Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Jeana E. Mann

  “We can’t be friends,” Karly said. Her voice was calm and controlled, as if she had rehearsed this speech many times. "My friends don’t lie to me.”

  “I won’t let things end like this. You have to listen to me.”

  A sudden breeze lifted Karly’s hair, stirring her to action. She tried to step around Jerome, but he caught her by the arm. Randy’s hands twitched with the urge to throttle the man for touching her. Common sense stopped him short. The girl had a handle on things. It was none of his business, and he preferred to keep out of it unless she needed his help.

  “Get your hand off of me.” Karly yanked her arm free and retreated a few paces away. Red fingerprints marred the pale skin of her slender bicep. “If you touch me again, I'll go straight inside to your wife and tell her everything.”

  A long silence stretched between the couple, disrupted by the night songs of crickets and frogs. Randy inhaled a deep breath, mesmerized by the mixture of passion, determination, and devastation on Karly’s face. Ablaze with emotion, the heart-shaped face took on an ethereal quality. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Relief came in the form of a distant car alarm, disturbing the quiet and breaking her spell over him. He scrubbed a hand over his face to clear his mind.

  “You need to go, Jerome,” Karly said. “Go back to your wife and stay the hell away from me.”

  When Jerome left, more than a few minutes passed before Karly regained her composure. Torn between the desire to scream or cry, she chose instead to stand immobile in the darkness, clenching and unclenching her fists until her thoughts steadied. Her words to Jerome had been brave, but her insides quivered with the turmoil of her emotions.

  The wound of their breakup was still raw. Less than two months ago, she’d been lying in his arms, watching the sunrise through a castle window. The trip to London had been the culmination of a lifelong dream. A romantic weekend getaway with an esteemed scholar had been the icing on the cake. Two days later, she saw the texts from his wife. The dream became a nightmare, leaving no doubt about his dubious character, and ripping her heart to shreds. Just when the gaping hole in her soul began to scab over, he ripped off the bandage and left her bleeding.

  Overwhelmed with the need to break something, she searched the immediate area until her gaze landed on a broken tree branch a few feet away. She bent to retrieve it, tested the weight in her hands, and looked around her for something to smash. Raising the limb overhead, she took a deep breath and aimed for the employee picnic table sitting beneath the tree.

  “Easy now.”

  The gravelly voice startled her. With a shriek of alarm, she whirled, heart in her throat, stick upraised. Randy eyed her, a mixture of amusement and wariness on his face. With gentle hands, he pried the stick from her fingers and tossed it into the dumpster. It landed inside with an echoing thud, similar to the hollowness inside her.

  “I really need to hit something right now,” she said, a little breathless from the surge of adrenalin brought on by his sudden appearance. “And you're not helping.”

  “Well, not a good choice unless you want your bell rung,” he said, shaking his head. “The stick was oak, and the picnic table is metal. You'd feel it all the way to your toes.” He cocked a thick, dark eyebrow and thumped a fist on his chest. “You’re welcome to give me a punch if you think it’d make you feel better.”

  For a split second, she considered it, eyeing the expanse of muscle beneath the tight T-shirt then shook her head. He looked more formidable than the table. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked instead, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the idea of a witness to her shame.

  Randy leaned against the dumpster, long legs crossed at the ankle, and searched his pockets for a cigarette while Karly tried to catch her breath. “Long enough to know that guy is a dick,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m sorry.” The furrow between his brows deepened as his eyes searched her face. “Are you okay?”

  “Have you ever had someone rip your heart out then wave it in front of your face?” Her words came out breathy, cautious, and high-pitched. Feeling a wave of nausea, she passed a shaking hand over her eyes.

  “Can’t say that I have,” he replied, looking amused. “Sounds painful." He studied her again, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You don’t look okay. You’re white as a sheet."

  In his efforts to disarm her, the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket had fallen into the mud puddle at their feet. He frowned and retrieved the pack, water dripping from the cellophane wrapper. With an expression of resignation, he tossed it into the trash. One of his large hands scrubbed through the bristly copper hair atop his head. The scar tissue of an angry jagged slash snaked from jaw to collarbone. How had she missed that before? He shifted slightly as if to block it from her view. She averted her eyes, trying to look anywhere but at him.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, to convince herself as much as him. The shock of seeing Jerome and the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach might never go away. "What are you doing out here anyway?”

  “Just enjoying the smog and the heat,” he said dryly. “You look like you’re going to puke. Do you need to sit down? Maybe we should go inside…”

  “No!” The protest burst from her lips. The last place she wanted to be was inside with Jerome and his wife. “I mean, thanks, but no. I just need a breath of fresh air and then I’m going to catch the bus home.”

  Silence expanded between them until she looked up at him.

  “I’ll walk you to the bus stop then. You shouldn’t be out here alone. Especially in that getup.” The dark eyes crawled over the swell of her breasts, skimmed the strip of bare belly below the band of her tank, and flitted over the tiny kilt, white knee socks, and black shoes. When his gaze at last dragged to her face, the approval was evident but tempered by the kindness in his eyes. Her cheeks flushed at the unspoken compliment.

  “I do it all the time. It’s no big deal.” She waved an airy hand through the air. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  “People are twisted. You can never be too careful.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as if unsure what to do with them and gave her a flicker of a smile. “Ally would be really pissed if she knew I let you walk by yourself. And honestly, I’m a little afraid of her.”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE ROUTE to the bus stop passed through a wooded park, thick with brush and aged trees. Although street lamps lit the sidewalks with golden pools of light, the dark shadows of the park remained deep and mysterious. At Randy’s insistence, they walked down the center of the deserted street. His vigilance caused the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. She swallowed hard, forcing along the lump of nerves caught in her throat, and tucked her purse into the crook of her arm.

  They walked side by side without speaking, the quiet broken only by the rustle of leaves and branches. The occasional brush of his bare arm against hers sent tingles of gooseflesh over her skin. He was close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, to smell the musk of masculine perspiration mingled with testosterone and shower gel. She took a delicate sniff. Even his sweat smelled good.

  Randy broke the silence first. “You handled that pretty well,” he said. “I think I would have punched the guy in the nuts."

  “Really?” She arched an eyebrow in his direction, secretly pleased with his praise. “I wanted to punch him in the nuts. I still might," she added. He laughed.

  More silence ensued, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With his hands in his jean pockets, he had an easy air about him, as if they were old friends taking a stroll. The moonlight highlighted the strong lines of his profile, a bold forehead, straight nose with a slight bump at the bridge, and an angular jaw. They were fierce, masculine features like those of an ancient warrior passed on through generations. Every inch of him exuded confidence and capability, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was as capable in bed.

  “So what’s with the water and lemon, anyway?
” Not liking the direction of her thoughts so soon after an encounter with Jerome, she changed the subject. "Are you on the wagon or something? Dieting?”

  “Hell, no.” A deep throaty chuckle reverberated through the humid air. “I don’t like to drink when I’m working. And I sure as hell wouldn’t eat anything cooked by Scotty.”

  “Working? I thought you worked at Felony. Did you quit or something?” She stopped in the middle of the street to remove a rock from her shoe, placing a hand on Randy’s broad forearm for balance. He waited patiently for her to replace her shoe then fell into step beside her when she moved on.

  “I still tend bar and bounce. But it’s not enough to live on, you know? So I moonlight here and there.” When a car turned the corner and headed up the street, he guided her to the sidewalk with a gentle nudge. The touch of his hand to her elbow, fingertips warm and calloused, made her eyes widen. The car whooshed past and turned at the next intersection, leaving them alone again.

  “Moonlight? Doing what? Testing the drinking water?” She bit her lower lip as he laughed again.

  A twig cracked in the underbrush beside her. She squeaked and dropped her purse. A mangy dog clambered out of the thicket, tail low and eyes haunted. A nervous giggle burst from her lips as the mutt trotted across the street. Randy bent to retrieve her purse and handed it to her before shoving his hands back into his pockets.

  “Are you always this tense?” he asked. “Or is it me? Do I make you uncomfortable?” A frown furrowed his brow. “I get that a lot.”

  They had reached the bus stop. Feeling stupid, she took a seat on the bench. “No. Sorry. It’s been a very long, very shitty day.”

  The broad shoulders relaxed, and his brow smoothed. “Right.” He took a quick look up and down the street. “I’m going to visit this bush over here. Too much water.” He laughed apologetically.

  Guys. She rolled her eyes as he disappeared into the shrubbery behind the bus stop and glanced at her cell. Twenty minutes until the next bus. She decided to thumb through her texts to pass the time. Two from Ally, one from Mitch, nothing from Emma. Concerned, she tapped out a quick message then groaned when the screen froze, and her phone went dark.

  Engrossed in the technology fiasco, she failed to notice the Chevy sedan gliding up the street until it stopped at the curb in front of her. It was an older model, covered in primer and rust, with gleaming chrome wheels that probably cost more than the car itself. The black-tinted passenger window slid down to reveal two guys and the thud of hip-hop bass.

  Their unwanted attention made her heart skip a beat. She kept her gaze on the phone and pretended not to notice them, hoping they would go away.

  “Hey, pretty girl. Look at you, sitting here all alone.” The driver smiled at her, the forced affability chilling her to the bone despite the muggy atmosphere. “Can we give you a ride home?”

  “Beat it, guys.” Randy’s raspy voice caught the men by surprise. The passenger twisted around to glare at the unwelcome arrival. Randy slid onto the bench beside her, pressing his rock-hard thigh against hers. One of his arms draped over the backrest as if claiming her, daring the men to challenge him. The tight coil of his muscles suggested he was ready for a fight. Randy jerked his chin in the direction of the next street when they didn’t move. “I said step off.”

  The passenger raised both hands in defeat while the driver put the car in gear. The tinted window slid shut. The car glided away from the curb and down the street.

  “Is it always that easy for you?” Karly asked.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes not,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “It doesn’t hurt to be six-foot-six.”

  “I suppose you’re not afraid of much,” she replied, returning his smile, liking him more than she’d expected.

  “Pregnant women,” he said. “And clowns. They freak me the fuck out.”

  She laughed, struck by the image of the towering man shrinking from a harmless clown carrying balloons at a circus.

  The press of his lean body against hers brought a sudden rush of nerves. Acutely aware of his size, strength, and undeniable maleness, she swallowed hard and tried not to think about the flutter deep in her core. Unsure what to do with her hands, she yanked the ponytail holder from her hair and untangled the unruly ringlets. Randy watched her, his eyes following the stroke of her fingers with rapt interest before they flickered to meet her own.

  Attraction pulsed between them, unexpected and breathtaking in its intensity. His eyes went to her lips and held. The beat of her heart quickened, and her lips parted. She sucked in a breath, needing oxygen to offset the rush of blood thundering through her veins. Their eyes met again. She’d never seen eyes quite like his, feral yet focused, churning with complexity.

  A subtle cock of his head aligned his mouth with hers. The slow sweep of his tongue over his lower lip drew her in like a moth to flame. She closed the distance between them, resting her mouth against his in question. At her touch, the sharp intake of his breath whistled between them. He tasted like cherries and tobacco—sharp, sweet, and masculine. The clean scent of his shower gel and fabric softener wafted over her.

  Oh. Freaking. Damn. Her hands found their way to his chest and curled into his shirt. What was she doing? Kissing a complete stranger at a bus stop? She lacked the strength or the willpower to pull away, lost in the texture of his tongue and his soft lips. Randy’s mouth curved into a smile against hers before he pulled back. The eyes watching her were dark with lust and brimming with amusement.

  Heat flooded her cheeks as she uncurled her fingers from his T-shirt. The fabric retained the dents where her clutching fists had been. She smoothed over them with her palms, the muscles of his chest solid and warm beneath her touch, ribs springing with each inhalation. Her hands lingered, fascinated by the sensation, until his chuckle reverberated beneath her hands.

  The fire in her cheeks ratcheted up to inferno level. She slid away from him, putting much-needed space between her and his sinful body. What the hell was her problem? She appreciated hot guys as much as the next girl, but she didn’t go around kissing them or feeling them up.

  “Damn, girl,” was all he said. The look of amusement had slid from his face and turned into something primal and disconcerting.

  To her relief, the bus rounded the corner and pulled to the curb with the squeal of brakes. A loud hiss and a clunk followed as the doors opened. She stood and scrambled for her bus pass in the depths of her purse.

  “Are you coming?” She paused on the steps of the bus. Unable to look him in the eyes after her embarrassing display, she focused on the dimple in his scruffy chin.

  “Nope. I think I’m going to walk,” Randy said. “I'll see you around.”

  The bus lurched from the curb. She slid into a window seat and watched him walk away, hands in his pockets, long legs eating up the pavement, until the bus rounded the corner, and he disappeared from sight.

  CHAPTER 4

  KARLY TRUDGED up the trash-strewn stairs to her apartment, feet sore and legs aching. Humidity dripped from the stair railing. She breathed through her mouth to avoid the putrid stench coming from the second floor. The muscles in her thighs burned from flight after flight of steps. Why, oh why, had she taken a seventh-floor apartment in a building whose elevator never worked? The angry voice of Mr. Gonzalez, who lived in the apartment beneath hers, leaked through the thin walls as he berated his wife.

  A one-bedroom efficiency on the city's lower east side was the best she could afford on her minimal income and still go to school. God willing, it was only temporary. Someday she would live in a real house with Emma. Somewhere that didn’t smell like pee or Chinese food from the restaurant downstairs.

  With head down and one hand in her purse, she rifled through the compartments in search of her door key and cursed her disorganization. It seemed like every other day she was losing something. Last week it had been her car keys. Monday it had been her left contact lens. She groaned in frustration and dug deeper into the handba
g.

  That was when she noticed it. The angry red tag from the electric company hanging on her apartment door. Panic knotted her stomach. Notice of Disconnect—Final Notice. She tore the tag from the door and ripped it into pieces. Inside the apartment, she slammed the door shut and rested against it, too weary to walk another step. The tattered remnants of the notice slipped through her fingers and fluttered to the floor. She slid down the door to the worn linoleum and drew her knees to her chest.

  If she wasn’t fucked before, she was now. How in the world could she care for Emma when she couldn’t even care for herself?

  “Hold it together,” she muttered aloud and swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. For one fleeting moment of insanity, she considered running to Mitch, and begging for his help. He had his own responsibilities to shoulder with a baby on the way. Despite her desperation, adding to his burden was selfish and irresponsible.

  Life seemed composed entirely of unpleasantness like worry over things she couldn’t control, the stress of stretching every dollar beyond its capacity, working shitty jobs that paid too little, and swallowing her pride to take handouts from friends and strangers. She swiped away a rogue tear and choked back the guilt. It seemed a small sacrifice for Emma. Mustering her strength, she picked herself up from the floor. Tomorrow would be better. She had ten days to pay the electric bill. A lot could happen in the space of ten days. If she didn’t hold on to hope, she’d have nothing.

  Exhausted from the day’s fiasco, she ran a tub full of hot water and lit half a dozen candles to brighten the darkness. As she stared at the crack in the ceiling above the tub, her thoughts turned to Randy. God, he was hot. Too bad she wasn’t in the market for a fling. He would be just what the doctor ordered.