Ruined With You

by J. Kenner

  “And deny myself the pleasure of watching this bitch die?”

  There is a dresser on the wall to his left with a mirror, and although he and Dallas can’t see it, I can. And what I see brings both hope and dread. Because what I see is a panel of wood sliding slowly to the side, right across the room from Noyce.

  Liam. It has to be Liam.

  “Dallas is right,” I say, trying to keep him engaged. Trying to buy a few minutes of life—a few minutes that might end up buying me a long and happy life with the man I love. “Testify and cut a deal and you can get everything erased. Do you think I care about pressing charges? I don’t.”

  “She just wants her life back,” Jane says, and I’m not sure if she’s seen the moving panel, too, or if she’s just trying to keep him talking.

  “And what do I care about you?” Noyce asks, lifting his gun as the panel moves enough to reveal the grate of the dumbwaiter.

  I don’t know what kind of gun he has, but I do know it’s a revolver. And I do know he’s just pulled back the hammer.

  More than that, I know that I am directly between the gun and the dumbwaiter, and even though I’m terrified that by moving I’ll reveal Liam before he’s ready, the only thing I can think of to do is get the hell out of the way. And I do that by screaming, “Now!” and diving to the floor and rolling away just a split second before Noyce fires, his bullet boring into the opposite wall. Liam fires, too, his bullet passing through the dumbwaiter’s grate to angle up and catch Noyce right between the eyes.

  In almost the same instant, another shot rings out, and the force of the bullet from Dallas’s gun knocks Noyce forward. He falls facedown onto the exceptionally nice carpet just as the sound of approaching sirens fill the room.

  I ignore him, rushing across the room to Liam who is unfolding himself from the dumbwaiter. “Tight fit,” he grumbles as he stands, then pulls me close to him, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.

  On the bed, Dallas holds Jane, who sobs quietly in his arms, even more worked up than I am; thanks, I’m sure, to hormones.

  For a moment, Liam and I just cling to each other. Then he puts me at arms-length, inspecting me for injuries. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I assure him, then freeze when I see his arm. “Oh my God.”

  “I’m fine, too,” he says. “They’ll stitch it up. No big deal. You’re safe,” he says. “It’s over.”

  “Over? What about Weil?”

  “Dead,” he tells me, and that’s when my knees really do collapse. Liam drops down beside me, pulling me close. I let him hold me, trying to adjust to this new reality. “I’m safe,” I say, enjoying the taste of the words on my tongue. I look up at him, happier than I can ever remember being. “I told you I was safe with you.”

  “So you did,” he says, then grins. “Looks like we’ve won. And our prize is each other.”

  “Tell me you love me,” I say, just because I want to hear it.

  “I love you. And I will happily spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

  I grin, then squeeze his hand as the cops and EMT guys rush into the room. “In that case, let’s get you stitched up so that you can take me home and start making your case.”

  “Um, guys,” Jane says, as Dallas beams beside her. “I think that Liam may not be the only one who needs to go to the hospital.”

  Epilogue

  “Everybody, if I could have your attention, please.” Liam stands on the edge of the hot tub in Damien Stark’s back patio, his position giving him at least a foot of height over everyone else. It’s a gorgeous space, with an infinity pool that looks out over his Malibu property and the Pacific ocean.

  ‘Everyone’ includes most of the staff at Stark Security, plus significant others and friends. Damien and Nikki are here, of course, along with Jackson and Sylvia, Cass, Emma, and several of the guys who used to work with Dallas at Deliverance.

  And, most important, Dallas, Jane, and their three-month-old daughter, who is the star of this particular party.

  “It is my very great pleasure to introduce to you Lisa Mystery Sykes. A toast,” he says, then lifts his glass of champagne. Everyone else does the same, and we all sip our fizzy drink, mine a new raspberry and lime sparkling water.

  I wait for Liam to come to my side, then twine my fingers with his. “Three months,” he says. “It’s our anniversary, too. Of being together, and of you being free.”

  I tilt my head up for his kiss. “We’ll have to celebrate.”

  “Definitely.” His brow furrows as if in thought. “But how best to do that…”

  I flash what I hope is a wicked grin, making him laugh.

  Eliza and Quince join us, waiting in what has become a cluster more than a line of people who want to see the baby. “So when are you two joining that club?” Liam asks Quince. It’s become a running joke between them, and Eliza and I exchange amused glances.

  “Probably about the time you finally pop the question to that one,” Quince says, nodding toward me.

  “Oh, soon then,” Liam says, and I almost choke on my water.

  Quince and Eliza exchange glances, too, but Liam only smiles, as if it was the most ordinary comment in the world. “I didn’t say tomorrow,” he whispers to me. “But soon is very much on my radar. If that’s too fast for you, tell me now.”

  “No,” I say, my heart tripping. “No, soon is just fine.”

  “Did you see Emma?” Eliza asks, her voice almost as giddy as I’m now feeling. “She was talking earlier to Damien and Ryan.”

  It took a few weeks after the drama in Southampton, but I finally met Damien Stark, and though he used to intimidate me—gorgeous, rich, very self-possessed—I finally realized he is simply a great guy in really awesome packaging.

  “What were they talking about?” I ask.

  “Emma is now officially with the SSA.”

  “I know,” I say. “Isn’t it great?”

  Her face crumples. “You knew? But you didn’t know,” she says to Quince, her voice almost an accusation.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, love, but I only catch the bad guys. As our office manager, Xena does the paperwork. And that would include setting up payroll.”

  “Well, hell,” Eliza says, eyeing me. “Guess I’ll start getting my gossip from you.”

  “Antonio is here,” Quince tells Liam.

  “He was in Deliverance with you, right?” I ask as we inch slightly forward.

  Liam nods. “Great guy. I haven’t seen much of him in the last couple of years.”

  “Neither have I,” Quince says.

  “Maybe he’s joining Stark Security,” Eliza says, looking at me.

  I laugh. “I have no knowledge. Swear.”

  “I doubt it,” Quince says. “He seemed relieved when we disbanded. I got the impression he had things of his own to work out.”

  From the look on Liam’s face, I think he agrees, but I don’t have time to ask because we’ve arrived at the baby. Dallas looks about to burst with pride as he holds his daughter and Jane looks exhausted but happy as she gives me a hug.

  “I looked for you earlier,” I tell her.

  “I snuck away for a bit to change and feed her.”

  “I’m glad you kept Mystery,” I tell her, my voice low.

  “You inspired us,” she says, and we both laugh.

  “How’s mommyhood?”

  “Tiring,” she says. “And absolutely freaking amazing.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  I feel a hand on my shoulder, then hear a soft whisper at my ear. “Someday.”

  I turn back, but Liam looks so innocent I can almost convince myself it was my imagination. I hope it wasn’t. I want a family; I want it with Liam. And I’ve even started researching getting my tubal ligation reversed, even though I know I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

  Behind us, Sylvia and Jackson come up to see the newest addition to the Sykes family, so Liam and I step aside after Jane promises to find me later to catch up. We’re lean
ing against a stone wall, just holding hands and looking at the view, when Liam says, “There’s Antonio.”

  He’s clean-shaven in his mid-thirties with dark hair, warm brown skin, and a friendly, open face.

  Liam starts to take a step toward him, but then pauses when Damien approaches, his hand outstretched. We watch as the two men shake. We’re in the open, not intentionally eavesdropping, but I still feel like this is a private moment. At the same time, leaving would just call attention to ourselves.

  Besides, Liam wants to talk to his friend, and lingering is the traditionally accepted cocktail party method of catching someone’s attention.

  All of which is to say that we can hear perfectly when Antonio says, “Thanks so much for inviting me. It’s great to have the chance to see Dallas and Jane and the baby. And your house. It’s exceptional.”

  “Thanks. Is that the only reason you accepted my invitation?”

  Antonio grins. “I think you know it’s not.”

  “What can I do for you?” Damien’s hands are in the pockets of his khaki slacks, and the sun makes his raven-colored hair gleam.

  “Do you remember what you said in Paris?”

  “After you came to my wife’s rescue? I’m not inclined to forget things like that. I said that if you ever need help, Stark Security is there for you. Anytime. Anything.”

  “Well,” Antonio says, “it turns out I do need some help. Specifically, I need a woman.”

  I hoped you enjoyed Liam and Xena’s story! And I hope you’re excited to meet ANTONIO in Wrecked With You!

  * * *

  Be sure to subscribe to my newsletter or Text JKenner to 21000 to subscribe to JK’s text alerts and be among the first to know about the Wrecked With You preorder and on-sale date! Plus, you’ll get all the news about new books, sales, free content, and other fun stuff!

  * * *

  The Stark Security books are set in the world of Stark International, a world that first came to life for me in Release Me, Damien Stark and Nikki Fairchild’s story. But several of the characters in Ruined With You have their own stories, too.

  * * *

  You may have already met Quince and Eliza in Shattered With You or Denny and Mason in Broken With You.

  * * *

  But did you know that you can find Jamie and Ryan’s story in Tame Me?

  * * *

  And as for Dallas and Jane, their trilogy begins with Dirtiest Secret, and I’m including the first chapter to give you a taste because I love this book so much and want everyone to read it! Just keep turning pages! (but be sure to subscribe to the newsletter first so you don’t forget!)

  * * *

  Happy reading!

  * * *

  JK

  Dirtiest Secret - Excerpt

  The King of Fuck

  * * *

  Even by Southampton standards, the party at the nine-thousand-square-foot mansion on Meadow Lane reeked of extravagance.

  Grammy Award–winning artists performed on an outdoor stage that had been set up on the lush lawn that flowed from the main house to the tennis courts. Celebrities hobnobbed with models who flirted with Wall Street tycoons who discussed stock prices with tech gurus and old-money academics, all while sampling fine scotch and the season’s chicest gin. Colored lights illuminated the grotto-style pool, upon which nude models floated lazily on air mattresses, their bodies used by artisan sushi chefs as presentation platters for epicurean delights.

  Each female guest received a Hermès Birkin bag and each male received a limited edition Hublot watch, and the exclamations of delight—from both the men and the women—rivaled the boom of the fireworks that exploded over Shinnecock Bay at precisely ten P.M., perfectly timed to distract the guests from the bustle of the staff switching out the dinner buffet for the spread of desserts, coffee, and liqueurs.

  No expense had been spared, no desire or craving or indulgence overlooked. Nothing had been left to chance, and every person in attendance agreed that the party was the Must Attend event of the season, if not of the year. Hell, if not of the decade.

  Everyone who was anyone was there, under the stars on the four acre lot on Billionaires’ Row.

  Everyone, that is, except the billionaire who was actually hosting the party. And speculation as to where he was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with ripped through the well-liquored and gossip-hungry crowd like wildfire in a windstorm.

  “No idea where he could have disappeared off to, but I’d bet good money he’s not pining away in solitude,” said a reed-thin man with salt-and-pepper hair and an expression that suggested disapproval but was most likely envy.

  “I swear I came five times,” a perky blonde announced to her best friend in the kind of stage whisper designed to attract attention. “The man’s a master in bed.”

  “He’s got a shrewd head for business, that one,” said a Wall Street trader, “but no sense of propriety where his cock is concerned.”

  “Oh, honey, no. He’s not relationship material.” A brunette celebrating a recently inked modeling contract shivered as if reliving a moment of ecstasy. “He’s like fine chocolate. Meant to be savored in very limited quantities. But so damn good when you have it.”

  “More power to him if he can grab that much pussy.” A hipster with beard stubble and a man-bun wiped his wire-rimmed glasses clean with his shirttail. “But why the fuck does he have to be so blatant about it?”

  “All of my friends have had him.” The petite redhead who pulled in a six figure wife bonus smiled slowly, and the flash of her green eyes suggested that she was the cat and he was the delicious cream. “But I’m the only one of us to enjoy a second helping.”

  “All your friends?”

  “How much pussy?”

  “At least half the women here tonight. Maybe more.”

  “Man, don’t even ask that. Just trust me. Dallas Sykes is the King of Fuck. You and me? Mere mortals like us can’t even compare.”

  Three floors above the partygoers, in a room with a window overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Dallas Sykes sucked hard on the clit of the lithe blonde who sat on his face and writhed with pre-orgasmic pleasure. The blonde’s cries of “yes, yes!” mingled with the throaty moans of delight coming from the curvaceous redhead who straddled his waist while he finger-fucked her hard and deep.

  They’d surrendered to him, these women, and the knowledge that they were his tonight—for tenderness, for torment—cut through him. A wicked aphrodisiac with an edge as sharp as steel, and at least as savage.

  He was drunk—on sex, on scotch, on submission. And right then, all he wanted was to get lost in pleasure. To let all the rest of the shit just melt away.

  “Please.” The redhead’s muscles clenched tight around his fingers, and a tremor ran through his body, his need for release now so potent that it crossed the line into pain. “I’m so close, Dallas. I want you inside me. Now. Oh, god, please. Now.”

  He could barely understand her words, lost as they were in the wet sounds of his mouth on the blonde’s sweet pussy. But he heard enough, and in one wild, rough movement, he rolled the girl above him to the side, so that she stretched and trembled on the bed, her nipples hard and her pussy slick and open and inviting.

  Dallas felt his body tighten with need. With desire. But only for release. He didn’t want either of these women. Not really. Their company, yes. The escape they offered, sure. But them?

  Neither was the woman he craved. Neither was the girl who had both saved and destroyed him. The woman he wanted.

  The woman he could never have.

  And so instead he sought pleasure and passion in the violent rapture of hard, hot sex.

  “Sit back,” he said to the blonde as he pushed away his dark thoughts and regrets. He reached for the crystal highball glass and downed the last of the Glenmorangie, relishing the way it burned his throat and buzzed his head. “Back against the headboard. Legs spread wide.”

  She nodded, moving eagerly to obey as he urg
ed the redhead off his waist. “Fuck me,” the redhead begged. Her green eyes flashed, her expression pleading. Her lips were swollen, her skin flushed. She smelled of sex, and the scent—so familiar, so dangerous, so goddamned compelling—made him even harder. “I want you to fuck me.” Her words were a pout—a plea—and Dallas almost smiled in response.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Instead he lifted a brow. “Want? Baby, this isn’t about what you want. This is about what you need.”

  “Then I need you to fuck me.”

  His lips twitched. He liked a woman who knew her own mind, that was for damn sure. And the redhead truly amused him. He’d plucked her from the crowd downstairs because he’d liked the way she’d filled out the flirty black dress that was now crumpled in a heap on his bedroom floor. That, and the fact he happened to know that she had a cousin who worked for a government official in Bogotá, and that connection might prove handy one day.

  As for the blonde, Dallas had no particular agenda with her. But he appreciated her limber little body and quiet obedience. Right now, she was sitting exactly as he’d told her, her legs wide apart and wonderfully vulnerable. She wasn’t moving a muscle, but the beat of her pulse in her throat telegraphed her excitement at least as much as her tight nipples and hot, wet pussy.

  He met the redhead’s flashing green eyes, then nodded toward the blonde. “You want to get fucked. I want to watch. And I promise you, she wants to do whatever I say. Sounds like a perfect recipe, don’t you think?”

  The redhead dragged her polished white teeth over her lower lip. “I’ve never—”

  “But you will. Tonight.” He met her eyes. “For me.”

  She licked her lips as he slid off the bed and stood. She was still sitting, her knees pressed into the mattress as she sat back on her heels. He leaned forward, then took her in a long, slow kiss. She tasted of strawberries and innocence. He wanted to devour the first; he wanted to erase the second. “Hook your legs around her waist and kiss her deep. Suck her tits. Touch her however you want to. But she’s going to fuck you with her fingers while you and I both imagine it’s my cock. And, baby? You’re going to come harder for me than you’ve ever come for anyone.”