by J. Kenner
He answered it, an icy dread curling through him.
"Christ, Ware," Sanchez said. "I just got word. It's so fucked up. There was a wreck. Hell, almost half an hour ago, and--"
"Beauregard Harkness," Landon's voice was as taut as a wire. "Where the fuck is Harkness?"
"That's just it," Sanchez said. "We don't know."
* * *
Landon sprinted for the door, Brent right beside him. "Call dispatch," Landon barked. "Get hostage rescue to her apartment. Hell, get the whole goddamn department there. I'm going to call Taylor. Maybe we got lucky and she hit the grocery store on her way home."
"Already on it," Brent said. "Go."
Landon went, ordering Siri to dial Taylor's number, and praying that she hadn't gone straight home. That she'd gone to buy wine. Cheese. Something slinky to wear. Anything to keep her away from that apartment.
No answer.
Fuck.
His car was equipped with a dashboard light, and he activated it the instant he got in the car. But the damn thing couldn't clear a complete clusterfuck of a jam, and he ended up waiting through two lights as he edged forward, squeezing in as the logjam of cars maneuvered enough to let him squeeze through.
Three more attempts to call. Three more rolls to voicemail.
He pounded on the steering wheel so hard he bruised his hand.
When he'd finally inched the car forward until he was so close he could almost smell the clear path ahead, he found himself blocked again. He spat out a fresh string of curses, then remembered the tracking app. If nothing else he could at least check her location. And maybe, just maybe, that would prove that she was safe.
He opened the app, hit the button, then waited for his phone to locate hers.
Nothing.
And then--
Fuck.
Her apartment. As big as life on his screen. And she wasn't answering her phone. And he was stuck in goddamn traffic.
Motherfucker.
He abandoned the car, sprinted into the intersection, lifted his badge, and flagged down the first car. A college-aged male in a sports jersey who looked scared shitless. "I need a favor. About a mile that way. As fast as you can. Understand?"
Now the kid nodded, looking scared and excited.
"Go."
The kid went, hauling ass, then turning on a dime when Landon ordered him to, and finally screeching to a halt in front of the larger complex that abutted Taylor's tiny one.
"Turn around here," Landon ordered. "Don't go forward. That's an active crime scene. And thank you," he added, as he practically fell out of the car, his gun now drawn as he raced the short distance to Taylor's complex.
He saw Beau the second he turned the corner into the long driveway off which the individual parking spaces were located. The slimy bastard was standing in front of the trunk of an ancient Chevy--presumably stolen--and was about to slam the hood.
Landon caught a flash of movement and felt sick--the bastard had put her in the trunk. But if she was moving, she was alive.
"Freeze, Harkness," he called, as Beau turned just enough so that he could look back at Landon. The trunk was still open, and Beau held one hand over the open space, a large kitchen knife clutched in his meaty paw, its blade pointed down at Taylor.
"You move, the bitch dies. Think I give a shit? I already got her to tell me where she stashed my money. Amazing what hearing your own bones break will do to someone's desire to cooperate."
Bile rose in his throat. "Drop the knife. Step away from the car."
"Yes, sir, Officer." He started to slowly raise his hands, the knife still in one.
Landon watched, his finger ready on the trigger. He'd kill the fucker in a heartbeat if it came to that--and damn, but he hoped it came to that--but he couldn't do it if the man was truly surrendering.
And then it happened. A swift blur of motion and Beau turned, the knife starting down.
Landon fired at the same time his mind processed what had happened. Taylor had thrust her bound legs up and kicked. And Beau had acted the way he always did--he attacked.
Landon's bullet had caught him on the turn. A chest wound that knocked him back against the car, then had him rolling to the ground into a pool of his own blood.
Landon didn't even realize he'd started racing for the car until he was already there.
He glanced in the trunk, saw Taylor's sickly twisted arm and her bound body. But she was alive and she wasn't bleeding. She nodded, unable to speak behind the gag. He carefully untied it, then crouched to check Beau.
No pulse. No respiration.
The bastard was dead.
In the distance, he heard the approaching sirens. He closed his eyes and took a moment--that had been too damn close. Then he stood and untied her legs. "I'm leaving the arm tied, baby," he said gently. "I don't want to touch that until you're with a doctor."
She nodded, her face a mass of rising bruises. "I knew you'd come." Her voice emerged soft and gravelly. "Some wild police action totally trumps horny women drooling over you."
He laughed. A real laugh. "God, I love you," he said.
"I know," she whispered, her eyes bright with meaning. "I love you, too."
Chapter Sixteen
Taylor sighed as Landon carried her into her apartment, careful of her broken arm that, for reasons she couldn't remember, they'd had to cast in old-fashioned plaster. Even after the horror of the last time she was here, it was nice to be home after two full days in the hospital.
He took her into the bedroom, then put her down gently on the bed before sitting gingerly beside her. "What can I get you?"
"You're here. What else do I need?"
He took her hand, one of the few body parts that wasn't bruised. Beau had beat the shit out of her, then broken her arm by twisting it behind her back. The pain had almost been unbearable, but she'd been able to stand it because she knew that for every moment he tortured her, that was another moment of time for Landon to come closer.
She'd never doubted he was coming. And in those long, horrible stretches with Beau, she also knew that being with Landon was the only thing that mattered. Any debate left in her head about where to live had completely vanished. The only place she wanted to be was with him.
And when he'd said those three little words to her, she knew what it was she was surviving for--them.
"In that case, there's something I need to tell you."
Her smile hurt, but was worth it. "More than that you love me?"
"I'll tell you that as much as you want. And that's part of it. I want us, Taylor. And I hope you do, too."
She nodded, then saw the relief in his eyes.
"I know you want the Hollywood thing. Or New York. What theater grad doesn't? And I just want you to know we can make that work. I can do private security. I have contacts in both places. So don't think that you have to be tied to where I am. I can move. For you, I'm happy to move."
"But you love your job."
He nodded. "I love you more."
Her body felt light with happiness. "Well, I guess we have that in common." She lifted the side of her mouth that didn't hurt into a smile. "But I don't want New York or LA."
"But--"
"I did," she continued. "But I changed my mind."
He cocked his head as if he didn't believe her.
"Really," she said. "And not just because you love your job here. It's because I love my life here. Our friends. Your cute little house. Your parents. I never expected when I became Taylor that I'd grow roots here, but I have. I don't want to be Eulalie again. I don't want to start over. Not now, anyway. Especially when Austin has tons of film and television opportunities."
He was studying her face. "You mean that."
It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded anyway. "I'd been thinking about it before Beau did his horror movie routine on me. But that solidified it, you know?"
"Yeah," he said. "I definitely do."
"If we want to be coastal later, we
can. But we can make the decision together."
"Have I mentioned that I love you?" he asked.
"I think I heard something along those lines." She flashed a quick, pained smile. "But feel free to repeat it as often as you want."
With a sigh, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
"Tired?"
She nodded. "And achy." She opened one eye. "I think there's only one place on me that's not bruised--and thank God for that." She shuddered at the thought of Beau touching her sexually. "But I'm in no condition to take advantage of it."
"Oh, I don't know," he said, his tone full of mischief as his fingers went to the tie of the oversized sweatpants she'd put on to travel home from the hospital.
"Landon," she protested. "I can't ... you know ... do anything for you."
He had her half-naked now, and he moved between her thighs, looking both sexy and devious. "That's okay. We have our whole lives for me to collect a rain check. Besides, I really want to taste you. So close your eyes and let me help you relax, baby. I promise, my turn will come."
She really didn't have the strength--or for that matter, the desire--to argue. So she did as he said and closed her eyes, letting herself float as his mouth danced over her skin, and his clever tongue teased and tasted, and lifted her up to the heavens.
He was right, she thought, as the pressure inside her built. As the aches and pains fell away under the rising pleasure. They had their whole lives together to make love.
And as soon as she was well, she intended to get right on that.
Epilogue
The last thing Easton wanted after his unexpected night of debauchery and sin was to be mingling at one of the many charity balls that served a dual function as a political mating ground, hooking up potential candidates with potential endorsements with as much efficiency as a finger swipe on Tinder.
And considering he could barely walk straight today, he wanted to be here even less.
Still, he was his firm's golden boy--the man they were trotting out and endorsing as their candidate, and with the firm's power behind him, it would be a huge red mark against him if he didn't manage to bring in at least three more stellar endorsements in the next few months. Ideally with significant funds behind them.
Which meant that despite the fact that Selma had essentially rode him to the moon and wrung him dry, he was at this party to work.
He drew a breath, straightened his tie, and stepped into the chaos of the ballroom. Immediately, a waitress handed him a glass of bourbon, and he took a sip, impressed by the smooth taste with just enough burn to make it worth drinking. He looked up, intending to ask her what label the whiskey was, but instead he froze. Because there she was on the other side of the ballroom.
In a sea of business suits and conservative dresses, Selma Herrington stood out like a sexy sore thumb. She wore skintight leather black pants paired with a black knit tank top. A red belt accentuated her small waist, and her legs seemed all the longer in her four inch heels. She wore a retro style bullet bra underneath the top, a look that some modern men probably didn't care for, but that he thought was erotic as hell, a fact proven out by the tightening in his balls, both from the sight of her and the memory of how she looked last night in nothing but that bra, stockings, and a garter belt.
Her lips were painted fire engine red and her short, spiky hair was tipped with pink and green.
She looked sexy as hell, wild as a forest fire, and completely out of place.
She was also heading straight for him.
"Hello, lover," she purred as she approached.
"Christ, Selma, keep your voice down."
"I enjoyed last night."
He swallowed. "So did I."
Her smile was smug. "I know."
"Why are you here?"
Her brows rose, but he wasn't sure if she was offended or amused. "That's my whiskey you're drinking." She nodded toward his glass. He should have known, of course. She owned one of Austin's fastest growing distilleries. Which was, in fact, part of the reason they'd been together last night.
"Listen, Selma, I need to mingle. I'm going to be announcing my--"
"Meet me in the ladies' lounge in fifteen."
He blinked at her. "What?"
She leaned closer and, thankfully, lowered her voice. "I just have this feeling that you've never fucked in the ladies room during a party. I assumed it was on your bucket list."
"Selma..."
"I want your cock in my mouth," she said, and he almost groaned aloud. "Or anywhere else you want to put it."
Oh, dear Lord, he was done for.
"Selma, stop. You know I can't."
She lifted a shoulder. "You'd be amazed how much you can do if you just step outside your box. Your box is pretty tight, Easton. I'm just trying to help you push back those walls." She stepped away, then blew him a kiss. "I'll be there in fifteen. Hopefully you will be, too."
"Don't bet the ranch," he said. But as he looked around the mind numbingly dull party ... as his mind started to imagine the sight of Selma on her knees as he fucked her mouth ...
Oh, God.
He wouldn't go.
He couldn't.
But a small part of him damn sure wanted to.
* * *
A note from JK:
I hope you enjoyed Shake It Up!
Be sure to grab Easton and Selma's story, All Night Long, book 9 in the Man of the Month series!
* * *
If you want your very own Man of the Month calendar, you can grab it now! (While supplies last!)
* * *
Guess what? I have even more exciting things coming in 2018, including more Nikki & Damien Stark! Keep reading for details!
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Subscribe to my newsletter or text JKenner to 21000 so you'll be among the first to know when fab things happen!
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Check out all of my books at www.jkenner.com and be sure to join my Facebook fan group!
All Night Long
Be sure not to miss Easton and Selma in All Night Long!
* * *
I wear designer suits on my body by day and gorgeous women on my arm at night. Some might call me arrogant, with my chiseled jaw and my dark blue eyes. Add in my money and I can get any woman I want.
* * *
Now, I want her.
* * *
The night I spent with Selma has lived in my most erotic dreams. And ever since she swept back into my life, with her flashing eyes and delicious body, I want nothing more than to make sultry new memories.
* * *
But with an election coming up, and an office I want to fill, it isn't the right time to get involved with a free-spirited girl with a wild streak. A girl who doesn't abide by the rules. A girl who could get me noticed in all the wrong ways.
* * *
A girl who makes me crazy ... in all the right ones.
* * *
Now I'm going to have to decide: Walk the straight and narrow? Or have the hottest, wildest affair of my life with the sexiest woman I've ever known?
* * *
Meet Mr. September -- he's got the moves to make a woman blush.
* * *
Grab your copy now: All Night Long
* * *
Who's Your Man of the Month?
When a group of fiercely determined friends realize their beloved hang-out is in danger of closing, they take matters into their own hands to bring back customers lost to a competing bar. Fighting fire with a heat of their own, they double down with the broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and bare chests of dozens of hot, local guys who they cajole, prod, and coerce into auditioning for a Man of the Month calendar.
But it's not just the fate of the bar that's at stake. Because as things heat up, each of the men meets his match in this sexy, flirty, and compelling binge-read romance series of twelve novels releasing every other week from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner.
* * *
"With each nov
el featuring a favorite romance trope--beauty and the beast, billionaire bad boys, friends to lovers, second chance romance, secret baby, and more--[the Man of the Month] series hits the heart and soul of romance." New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips
* * *
Down On Me
Hold On Tight
Need You Now
Start Me Up
Get It On
In Your Eyes
Turn Me On
Shake It Up
All Night Long
In Too Deep
Light My Fire
Walk The Line
* * *
and don't miss Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook!
* * *
Want your own Man of the Month calendar? Grab it now! (While supplies last!)
The Men of Man of the Month!
Are you eager to learn which Man of the Month book features which sexy hero?
Here's a handy list!
Down On Me - meet Reece Hold On Tight - meet Spencer Need You Now - meet Cameron Start Me Up - meet Nolan Get It On - meet Tyree
In Your Eyes - meet Parker Turn Me On - meet Derek Shake It Up - meet Landon All Night Long - meet Easton In Too Deep - meet Matthew Light My Fire - meet Griffin Walk The Line - meet Brent
* * *
and don't miss Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook that includes a short story featuring Eric, slices of life, and bonus scenes for all the men!
Want your own Man of the Month calendar? Grab it now! (While supplies last!)
Meet Damien Stark
Only his passion could set her free...
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The Original Trilogy
Release Me
