Forbidden Protector

by Natasha L. Black

  And yet I looked at her face, the secret in those unending blue eyes.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” she asked.

  “You don’t look it. Like everything’s ok.”

  Connie looked away fast. “Now’s not the time.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Fine. It’s just that… us. It’s still… I don’t know. Anyway, now’s not the time.”

  “I like you.” It was so easy. So clear in this fuzzy antiseptic-stinking place. “I want to try it. See if we can be something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  This smile of hers was new. Brave and worried and relieved all at once.

  “There’s just one thing,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Not sure I’ll make it, unless...” I gestured her closer, tapped on my lower lip.

  She paused, her lips temptingly close. “Oh yeah?”

  I took her chin in my hands. “Go on.”

  Connie bit her lip. “This is probably breaking a million different rules.”

  “Do it.”

  She kissed me.

  Just like that, everything was good again.

  Epilogue

  Connie - One Year Later

  “Damn, does your man look yummy in a uniform.”

  I elbowed her. “Val!”

  “What? Sue me, it’s true.”

  She did have a point – as Chance waited off to the side of the podium in his new tight blue sheriff uniform, I couldn’t deny sneaking looks at him every minute or so.

  “Still,” I whispered. “Shh.”

  I gestured to my parents and Annie, who were a few people down, and hadn’t heard, luckily.

  “And to think,” Hayes crowed from my other side, his chin-length red hair pulled back with a Twisted Souls bandana, which matched his black and red suit ensemble. “I was there when he was just a wee bouncer who only wanted to bash guys’ faces in.”

  Big Bonzo sighed. “He hit me with a chair.”

  Abe scowled. “He’s not a total shit.”

  Which was as close to a compliment as you were going to get from Abe.

  I smiled.

  It was a good day with good people. The hot air was stuffy with butter popcorn and caramel corn. The baby blue sky was dotted with the colorful balloons children had lost over the past hour, all floating away to a better place. The crowd murmured with approval, as the mayor made the preliminary introduction of Chance at our local fair.

  “It is my distinct honor, to present to you Pembrooke’s newest sheriff, Chance McCoy.”

  “That’s my cue.” Hayes winked at me as the applause thundered out and he shouldered his way up to the podium.

  How he’d wrangled the job of announcing Chance, no one knew. Only that he’d wrangled it.

  Already, my brother had hopped up to the podium and assumed an almost hilariously solemn look on his face. Clearly, he had some sort of epic speech planned. I only hoped it was a short one.

  “I want to tell you all a story,” he was saying now. “A story about some guy I didn’t expect much from, other than some muscle when I needed it. A story about a town that was in danger that no one knew quite how to get them out of. A story about how it all came together. How this man, this Chance McCoy, went on to defy my every expectation. He was smart, sure, strong, definitely. But what you need to know about Chance is that he’s loyal to the bone. And that’s what makes a good sheriff, if you ask me. Not just talent. Not just strength. But a good man. And Chance is that. Yeah, he might even be worthy of my sister, too.” Chuckles, some disbelieving hoots and Val threw back her head and laughed loudest of all. Hayes waved us all quiet. “Point is, this guy’s the real deal. Maybe even a legend. Plain and simple, he deserves it. He saved us, and I have no doubt he will save us again. Here’s to you, Chance.”

  As Hayes went over to shake Chance’s hand, the crowd exploded in more approving applause.

  Mom reached over to give my arm a squeeze. “You picked a winner, honey.”

  “Yay, Mr. Chance!” Annie cheered.

  “Thank you everyone,” Chance said into the microphone, before leaving the podium.

  Val and I just laughed some more.

  “That’s Chance alright,” I acknowledged. “A man of few words.”

  “The timing was perfect too,” Val pointed out. “Him wanting to get back into law enforcement just as the old sheriff was retiring.”

  “Guess we’re just lucky,” I agreed. “Now we’ve got him and the Twisted Souls working together to keep Pembrooke safe.”

  “Enough of that.” Hayes was back already, miming a yawn, his eyes on the fair rides that were already back up and running. “Let’s go hit those rides!”

  “Woo-hoo!” Annie bobbed up and down.

  Hayes scooped her on his back, and as he loped by, Chance gave Annie a high-five.

  Val gave us a goodbye wave, as Walter pulled her off toward a cotton candy stand.

  “What do you say?” Chance asked, his gaze on the rides.

  I took his hand. “Let’s do it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, it was just some caramel corn and me and Chance on a purple-maned white horse on the merry-go-round.

  As the music shrilled along, Chance adjusted his stance and I felt something hard dig into my butt. Chance’s breath was hot on the back of my neck.

  “Seriously?” I asked him.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Not my fault that nice ass is so close.”

  “You’re too much,” I murmured, though I was smiling.

  He tightened his arms around me. “I just wanna get you home.”

  “Plans?” I asked lightly.

  I knew that hungry glint in his eye. “You bet.”

  After, Annie and my parents were delighted to stay at the fair longer. Annie gave us both a big hug goodbye.

  Chance lifted her up and twirled her around, while Annie shrieked with laughter. “Daddy stop!”

  Chance caught my eye and grinned. Yep, we were becoming more of a family every single day.

  “GROUP HUG!” Val yelled.

  Within seconds, every Twisted Soul nearby, Hayes included, threw their arms around Annie and us. I sunk into it, the warmth, the friends, how very lucky I was.

  As we rode home on my brand-new Twisted-Soul-emblazoned Harley, Chance spoke up. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. For like over a year now.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “The motorcycle through the wall at the club – how the hell did that happen?”

  I laughed. “Oh, that. So, apparently, fifty odd years ago, this badass biker with great hair, Terence, was on the run from something. He never actually admitted what – though legend has it, it was his angry wife. Anyway, he was in such a rush that he swerved too hard on a turn and ended up barreling clean-through that wall, when it used to be just a regular old bar. The regulars couldn’t believe their eyes; how Terence had survived, his bike got impaled. And just like that, rubbing one of his bruised jawbones, Terence said, ‘What can I say, guess I’m just a Twisted Soul.’ The men became fast friends, formed a club. Terence was gone within the year, turned into some kind of legend, but the name, the club, it stuck. The rest is history.”

  Chance laughed. “That’s a good story.”

  We were at a stoplight, and suddenly I knew the only thing I wanted. “Kiss me.”

  I didn’t need to ask him twice. His lips met mine and everything dwindled away.

  His hand cupped the back of my neck, my body eased into his.

  A horn blared.

  We laughed and kept on kissing.

  The horn blared again.

  “You ready?” he said.

  I kissed him again. “Now I am.”

  And we set off back home. Walking up to the Tudor-style two-story, I took a good minute to admire it. Chance and I had only bought it a month ago.

  It was gorgeous and perfect, wit
h a big yard for Annie to play in, a garage with room for Chance’s and my bikes, a kitchen I got to decorate that even Mom admired. Most of all, it was perfect because it was where my family lived – Chance and Annie.

  A few steps in the door, and my phone buzzed. I checked it.

  “Annie’s staying over at Mom’s for a sleepover,” I told Chance.

  “That goes well with my plan for us tonight.” Chance had a furtive smile on, as he took out a package of Toblerones and Rosé.

  I shook my head with a chuckle. “Don’t pretend those Toblerones are for me.”

  “You’re right.” Chance made to put them away, then paused. “We should save the celebrating for when you open your restaurant.”

  “Ha. We’ll be waiting another few years then, since that’s a long way off.” I leaned on the back of the marble kitchen counter. “You know how impossible it’s been to find a decent-priced venue.”

  Chance had an odd look on his face, like a sly kid trying to open Christmas gifts early. He took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Oh yeah?”

  I didn’t answer. “Chance – what?”

  “Just open it.”

  Inside, there was a piece of paper that I could read well enough, but couldn’t believe. I held it up to the light and one sentence jumped out at me.

  This document certifies that Connie Carter is the owner of 225 Clair Creek Drive.

  I pressed it to my chest and exhaled as I met his eye. “This is the white brick place we went to look at downtown for my restaurant. For Annie’s. The one that was perfect except for the price.”

  “Sure is.”

  Tears sparked to my eyes. “I can’t accept this.”

  His fingertips stroked across my lips, then he gathered me into his arms. “You can. Connie, you gave me a second chance at happiness. This is the least I can do for you.”

  I nuzzled my face into his warm hard chest. “You sure?”

  Chance picked me up in his arms. “As sure as I am about what I want to do now.”

  “Chance!”

  “Too late.” He carried me up the stairs, and into the bedroom, threw me on the satin duvet.

  He plastered his body on top of mine, his mouth on my ear. “And now – I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do all day.”

  Our clothes fell off. I sighed as we stripped the layers away, until it was the silk sheets and our bodies, moving together.

  Slow and fast and everywhere in between. By now, our bodies were in perfect sync, flowing together with an almost choreographed ease.

  And as Chance went down on me, and I came, as he fucked me slow and deep and I came, as he fucked me hard and groaned, and we both came, he said, “I love you, Connie Carter.”

  As we lay there after, his heart beating into my shoulder, our very breathing in sync, I replied, “I love you Chance McCoy.”

  I was the luckiest girl in the world.

  A Note from the Author

  Thank for you taking the time to read my latest release.

  I hope you loved reading my story, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  It would mean the world to me if you could take some time to leave a quick review for this book. Reviews allow me to understand how my readers truly feel, and they keep me improving.

  I appreciate you supporting me, thank you so much.

  - Natasha L. Black

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  It’s been years since I last saw her.

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  I can’t help but think about her putting my son to bed…

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  Now I’m back.

  Older. Stronger. Ruthless.

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  Book Three - Protecting Her

  Strike one: He’s my brother’s rival.

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  Let’s just say I broke a bottle on this head in the middle of a bar fight.

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  I'm not really a strip club kinda guy.

  I like my lady all to myself.

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  Brother’s Best Friend (Sample)

  Enjoy a free sample of one of my other novels.

  1

  Layla

  “Alright, guys. Take your seats. Today, we’re going to be making our own animated flip-book.”

  The kids groaned as they made their way to their seats. All I did was smile. At the beginning of my career three years ago, I would’ve taken their groans personally. But now, three years into teaching art to elementary students, I didn’t take anything personally.

  Elementary school was hard enough. We weren’t the hardest teachers to find, but we were the hardest teachers to keep. It was easy to dream about working with innocent kids all day. But elementary school kids were some of the most brutally honest people I’d ever met. They had no issues criticizing, teasing, and crying at the drop of a hat in order to get their way. And while most people argued that middle school were the hardest three years of any child’s life, I begged to differ. Elementary school came with shifts and social settings and stimuli that were completely foreign to them.

  These were some of the toughest years for any child.

  That was one of the reasons why I made it my concentration while getting my Education degree. I felt like elementary school kids needed teachers that were able to buckle down and stay in their atmosphere for more than a couple of years. Object permanence developed during those years, so students were painfully aware of teachers that came and left quickly. At that age, they needed stability away from home. They needed other adults they could trust, create foundations with, and lean on since their parents weren’t around during the school day.

  So, I did whatever I could to make myself that person.

  “I know, I know. Flipbooks aren’t as cool as the comic books your parents read you at night. But if you’re good for me in class today and do as I ask, I’ve got a special surprise for you guys,” I said.

  The kids perked up, and they quickly took their seats. Surprises always got them in their seats. Every once in a while, we’d have a good streak where three or four days in a row, they wouldn’t give me any trouble. But this week had been rough. It was the middle of the semester, and assessments were stressing them out. The holidays loomed around the corner, and the kids kept trying to talk about their
plans. It was hard gaining their attention. So, I reverted to the old “surprise box.”

  “What’s the surprise, Miss Harper?”

  I smiled. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

  They groaned again, and I held up my finger, which promptly ceased the groans. I started passing out supplies they’d need for their flipbook, then started jotting down the instructions on the whiteboard. Some of my students learned by reading things on the board, and some of them learned by me showing them. So, I implemented both tactics in my classroom to get the best of both worlds.

  Suddenly, my phone pinged at my desk.

  “Ooooo, Miss Harper has her phooooone oooooon.”

  The students giggled as I shook my head. I finished scribbling the words onto the whiteboard as nicely as I could. Then, I walked them through the instructions. I showed them my flipbook. I showed them where to draw the images and why. I passed my booklet around so they could take a look at it to see how I decorated it. As they ogled over my handiwork, I sat down at my desk and pulled my phone out of my drawer. My hands trembled as I saw my brother’s text message. Last night had been a doozy. His best friend’s sister had gone to the hospital after being found unconscious on the floor of her bedroom. Her sweet little daughter had called 911 while trying to shake her awake, and we all feared the worst.

  Lance: Come to my house after work. Susie died.

  My world came to a careening halt. My first thought was that of Millie, Susie’s five-year-old girl. Tears rushed to my eyes as my fingers typed across the keyboard, and I didn’t care that my students heard. I didn’t care that they were staring at me and whispering among themselves, trying to figure out what was wrong while the only adult in the room attempted to gather herself.