by Chloe Cole
With that, Shane headed for the exit, dragging Emma in tow.
He didn’t speak until they’d reached his truck in the parking lot. The neon pink sign of the club illuminated his pained expression. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Emma,” he said, brushing back the curl that sprung across her cheek in the breeze.
He’d never called her Em since the mix-up about her identity. Not only did he fuck like a god, he cooked, he thought she was beautiful, he cared about what she had to say and didn’t roll his eyes when she went off on pointless tangents, he thought she was beautiful…
No doubt about it, she’d won the pseudo-stripper lottery.
“I’m okay.” She linked her fingers with his. It was a warm night, bordering on hot, but that wasn’t why her skin burned whenever they touched. “Are you? You look a little sick.”
“I’m all right. Man, how unreal.” He shook his head. “I’m going to save every penny of this check so I don’t have to take every weird ass case that comes along.”
“No more stripping?”
He winced. “God, no.”
“Still want to be a PI?”
“Yeah.” His jaw firmed. “I do. I think maybe I can become good at it. With time and practice.” He snaked a hand out and caught his fingers in the pocket of her pants, tugging her closer. “And you by my side, keeping me on the straight and narrow.”
“Depends how straight you intend to get.” She teased his cock with her fingertips through his jeans. “Sure you don’t want to share me?”
His eyes widened. “You don’t—you can’t—”
“No.” She had to giggle. “I only want you. But I couldn’t resist.” She nipped his chin and stroked his hardening length. “You sure do have interesting clients, Mr. Madison.”
“Apparently.” Shane waved his check and grinned. “But they pay pretty well.”
“Yeah. Maybe you’d give me a discount on your services since you’re so flush at the moment.” She traced his ear with the edge of her nail. “I still have a few more inhibitions to conquer…and you know what? I think you do too.” She smiled at his suddenly intent look. “How do you feel about a joint striptease?” she asked, her breath fluttering over his cheek. “Mutual lap dances. Me sliding all over your pole.”
His cock jerked in her hand. “That sounds so…sordid.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Grinning, she flicked her tongue along his curved lips. “I can’t wait.”
About The Author
Multi-published author Cari Quinn wrote her first story—a bible parable—in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. She attempted her first romance in junior high, long before she'd ever read one. Writing what she knew always took a backseat to what she wanted to know, and that still holds true today. Cari's genres of choice include contemporary, romantic comedy, romantic suspense, urban fantasy and paranormal. Recently she discovered erotic romance. Oh, how far she's come.
Cari loves to hear from readers! Please contact her through one of the ways below.
Email: [email protected]
Website: http://www.cariquinn.com
Convicted
By
Dee Tenorio
Dedication
To Christine Bell, who has the most amazing ability to talk me into following my zanier ideas. You are the nitro to my glycerin. To All The Members of our Military, who do more than their part to keep our world safe. We know you pay a high price to be warriors for us and we appreciate you more than we can say.
For those of you who sometimes lose your way, may you always have someone to help show you the way back home.
Chapter One
The pounding on the door damn near knocked Cade out of bed. He must have been more run down than he thought, because he had completely slept through the beeping blue light blinking madly on the digital clock next to his lamp, which glowed an obscene time at him. He dragged his hand down half his face, answering the knock with some obscenities of his own.
“Someone better be fucking dead,” he snarled as he dragged on a pair of sweats, then headed for the front door of his cabin. He’d come here to leave town and all its bullshit frustrations—one frustration in particular—behind. He was supposed to get two weeks of fishing in a hidden cabin on a hidden lake where the only thing not hidden were the goddamn fish. But here it was, three a.m. on his first night and somehow, someone had already tracked him down.
He threw open the heavy wooden door and stopped his mental bitching in its tracks.
“Not quite dead,” the woman with the beginnings of a hell of a shiner and a smeared bloody lip managed to say with a crooked grin. Tall by most standards, her ebony crown usually fit perfectly under his chin. Tonight, the top of her head barely made it to the middle of his chest. She wasn’t so much leaning on the lintel as she was slipping down it. Leaving a streak of blood on the wood as she went. “For a minute there, I gotta admit, it was kinda close.”
Cade caught her before she landed ass first on the porch. Complaints obliterated, he lifted her, kicking the front door shut before gingerly setting her on his couch. She groaned as she settled on the rough but serviceable cushions.
“How bad are you busted up this time, Trina?” Old training kicked in and he went straight to the zipper on the chest of her white and blue leather jacket, pulling it down quickly but carefully. This had to be the third time he’d patched her up since they’d met—probably because he’d made the colossal mistake of telling her that in his Marine days, he’d been a medic. Left it behind after his last stint in Afghanistan without a second glance, too. He’d washed too much blood off his hands to ever want to do it again, but here he was, already checking her for broken bones and any serious injuries as if he were back on the battlefield. All the while, his gaze kept coming back to the long slash in her white shirt and the dark red stain spreading under her breast and across her belly. “Any trouble breathing?”
“No. Can’t be too bad if I made it all the way up here, right? The ribs are tender, but I don’t think anything’s broken. You don’t have to worry about anyone following me, either. I left the bike at that truck stop a few miles back at the highway junction. Didn’t want to lead anyone back to you. Hoofed it the rest of the way up your mountain so I’m pretty sure I’m gonna live.” Her arms sank to her sides, one hanging off the edge of the couch, while she let him run his hands over her body.
His mind cut away to the last time they’d done this. The situation had been completely different. His hands were shaking then too, but because she’d been smiling, waiting for him to push her shirt up over her breasts, to take what she was offering…
“I’m most concerned about the cut Frank gave me. It might need stitches.” She groaned, oblivious to his memories. “Asshole shredded my favorite jacket.”
He peeled the fabric of her T-shirt over her ribs, baring a four-inch slice in her perfect, golden skin. Skin that should never have been abused like this. Given the arc, she must have just barely gotten out of the way of Carter’s blade. Not out of the way enough.
“I have to get my kit.” He kept the cabin stocked for just about any emergency. There’d be a suture kit in there. He’d know if she needed it once he got the wound clean.
Trina’s hand clasped his, dragging his attention from her body and back to those deep blue eyes. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Cade.” Her voice had dropped to that husky, raspy tone. The one that always felt like a slow lick from the base of his cock to the aching, sensitive tip. “You’re the only one I can trust.”
Just like that, she had him tied up in knots all over again.
Cade grunted. It’s what she’d expect from him. Inwardly, he was having a hell of a time not jumping up to get a gun and hunt down the son of a bitch who’d done this to her. He knew Frank Carter well. Had dragged him into the Sheriff’s Department often enough, not that anything ever stuck. The sadistic basta
rd headed Wheels Of Pain, a biker crew that based itself in the usually quiet rural California town of Marketta. Carter’s offenses ran from domestic violence to drug running to suspicion of murder, and he had the record elsewhere to support all of it. Everywhere, in fact, except Marketta. As soon as he hit the town limits, suddenly Carter was so clean you’d think he’d been shat right out of an angel’s ass. Him and every ex-con who ran with him…
Including the impossible to resist Katrina Killian.
Tamping down a gurgling rage, Cade pulled his hand free and went to gather his supplies. First things first, he grabbed his T-shirt from the chair and dragged it on. Being half-dressed around Trina was an invitation to trouble. Next, the kit was easy to get. As big as a fishing tackle box, he kept it under the bottom shelf in the pantry. He stopped at the cabinet beside the spartan dinner table and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Catching his own reflection in the mirror over the cabinet, he took another precious second to pour himself a shot in one of the many glasses stacked there. He threw it back, the fire spreading down his throat for long seconds before finally fading into a warm, smooth aftertaste. Blinking his stinging eyes, he grabbed the bottle by the neck and went back to the couch. More importantly, to the wounded woman waiting there for him.
“Tell me I get a swig of that.” Trina sighed. “After the day I’ve had, I could use some.” She raised a hand for the bottle and, given he didn’t have much else to numb her pain, he handed it to her readily. It had nothing to do with his appreciation of the way she gripped the neck and slid her full pink lips over the rim to drink it down.
He knew exactly how it felt to be that bottle.
Or at least, he did. Once.
It hadn’t lasted long enough.
And it could never happen again.
He lifted the heavy-duty latches on the case and flipped open the lid to reveal the supplies within. First things first, gloves. Then he’d clean her up and get a better look at the field. “How about you tell me what happened this time while I fix you up?”
“You say that like I’m always bleeding around you.”
“You are a woman who likes attention.”
“I like your attention,” she groused. “There’s a difference.”
His hands stilled, but when he looked at her face, her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed into deep, shuddering grooves. “Whose attention did you have today?”
“Everyone’s.” Trina’s thick lashes rose, her mouth quirking as she brushed unwanted moisture from the corner of her eye.
Would she slap his hand away if he tried to do it for her?
Without question.
Didn’t stop him from wanting to, though.
“Tell me something, Evigan,” she demanded, clearing her throat and shifting restlessly against the couch. Moment of weakness over, apparently. “You ever pull a train in a dirty bar?”
That raised his eyebrows. “Not that I remember, no.”
“Well, I haven’t either and today wasn’t going to be my first time.” Her body went taut beneath the swipes of the towelette he used to clean the blood, before relaxing with decided effort. Which sucked because that was the easy part. “Carter doesn’t kill people that piss him off, not right away. He’s a big believer in making them pay three times over first. His plans for me involved ambushing the shit out of me and throwing me like a chew toy to his men.”
He daubed the wound with a gauze pad, forcing himself to keep his hands steady. Strangely enough, being so angry he could strangle someone went a long way toward derailing his usual reaction to the smell of blood and antiseptic. “How’d you get out of it?”
“Well, it turns out that when two guys are holding you in place by your arms, your legs are free to kick other people in the face and balls.”
He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she managed to draw a grudging grin from him. Something about her always seemed to pull the humor out of him, even when he’d thought it long gone. “I’m guessing you’ve known that for a while.”
Her answering smile was tinged with exhaustion. “It’s come in handy every now and then.”
“Doesn’t look like it did you much good this time.”
“That’s what you think. If they’d managed to get me down, at least Frank wasn’t gonna get any. Steel toe, baby. If he’s not in the hospital right now, it’s a friggin’ miracle.” She hissed as he irrigated the shallow—thank God—wound. “Shit, Cade, why don’t you just pour the whiskey in? Might hurt less.”
“You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want it done right, Tee.”
She made a face at the name. She usually complained that it made her sound like a four-year-old. As if the moniker “KK” sounded so much more mature.
“Maybe I came for the company.”
He grunted again. “We both know I’m not fit for that.”
She sighed, the way she always did when he said things that irritated her. “You’re about the only one in this town worth spending time with and you know it.”
“That’s not true. There’s good people here.”
“You always say that, but no one believes you. They’re all cowards and drunkards who turn their backs rather than take a stand.”
“I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t people needing protection.” From her gang. Even if he didn’t say it, he knew she heard the accusation. “Why’d he ambush you?”
Her face turned toward him, her usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. Instead a seriousness drew lines around her mouth and shadows in her eyes. Didn’t seem right, really. He was the one who did maudlin and brooding. She was the one who dragged him into using the side of himself he’d almost forgotten about. Worse, if he didn’t know better, he’d think the shade of those shadows was guilt.
“He found out I’m not who he thought I was.”
Cade let his hands fall to this lap. This couldn’t be good. “Who are you then?”
“Undercover DEA.”
For an entire three seconds, elation filled him. Pure, excited relief that he hadn’t gone off the deep end for a criminal who may or may not kill him in his sleep. But then he remembered who he was dealing with. Suuuure she was undercover. He shook his head, going back to his work, irritated. “You don’t need to lie for me to patch you up.”
It wasn’t like he had a hell of a lot of restraint when it came to Trina. The only thing he’d been able to hold to was not giving into the unholy need he had for her again. From the moment she first strode up next to him outside the Sheriff’s Department, he’d been snared by her. By that devilish grin and that spark of interest in her blue eyes. Her tall, curving body that he’d known in an instant would wrap around his like she’d been made just for him. But he wasn’t about to tie himself up with a convict who refused to change her way of life. He hadn’t come home with much from the war, but he did still have his ethics. They might make cold bedfellows, but they kept his head up when damn little else could.
“I’m not lying, Cade. I’ve been undercover in Carter’s crew for two years and it’s for fuck all now that he knows the truth.”
He opened the packet of butterfly bindings, his temper ramping up. “Why the hell should I believe you? After everything else you’ve put me through, why should I even care, Tee? Because if you’re telling the truth, that means you’ve been lying to me for a year. If you’re not, you’re just trying to twist me around your finger again. I’m done being your toy, goddamn it. Give me one good reason why any of what you’re saying should matter to me now.”
She wouldn’t do that to him. Not the woman who had charmed her way into his life, who had seemed as if she actually cared about him. As if she might even lo— He didn’t let his mind finish that thought. It didn’t matter. If it were true that she were undercover, she would have told him months ago. She knew him well enough by then to know she could trust him. At the very least, she would have said something before they’d found themselves denting the shit out of his car hood, knowing nothing else could ever c
ome of it. Before she’d ripped out what was left of his heart.
No, this had to be another game. He was sure of it.
Absolutely sure, until she opened her mouth again.
“Because someone in your department sold me out.”
Chapter Two
Admittedly, Trina didn’t expect Cade to believe her. He had every right to be hurt and angry. She’d been lying to him for over a year. Using him, though he didn’t know about that part. Yet. All the same, a twinge of disappointment panged deeply because he didn’t have enough faith in her. She just wasn’t sure if that disappointment was directed at him or herself.
Maybe the real question was who most of the disappointment was directed at.
From the first moment she’d seen him, a tall, dark haired beast of a man stepping out of a truck in front of the Sheriff’s Department, his dark brown stare already locked with hers, she’d known he was going to change everything.
Who knew she was such a master of understatement?
Even now, his head bent over her stinging belly, she could feel the unrelenting thirst to touch that he always inspired. To run her fingers through his too long black curls. Slide her hand down the strong column of his tanned neck to his broad shoulders and hold on for dear life. Her wounded warrior. The hero she never expected to find, much less want. And oh, sweet lord, she wanted Cade.
All her life, she’d insisted on doing everything herself. Being dependent on no one meant not answering to anyone either. Most men couldn’t handle that kind of independence in their women. Cade Evigan was man enough to take her on though, a fact she’d instinctively recognized that day. Something in that dark gaze as it coursed over her, filing every last detail without changing expression.
Man enough to turn her away, too.
She remembered so clearly how she’d walked right up to him, drawn like a satellite into his gravity, her hand landing on his chest to feel his heartbeat. His warmth. Everyone and everything else completely disappeared.
