his lips, and sweet. A precursor to the rest of the night.

Her kiss lingered on his, and her gaze filled with lust. “My cabin or yours?”

He grinned. Sleeping with guests was strictly off limits. On or off duty. Good thing Courtney wasn’t technically a guest. She worked for the cruise line, one of the camera crew from a photo shoot today. “Yours,” he replied into her ear over the music.

With an echoing grin, she grabbed his hand and led him off the floor.

Vaughn glanced over at Dorian, his friend and fellow cruise ship entertainment coordinator, who, last he saw, was dancing with some Spanish beauty. Except now, he stood over the by the bar, guzzling bottle after bottle of water.

He frowned, and tugged back on the woman’s arm gently. “Give me a second.” He finished the request with a kiss.

“Don’t say a damn word.” His buddy guzzled another bottle by the time Vaughn joined him.

He already knew what was wrong. The same thing that’d plagued the muscled, stocky man for the last eight months. Sea-sickness.

Not easy for a former Marine to admit. Dorian just wasn’t born with sea legs. Not like Vaughn.

“Did you run out of anti-nausea meds?”

Dorian’s face turned a little more green, or maybe the disco ball kept catching his skin the wrong way. “They stopped working. As soon as we reached Curacao, just useless.”

On cue, another wave shifted the ship sideways. People stumbled again, and this time a few glasses slid off the counter. Good thing they were plastic.

The minute the ship hit the rougher waters off the ABC islands in the Caribbean, all bartenders knew to shift out the glassware.

His friend’s stomach must’ve lurched into his throat.

Without skipping a beat, Vaughn grabbed the trash can from behind the bar, and set it in front of Dorian.

At least he could tell when the guy would lose his dinner just by the look on his face. They had their routine.

D would escape from guests’ view and finish his involuntary-purging, and Vaughn would cover for him. As soon as he recovered, they’d spend their time bouncing women off each other, full-time wingmen, traveling the world.

Whenever a fight ensued between women over their ‘boat boyfriend,’ his military buddy deescalated. That was what he did best. Something he sucked at.

Courtney sidled up to Vaughn, her fingers caressing his bicep in a strong grip he was counting on later. “You coming?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.”

Dorian heaved again from behind the panel, and he cringed.

“Actually, I’ll meet you there. Need to make sure my friend gets back to his cabin first.”

She sighed, and gave him a sympathetic glance. “He was pretty green all through the photo shoot, too. He should pick a different profession.”

Vaughn kissed her again, and promised to follow her soon. After she left, he retrieved a cold cloth from one of the drawers at the bar.

His buddy finally finished, and Vaughn gave him the compress for his neck. “Ever considered hypnotism?”

D glared, and drank more water, slower this time.

“The bird has a point.” A tall man in board shorts and a silk shirt stepped over, carrying a highball glass full of an amber liquid.

Bourbon, Vaughn guessed. From the British accent and lopsided smirk, he was either there to flirt, or sell something.

“You look like you need a new profession.”

Definitely selling something.

“Occupational hazard,” Vaughn replied. “Comes with the territory.”

“I’ve found fewer things suck the life out of someone more efficiently than sea-sickness.” The man set his glass on the counter.

“How about a sniper shot?” Dorian wiped his mouth with the rag, and looked sideways at him. “I’ll take this over an Afghan desert.”

The guy’s smile widened. “Fair enough. But what if you could have a job with this sort of fun, minus the nausea?”

“You sound like a recruiter.” Vaughn glanced at his Citizen watch. “This guy’s already been pursued by one of those.”

The Brit laughed, then stuck out his hand. “Duane Wilkes.”

He accepted the shake. “Vaughn Ayers. This is Dorian West.”

“Seems like entertainment is a crucial part of whatever role you fill. I could use a few good men like you. Forgive the pun.”

“What’s your business?” Dorian asked.

Duane’s smile turned into another smirk. “Let me ask you one question first.” He downed the rest of his bourbon. “How are you with discretion?”

Dorian’s brow furrowed.

Vaughn couldn’t keep from laughing.

“You sound like 007. What are you, a spy?” Dorian said.

“Don’t let my accent fool you. My business is based out of the United States. I’m willing to pay your moving expenses and help set you up.”

“The cruise line isn’t thrilled with the idea of one of their guests trying to recruit away their staff.” His buddy chucked his empty water bottle in the trash. “You should be careful in case one of the Ship Directors overhears you.”

The man’s smile widened. “Good thing I’m her personal guest aboard this floating marvel.”

Vaughn bit back a cringe. This could be a set up. The ship director had likely arranged this guy to see if their staff fell for a recruitment ploy, only to be fired for even considering it.

“Don’t worry, chaps. I owe her no loyalty.” He swiped his hand through his slick hair, the light glinting off a Breitling watch. “If my proposition intrigues you enough to whisk away to new ventures, what does it matter if she revokes your severance? I can guarantee you earn that sum back in less than a week.”

Vaughn glanced at Dorian, who raised an eyebrow. The man was considering it. “What’s the catch?”

“Dealing with an unconventional stigma, and putting aside your personal lives for a while. But you’ll never go hungry, and you’ll never be lonely. The rest is the kind of lifestyle you’re currently living.”

Vaughn hadn’t considered too much about a different role in all his years with the cruise line, he enjoyed the party lifestyle and the constant flow of beautiful woman at his fingertips. He also wasn’t getting any younger.

Most of the ports of call he’d seen a dozen times. As much as he loved the ocean life, something new couldn’t hurt. Especially if his good friend was coming with him.

Not to mention the money.

However, good money never came easy.

The catch to this man’s offer was hung up in the unconventional stigma.

“Where is this new venture?” Dorian asked.

“Texas,” Duane replied. “Dallas area, specifically. Before your mind starts filling in the image with cowboy hats and horses, it’s quite urban. Sleek skyscrapers, eclectic nightlife, and plenty of green.”

“Enough with the sales pitch. What’s the job?” Vaughn asked.

“Not a job, a lifestyle.” He handed over a card from his pocket.

Duane Wilkes

Owner—Knights of Texas