by Em Petrova
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Hot Louisiana Knight
Copyright Em Petrova 2018
Ebook Edition
Electronic book publication 2018
All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.
Other titles in this series:
All Knighter
Heat of the Knight
Hot Louisiana Knight
Known as the brainiac of the Knight Ops team, Dylan Knight is okay with the guys making fun of his nerdier tendencies because he can still split a hair with open sights at twenty paces. When the special ops force is dispatched during Mardi Gras to a formalwear boutique suspected of harboring a terrorist cell, Dylan gets the nod to take point on the operation. After he bashes in a closet door and spots two big, frightened eyes and a mass of curly hair, his gut instincts kick in and he refuses to leave the woman behind.
Athena’s Creations is a boutique specializing in beautiful gowns and tuxedos, so why the government believes Athena is running some terrorist cell out of her charming store blows her mind. When her door’s broken down and she’s whisked off to a private safe house with a stern, yet insanely hot special ops guy, she doesn’t know what to think or even feel. Except Louisiana nights are known to be hot and sticky, but what’s going on between her and Dylan can’t possibly be more than an adrenaline rush of circumstances, can it?
Dylan knows Athena’s not involved in what the gov is claiming, and he’s going to clear her name. And then clear the table so he can lay her out on it and feast on her gorgeous body. But then he learns the threat isn’t her—it’s DIRECTED at her, and he’s got to scramble to keep her safe… and his heart out of the mission.
Hot Louisiana Knight
by
Em Petrova
Chapter One
“Damn, this feels good.” Dylan kicked back on the dock and crossed his ankles. Sunshine warmed his bare shoulders and face, and he closed his eyes for a second, listening to the song of the bayou. Loons, bullfrogs and even the buzz of insects felt like coming home.
“You said it, bro.” The second oldest brother Sean stretched out on the dock too, abandoning his fishing rod altogether.
The rest of the special ops force known as Knight Ops reclined in various poses, enjoying the sun or fishing. All of them brothers except Rocko, who might as well be blood by now. They’d adopted him as one of their own.
“For the first time in weeks, I’m not bulked out with gear, and my heart’s not pounding because I’m about to take enemy fire,” Dylan said with a sigh.
“Incoming.” Ben scooped his hand into the water and splashed it over Dylan. He didn’t even flinch at the refreshing drops striking his skin. This was the most peace he’d had in many weeks working for the Homeland Security division known as Operation Freedom Flag Southern US, or OFFSUS, and he wasn’t going to squander a single second.
The popping sound of a beer can opening made Dylan crack an eye. “Toss me one o’ them, would ya?”
Roades reached into the foam cooler and lobbed the beer can toward Dylan, who snagged it from the air. “Just think, Roades, you can legally drink at this year’s Mardi Gras.”
His brother chuckled. “That’ll be a change, won’t it?”
“Same plan this year?” Dylan took a sip of his cold one. Damn, this day could only get better with some good old Southern barbecue. Maybe that joint down the road was open and they could send the younger peons of the team for a takeout run.
As far as command went, Dylan was smack in the middle of the brothers and the team. But he was willing to abuse his authority—or put one of his little brothers in a headlock—if it meant some good eats.
When no one answered Dylan’s question, he glanced around at his two older brothers. “Tell me you guys aren’t crapping out on our usual Mardi Gras celebrations this year because you have women in your lives.”
Ben and Sean exchanged a look.
“You are.”
“Seriously, guys?” Chaz added.
“Well, we can’t exactly bring Dahlia or Elise on our usual pub crawl, can we?”
“Why not?” Dylan asked.
Ben raised his brows. “Have you seen Dahlia? Every drunk asshole would be asking to see her breasts so she could earn her beads.”
Sean was shaking his head. “No way am I letting Elise do the pub crawl with us. We’ll meet y’all for the parade though.”
“The parade,” Dylan muttered and took another sip. He lowered his beer. “At least I’ve got two other brothers. Three if you count Rocko, which I am.”
Rocko thumped his chest with a fist. “Love ya, man. Truly.”
Chuckles followed but Ben and Sean’s revelations about breaking their traditional festivities had put a damper on everyone’s mood. Dylan set aside his beer and picked up his rod again.
“What if none of us can go to Mardi Gras this year?” Ben asked.
They all stared at him. “What do you know that we don’t?” Sean asked.
“I don’t know anything. I’m just pointing out that we haven’t had time off in a month, and how likely is it that we won’t be called in to track some threat across Mississippi?”
“Fuckin’ Mississippi,” Dylan, Chaz and Roades all said together. It seemed the most twisted missions took place in that state, and none of them were eager to jump when they heard those drawled syllables.
“New Orleans during Mardi Gras is the biggest security threat to the South. Colonel Jackson should just consider putting us on guard duty here.” Rocko had a point.
“Jackson won’t agree that your pub crawl is protecting the South from domestic threats, Rocko.” Ben flashed a grin.
“Look at it this way, you won’t have Ben and me, but you’ll still have Lexi to deal with.” Sean’s joke raised groans and growls from all the brothers. Their youngest hellion sister couldn’t be trusted on her own downtown, let alone with three brothers as bodyguards at Mardi Gras. After a complication at birth that had denied her of oxygen, she was a little on the naïve side to say the least, though her mouth made up for any shortcomings she dealt with.
“Lexi’s definitely not pub crawling with us. And thank God our other sister’s far away in basic training.” Their sister, Tyler, had run off and joined the Marines without a word, her only goodbye a texted selfie of her shaved head as she attempted to join up as a male.
Dylan missed a nibble on his hook and reacted. He jerked the line clear out of the water, and the hook whizzed past Chaz’s ear.
“Watch yourself, bro.” Chaz might be the most fun-loving of the brothers, but he had a temper to rival several of theirs put together if pushed.
Dylan looked around at the group on the dock. What had begun as a nice afternoon off was quickly dampened by his woman-whipped or grumpy brothers. Dylan reeled in his line and hooked the fishing hook onto the eye of the rod to keep it from getting snagged on anything in the back of his car. But the rod must have had a weak spot, because as soon as he tightened the line down, the tip snapped off.
The final damn straw.
He jumped up and broke the rod over his knee. Then he stomped to the end of the dock and tossed it in a trash barrel. He reached behind his back where he’d stuffed his T-shirt partially into his pocket and pulled it on. “I’m goin’ home,” he told the group a
nd strode back toward the path that would lead to the parking area.
With his good mood vanished behind a cloud, he didn’t even enjoy the quiet walk to his car. When he rounded a corner and spotted the vehicles in the parking lot, all he could think about was getting out of this dreary place.
His cell buzzed. Only his family members called him, and he wasn’t in the frame of mind to talk to them right now, but he looked at the screen anyway.
Ben.
It buzzed four more times. He could go against the rules of the team and ignore the call, and chances were, his brother just wanted to tell him to cool off or something.
But what if Ben wasn’t calling as a brother but as his captain?
“Shit.” He brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
“Dude, we just got a call from Colonel Jackson.”
“Bullshit.” He was going to call Ben’s bluff.
“No, dead serious. We’re on our way out.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see the team headed around the bend.
Ending the call, Dylan waited for them to catch up. Knight Ops was his life, and his job was to protect his country against any threats, foreign and domestic. He pushed out a sigh.
He wasn’t against going on a mission today, as long as they got back in time for that pub crawl.
For him, it wasn’t even about the drinking—he could go without alcohol forever. But it was tradition for him and his brothers to celebrate. Besides, he hadn’t exactly met a lot of females during the past month and he was feeling a deep need to get a soft body beneath him. Mardi Gras was the perfect time—have a few drinks, find a pretty girl…
The guys reached him, and Dylan looked to Ben. “Well? Where to?”
“New Orleans.”
“What?”
“Jackson got word that there’s a threat downtown, a terrorist cell operating out of a clothing boutique.”
“At least we’re not going to backwoods Mississippi to nail down some asshole trying to blow the state off the map like the past two visits,” Dylan said.
“They should put it on the visitor’s guide,” Chaz responded.
They all chuckled.
Ben blew out a low whistle. “Load up, men. Looks like we’ll be in the middle of the party. Afterward, I’ll buy y’all a round at the bar.”
Five cheers went up.
* * * * *
Athena glanced at the ornate marble clock on the shelf. Her appointment was fifteen minutes late, but that wasn’t unusual for people with money. She found some of them had no sense of time and came and went when they pleased, and for what Athena made off them during Mardi Gras season, she was more than happy to keep her upscale clothing boutique open later.
She walked to the long bar of dresses, each more extravagant and exciting than the next. All with price tags that could pay her rent for a month.
She resumed straightening each hanger on the rod, putting exactly an inch between each so the whole shop looked neat for tomorrow’s opening. She fluffed the ruffles of one Hawaiian red gown with beading decorating the off-the-shoulder detail and considered her late client.
The banker’s wife was bold and loved to be seen. And her influential husband loved showing her off. This dress was something Mrs. Landrenau would flaunt during one of the high-class parties taking place all week. The woman relied on Athena’s Creations to outfit her for the entire season, and Mr. Landrenau wasn’t to be left out of this yearly shopping spree.
I must find a suit to match this gown.
Taking the dress off the hanging bar, she swooped the long, ruffled train over one arm and carried it across the room to the men’s section of her boutique. Each garment was either one-of-a-kind designer goods or a creation of her own. And when she’d hand-stitched the beading on this red gown, she’d pictured Mrs. Landrenau wearing it.
Smiling to herself, she flipped through the suits. Pinstripes, lightweight wools. Finally, she came to the more fashionable menswear. Some would call it bawdy, and not at all what a banker would be seen in, but Mr. Landrenau and his wife were the centerpieces of the bank’s Mardi Gras float as it rode through Uptown New Orleans.
The white suit with black striped pants and matching jacket would be perfect. She was just hanging the garments in adjoining dressing rooms for the couple to try when she heard the bell on the door tinkle.
Athena drew a deep breath and bundled her thick dark curls over one shoulder, smoothing the soft curlicues that could hardly be tamed in such a humid climate. The frizz around her fingers told her it was a lost cause. Around Mrs. Landrenau, she always felt like such a mess.
Sailing into the front room, she gave her biggest smile. “Hello and welcome!”
The couple turned to her, smiling, looking like they’d just stepped off the glossy pages of a society magazine. Athena greeted them warmly by gripping their hands and leaning in to air-kiss each.
“We’re sorry we’re late,” Mrs. Landrenau began.
“Oh, no matter. I was just choosing another outfit for each of you to try. Tell me, have your plans changed since we spoke last?”
She listened intently to the couple share a list of all their parties and social obligations. Athena had begun working with them months ago, and this appointment was just a wrap-up. But with luck, she’d go home tonight with a little fatter wallet. Between rental space for her boutique and expensive fabrics used for her creations, there were always bills. A little extra never went amiss.
Ten minutes later she was admiring the couple who stood arm-in-arm in front of the three-way mirror. “Mrs. Landraneau, the red suits your complexion so well, and Mr. Landrenau, nobody will be able to take their eyes off you.”
His wife turned to him. “You are dashing, Edouard. But I wonder about a top hat…”
Athena jumped to attention. “Oh yes. You’re so right. I’ll just grab one.”
She hurried out to the accessory wall and chose a white hat and a red pocket square for his jacket. When she returned, the couple was deep in conversation. They broke apart and beamed at her.
Athena’s arches ached in her high heels and she longed to kick them off and curl her toes into the thick carpet. Heck, she was ready for a nice long soak in her deep tub, but first she had to seal this deal.
“What does the stunning couple think? Is this a yes?” Standing back, she raised her phone to snap a photo of the couple.
“No photos please, though we love your enthusiasm. We see all the photos of people you take and put on social media.” Mrs. Landrenau smiled like a model but there was an edge to her voice that made Athena lower her phone. “Yes, we’ll take the outfits. I do believe this gown could use a few tucks to fit my curves just right, don’t you?”
Athena rushed forward, and another ten minutes were spent pinning the gown. She’d need to make the alterations tonight if she was to get it back to them for tomorrow’s events. So much for a long soak in that tub.
By the time she saw the Landrenaus out the door and twisted the locks, fatigue was creeping over her. But she was happy—this was her town and her time of year. Sure, Athena’s Creations made money year-round, but this was the Christmas equivalent for her business.
She moved through the shop, tidying up and switching off spotlights on certain creations hanging in alcoves. Then she went into her office and plopped into the chair behind her computer with a drawn-out sigh.
She looked at her computer screen. Too many emails—typical. One from an old friend caught her eye and she skimmed a note about meeting for dinner while she was in town. Um, tonight? She checked a small gold clock on her desk. Not tonight. She dashed off a response and apology to her friend with a promise to have a date later this week after things began to slow in her shop.
Another few minutes were spent checking on purchase orders for special fabrics and sewing notions and then she stood, stretching. Her spine popped in the middle and she yawned wide.
A thumping noise made her jerk, but the sound was silenced immediately. S
he froze, staring at the door of her office. The rest of her shop was outside of her view, so she popped her head out.
Maybe a shoe had just fallen off a shelf or something.
So why was her heart suddenly hammering and images of a break-in racing through her mind? That was plain silly. This part of the city was safest. She—
A dark figure with another right behind popped into sight. She dodged behind the doorframe, hand plastered to her chest to hold her heart inside. Oh God, she was being burglarized and she had the largest deposit of cash of the entire year right here in this office.
She spun to the desk and snatched up the zippered deposit pouch and stuffed it down her waist, into her pantyhose. Voices sounded, low, in short bursts of commands.
How many were there?
She wasn’t taking the time to count. She had one option and it was to dodge into the nearest hiding spot—a small closet crammed with boxes of invoices from former years.
Please don’t find me. Just steal all the jewels in the case, smash the glass if you have to. Just do not find me.
Her ears thundered with the beating of her own heart as she stuffed herself into a space next to the boxes. Her hair stood out like a mane, and until now she’d never believed that old story that people’s hair stood up in fright. She’d never been so terrified in her life.
Wait—she could call 9-1-1.
She darted a look through the crack in the closet door. Her cell phone was on her desk, where she’d set it down to do her work. Dammit.
Stupid tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she held her eyes wide, refusing to let them fall. She wasn’t only afraid—she was pissed. How dare these people break into her boutique and, and… What were they doing? They hardly made a sound and if she hadn’t seen them for herself, she would have wondered if she was imagining things.
It was only a matter of time before they ventured down the hall and discovered the office.
She twisted her fingers together and prayed. But her pleas went unanswered. A dark figure entered the office, with another behind him. They wore all black and even had their faces smeared with black paint. They were huge and lumpy, like they carried gear of some sort.
