What Goes Around...

Prologue

A/N - so I've had a bit of a break since finishing Trying Not to Love You. Had a few story ideas, and this is currently the strongest one. So I've got a few chapters head start. May not post quite as often as usual, but will try my very best.

Would love to hear your thoughts, good, bad, other?

Thanks for your patience.

MaroZ

Prologue

"This had better be good Mike, this is my day off," Coop slumped back in his seat and laid a hand over his eyes as he waited for the response. He trusted Mike, his head of security more than anything, and whilst he was annoyed at being disturbed on a night off, he knew this would be for a genuine reason.

"It's Wicker...or rather his sister."

Coop, or rather Mitchell Cooper, though no one had called him Mitchell since he'd left High School, pinched the bridge of his nose, since he'd allowed his best friend and roommate's sister to 'rent' a room above his garage, she'd been nothing but trouble, without really doing anything.

"She's in the club, Freya?" That was about as unlikely as snow in July.

Mike chuckled, "for sure. Dressed like an exotic dancer and drinking straight bourbon. So far I've managed to keep her secluded by the bar. But it's getting busier, and you know what the Saturday night crowd is like..."

Mitchell Cooper rolled his head back eyes closed and cursed loudly. Saturday night in a seedy backstreet bar in upstate New York was no place for a woman like Freya Wicker. She reinvented the word naive. He cursed again, she'd be worse than a lamb to the slaughter. And he'd promised Oscar he'd look out for his sister.

"Why..." He groaned, answering his own question, "like you know. Damn Oscar Wicker and his exasperating sister. I'll be there as soon as I can. Will you..."

Mike laughed again, "I'm not making it obvious that I am keeping my eye on her, I'm not about to tolerate a drunk woman scratching my eyes out. I've done this long enough, if someone approaches she won't welcome me interfering, but I won't let it get out of hand...if you get here ASAP."

Coop needed no further encouragement; he reached for his shoes as he pulled himself into standing. His night of morose reminiscing suddenly disappeared rapidly. "I'm literally on my way."

Fortunately the back street club that he'd inherited at the same time as the home he now lived in was only a five minute drive away, and his large SUV covered the ground in super quick time.

The neon sign of 'Rumors' blinked at him through the inky blackness of the street as he stopped the truck and jumped out. By the time he reached the door he'd remotely locked the vehicle and shoved the keys in the pocket of his jeans, and the smell of cheap chicken wings and stale beer had engulfed his senses.

He wasn't exactly proud of the calibre of clientele that the club attracted, it was no high end social venue, hell it was barely low end, but it was busy, there was rarely any major trouble, and it paid well. Saturday night was always busy, tonight a poster reminded him that there was a heavy metal tribute band playing. The hard working patrons loved that as a way to unwind. He knew there'd be head banging maybe some roughhousing. Hence Mike being behind the bar. So why the hell was the emotionally inept and socially unprepared Freya Wicker there? The least likely person to occupy a seat at the bar.

Three months she'd been staying above his garage, and he'd barely had more than an occasional conversation with her, she was mousy, scared and prudish, wrapped up in her baggy clothing with her horn rimmed glasses, barely saying boo to a goose. He ignored the voice that reminded him that she'd made him challenge his beliefs and his choices more than once since then. And now...tonight, now he was bailing her out of potentially one of the most dangerous of situations of her life, a naive and stupid girl. She was no more than that, unarmed and un-chaperoned in his own bar, a bar filled with people who made presumptions about the other people gathered there. He cursed Oscar once more, or more importantly the answer phone message he'd left a couple of days ago.