Copyright © 2018 by Jen McLaughlin
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
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This one goes out to all the writers out there who are trying to get their voices heard, or their stories
told. Don’t give up. Keep writing, and keep telling those stories because someone out there really needs
to read what you have to say, and they’re waiting.
Contents
1. Hernandez
2. Marie
3. Hernandez
4. Marie
5. Hernandez
6. Marie
7. Hernandez
8. Marie
9. Joseph
10. Marie
11. Hernandez
12. Marie
13. Hernandez
14. Marie
15. Hernandez
16. Marie
17. Hernandez
18. Marie
19. Hernandez
20. Marie
21. Hernandez
22. Marie
23. Hernandez
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Jen McLaughlin
1
Hernandez
"No. Absolutely not."
Finn sighed and rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. "Dude. It's your best option."
"No, it's not." I crossed my arms and glared at my best friend, wishing for a second that my wish had come true as a kid and that I had been blessed with laser eyes so I could zap his stupid ass for even suggesting I pair up with Marie for my latest assignment. I also kind of wanted to zap Ben's ass, too, for going on vacation and taking my partner—who also happened to be his fiancée—with him. It was why I was being assigned this fluff case in the first place. "Anything that involves Marie is not my best anything, especially when it involves going undercover."
Finn rolled his eyes. "Dramatic, much?"
"Blind, much?" I shot back. "She hates me."
"There's a difference between actually hating someone, and wanting to hate them." Finn closed his laptop, giving me his full attention. "She wants to hate you because she wants you."
It was my turn to roll my eyes now, but I resisted the urge. Barely. "You and Carrie have been saying that since college. If it had any ring of truth to it, don't you think something would have happened by now?"
"Have you made a move on her?" Finn asked, cocking a brow.
Actually, yes, I had.
Granted, it had been back when she'd been in college, and I'd been guarding her roommate, Carrie…who was now Finn's wife. But still. I'd tried. I'd failed. I wasn't going to try again. No meant no, and I took her rejection for what it was—disinterest. Too many men saw no as a challenge to overcome, but not me. I took it as a solid answer that was never going to change.
I had too many sisters and too much respect for women to think any other way.
"Does it matter if I did?" I said simply. "Either way, it's never going to happen, and if I have to hear you or Carrie say otherwise one more damn time—"
"Watch your threats to my wife," Finn growled.
"Down, boy," I said sarcastically.
Finn knew better than anyone else that I would never let anything bad happen to his wife, let alone hurt her with my own two hands.
He relaxed…slightly.
His blue eyes were still narrowed on me as he ran his hand through his sandy blond hair. He was a tall man, about my height, and he had a way of holding himself that would threaten a lesser man than myself. Luckily, he'd gotten that stature from the same place I had.
The United States Marine Corps.
Finn settled back in his seat. The big window behind him showed a hint of the blue ocean that called to my soul, begging me to sit on the beach and tune all this shit out. That's where I always went when I wanted to be alone, or if I needed to think. For the most part, the beaches of California were the only place I could go where I was guaranteed to be left alone. Everyone was too busy minding their own damn business while catching some rays, or a few waves, to give a damn about the person sitting a few feet over in the sand.
If I concentrated hard enough, I bet I could hear the waves crashing on the sand, or feel the cold spray hitting my cheeks, and maybe smell the clean salt water air…
"I'm serious though, man. She can get you the ‘in' you need. I know for a fact that she signed up for a convention this weekend that your guy is going to be at," Finn said.
I cleared my throat. "She did?"
"Yeah, she was over last night, and Carrie asked her what her plans were this weekend. She was all excited about meeting some dude named Pierre Rasco, which meant nothing to me at the time, but now..."
Well, shit.
That would be the perfect entrance into the secret life of the man my captain suspected might be one of the biggest embezzlers of our time. If I could spend the weekend under the same hotel roof as the suspect while under the guise of attending the convention…that would be pretty much perfect. "I'll just get a ticket to the convention, too, and—"
Finn shook his head. "Sold out."
Disappointment hit fast. There went my easy ticket to a job well done. "Well, then, I wouldn't have been able to go anyway. Why bother to mention it at all?"
"Because you can't get a ticket, but Marie happens to have an extra one up for grabs. Her boss backed out last second, so Marie asked Carrie if she wanted to tag along for some hot tub and girl time. Carrie can't, though, so Marie still has an extra ticket."
Despite myself, excitement hit me again, chasing away the earlier disappointment. I blamed it on the fact that it had been a long time since I'd been undercover, even if this was a poor excuse to do so—and definitely not on the idea of spending the weekend with Marie. "I don't know. She'd never agree to let me tag along."
"Well, there's only one way to find out."
I glanced out the window again.
While I respected Marie's choice to not be with me, and would never press her to change her mind, there was no denying that I was attracted to her, and despite my best intentions to keep my distance, spending the weekend with her seemed like accepting the devil's invitation to dance.
"I don't know…" I trailed off.
"Oh." Finn nodded. "I get it now."
I stood and walked past his oak desk to the window behind it, watching a crow fly by. It weaved and dove through the sky, free in ways I'd never be. I didn't dislike my life. I'd been a Marine, then I went to college, got a degree, and then a job as a detective at the same precinct as my college roommate. Things were good. I was good. But sometimes…
I just felt empty. Like I was missing something.
Though I had no clue what that something was.
"You get what?" I asked distractedly.
The chair creaked behind me, and the rush of air suggested Finn had stood up. "You're scar
ed."
Stiffening, I tore my gaze off the outside world and slammed it back on my best friend's face where it belonged. "I'm not scared."
"Oh yeah?" He crossed his arms. "Prove it. Go to her office, and ask her to let you come along."
I snorted. "You can't force me to go talk to her by making fun of me."
"I dare you to ask her," he said, challenging me with a smirk on his face.
My hands fisted. We had an agreement that no matter how ridiculous a dare might be, we never backed down from a challenge that the other one issued. It had been going on for ten years, and it wasn't about to die now. That was why he'd done it.
I headed for the door, really wanting those damn laser eyes now.
"Love you, man. Good luck."
Flipping him off over my shoulder, I kept walking.
I loved him, too, but he didn't get to hear me say it right now. Dicks didn't get declarations of love, and Finn Coram was a first-rate dick, ladies and gentlemen. I pushed through the doors downstairs, breathing in the fresh California air. Get closer to L.A, and this shit got lost, but here in Somerton on the beach? There was nothing like it.
Marie's office was only a couple of blocks away, so I took off on foot, letting the sun's rays hit me and wake me up. I'd had a late night taking care of my sick grandmother last night, so sleep had been scarce. Her fever broke around five in the morning, though, so there was that. I'd refused to leave her side until it had, and spent the night cooling her off with a wet washcloth to her forehead. The woman had raised me as her own when no one else would, so it was the least I could do. My phone buzzed. "Hernandez."
"What's up?" my other best friend, and ex-partner on the force, screeched into my ear.
I winced and pulled it back, checking the time. It was two in the afternoon, which meant it was five o'clock in Florida. Placing my ear back on the phone hesitantly, I said, "Having fun?"
It wasn't really a question.
"You know we are."
Shaking my head, I stopped at the red light. The gentle seventy-degree breeze wafted across me, blowing my unbuttoned suit jacket open and cooling me off slightly. "Don't get drunk. It's not fair since Sarah can't."
Sarah was three months pregnant. I protected both her and their child ferociously, and the last thing she needed was a drunk fiancée to care for. The woman needed her rest.
Ben snorted. "Yes, father."
I rolled my eyes.
"Is your grandma okay?" he asked.
I'd texted Sarah about her last night, so she must have passed along the info. No big shocker there. They told each other everything, as a couple should, so telling one of them was the same as telling both of them. It saved me time. "Her fever broke last night."
"Her fever broke," Ben repeated for Sarah.
"Good," Sarah called out. "Make her soup."
I grinned. "I will."
"And Sarah's mom…?"
My grin faded. Sarah's mother had dementia, and I'd been checking in on her every day despite the nurse who was with her at all times. Ben had spent a long time convincing Sarah to leave her, and she had only given in when I'd promised to check in on her twice a day. She kept asking me to sing and knit, something Ben did daily with her, but I didn't do either of those things well, so I had yet to give in. "She's great. Had eggs for breakfast and was knitting a pink hat."
Ben laughed. "Of course it was pink. Sarah loves pink."
I frowned. "No, she doesn't."
"Baby Sarah does," he corrected. "Anyway, glad everyone is good, I'm gonna go now. My girl booked us a couple's massage."
"Have fun."
Ben laughed. "With my girl? Always."
There it was again. That weird…empty feeling.
I hung up, trying to ignore it since I didn't know what it meant. Stopping outside of Marie's building, I tipped my head up and looked at the sign. She worked in stocks and trades, which bored me to the point of tears, and looked like she should be on a magazine cover.
Or, ya know, on my arm.
Shaking my head at myself, I took a deep breath. A passing woman in a sundress with miles of tanned flesh exposed spotted me and smiled, trying to catch my attention, but she was wasting her time. I only had one woman on my mind…
And she was the last person I wanted to ask for a favor.
2
Marie
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, staring at Joseph. Before he'd come to see me, another guy had sat in his place, an ex of mine who refused to get the memo that we were over. According to him, this weekend at the convention we were both attending was his opportunity to make us a reality again. I was this close to backing out of it, just to avoid him, but I was too excited to meet the keynote speaker to actually do so. Samuel had been my wakeup call that things needed to change in my life. I had to stop making decisions based on my innate instinct to protect myself, and maybe take a chance on a guy who might actually make me happy.
From this point on, I'd sworn to myself that I would never go out with another guy that was guaranteed to bore me by date three. No more games.
I'd watched my mom get her heart broken, time and time again because she loved a man too much to walk away, so as an adult I'd tried to save myself from that same fate.
The payoff of that fear?
Never falling in love at all.
It was time to be different…to take some chances. To get my heart broken. Something, anything, besides always choosing the safe route. I was so sick of being safe.
Joseph's deep chocolate eyes were on me, and his hard jaw was as inflexible as always. He had a bit of a five o'clock shadow going on, even though it was only ten in the morning. When did he shave? At night, before bed? Had he gone to bed alone last night, or had some woman watched him drag his razor over his skin while naked in his bed?
Why did I care?
He leaned back in the chair on the other side of my desk, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. His suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders, almost tugging at the seams because he was so muscular. But, not like bodybuilder muscular. He had the thin, lean kind of muscles that hinted of strength and power without bulging out. Maybe his issue with the tight jacket was the fact that he needed the next size up. Did he purposely buy them smaller, to show off his body, or did he just suck at shopping? Did women foam at the mouth when they saw his muscles fighting to be free from the material?
Again, why did I care?
His left brow raised slightly as if he either heard my thoughts or knew what my answer was going to be before he even asked me whatever question it was that had brought him to my office. And believe me, I had no doubt in my mind he was here because he wanted something. There was no other reason for him to stop by and see me.
We weren't friends who visited each other at work.
We were barely even friends at all, really.
"You dyed your hair," he said flatly.
I touched my newly darkened hair self-consciously. "I got sick of the blonde."
He said nothing.
"What?" I asked, hating that I wanted to ask him if he liked it.
"Nothing," he said, that brow inching higher. "It's…nice."
His tone suggested otherwise. "Gee, thanks."
We had a weird dynamic between us and always had.
Neither of us went out of our way to be kind to the other, but we weren't mean to each other, either. We didn't try to spend time together, yet always ended up doing so. I didn't like him or want to be with him, but there was this draw toward him that had started back in college when he'd kissed me…very briefly…once…and it had never gone away.
Back then, he'd been too controlling for me, lecturing me about my skirt length and what parties I should or shouldn't go to, so I'd pushed him away. I'd told him I wasn't interested in him like that. At the time, it had been true. Still was. And yet…
There was just something about him I couldn't shake.
A laugh escaped him, soft and barely there. Running his hand t
hrough his hair, he adjusted his position. "I like the blonde, but this is nice too. You're beautiful and would look good with any hair color, and you know it."
Had he just called me pretty?
My heart picked up speed, even though I told myself I didn't care whether or not he still thought I was pretty. "Uh, thanks. It's all part of the changes I'm making in my life."
He tapped a finger on the armrest of his chair. "Changes?"
"Yep." I touched my hair nervously. "New hair, new goals, new me."
"What kind of new goals?"
Goals like dating a guy who might actually be right for me, instead of choosing the ones who weren't as a defense mechanism to keep my heart safe. According to everyone around me, the right man was sitting across my desk from me.
Just last night, Carrie had all but dared me to take a chance on Joseph, if the opportunity ever arose to do so. And now, as if on cue, here he was. In my office. Staring at me.
Was this a sign? Had Carrie been right all along? Was he a good choice I should be making, along with my other changes? After all, Joseph wasn't that same bossy man he used to be. He was funny, attractive, successful, driven…ugh, I was making myself sick.
"Marie?" he asked.
I flushed. How long had I been quiet? Quickly, I answered, "Making the right choices, for starters."
That brow inched even higher. "What kind of right choices?"
According to everyone else…you. Why are you in my office? "Is this an interrogation?" I teased, tucking my hair behind my ear.
He followed the movement with his eyes, leaning forward slightly. "You'd know if it was."
"You didn't come here to talk about my dreams or goals, Joseph."
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