The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  He disappeared behind Deane into the cabin, along with the brunette and the second man. Mary Alice noted the stranger was carrying a large satchel. Must be the final pay-off, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. Which meant...

  I know too much.

  With a leaden sinking in her stomach, she realized there was no way she was going to get out of this situation any time soon, and probably not alive, unless she made her escape. And the odds were not likely to get any better than right now, still at the dock, and just one on one, to execute her little plan. The man they’d left to guard her was armed and muscular, but she was counting on the element of surprise to tip the scales in her favor.

  Sucking down a long, steadying breath, she took a sidelong glance at the man, then looked around, pretending to decide where to sit. Deane’s jacket lay conveniently on the bench at the back of the boat. Rubbing her arms, she walked over to it as casually as she could, then bent to set her tote down. With her chin held high, she slipped on the jacket.

  Her heart pounded in her throat.

  Blocking the guard’s view with her body, she held her breath, reached inside the tote and punched the ‘play’ button on the recorder.

  Sweet Lord in heaven, she prayed, please let this work.

  One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three—

  She turned to the guard and smiled weakly, then slowly ambled along the railing until she got to where the deck narrowed and ran alongside the cabin toward the front of the boat.

  One thousand seven, one thousand eight—

  “That’s far enough,” the man barked, waving her away from the passage. He took a couple of steps toward the center of the deck.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, running her hand nervously along the top of the cabin wall as she deliberately turned and made her way to stand with her back to the hatch door. Her knees shook so badly she was afraid he’d hear the bones knocking together.

  One thousand fifteen.

  Now. Please start now!

  As if on cue, her own voice, lowered an octave in a poor attempt at disguise, boomed out of the tape recorder. “FBI! Get your hands in the air! Do it now!”

  She and the man whirled in the same instant, he to the sound of the unidentified voice, and she to quickly slide the hatch door’s bolt home. She ignored the panicked look that flashed over Deane’s face through the small portal window next to the hatch as she turned back to the man on the deck.

  “I’m not saying it again! We’ve got you surrounded!”

  The guard yanked his gun from under his coat and searched behind the boat in confusion.

  Before he knew what hit him, Mary Alice took a long running leap, giving the man a huge shove, tumbling him over the back railing and into the sea. As he surfaced, sputtering and cursing in the murky water, she grabbed her bag, shook out her aching shoulder, and dashed up the gangway toward the dock.

  Stop in the Name of Love: Chapter Sixty-Four

  “Mary Alice!”

  Bridge could hardly believe what he’d just witnessed as he, Gray, and the SWAT team they’d summoned on the way had prepared to launch their attack on Watson’s boat. Before they could even move, his pretty angel had single-handedly captured the bad guys—and using a damned cool maneuver.

  What the hell was she thinking?

  He thundered down the marina dock with the others, catching her up by the waist and swinging her in the air. “Thank God, oh, thank God you’re safe.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and dissolved into tears. “Bridge! Is it really you? How did you find me?” she sobbed into his chest, clinging to him as though she’d never let him go.

  Grayson and the team streaked past and poured onto the boat, taking charge of the situation and fishing the flailing guard out of the harbor.

  “What the hell possessed you to pull a stunt like that?” Bridge lambasted Mary Alice as he poured kisses over her face. “They could have killed you! I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you.”

  “I had to get out of there. If I didn’t—”

  “Honey, you should have let Deane handle it. That’s his job—”

  “Deane’s dirty. He sold out to Watson.”

  He groaned. Of course she would think that. “Baby, he was undercover. A plant.”

  “Damn.” She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, wiping her eyes. “I should have thought of that. I was just so scared.”

  “Don’t ever put yourself in danger like this again. You’ve got to promise me. I couldn’t stand to lose you. Mary Alice, I—” He blinked at the expression on her face as she looked up at him. “What?”

  She just smiled through her tears.

  Suddenly it hit him. “This is what it does to you, isn’t it? When I’m out on the streets?”

  She nodded her head with a wry expression, and hiccoughed. “How does it feel?”

  “Lousy. No wonder you don’t want anything to do with me.” Damn. He sighed, tipping his head back. “Suddenly, I get it.”

  “Bridge, I—”

  May as well get it over with. He raised his hand like a stop sign. “No, before you tell me to go straight to hell, let me just say a couple of things.”

  “I wouldn’t tell you to go to hell,” she murmured into his neck, snuggling closer. “But go ahead.”

  He laid his cheek to her temple, breathing in the scent of strawberries he’d grown to love so mch. “I’m getting a promotion to lieutenant soon. No, it’s a done deal,” he assured her when she looked up as if she would protest. “Which means I’ll be off the streets and behind a desk—with Patrol at first. I will have to rotate back into SIS eventually, but it won’t be for a good while.”

  She looked up into his eyes, her own shining. “You did this...for me?”

  He nodded. “I need you in my life, Mary Alice. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you there.”

  “Oh, Bridge. Are you sure? I know how much you like the rush and excitement of being in SIS.”

  A thousand sparks of hope bloomed in his heart. This didn’t sound like a refusal. Did he really dare hope she still wanted him?

  He gave her his best lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll just have to get my excitement somewhere else. Got any ideas?” He gazed at her lovingly. Wishing. Wanting.

  Her expression softened and turned misty. “I might.”

  “Really?” He swallowed, hardly believing his luck. “Does this mean you’ll give me another chance?”

  “No.” She shook her head, and for a horrible moment his heart stopped beating.

  “I’m giving myself another chance,” she said tenderly. “At happiness. I was such a fool to deny the best thing that’s ever happened to me, to turn away the best man a woman could ever hope to want. I love you, Bridge. I’m sorry I was such a dope. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Oh, God.” Relief flooded his body and he crushed her to him. “I love you, too, Mary Alice. And there’s nothing to forgive. Please, just swear you won’t think about it and change your mind later.”

  She raised her lips and captured his in a deep, soulful kiss. “I’ll never change my mind, Russell Bridger, not if I live to be a hundred.” She kissed him again, heating his blood with her passion and the desire he felt stir in her body. “You know how to count to a hundred, don’t you, Lieutenant?”

  A low rumble came from deep in his throat. “I don’t know, Miss Mary Alice. I’m hopeless at math.” He pulled her even closer.

  “One of your more endearing traits,” she murmured.

  He chuckled as his heart melted. “I might need some serious tutoring in that department. Interested?”

  She smiled as their lips met. “I might have a few nights a week to devote.”

  “Nuh-uh. I’d want you every single night.”

  “Oh, my,” she said breathlessly, and batted her eyelashes.

  “It could take a whole lifetime for me to reach a hundred. You up for that kind of commitment?”

  She sighed into his
chest, a contented sound, full of love and promise for the future. “Oh, yes. I wouldn’t take the job for any less.”

  Stop in the Name of Love: Epilogue

  Bridger stood under the beribboned arch of the blossom-laden rose arbor and, grinning like a fool, placed a gold band on the hand of the woman he loved, and promised to keep her forever.

  Stop! he wanted to shout to the world. Stop and just let me savor this moment!

  He’d waited for this for so long. Mary Alice had insisted on delaying the wedding until the next spring when her roses, and the ones he’d transplanted from his dad’s house, would be in full, resplendent bloom.

  The day had finally arrived, and Mary Alice was radiant, beaming up at him like an angel from heaven, her pale hair glinting red in the sunlight. Her white dress floated delicately on the teasing breeze, as did the heady fragrance of hundreds of roses in full bloom. He glanced down at his side, to Mama’s rose bushes, and could almost feel his mother’s love pouring out from the blossoms. His gaze wandered over the crowd of friends gathered around the arbor. His dad and Nancy stood beside them as best man and maid of honor. Bridge secretly winked to little Ivy, who swung her flower-girl basket back and forth in front of her as she watched the ceremony in awe. He spotted Mary Alice’s mother dabbing her eyes in the first row, along with old Mrs. Trent and the ladies of the Historical Rose Society. Behind them were Jason Deane and Captain Trujillo and the rest of the guys from the station. There was the ever-hopeful Gray, ogling one of the teachers from Mary Alice’s nursery school. The old road crew was there, too, complete with Gary and Denise and their new baby. And everywhere he looked, three year-olds ran around or squirmed in their mothers’ laps.

  It was great. Just the kind of wonderful, chaotic wedding day every man should have. His heart filled to bursting as he turned back to his beautiful bride.

  Mary Alice slipped a ring on his finger and in a soft, clear voice made her vows to him. For some reason he suddenly couldn’t focus, the gold band dissolving into a prism of soft colors. He took a shaky breath.

  From somewhere far away he heard someone suggest he kiss the bride. He gathered her in his arms, and amid sighs from the group of people surrounding them, he tenderly pressed his lips to hers. She smiled up at him, on her face a look of pure devotion.

  “I love you, Mrs. Bridger,” he whispered.

  “And I love you, my darling Mr. Bridger.” Her eyes reflected an endless joy. “But you know,” she said, a special smile tilting her pretty lips upward. “I think we’re going to have to work on your math a bit more.”

  “And why’s that?” he said, mildly surprised at her choice of subject at a time like this. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  She tilted her head and looked coyly through her lashes then grasped his hand and laid it against her flat stomach. “People will probably tease you about not being able to count to nine.”

  Count to—

  His breath caught in his throat. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? “How far along have we gotten?”

  “Just one. Maybe two. Months.”

  He let out a whoop and swept her up in his arms, giving her a long, joyful kiss.

  “So, what do you suppose did it?” he whispered when he could think again. “The spurs?”

  “Russell Bridger!” She gave him a smack on the arm and giggled. “Of course not!”

  “No, you’re right.” He chuckled wickedly. “They just put a hole in the sheet, not in the—”

  Family and guests descended over them both, showering them with hugs and congratulations. He felt a warm, soft hand slip into his, and heard Mary Alice’s seductive voice in his ear.

  “It must have been your old stop sign,” she whispered. “It does need a sanding.”

  He looked into the laughing eyes of his new wife, and his happiness was complete.

  Sanding, hell. He’d have to remember to have the damn thing bronzed, splinters and all.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Nina Bruhns

  New York Times and USA Today Best Selling author Nina Bruhns' adventurous romantic thrillers contain a unique blend of interesting characters and settings, twisty suspense and sizzling romance. To date she has published over 30 award-winning novels.

  In addition to hitting the New York Times and USA Today Best Seller List, other awards and honors for Ms. Bruhns' books have included three RITA nominations, three Daphne du Maurier Awards for the Year's Best Overall Mystery-Suspense Book, two Romantic Times Reviewer Awards for Best Book of the Year, a National Readers Choice Award, an Eppie Award, and five Dorothy Parker Awards, just to name a few.

  Read more about Nina Bruhns and her books on her website: www.ninabruhns.com

  Please "like" Nina Bruhns' Facebook author page! facebook.com/Nina.Bruhns.author

  Twitter: @NinaBruhns

  More books by Nina Bruhns:

  In His Control

  Slave To Love by Nikita Black (aka Nina Bruhns)

  Catch Me If You Can

  RED ROCK RISES

  by Taylor Lee

  Red Rock Rises: Chapter One

  “Damn. My grandfather was right. Gramps always warned, ‘Beware of red-headed women.’”

  Charlie Rockford chuckled.

  “Thought your grandfather married a redhead.”

  “He did. That’s why his advice is worth taking.”

  Dameon Macarios pinned the grinning officer with a mock frown.

  “Ever met my grandmother, Rocky? You’d never forget her if you did.”

  Dameon turned back to the woman standing in the entrance to the ballroom and whistled softly in appreciation.

  “That is some woman. Who is she? I sure haven’t seen her around.”

  If he had, he sure as hell would have remembered. In a word she was breathtaking. She had the kind of classic beauty that could have stopped ships. Or bring a man to a dead stop, even a man like himself who’d spent a lifetime surrounded by beautiful women. Her cheeks were flushed, a rosy hue that matched the shiny gloss on her full lips, lips that begged to be kissed. From this distance the most remarkable things about her eyes were her thick dark lashes and brows that contrasted with her glorious hair. Dameon would have to get closer to see what color her eyes were. Something he intended to do--and soon.

  In the meantime he focused on the rest of her. Tall and slender, her body was as extraordinary as her face. She was all woman. Curved where she should be curved, and, Dameon noted appreciatively, some of those curves were downright monumental. Her dress was a work of art. Its deceptively simple design made the most of her amazing body. A shimmering drape of sea green fabric hugged her voluptuous frame. Cut low across her breasts, it made no secret of the treasures beneath. The hem of the dress hovered six inches above her knees revealing toned, gasp-worthy legs that refused to quit. Her strappy high-heeled stilettos added more alluring inches.

  But it was her fiery red hair that had Dameon’s dick straining at his trousers. That in itself was noteworthy, as he’d been so caught up in his divorce he hadn’t responded to a woman for a long time. And I was worried about my dick, he thought with a disparaging snort. No question it had risen emphatically from the dead, thanks to the redhead. Her long thick hair was piled up on top of her head, secured by a four-inch silver clip. Errant curls escaped hanging tantalizingly around her face and neck. Dameon’s breath hitched at the thought of removing the clip and freeing that fiery mass.

  As captivating as her appearance was, her demeanor was even more interesting. Although she affected an insouciant casualness, through his practiced eyes, Dameon saw her wariness. She was edgy, uneasy, perhaps even afraid. She glanced frequently at the door and then back at her watch. She looked his way and briefly met his eyes but quickly averted her gaze. Hmm, was she anxious? Or maybe shy? A woman who looked like she did? It was an intriguing thought.

  * * *

  Jesse glanced at her watch, trying to appear nonchalant. Damn. Where was Raoul?
She hated standing here by herself. Could she look any more out of place? She groaned silently. Bad enough that she looked like a hooker. Obviously that’s why all these men were ogling her. She kept them at bay with her well-honed brush off but she could handle only so many at a time. For God’s sake, had these yokels never seen a redheaded woman in a tight green dress whose boobs were about to pop out? God, why did she choose this dress? It looked tame on the hanger but added to her shoes and with a little make-up, tame was not the word to describe her.

  A better question was why she’d agreed to come to this damn party where she didn’t know a soul. And one of the two people in the whole town that she did know should have been here fifteen minutes ago. For the sixth time, Jesse reminded herself. ‘You came, girl, because if you can pull off this gig, you will make $10,000.’ Sweet! Raoul hadn’t batted an eye at her price. She chortled, the closest thing to a smile since she arrived. Guess a handsome Hispanic Club Owner with questionable ties to the Mexican mafia had different financial standards than most. Good. Now if her tardy client would just arrive, maybe she wouldn’t feel quite as out of place. Hell, her new profession might actually be fun.

  That thought fled when she caught a glimpse of the brown-skinned man across the room. Damn, who was he? Gorgeous didn’t begin to describe him. His light brown coloring and features spoke to a mix of heritages. Latino? Maybe African-American with some Asian thrown in? His high cheekbones and chiseled jaw indicated there might be American Indian blood in the mix. His eyes were an aberration. A piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. How the hell could a warm-skinned Adonis have cobalt blue eyes that gleamed from ten feet away?

  His lazy stance didn’t hide his commanding presence. He had ex-military stamped all over him. Jesse stopped taking inventory when she caught his gaze. He was studying her through narrowed eyes. She groaned and quickly looked away. Damn, another bad boy. She attracted them like ticks on a hunting dog. His quirky grin said he knew what she looked like without her clothes. Of course. Her damnable body. That’s all any of them saw.