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    Little Rejects
    Little Rejects
    Little Rejects
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Little Rejects

    By Airicka Phoenix

    ()

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    ??? ???? ?????'? ?? ???? ????? ?? ??? ??????? ???????????

    Tell that to the masked men who snatched me up in the dead of night. Three dangerous men with only one objective: to keep me for themselves.

    Captured and snowbound in an isolated cabin with nothing but each other for company, I find myself at the mercy of the men who ignite my soul with a fire that only burns for them.

    As the storm rages outside, an inferno burns between us that's scarier than any blizzard. These are not good, law abiding men with pure intentions. They are the rejects. Jefferson's unwanted filth. They are the men girls are warned about. But I don't care.

    They are mine.
    My filth.
    My rejects.

    They are everything to me, but they are keeping a secret from me. There is a clock running down to when I might lose them forever. A slap of reality waiting to strike once the storm stops that may leave me broken-hearted.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAiricka Phoenix
    Release dateJan 27, 2025
    ISBN9798230478591
    Little Rejects
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    Author

    Airicka Phoenix

    Airicka Phoenix is a multi genre author of over twenty-five bestselling novels starring strong female leads and sexy alpha heroes. She started her journey after never finding the type of books she wanted to read. Her love of tortured souls and forbidden romance carried her into writing her own hard-earned happiness. Currently, she lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her babies and can be found hard at work on her next project. For more about Airicka, visit her at AirickaPhoenix.com

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      Book preview

      Little Rejects - Airicka Phoenix

      OTHER BOOKS BY AIRICKA PHOENIX

      TOUCH SAGA

      Touching Smoke

      Touching Eternity (1.5)

      Touching Fire

      Touching Embers

      THE BABY SAGA

      Forever His Baby

      Bye-Bye Baby

      Be My Baby

      Always Yours, Baby

      His Lullaby Baby

      SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA

      Octavian’s Undoing

      Gideon’s Promise

      Magnus’s Defeat

      TWISTED SERIES

      Twisted Obsession

      DARK MAFIA

      The Sinner’s Bargain

      Transcending Darkness

      Blood Script

      The Devil’s Beauty

      Dirty Gambit

      Bad Men

      Protector’s Claim

      STANDALONES

      Unwrapping Deviance

      Her Forbidden Flesh

      Kissing Trouble

      The Voyeur Next Door

      Laid Bare

      DEDICATIONS

      To you, who picked this book up knowing you’re not here for the plot.

      BLURB

      WHO SAYS THERE'S NO such thing as the perfect kidnapping?

      Tell that to the masked men who snatched me up in the dead of night. Three dangerous men with only one objective: to keep me for themselves.

      Captured and snowbound in an isolated cabin with nothing but each other for company, I find myself at the mercy of the men who ignite my soul with a fire that only burns for them.

      As the storm rages outside, an inferno burns between us that's scarier than any blizzard. These are not good, law-abiding men with pure intentions. They are the rejects. Jefferson’s unwanted filth. They are the men girls are warned about. But I don’t care.

      They are mine.

      My filth.

      My rejects.

      They are everything to me, but they are keeping a secret from me. There is a clock running down to when I might lose them forever. A slap of reality waiting to strike once the storm stops that may leave me broken-hearted.

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHERRIE

      ANYONE WHO HAS EVER worked a minimum wage retail job will tell you, there is a side to Grandma and Grandpa that comes out when they think they can get away with being shitty human beings. It doesn’t seem to process that without some college dropout like me to man the only gas station for three hundred miles, they’d be some cannibal’s supper right now and they should be grateful, not telling me how useless my life actually is.

      As right as they might be.

      It must be nice not having anything important to deal with all the way out here, the short, stump of a woman mutters while her crane of a husband excavates his wallet for loose coins.

      He slaps down a whole fifty cents in nickels. And I bet you think you deserve a raise, he says, adding his metaphorical two cents. Twenty-five dollars an hour to sit behind a counter and watch people pump their own gas. Back in my day, you’d get your tank filled, your windows washed, and your tires filled for a quarter.

      I don’t speak right away. Not because I’m too pissed by the unnecessary commentary to find the words, but because I’m contemplating how to broach the fact that his fly is wide open and a fat, red Spiderman face is playing peekaboo with me through the gap.

      Is there anything else I can get for you guys? I ask sweetly because if I get one more customer complaint, Hahn threatened to dock my pay, and I need that money to get the duck out of Jefferson.

      No. I said duck because according to sweet, little ol’ Mrs. Carter living in the apartment under mine, Jesus isn’t going to save my gosh darn soul if I talk like a gutter rat, and there is very little I wouldn’t do for that woman.

      My change would be nice, Paul Bunyan says.

      I glance down at the crumpled twenty and fistful of silver coins. Then at him, gauging his level of seriousness.

      He’s serious.

      Careful not to let my retail face slip, I reach into the register and pop a whole, shiny penny down on the scuffed glass covering the scratch tickets and slide it over to his side with one finger.

      You get home safe now, I say.

      He swipes it and gives me a smug smirk as if he sure showed me. You should consider smiling more. You’d get more customers.

      I tried. Jesus saw me. He knows I ducking tried.

      When I want advice, I’ll ask someone not wearing Spiderman briefs.

      The smile slips off his face and both people drop their eyes to his midsection. The wife cries out as if I’d kicked her puppy and the man sputters while fighting with his zipper.

      How dare you! the wife squawks. This is not how you treat paying customers. I will be making a formal complaint to your boss.

      Of course you are, I think, but only smile back at them as they hurry to the door. It smacks noisily against the silver bell. I watch them sprint across the icy concrete to their Pontiac Firebird parked at pump two and climb in.

      The wife has her phone out and I know Hahn is about to get a call.

      Great.

      Sure enough, forty minutes later, Hahn is screaming into my ear, a relentless stream of threats we both know he will never carry out because I am the only stupid person in a five-hundred-mile radius who even wants this job. Moreover, I’m the only person willing to do manager work at part time pay. I could still be in town, waitressing and still make more on tips alone, but I learned quickly I possess zero patience and hate people. My little bubble of solitude suits me just fine.

      I’m sorry, Cherrie, but ... you’re fired.

      I blink. That is not how the conversation usually goes.

      What? Are you serious?

      Hahn hesitates just long enough to make me think maybe he’d spoken in haste, but then he sighs and says, You can’t be mean to customers. It’s bad for business. Close up. Drop off your keys tomorrow, okay?

      Not okay. I’m tempted to point out that they were mean to me first, but he has already hung up.

      Ducks! I snarl, slamming the phone down on the counter.

      I rub the tips of eight fingers into my brow. I should have kept my mouth shut. I knew the risks and I still let a couple of assholes get me worked up.

      Now what am I supposed to do? I will talk to Hahn in the morning. That’s what. I will make him change his mind and once he does, I will be on my best behavior. I will watch my mouth and say nothing no matter what.

      Taking a breath, I start the closing process. I tell myself this is a blessing in disguise because the weather is supposed to be getting bad by the time I made the forty-five-minute hike back into town a little after midnight, but the weight in my chest won’t loosen.

      I’ve never been fired from a job before. Maybe because I kept to myself and did my job, but people tended to leave the poor orphan girl alone and I liked that. Jefferson knew when to mind its own business.

      The town of just under eight thousand prides itself on being a family, unless you don’t have one. Then you don’t belong, not that anyone would say that to your face. No. They were too God-fearing for that. Instead, you’re treated as if you just got released from prison and need to be watched

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