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Aces and Eights: The Stud.

Adam O'Connor sat in the back row of his Gamblers anonymous meeting, silently listening to the others recite the twelve steps to recovery. He could have recited them backward with his eyes closed. That's how many times he'd relapsed. But this time was different. Now Adam was being held to account by the prez and the henchman-two club members he couldn't afford to get on the wrong side of.

The brunette beside him stifled a yawn, and he idly wondered if she had a gag reflex, it had been a while. Now that Aimee had made the brothel a legit business, members couldn't get any more freebies, and Adam was damned if he'd waste his time wining and dining a one-night stand, and that's all the stud was after. At twenty-three, he was way too young to tie himself to one old lady.

On his other side sat Carl. Carl was still going through withdrawal. Adam didn't much like him, which made things awkward since he was Carls sponsor. The balding, overweight Accountant traveled every week

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