The Dead Gigolo Caper (Suds and Sam Book 4)

by Stella Marie Alden

My fiancé and I hold hands as we climb the stairs, our future as bright as the new white paint on the walls. I unlock the door to our waiting room, take her into my arms, and hug her tight until Catrina meows pitifully from our apartment.

  When I open our door, for a moment I wonder if I walked into the wrong apartment. In addition to fixing up our apartment, now there’s a new refrigerator and stove.

  I read the note on the counter. “Happy engagement. Love, Uncle Vinny.”

  Sam laughs, “Should we give it back?”

  “After all he’s put us through? Hell no.” I kiss her thoroughly, feed the kitten, then take her hand and lead her to the now solid spiral staircase.

  On the second step, the turns and kisses with me with eyes merry. “I think we’re in business.”

  “Damn straight.” My cock crams against my jeans as I tweak her nose.

  “Not yet, but I’ll see what I can do.” She giggles and runs up the stairs.

  Hell, we’ll probably be fighting and making up until we’re old and gray but as long as we’re together, I’m good.

  THE END

  From the Author

  Hi Luvs!

  Thank you for reading Suds and Sam’s latest adventure. I hope you enjoyed it. When we were first married, my husband and I lived in Brooklyn and were adopted by an Italian family. Needless to say, we were never the same.

  The best way to let me know you want more of their crazy antics is to leave a kind review.

  Here’s the rest in the series.

  Suds and Sam, The Prequel, (only available here)

  Suds and Sam, Book One (on Amazon)

  Suds and Sam, For Hire

  A Suds and Sam Christmas

  If you love, love, love a sexy, protective male, indulge in

  The Patten Bodyguard Series

  Want to find out where Jason came from? Download

  Dangerous Code

  Make sure to follow me on Facebook for fun, prizes, and freebies. You can also join with thousands of others who look forward to my newsletter.

  Scroll down to start Slate. He has his own story, too!

  Love and kisses,

  Stella

  THE BUSHWICK SERIES

  SLATE

  I bolt upright at the warble of my house alarm, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Even before my feet hit the floor, I grab my gun off the bedstand and slide off the safety. A familiar stab from my shoulder reminds me to take it easy. My stitches aren’t yet healed.

  The nearby cell phone reads two in the morning and I use its light to rush into the bedroom next door. With the noise off, I switch on the wall of monitors.

  Shit. Most of the estate’s cameras are down because the goddamn squirrels chewed through the wires. I never figured on needing my surveillance so soon but it’s pretty clear someone opened my front gate.

  Barefoot, I rush past four empty bedrooms, jog the length of the living room and two kitchen islands. From there, I open the Anderson doors, pad onto the deck, and peer down at the source of my interrupted sleep.

  Thirty feet back, my guest house is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. It’s either some bold squatter or an incredibly stupid thief. Regardless, I plan to scare the shit out of them. Who the hell has the audacity to break into my fucking estate? It must be some out-of-towner. Most everyone around here knows better.

  Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I run down the deck steps and make my way across the cold, wet lawn. Worms squish under my toes, crickets stop chirping and inside, a woman sings lightly. I walk up to the bedroom window and look in.

  Ah, shit.

  A young woman undresses, sexy as hell. She’s got dark brown shoulder-length hair and pert breasts. She’s thin and her calves are muscular, like a runner. My gaze runs up her legs to the curls of her bush and blood runs south.

  Ah, fuck it all to hell. Now I’m a pervert? I give her time to dress in pajamas which consist of tiny shorts and a tank top while I consider my next moves. Not too many years ago, I had a buddy blown to bits by a conniving bitch, almost as beautiful as her.

  I keep that in mind as I rush to the front door and push it open. In the small kitchen, I figure it’s time to teach this little trespasser a lesson.

  Pulling out my weapon, I shout, “Freeze!”

  She slams the bedroom door, a lock clicks, and it takes me two strides to get past the kitchen table.

  I bang on the white, painted oak. “Get out here, missy. You have some explaining to do.”

  Not only am I pissed some intruder’s in my guesthouse, my shoulder hurts, and my cock’s gone hard. My fucking appendage should know better.

  Looking down, it dawns on me I left my room in my birthday suit. I never expected to find a female, a gorgeous one at that. Shit, there’s nothing to do now but grab a throw-pillow and hold it in front of me.

  Suddenly, being naked is the least of my problems. The door bursts open and she’s got a weapon. I kick, the gun flies, and my pillow drops. Screaming hysterically, she steps close and pounds her fists on my chest. When one of her blows breaks open my stitches, I’ve fucking had enough.

  I grab her wrists, pin them over her head, and press her against the wall. “For crying out loud, stop.”

  Her eyes scrunch shut and her heart thumps against my naked chest. Dammit, I didn’t mean to frighten her that badly.

  “Look at me.” I step back about a foot as tears leak down her cheek and she bites her lower lip.

  “Fuck it all, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know what you’re doing on my property at two in the morning. I won’t call the police, if that’s what’s upsetting you.”

  Her eyes pop open.

  Ah hell, they’re dark chocolate with a few flecks of gold, framed by naturally thick lashes and no gooey shit. The tears sticking to them make me feel like a complete ass so I move both her wrists to one hand and wipe away the waterworks with the other.

  Her mouth moves, lips thick and red. “P-please don’t hurt me.”

  I snort and glance down at my shoulder where blood flows from my open wound. “The only one injured is me. If I let you go, you promise not to fight? We can talk?”

  She shakes her head up and down, silky locks on her shoulders. However, her gaze traverses to the open windows, the door, and finally between us where my cock has taken a huge interest.

  “Sorry.” I let go of her, grab a sheet, and wrap it around my waist. “I sleep naked and you caught me off guard… Sit. Please.”

  “W-what do you want with me?” She eases down onto the edge of her bed, her eyes honing in on the gun by her feet which I pick up and turn around.

  It’s a realistic-looking water pistol. “What the hell?”

  “Mace.”

  I shake my head at the stupidity of such a weapon as she narrows her gaze. “So, you’re the infamous Slate. I’m not impressed.”

  “And you are?”

  She sniffles and swipes her arm under her wet nose. “Lilac Starbird. I was going to be your live-in dog walker. Edna Weissman gave me your access codes. How else could I have gotten through your ten-foot gates?”

  Ah shit. She drops her ‘R’s like someone from Boston making Starbird sound like Stahbahd and I don’t know how, but I’m certain my mother’s gone and done it again. For the last six months, she’s been trying to hook me up with nice ladies from good families. This time, I got to hand it to her, she’s upped her game.

  “Who are you, really, lady?” I need her to confess and get the hell off my property.

  “What’s your problem? Call Edna. She’ll tell you. I’m your dog walker. Well, I was going to be.”

  Damn. It’s true I called Edna but I told her to call me back when she found someone. I wanted to interview him. I certainly didn’t tell her to give away my access codes. I gave her specific instructions. She could use them in case of emergency and the dog needed to be fed.

  Whatever. There’s still that damn Boston accent. I fucking know my mother set me up.

  Lil
ac, if that’s her name, stands and opens a drawer in the antique dresser. She grabs her unmentionables and tosses them into the suitcase, open on her bed.

  The panties are pretty and lacy, too tiny to do much good. They’re the kind made to entice a man. Of course, my cock takes notice.

  “Do you mind?” She stops for a moment and glares at my bulging appendage with hands on her waist. “I’ll be out of your hair in just a few seconds.”

  “You can’t go. It’s fucking two in the morning.” When I grab her hand, pure electricity sparks between us and we both stare.

  Her lush lips open, big eyes widen, and nostrils flair. Holy shit, I let go fast. This is not the time or the place for that much attraction.

  Despite the body language, her dry tone implies she’s in agreement. “There must be plenty of hotels. I’ll find one.”

  “No. You’re staying right here. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” In another lifetime, I would’ve kissed that look right off her face but now I’m older and wiser. Burnt once, I’m not going there. I no longer play with fire.

  As if she hears my thoughts, she gives my thick cock under the sheet a quick glance and pointedly returns her gaze to my face.

  “Jesus. That’s not my fault. Look at you.” I give her pointy nipples under her tiny silk top a long, heated, once over.

  Face now beet-red, she mumbles, “You’re the one who broke in on me. Edna said you’d be gone.”

  “Yeah, well, not too many people know I’m laid up and I prefer it that way.”

  The sticky liquid dripping from my stitches makes me run into the bathroom and grab a towel. I’m bleeding all over the place.

  “Fuck.” A bit light-headed, I sit and press my hand hard to my shoulder.

  “Let me see that.” All business-like, she steps between my legs and of course, my cock does the happy dance.

  Focus, Slate.

  “What are you, a doctor?”

  “Soon.” She lifts my towel, pulls off my bandage, and grimaces.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Do you want me to patch you up or bring you to the emergency room?”

  I don’t fancy a night in the hospital. Honestly, I could stitch myself up, if I had to, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. What better way to find out what she’s up to?

  KEEP READING…