by Lily Harlem
Good Cop, Bad Cop
By Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Good Cop, Bad Cop
© Lily Harlem & Natalie Dae 2012
Cover Art by Emmy Ellis (Posh Gosh) © 2012
To Emmy, one of the most inspirational and kindest people I have ever had the pleasure and privilege of calling my friend – Lily
Good Cop, Bad Cop
Fame and fortune is a blessing that, for me, has changed its taste from sumptuously sweet to murderously bitter. Leaving me no choice but to look over my shoulder at every turn and question the scruples of even my most faithful friends.
I would give up all the glowing adoration from my fans in a heartbeat in exchange for not running for my life. But fate doesn’t deal cards that way, and instead I find myself far out at sea and being bounced between two hot cops—one so chilly just his glance gives me frostbite, and the other showing a kindness that barely covers his own demons.
So with nowhere else to turn, quite literally, I have to trust two men I hardly know with my life and cope without the luxuries my status usually affords me. But it’s not long before I discover when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Turns out these cops are not only the wrong guys to mess with, they also have partnership skills above and beyond the requirements of their day job. And for once, while just being me without the frills, I get to discover that they are as sinfully bad as they are dreamily good in every department, and it seems, I am the one they want cuffed and controlled at the same time as they are protecting and serving.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
That Filthy Book
More Menage Novels
Chapter One
Okay, so I have it all. The voice of an angel, three platinum-selling albums, looks other women can only strive to achieve and a shit-crazy, fully fledged, murderous stalker.
I’m lucky, right?
Smoothing my hands down my red silk dress that I’d all but been vacuum packed into, I glanced around the dinner table. I knew everyone. Some better than others, which helped, in a way.
Sitting opposite was my childhood best friend, Tommy Bell, chatting to the new guy from Astor. Tommy was also my manager, had been for years, and I trusted him with my life, quite literally. He looked handsome tonight in a crisp black suit and with his dark hair brushed back. He exuded the air of authority and confidence he’d had since being a scruffy ten year old persuading me to climb a tree in his backyard.
I’d caught his attention, and he paused briefly and grinned. I smiled and my heart swelled with gratitude. I never needed to worry about striking the best deals with a record label when he was around or what route to take a marketing campaign down once he was on the case. Tommy always had my best interests at heart, was knife-sharp at negotiating and as honest as they came. God had smiled on me the day the Bells had moved onto our block and their youngest son had decided he’d wanted me as his best buddy.
I took a sip of champagne and looked at Dimitri, my bodyguard. His drink was untouched, even though it was only cola, and his arms were folded over his broad, apish chest. Dimitri was new. Tommy had hired him last week. I tried to quash the lurch in my stomach when I thought of the reason why his presence was necessary. Tried but failed. The hollow, sick feeling was growing each day, clawing at my nerves, shredding my sanity. Living with fear was like existing in a different dimension to everyone else. It was dark and cold and rippled up my spine and over my scalp when I least expected it. It caused me to catch my breath and my head to spin, lose my focus and feel alone in a room full of people.
There had been another note this morning, shoved under my hotel room door. It had read one word. SOON. Like the others it was written in newspaper-letters. Nausea had gripped me as I’d picked it up. My heart had beat so hard the sound of my pulse in my ears was deafening in the quiet room.
I’d dropped the piece of paper, watched it flutter to the floor, then stumbled to the phone. Called Tommy who came rushing, Dimitri at his side. I’d burst out crying as soon as they’d arrived. I’d tried so hard not to sob that when it did erupt it racked my lungs and bent me double.
I knew what the note threatened and what would happen soon—my death.
Tommy had held me, stroked my hair, whispered that it would be all right and asked Dimitri, who’d stood silently holding the note, to call Meredith, my lead backing singer, to come from her room across the corridor.
I glanced at Meredith now. She was staring at me, her intense blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight and her mouth set in a straight line.
“What are you thinking about, India?” she asked, fingering the small cross that sat in the hollow of her throat. “You look on edge.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not still upset about this morning, are you?”
“Yes, a little.” Who was I kidding? The weight of the worry was like an anvil on my head, pressing me down.
“It’s just someone trying to scare you. Don’t let them win, relax. It will all be fine.”
“But last week’s note came in the mail, and I couldn’t understand how they had the address of the cabin. And now this one, to my hotel room. It’s creepy beyond belief. Who even knows that I’m in Fort Lauderdale for the weekend?”
She shrugged. “You’re a superstar, people see you out and about and Tweet it, Facebook it, whatever. Your movements are watched by millions.”
“But it still doesn’t make sense.” I shook my head and frowned. My cabin was in the back and beyond of Montana; it was isolated and private. I’d never given any information to the press that I even owned it.
Meredith sipped her champagne and shrugged again. “It makes perfect sense and it’s all part and parcel of being famous. You have to learn to take the ups with the downs, the rough with the smooth.” She shook her napkin and laid it on her lap, gave a small smile. “Enjoy the meal, honey. You’re safe here with us, we’re your best friends. Besides, you have that big hunk of meat to look after you now.” She gestured towards Dimitri.
He said nothing in response to being called a hunk of meat. His silence wasn’t unusual. I barely knew what his voice sounded like even though he’d been hanging around me for a week now. If I was honest he gave me the creeps. His jaw stuck out too far, giving him a craggy, Neanderthal look. His eyebrows were dense and bushy and his black eyes piercing. And the sheer size of the man. He was all bulging muscles and brawn, his neck wider than his head, and hands the size of tortoise shells. I’d seen his feet, too—I’d guess they were at least three times bigger than mine.
A waiter cleared our starter plates and I reached for my purse. “I’m going to the restroom,” I said.
Meredith nodded. “Can I borrow your cell to call Liam? Mine is out of charge and I promised I would say goodnight. Though why I bother I don’t know. His voice mail has kicked in the last two times I’ve tried.”
“Are you missin
g him?” I asked, passing her my iPhone as I stood.
“Yeah, but we’ll soon be together again, once he’s finalized this deal in New York.
Dimitri unfolded from his chair, towering his huge bulk over me as he grabbed a bread roll.
“I’ll be fine,” I said to him. “The ladies’ is just there.” I pointed past the indoor waterfall that cascaded down a stone wall into a pond.
Tommy paused his conversation and looked up at me. “Let him go with you, India.”
“But—”
He gave me that look. The one that set his jaw and turned his eyes steely. He could be a determined, stubborn bastard when he wanted to, and I’d learned over the years to pick my battles.
“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”
I turned, flicked my blonde hair over my shoulders, and strutted toward the restroom. I could almost feel Dimitri’s breath on my neck, and I could certainly smell his strong, cheap cologne.
I glanced into the pond that was full of carp. Their big, scaled bodies glistened like jewels beneath the surface as they twisted around one another. For a brief moment I wished I was a fish. They didn’t have the problems that I had. They didn’t have to worry about when the next note would arrive, or worse, if it would be more than a note; if the madman was about to show up and kill me as he kept threatening.
The door to the ladies’ restroom opened. A man stepped out. I paused.
So did he.
He wore dark, wrap-around glasses and a hat pulled low over his brow. Pausing, he rubbed his fingers over a thick mustache then said gruffly, like he had a sore throat, “Excuse me, wrong door.” His attention appeared to slip from my face, down my neck and to my cleavage.
Dimitri stepped closer still, his body heat warming my bare shoulders.
I beat down a shudder. The bulk of Dimitri behind me and the way this stranger was hemming me in had created a new, panic-laced twist in my belly.
Is he my stalker?
“I’ll wait right here for you, Miss Moore,” Dimitri said, or rather, growled.
The man moved away, but not before scanning the whole length of my body. I was used to that, used to being looked at, admired. But this was different. This was more than appreciative, more than approving. It was downright rude and really fucking lecherous. Even with his glasses on it was as though he was seeing right through my dress, my underwear—seeing right into me and imagining sick things he’d like to do.
I shuddered and stepped past him. Pushed into the quiet restroom and sighed with relief when the door slammed behind me.
I couldn’t cope with this anymore. It was sending me insane. I was suspicious of every person who recognized me and fearful of every fan. I leaned against the washbasin and stared at myself in the mirror. My scarlet lipstick was still perfect and my long lashes hadn’t leaked their mascara. I took out a comb and fluffed my hair, and spritzed on exotic, tropical perfume sent to me by a cosmetic company hoping I’d endorse it.
“What’s the matter with you?” I scolded my reflection as I re-fastened my purse. “You’re surrounded by your people, people who care about you. You’re in a very exclusive restaurant and about to have a meal prepared by one of the States’ best chefs. Chill out and enjoy it.” I set my mouth stern and pulled in a deep breath. Meredith was right. I had to relax, let the police continue to do their job and track down the writer of the notes, let Dimitri protect me and carry on with my life as normal. I’d wanted fame and fortune, fans and followers. I’d got them. Now I just had to take the bad with the good, trust the people around me and keep my eyes open and my mind alert.
I went into a toilet cubicle, the one at the end, and locked the door.
There was a window open above the cistern and I could hear the sounds of the marina outside. Rigging clanging, distant music, the lap of waves around the pier. The brine-laden air floated in, bringing with it a hint of coolness that I welcomed on my shoulders.
After doing what I had to do, I smoothed down my dress, unlocked the door then walked back into the restroom.
The earth suddenly felt taken from under my feet. My knees both juddered and ached with a glut of adrenaline that simultaneously spiked the hairs on my arms. Fight or flight.
Written on the mirror, in red, was a single word.
Now.
The thud of my heart pounded right up to my throat and my stomach clenched. Quickly I slammed the cubicle door, re-locked it and stumbled backwards against the cold tiled wall.
My focus blurred. A million different thoughts collided in my brain. I should scream for Dimitri, yell at the top of my lungs for him to come and save me.
But what if Dimitri is the killer?
He was, after all, standing outside, the only one with access to the restroom.
Isn’t he?
I dropped to the ground, looked beneath the cubicle wall. There were no other feet.
Standing, I silently rested down the lid onto the toilet. Struggled to climb on it in my dress then peered over the top of the cubicle. In the mirror I noticed one other door shut, three away from mine.
I suppressed a gasp. That meant I hadn’t been alone when I’d come into the ladies’. Someone had been hiding in here. Was it the man with the mustache’s accomplice? Perhaps I had not one but two crazy stalkers, a whole damn team of them out to get me.
Heat rose up the skin on my chest and neck, a sharp prickling sensation that made my breath hard to catch. If only I had my cell. I could dial 911, Tommy, Meredith, anyone.
No point thinking about if only’s, I had to get out. But how? If I opened the door and made a run for it, whoever was in here would simply reach out and grab me. If Dimitri was part of the ploy he would just stand outside and allow me to be murdered. And if he wasn’t in on it, perhaps he’d been silenced somehow by the man with the mustache, and wouldn’t be able to get in and save me.
Perhaps he’d been murdered too.
I wanted to vomit and cry all at the same time. They were going to spirit me away, bundle me out of the window and torture me, rape me, do all kinds of unimaginably horrible things before murdering me and dropping my body into the ocean for the sharks to feast on.
The window.
I turned to face it. All of a sudden it seemed like a key to the end of my nightmare. It was small, but I was smaller. It was high, but I was nimble and flying on adrenaline.
Reaching up, I pushed it wide. Balanced my stiletto on the cistern and hoisted myself upward. I threw my purse through first. Heard it land outside on concrete with a crack that sounded like something inside splintering.
My dress strained and complained but within a second my body was through the open window, feet first, and I slithered to the ground.
I lunged for my purse and stayed squatting, trying to make myself small and invisible.
There were no other windows along the wall other than the one I’d just used to escape. My stalker would soon figure out what I’d done and come after me. I had to get moving—fast.
But where to?
Tommy.
I had to get to Tommy.
I glanced left and right, tried to get my bearings, but I couldn’t work out which way would lead me to the front of the restaurant. I was definitely at the back, or maybe at the side. There were several garbage bins and a pile of empty boxes. Beyond a wire fence was the marina, black water holding bobbing white boats and in the far distance lights from a casino reflected on the ocean.
Taking a chance, I moved from the shadows and headed right. After several stumbling, tottering steps I took off my shoes and let them swing from my fingers by their thin straps.
There was a sudden noise behind me. A bang, like a cubicle door shutting forcefully in the restroom. Someone’s temper running dry because they’d lost me?
I broke into a sprint, slapping my feet on the floor, my breaths sharding down my throat. I was in an alley now; it was dark and stank of rotting food.
There was another noise behind me. Human, a grunt maybe. I picked up
the pace, frantically speeding forward and then took a left, down another alley, narrow and long but with a light at the end.
“India, come back here,” shouted a deep, gritty, mean voice that fueled my terror. Who the hell was that?
I turned another corner. My slinky evening dress was too tight. I hitched it up to my panties and freed my legs completely. Risked a glance over my shoulder as I ran at full pelt.
Nothing but blackness.
Where is the front of the restaurant?
Where is civilization?
It was like living a nightmare. Racing through a maze, running for my life. No one to help me. No one to save me.
The sound of breaking glass echoed towards me, ricocheting up the alley.
I suppressed a scream and broke off to the left, down an alley so lean my shoulders almost touched each side. I stood on something sharp, felt it slice my flesh, but I ignored the sensation, kept moving. I had to get away. The wound would no doubt hurt like hell later but for now it was barely a tickle.
Suddenly the alley spat me out.
I slowed slightly, a shred of hope lighting within me. Perhaps now I would be able to find a police officer. Someone, anyone to help me.
But as I looked around that shred of hope died. I was in a deserted part of the marina. Cut off by three sides. The only way back was the alley maze I’d just ran down.
The black sea twinkled before me. Boats swayed like ghosts in the darkness. Silence except for the tinkle of ropes on metal masts and the quiet lap of water.
I ran to the left. Nothing. Sprinted to the right. Nothing.
Trapped.
The rhythmic sound of feet pounding concrete thumped around the alley, tumbling out toward me.
He was coming. I was nearly out of time.
I dashed up the pier. The hard pavement turned to soft wood. The walkway ended and I leaped a gap of three feet onto a floating pontoon.
