You Can Follow Me

YOU CAN FOLLOW ME JO BRENNER HIGH RISE PUBLISHING This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely incidental. Copyright © 2023 by Jo Brenner All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark(s). Editing provided by Jennifer Prokop of Jen Reads Romance LLC. Proofreading provided by Suella Reads. Cover design provided by Ever After Cover Design. Created with Vellum For all the horny little lovesick messes like me. CONTENTS Author’s Note One Author’s Note Two 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 Acknowledgments About the Author Future Works AUTHOR’S NOTE ONE THIS BOOK ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER. THIS BOOK ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER. THIS BOOK ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER. Good. You have been warned. Please proceed. AUTHOR’S NOTE TWO When I started writing You Can Follow Me, I was in a pretty bad space, mentally. We were about six months into the pandemic and I was so lonely I ached with it. So I read, and read, and read—mainly dark romance. And while it may seem counterintuitive, the dark scenarios in those books are what helped me find my way back to the light. Kara, Conor, Micah, and Luke came to me in a fever dream. They’ve lived with me for a long time, and, in a number of ways, have kept me going over the past couple of years. My hope is that their romance—as twisted, complicated, and difficult as it may be at times—gives you the same kind of delicious joy as it gives me. That said, all I want to do is to entertain, and the last thing I want to do is cause anyone pain. Like most dark romance, there are elements to this story that some readers may find uncomfortable, triggering, or just not for them. I’d rather you skip the book and read something that does bring you excitement and joy, because that’s what reading’s supposed to do. You can visit my website for content notes. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy. And maybe, just maybe, if you’re also struggling right now, following Kara, Conor, Micah and Luke’s journey to love and happily ever after will help you feel a little less alone. 1 The second Kara opened the door to the bar, testosterone hit her like an alpha male freight train. I want to be on an alpha male freight train. She tried not to let the thought show on her face. She was there for one reason, and one reason only. Kara had purposefully booked a hotel on Coronado Island because she knew the Naval base was here, she had googled Navy SEAL bars, and she had dropped off her luggage and headed out immediately to fulfill her fantasy. She was thirty. She was still single. She was horny as fuck. And she was going to fuck a SEAL tonight. She hadn’t expected to be so intimidated by the pheromones in the bar. Hell, she hadn’t expected there to be obvious pheromones, period. Breathing it in, Kara squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and ignored the pragmatic, slightly worried voice in her head that said, get the hell out of here, Kara, before you end up sucking off more than you can swallow. She ignored the male laughter coming from somewhere behind her, and hopped on a stool at the bar. A woman with short blue hair and tattoos covering her arms turned and saw her. The bartender looked Kara over, clearly made a judgement, and called down the bar to a shaggy-haired, lanky dude who was stacking glasses, “We’ve got another one.” “Another what?” Kara asked, wiggling her hips so she could drag her tight black dress back over her thighs. The woman laughed. “This is a SEAL bar, but then you knew that already, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for Kara to respond. “Warning—things here can get intense. So if you’re looking for a hero and a romance, try Wally’s—it’s got your usual Navy guys there.” “Fuck that. Can I get a Corona with three slices of lime?” The woman grinned. “I like you. What’s your name?” “Kara.” “Sally. You here for a while, or just passing through?” “Just until Monday.” “Two days. Woman like you, you should be able to accomplish what you came here to do in that time.” Kara hoped so. She felt eyes on her, but when she turned to look, no one was looking back. Sally passed Kara her Corona, watching with one eyebrow raised as Kara floated one lime slice after another. “So. Why SEALs?” Sally asked. Kara took a swig of her Corona. The lime overpowered the bland beer, just the way she liked. She shrugged. “Why not?” “Hmm.” But before the bartender could push, another patron waved her over, leaving Kara to her thoughts. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure when the “fuck a Navy SEAL” idea first came to her. Ever since she’d started having sex, she’d made her way through various male subcultures, archetypes, and job titles. There was the teenage dirty hipster musician phase, the college rumpled academic phase (god, those philosophy grad students were tedious), the post-college rodeo cowboy rebellion phase (somehow, even the young ones had bald spots they hid with their Stetsons, and boy, was that a letdown), the