Power Player_Anti-Hero Game
Power Player: Anti-Hero Game
Power Chain Book Two
Chelsea Camaron
Ryan Michele
Contents
Don’t Miss Out!
Books In This Series
Diary of a Mad Man
Power Player: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book 2)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Power Chain: Anti-Hero Game
About Chelsea Camaron
About Ryan Michele
Other Books by Chelsea Camaron
Other Books by Ryan Michele
Copyright © Chelsea Camaron & Ryan Michele 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All character, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st edition published: May 15, 2018
ASIN: B079ZWV3GZ
Editing by:
Editing by: Silla Webb
Cover Design by: Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs
Cover Model: Andrew England
Cover Picture Photographer: Eric Battershell
Thank you for purchasing this book. This book and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Content involves strong language, violence, and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are over the age of 18. All characters are a work of fiction.
This book is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in an underworld crime organization, but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain.
*** Warning: This book contains graphic situations that may be a trigger for some readers. Please understand this is a work of fiction and not meant to offend or misrepresent any situations. There is quite a bit of violence, so if that’s not what you’re looking for, then please don’t read. ***
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Books In This Series
Power Chain: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Prequel)
Get your copy: HERE for FREE
PowerHouse: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book One) — Released Feb 20th
Get your copy: HERE
Power Player: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book Two) –
Get your copy: HERE
Powerless: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book Three) – Release Aug 7
PreOrder: HERE
Overpowered: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book Four) – Release Oct 30
PreOrder: Here
Diary of a Mad Man
If this was a diary of a mad man, my road to hell would be paved in her tears.
I am Paxton Williams.
I lived my life driven to let her go, but a pull between us made it impossible. I had money, loyalty, and I didn’t give a fuck about anything, but protecting what’s mine.
Welcome to the depths of power …
Power Player: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book 2)
Authors Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele team up to push beyond the boundaries, crossing a line into a deep, dangerous, and forbidden world. One where no one escapes, even if they beg to.
This is the Power Chain Series—a series of interconnected stand-alone romances.
Power Player: Anti-Hero Game (Power Chain Book 2)
Rules will not be broken.
Especially by her. She was a strong woman. It turned me on. She became my personal challenge.It made me hard.
The more she hated me, the more I relished it. I’m determined to break her down. I am Paxton Williams.
I’m a power player in an underworld game only few people know exist.
She knew the rules. She knew the consequences. She should know I’m not the man to let anyone get away…
Including her.
Prologue
Paxton
The cold metal of the Zippo lighter laid heavy in my hands, like a weight pulling me. I flipped the top, closed it, relishing the weight and the power. In a moment, I flipped the top again, struck the flint, and watched the flame glow in the dark of night. It danced to its own rhythm, moving with the wind of the cool night air, exactly like life. One small gust in the wrong direction and one’s cards of life fall in places they didn’t anticipate.
Holding the key to that was an energy I’d never get tired of.
Life was a game like that. The goal was to be successful however an individual defined it. Except life was a cruel bitch who turned on you at the drop of a hat, sending everything spiraling out of control. I remembered a time when I was young and felt safe, secure, and like nothing could touch me. Then it all crashed around me. I would never allow myself to feel that way again.
Emptiness surrounded me in the alley behind Scooners Bar, which was disturbingly quiet as well. For a happening place inside, outside was the complete opposite.
Bringing the flame to my face, I touched it to the end of my cigarette and watched the flame grow. On a deep inhale, I lit the cancer stick letting the poison fill my lungs, giving me a roaring dose of nicotine. Exhaling out of my nose, the smoke burned the fine hairs as it found freedom in the night air.
Freedom was a funny thing.
America, land of the free because of the brave.
I had lived in this great nation my entire worthless existence, and freedom was not at all what I felt. But it had nothing to do with where I lived.
It was simply who the fuck I was.
A man trapped.
A soul destroyed.
A damaged being.
I was all of those things and so much more.
The sound of laughter brought me out of my negative haze.
The noise was almost melodic as I looked up to see her. Blonde hair came down her back in long waves glowing under the street lights like a halo. She lifted her head and her blue eyes met mine.
Sealed.
Nothing existed for the moment.
I wasn’t Paxton Williams, the man with a past dark as midnight. She wasn’t Laurel Conrad, the one woman who always seemed to be exactly where I needed her even when I wanted her gone.
The pull between us was too strong for eve
n me. While I wouldn’t cross the lines that separated us and our worlds, I simply couldn’t stay away.
My body moved of its own accord as I made my way to her. Stopping in front of her, she gasped in shock. Her chest heaved in the confines of the strapless dress as she drank me in.
“Pax,” she greeted on a hushed whisper that seemed to flow in the wind.
“Angel,” I replied, watching her eyes and looking deep into them. Home. She was home.
“We’ll ummm be over at the car, Laurel,” her friend, Tatum, told her, to which Laurel’s gaze never left mine as she waved them on.
“I’ll get her home,” I told her friends.
She shook her head, breaking our trance. I wondered for a moment if she got a thrill in defying me.
I took a drag from my cigarette before tossing it to the concrete sidewalk beneath us. Blowing smoke directly in her face, I get her attention back on me where I wanted it, needed it, and demanded it.
“Paxton, I should go.” Her words were so quiet, and I knew she didn’t mean a damn word of it.
The music from the club sounded out to the street with the doors now opening and closing as more people left. Reaching out, I pulled her against me. Her soft curves touched me everywhere, her breasts poking my chest. Moving us to the music, Laurel relaxed into me. I could smell the alcohol on her and knew I was pushing the limit.
I didn’t give a fuck.
Laurel Conrad was in my arms. I wouldn’t waste a single minute.
Dropping my head, I crashed my lips to hers taking what I needed from her. In a forceful kiss, she soothed my black bottomless soul simply by being connected to her. In a split second, she was compliant and soft under me, giving me her total surrender.
I relished the power.
Our tongues danced as our bodies swayed in the night air. She tasted of rum and pineapple juice while it mixed with my cigarette bursting against my tongue.
I wanted more.
She gave.
I took.
We danced.
Until she pulled away.
With the glow of the street lights, her eyes met mine and the regret was there.
“Pax, I can’t.”
The words sliced me deep, cutting open an old wound like every fucking time she said them.
“Laurel, give fuckin’ in.”
She could only gaze at me wide-eyed, the want and need shining brightly in them. I could read Laurel Conrad like a fucking book. Page by page, I knew her from cover to cover. Her words might deny me, but her body, her mind, and her soul craved me.
“Your body wants me. Your mind is wound too tight. Let me loosen you up,” I stated, knowing she wanted me as much as I wanted to sink deep inside of her.
“Pax, you can’t give me what I need.”
I nodded at the crushing words that were completely true. “You’re right, I can’t and I won’t.” My last words were the death blow to any hope for a change. I was incapable of giving in and making concessions. This left us at the same standstill. One where I wouldn’t give in.
The spell between us was broken once again as she turned and rushed away, even slipping out of her over-priced designer heels and leaving them on the concrete in front of me.
“Laurel, your shoes,” I called out as she kept her back to me and rushed to catch up to her friends.
“Keep them,” she yelled back while keeping about her task of running from me. She never looked over her shoulder. Not even one last glance.
I let the laugh escape me. Oh Laurel, why couldn’t she see? I wouldn’t let her get away again. I might choose to refuse her, but I wouldn’t be without her.
“You can run but you can’t hide.” She was mine, and it was about damn time she opened her damn mind to it.
1
Laurel
I was running late, which wasn’t unusual.
Only my car was on empty once again, and I needed to get to work. The problem was I swore I filled the tank up three days ago, and I had only driven to work once. There was no way I should be out, but that stupid little light flashed at me telling me I was wrong.
My mind must have been playing tricks on me or something was wrong with my car. While she wasn’t brand new, she wasn’t old either. I had two years left to pay the little Honda Accord off. If it was the gauge, I had some savings to cover the expense. It just meant putting off the girls’ trip to Vegas for another year. Tatum and Terrie would understand. Being an adult sucked sometimes, especially when it came to paying bills.
I stood at the gas pump and slid in my credit card, waiting for the stupid thing to go through all the do you want a car wash? How about a Big Gulp? What about our two-for-one donuts? Every time it was annoying as shit to have to go through all of it to get to the fuel.
In bold letters that flashed Decline appeared on the screen. Maybe it was a hiccup.
I tried going through all the steps once again, but only found the same results.
On a frustrated sigh, I took out another credit card that was intended for emergencies only and tried again.
Decline.
“What the fuck!” I said to the damn pump, but it didn’t respond.
I wasn’t rolling in money, but my credit cards were paid in full and I had a little nest egg. While I may not have been a millionaire, there was absolutely no reason my cards shouldn’t be working. I made my way inside the store where I tried to swipe my card again to find the same results. Paying with the little bit of cash I had on me, I finally got my gas and made it to my office.
As I turned on my computer, I logged into my bank to see every account closed.
Panic.
My pulse quickened as I stared at the screen in shock. This couldn’t be. My money, my accounts, all closed, shut down, access to history denied.
Every. Single. One.
What the ever-loving fuck was I supposed to do? Was this what those identity theft commercials warned of? I always thought that was just credit card fraud. Who took all my money? Everything I worked so hard for was gone, and I was lost. What would it take to get it back?
This had to be a mistake. Maybe someone put a virus in the banking systems. It was a glitch. I continued running through my head everything that could have possible gone wrong.
My insides felt like they dropped to the floor, while bile rose from my empty stomach and burned my throat.
Frantically, I called the bank. It was a smaller bank with a local branch. There was no way with my trembling fingers I could have gotten through an automated system today.
“First National, this is Julia, how can I help you?” the way too happy voice on the line greeted. Someone definitely had their fair share of coffee this morning.
“This is Laurel Conrad,” I stated before taking a deep breath. My emotions had my voice cracking, and I needed to remain calm. “Something seems to be wrong, and my accounts are closed.”
After a few moments of sharing information to verify my identification, my world stopped as she explained my situation, and a large hole formed under my feet sucking me down.
“It would seem, Miss Conrad, you gave access to your accounts to a Mr. Paxton Williams through a legal Power of Attorney. He came in yesterday and froze everything. All of his paperwork was in order along with a Mr. Garrett Monroe, who showed proof as your legal counsel. According to the notes this was done for your protection given your current situation.”
I opened and closed my mouth, but no words came out. I was dumbfounded, spiraling down a rabbit hole as my world flashed before my eyes.
“Current situation?” I asked, truly lost as to why Paxton would even do this much less add some situation I was most certainly not in. He was an asshole. My ex-love completely crushed my heart; ex and a complete dickhead who followed me everywhere. Everywhere I turned Pax was there. While he wanted me, he told me repeatedly he was no good for me.
Something he didn’t need to tell me. I still felt the pain all these years later from the first time I allowed myself
to fall in love with him. I didn’t need a round two.
My life was boring by most standards, and I liked it that way. Other than Pax showing up places, I was comfortable and content. Nothing was hard, and there wasn’t anything to shake up my day-to-day patterns. Until today.
“You have been under mental duress from a stalker. Therefore, Mr. Monroe, as your legal counsel, advised you to protect your assets with a Power of Attorney, to which you appointed Mr. Williams.”
Mental duress? Was she fucking serious? The only mental duress I was under came from Paxton Williams who never seemed to go away. And if anyone was to be my stalker it would be him.
I wanted to scream all of this at Julia, the overly happy to be of assistance lady, but instead I kept my mouth shut.
“I’ll be right in,” I told her, disconnecting the call.
Rushing from my office, I made it to the bank in record time while my mind reeled.
Of course, I knew who Paxton Williams was as well as his buddy, Garrett Monroe. The two were inseparable when we were kids growing up in a hell I’d tried to forget. While I didn’t live with them at the orphanage, Paxton had shared the horrors they faced. I knew too much and so little at the same time. Paxton confided in me years ago. It was too dark, too raw for my young mind to comprehend. His only reprieve from the nightmare was this unlikely brotherhood he formed with Dane, Onyx, and Garrett. Especially Garrett. Even now, the same was true. Garrett worked as an attorney in his own firm in downtown Philly where he shared an office with Paxton Williams, an accountant.