by Jo Davis
“I take it that’s a yes?” he asked with a grin.
“Yes!”
“Excellent. What do you say we make some plans? Horses, other animals, new furniture?”
“Yes to all that! And Max, my cat. We’ll have to bring him.”
“Of course.”
Smiling, he wrapped his arm around her as they walked, and listened to her plans. He didn’t care what she wanted—he’d give her anything at all. He couldn’t believe he’d gone from being the saddest, loneliest man he knew to the happiest, in the space of a few weeks. He’d never, ever take Laura or this new life for granted.
He was a new man, reborn.
Thanks to the woman he loved.
Read on for a preview of another Sugarland Blue novel
On the Run
Available from Signet Eclipse.
The stench reached his consciousness first.
Then the pain. All over, racking agony, which proved he wasn’t dead yet, though he didn’t have a clue how that could be.
Awareness of being trapped came next. Buried. But not in the dirt. As he tried to move, various items surrounding him shifted and rolled away. With his fingertips he felt . . . cans. Paper. Slime. Old food? Cold knowledge gripped him, turned his blood to ice.
After the bastards were finished with me, they threw me out with the garbage. Literally.
Move, Salvatore. Move or you’re dead.
Using his hand, he sought the air. Pushed and clawed, twisting his body in the stinking refuse. The weight on top of him was heavy but not crushing. They’d meant to hide his body, completely confident he wouldn’t awaken, or make it out even if he had. He tried not to think they might have been right.
At last, fresh air. But as he broke through the pile, the heap sloped downward sharply and he was tumbling sideways. For several feet he fell, being jabbed and poked by sharp edges until he landed in the dirt at the bottom, the wind knocked out of him. Breathing was almost impossible, his lungs burning. He was hurt inside and out.
His eyes opened to slits, and he tried to peer into the darkness. All he could make out was a sea of garbage. No moon or stars. Worse, little hope.
They’d thrown him into the dump miles outside the city, where nobody in their right mind would venture. Don’t give up.
Drawing his legs under him, he pushed upward. His legs were like rubber, his strength almost nonexistent. He made it halfway to a standing position before crashing back to the ground with a hoarse cry. God, the pain. His entire body felt hot and cold by turns, and swollen like a balloon. Any second, he would split and spill onto the ground like the plastic bags all around him vomiting their guts. His skin and clothing were wet, too, from head to toe.
He knew it wasn’t all from the slime of the trash.
Shaking, Tonio crawled forward on his belly, inch by inch. Time lost meaning. An hour or three might have passed, though he didn’t think it had been so long—he would have already been dead.
Wetness ran down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose. Gradually, he grew cold. So cold he knew he’d never get warm again. What was he doing? Why had he been abandoned in this godforsaken place? Too much blood loss. Confusion. He tried to remember, couldn’t. Knew it was the beginning of the end.
Anthony. I’m Anthony Salvatore, and I’m a cop. Have to get out of here, get help. Let them know—what?
Her name whispered through his mind like a promise. Or a nightmare. He didn’t know which, and now he might never.
Angel.
Have to let Chris, somebody, know about Angel. Because if I fail . . .
Sister or not, Rab would kill her. He would show her no mercy, and she would end up here, in a grave next to Tonio. No matter what she’d done, her betrayal, he couldn’t let that happen.
“Angel.”
Her name was on his lips, her beautiful face in his mind, and the memory of her warm, supple body close to his heart when his strength finally deserted him.
Angel’s or devil’s mistress. Dark or light. He’d wanted years to learn her secrets, and been granted only weeks. It would have to be enough.
“Be smart, baby,” he rasped. “Stay safe.”
Against his will, his eyes drifted shut.
And Tonio surrendered to the darkness.
Five weeks earlier
Detective Tonio Salvatore leaned against the bar in his favorite dive, where the regulars only knew him by his first name, and sipped his whiskey, neat.
They didn’t know what he did for a living, either, and nobody ever asked. He figured, if anything, they had him pegged for a dangerous thug of some sort, maybe into drugs or fencing stolen goods like three-quarters of the guys there. Because he was dressed as he always was when he came here, in leathers, a tight black Metallica T-shirt, heavy boots, a five-o’clock shadow on his jaw, and a bandanna around his short raven hair, it was a reasonable assumption.
It didn’t hurt that he was six-four and muscular and looked mean, even though he wasn’t unless he had to be.
Stroker’s was a rough place with an even rougher clientele, but it suited him despite his job—or maybe because of it. It was the perfect place to keep his finger on the pulse of Cheatham County’s criminal activity without risking being seen and recognized in his nearby city of Sugarland, Tennessee. He wasn’t here in any official capacity, though. He just wanted to relax, incognito.
And maybe see some action that involved the weapon in the front of his leathers and not the one strapped to his ankle.
Taking another sip of his Dewar’s, he savored the smooth flavor and recalled the sweet little piece of work from last weekend. The blonde—what was her name? Trish? Tess? Didn’t matter. She’d been all over him from the minute she spied him at the bar, and it hadn’t taken her long to maneuver her way between his legs as he sat on the stool, then proceed to check his tonsils with her tongue.
His cock stirred as he remembered giving her a ride on his Harley to the motel down the road, his go-to for one-night stands, which provided him and his chosen partners with relief. No way was he taking any of them home. He wasn’t stupid.
The blonde had hugged him tightly from behind, pressed her breasts against his back, her hot crotch against his ass, and he’d nearly wrecked trying to get them to the motel. Inside, they’d been naked in seconds, and he’d eaten her out, enjoying the moaning and breathy little whimpers coming from her throat. She’d dug her fingers into his short hair and held on for the ride as he’d thrown her onto the bed, slid his cock deep, and fucked her so hard, the headboard had cracked the plaster on the wall.
Looking around, he hoped she’d be back tonight.
“Another round?” the bartender asked. The guy’s name was Rick, and he was as tough as anyone here. Had to be to work in a place like this. Tonio knew for a fact the man kept a baseball bat behind the counter and wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
“Sure,” he answered. Fuck it, he was off duty tonight.
“Comin’ up.”
His night improved when the little blonde with the perky bust and tight jeans strolled through the front door. He turned back to his drink, making sure not to clue her in that he’d noticed her arrival. As he thought she might, pretty soon a warm body sidled close to him, and a woman’s voice whispered in his ear.
“Fancy meeting you here, Tonio.” Small teeth nibbled at his ear lobe. “Buy a girl a drink?”
“You bet.” Damn, what was her name?
“Hey, Tess,” Rick said in greeting. “What’s your poison tonight, baby girl?”
Settling on the stool beside Tonio, she brought a long manicured nail to her lips in thought. Then she grinned. “How about a Screaming Orgasm?”
Rick snorted and winked at her, then smirked at Tonio. “Don’t think you need me for that one, but whatever the lady wants.”
While Rick mixed her drink, she swi
veled to face Tonio. Leaning over enticingly, she showed every bit of the rosy nipples under her plunging blouse and eyed him like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. They both knew she wouldn’t have to work real hard to catch him.
“Watcha been up to, sexy?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Not much. Messing with my bike, doing a little business to keep a roof over my head. The usual.” All true, even if he’d just effectively skewed her perception of him possibly being a criminal even further. Why he was playing this game, he wasn’t sure.
But they were both enjoying it, so what was the harm? He might learn something interesting.
“What do you do to keep that roof over your head, hmm?” She took the drink Rick slid over and took a healthy swallow.
He’d stepped into this willingly. But there was no question he had to develop a cover now. Besides Tess, Rick and a couple of other men were very interested in his answer and were trying to pretend they weren’t. Who knew? He might luck onto a case that would lead somewhere, eventually to arrests for drugs, or who knew what else? Sure, his captain would have his balls for going out on his own, but if it led to something big, he’d forgive Tonio just as fast.
“I acquire things,” he heard himself say. “For those who want them.”
She arched a brow. “What kinds of things?”
“Whatever you want, for a fee.”
“Anything?”
“Pretty much.”
Tess wasn’t fazed. “Good to know. I might be persuaded to pass that along.”
“Up to you.” Pulse kicking up a notch, he tossed back the rest of his drink, letting his demeanor say he didn’t give a shit whether she did or not. But he’d gotten a nibble that might lead to something bigger, and the game was on. The high was better than any drug.
Almost better than sex. But not quite.
After taking another drink, she slid a hand up the thigh of his leathers and brushed her fingers across his tightened crotch. “I can provide something you want, too.”
His dick was throbbing in his pants. Hot.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” Leaning into his chest, she took his mouth and tangled her tongue with his. Her nipples grazed his chest and peaked to tiny eraser points, rubbing. Driving him crazy.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked between heated kisses.
“Sounds like a great idea,” a woman’s voice said. And it wasn’t Tess’s.
Tonio and his hookup turned toward the woman who’d stalked up to them without either of them noticing—and Tonio’s breath caught. The woman was several inches below Tonio’s height—perhaps five-nine—long-limbed with a killer body that looked like she’d just stepped from the pages of a skin magazine. Long dark hair fell past her shoulders, almost all the way to her waist. Her eyes were large and green, and her nose was a sharp blade above a full, lush mouth made for sucking cock. Full, ripe breasts pushed at the snug cotton shirt, which had been cut with scissors or a knife to make it a low V-neck and sleeveless as well. She wore tight jeans and black ankle boots with silver conchos studded around them. Encircling her right upper arm was a surprisingly feminine Celtic tattoo. His mouth watered. The look, which would have come across as tacky on anyone else, was stunning on her.
Definitely centerfold material.
“What the fuck do you want, Angel?” Tess was clearly less than pleased with the other woman’s presence.
“Are you really that stupid?” Angel stared at her, then shook her head. “You know this is Rab’s territory. He’s not going to be happy to find you here again, and he’s not taking you back.”
What? Stuck in the middle of Tess’s trying to make another man jealous? Fuck.
“You think I give a shit what that asshole thinks, or what makes him happy?”
Angel sighed. “Look, I’m telling you this for your own good. My brother— Crap, too late. Here he comes now.”
Angel really did look worried, Tonio had to admit. When Tess glanced toward the door, she did, too. Who was this Rab guy who had the women so nervous? Tonio followed their gazes and cursed inwardly.
The man who held their attention was a frigging tank, maybe even an inch or so taller than Tonio himself. He was about thirty or so and bald, and wore his tats proudly as sleeves down both thick arms. Several pendants bounced against his broad chest, and he wore jeans that emphasized his muscular thighs.
Rab headed straight for their group, a steely expression on his face. Tonio slid from his stool and planted himself slightly in front of the women on pure instinct. This wasn’t even his fight, for God’s sake.
“Bitch,” the man growled, throwing his sister the barest glance. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Tonio’s back went up. He absolutely hated any man who addressed a woman as bitch. Only bottom-feeders resorted to that kind of talk to make themselves seem like bigger men.
“What do you think?” she purred slyly. Curling into Tonio’s side, she wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’m here for a drink, same as you. A little company, too. No harm in that.”
“There is when you know goddamn well I don’t want to see your face.” His eyes were dark and cold, like black marbles. He hadn’t acknowledged Tonio at all.
“Fine,” she said airily. “I guess I won’t introduce you to my friend Tonio here, who has a special talent.”
That icy gaze settled on Tonio for the first time, and inwardly he actually shuddered. That didn’t happen often. There weren’t many people who scared him. But there was something about this man he perceived as dangerous. Even deadly. Maybe it was because he was too still, too calm. As though watching and calculating.
“What talent might that be?” Rab drawled, checking him out from head to toe, his disdain clear.
“Acquisitions,” Tess said pointedly.
And here we go.
That caught the other man’s interest. “What’s your specialty?”
“Don’t have one. Someone wants something, I get it.” That was taking a risk, not specializing. It might have sounded too close to fishing on Tonio’s part. Too suspect.
Rab studied him for a long moment. Tonio held his gaze, not backing down. Never, ever volunteer more than you’re asked. That’s the first rule of being undercover. Eventually, the other man spoke again.
“You got a last name?”
“Reyes,” he lied.
“You got a number?”
Shit. He couldn’t give out his real cell phone number—he’d have to get a burner, fast. And have an unpleasant conversation with Rainey first thing tomorrow. He was onto something here. He could feel it. The room had hushed, every single person there tense. Belatedly, Tonio noted all the men dressed in a similar fashion who’d risen to their feet and moved subtly behind Rab. None of them appeared to be the stereotypical bumbling backwoods yokel. They looked tough and serious. He’d bet most of them had done hard time.
This man was no small-time player.
“I’m around,” was his only reply.
Several men flexed their fists. Looked to Rab, who held them off with a slight flick of a hand. Jesus. He’d escaped getting the motherfuck beat out of him by the skin of his teeth, and all he’d wanted was a cold drink and a hot woman. In that order.
“I expect you will be,” Rab said, his warning unmistakable. “Same time tomorrow night. Here. We’ll talk.”
Dismissing Tonio, the man strode away, taking up residence at a table in a corner of the bar. The only vacant table in the place, which must have been reserved for him. Angel stepped closer to Tonio and tilted her head toward the corner.
“You’ve got his attention,” she said, sounding less than pleased. And still concerned. “I hope you know what the hell you let in when you opened that door.”
“Interesting way to talk about your own brother.”
A second of unease fl
ickered in her jade eyes. She glanced around and apparently decided Rab’s men were no longer listening. “My advice? Don’t come back.”
“Noted.” Angel warning him off. He was even more intrigued than before—and he knew he’d be back.
About the Author
Jo Davis is the author of the popular Firefighters of Station Five series (Ride the Fire, Line of Fire), the Sugarland Blue series (On the Run, In His Sights), and, as J. D. Tyler, the Alpha Pack paranormal romance series (Chase the Darkness, Wolf’s Fall). A multiple finalist in the Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence and a finalist for the Bookseller’s Best Award, she has captured the HOLT Medallion Award of Merit and been a two-time nominee for the Australian Romance Readers Award.
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