Praise for the novels of Rhyannon Byrd
“No one writes lip-biting sexual tension and sizzling romance like Rhyannon Byrd.”
—Shayla Black, New York Times bestselling author
“An ensnaring and scalding read full of great emotional appeal, endearing and tortured characters, and a thrilling plot that leads the pair on a wonderfully written adventure culminating in an epic battle that leaves you craving more!”
—Black Lagoon Reviews
“Steam, lust, love, loyalty . . . all these aspects and more fill the pages of this true page-turner.”
—Nocturne Romance Reads
“With a Byrd book, you know you will get plenty of sizzling sensuality as well as molten emotion.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A haunting love story.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Quite the emotional roller coaster but I had a blast hoppin’ in and hanging on to what ultimately proved to be one hell of a steamy ride.”
—Lovin’ Me Some Romance
“Filled with love, lust, loyalty . . . sensuality, and heady romance.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“Guaranteed to keep you reading until the very last page.”
—Joyfully Reviewed
“Delicious and hot.”
—Romance Junkies
“Not to be missed.”
—Manic Readers
Titles by Rhyannon Byrd
TAKE ME UNDER
KEEP ME CLOSER
Anthologies
WICKED AND DANGEROUS
(with Shayla Black)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
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penguin.com
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
Copyright © 2014 by Tabitha Bird.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-59563-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Byrd, Rhyannon.
Keep me closer / Rhyannon Byrd.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-425-26294-8
1. Private investigators—Fiction. 2. Man-woman relationships—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6102.Y73K44 2014
823'.92—dc23
2014000542
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Heat trade paperback edition / June 2014
Cover photograph of “couple” © Conrado/Shutterstock.
Cover design by SDG Concepts LLC.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Praise for the novels of Rhyannon Byrd
Titles by Rhyannon Byrd
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
1
AS ALEX HUDSON WAITED IN THE SHADOWS OF THE CAR-FILLED MULTISTORY parking structure, smoking a cigarette, he silently cursed his brother for putting him in this ridiculous situation. He was a fucking private investigator, not a babysitter. He didn’t, for a single moment, think there was any validity to Ben and Reese’s claims that Brit Cramer’s life was in danger. This was just his brother and new sister-in-law’s irritating idea of playing matchmaker. The two had gotten it into their heads last summer that he and the therapist would be good together, and had done their best to make his life a living hell ever since.
It was already hard enough, having to spend so much time around the woman, without putting him through this shit. He was forced to deal with Brit’s dimpled smiles and natural, in-your-face sexuality every time they were invited to the same dinners, parties, and weekend barbecues at his middle brother’s beachfront home. Now that it was late spring and the weather was warming on southern Florida’s gulf coast, the number of beach get-togethers was increasing, while the clothing Brit and the other women wore became practically nonexistent. The past few weeks had been absolute hell, thanks to the amount of smooth, creamy skin she’d started putting on display, and his mood was foul. Last damn thing he needed was this, being forced to watch her every night as she finally dragged herself away from her office and made it home to the two-story house she lived in alone.
And since she had no idea Ben had put him on this assignment, Alex had spent the last two evenings slinking around the parking structure attached to the medical complex where she worked like a goddamn stalker. It made him feel like the very thing he was supposedly there to protect her against, and it sucked.
It was also a serious waste of his time.
Yeah, Alex had looked over the harassment complaint Brit had filed against university student Clay Shepherd the week before, after the twenty-two-year-old had tried to force his way into her office, and he agreed with Ben that her former patient was unstable. But that didn’t mean there was any credence to Ben’s belief that Shepherd could prove violent. His brother might be the county sheriff here in Moss Beach, but he wasn’t a fucking mind reader. No, ever since his wedding, Ben had turned into a nosey, meddling matchmaker, and a serious pain in the ass. Alex knew only too well that this was Ben’s way of forcing him to pay attention to the woman he’d been trying so damn hard to avoid.
Not that avoiding her was possible. The last time they’d been invited to the same get-together, this one at Scott Ryder’s house—Ryder was a friend of the family and one of Ben’s deputies—Alex had tried to look right through Brit, only to nearly swallow his tongue when he saw how the dress she was wearing hugged her curves. The woman was built like a fucking pinup model from the forties, lush and tall and so damn overtly sensual he’d have wanted to eat her alive if he hadn’t become a sworn woman-hater. Or at least a woman-avoider. But he’d finally accepted that it was physically impossible for him to ignore a woman who looked like Dr. Brit Cramer, so he’d reverted to the ol’ tried and true crutch of being a dick to her.
Pathetic? Oh, yeah. Big-time. But when a guy was desperate he sometimes had to scrape the bottom of the emotional barrel. And Alex had done a stellar job of it. He still couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said to her that particular night, when he’d found himself standing a
lone on Ryder’s back patio with Brit, anger and frustration taking control of his mouth while his pulse had roared in his ears, blocking out the sound of his own voice—but it had earned him a slap across the face from the gorgeous redhead.
That had been a few weeks ago, and it was the last time he’d spoken to her.
And now he was here, pissed at his brother for pulling this crap on him, and trying hard to ignore how much he was looking forward to getting a glimpse of the doc as she walked to her car. Jesus, he really did sound like a psychotic stalker. When Ben got back from the Bahamas, where he was vacationing with Reese, Alex was kicking the guy’s ass for sticking him with this assignment. He could only be thankful the woman had a quality home alarm system, or he knew his brother would have had him camping out with her, and there was no way in hell he was going there, even if she was Ben and Reese’s best friend. If it came to that, their little brother Mike would have to step in.
The thought instantly made him scowl.
Knowing Mike’s wild reputation, he and the doc would be screwing like rabbits within an hour of him setting foot in her house. There was no way Mike wouldn’t put the moves on her, even though he’d been trying to push Alex into asking her out for months now. It was just in his baby brother’s DNA. Mike might be closing in on twenty-nine, a kick-ass agent with the DEA, respected for his sharp mind and dedication to the job, but when it came to killer curves and a beautiful face, his dick could not be trusted. It was as simple as that.
The sudden vibration in Alex’s front pocket told him he had an incoming call, and he grimaced when he read the name on the screen. Speak of the devil. Mike’s ears must have been burning. His baby brother was recently proving to be just as big a pain in his backside as Ben, the two of them making it clear they believed Alex had wasted enough time stewing in anger after the eventful end of his marriage five years ago. Little did they know his pissy attitude these days had almost nothing to do with his bitch of an ex-wife, and everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t get a particular redheaded therapist out of his thoughts.
Bracing his back against the side of his new Range Rover, Alex lifted the phone to his ear. “I’m busy, Mike. What do you want?”
“You know, it’s been half a decade, Alex. People can go to college and earn degrees in that amount of time. Pop out a couple of kids. Trek through South America and set up an entire empire of llama farms. We’re talking serious life changers. So don’t you think it’s about time you pulled your personality out of your ass and stopped acting like a prick?”
Wondering why his brothers couldn’t just cut him some freaking slack, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I’m not in the mood for any of your shit tonight, Mike.” Not that he was ever in the mood for it. He was an asshole, not a masochist. “So what are you calling for?”
The noises in the background made it clear that his brother was calling from his office. “I just wanted to make sure you were watching Brit,” Mike replied, his slow drawl a dead giveaway that he was Southern born and raised.
“I said I would, so I am.” Alex might be a dick, but he kept his promises. Even when he thought they were pointless and irritating.
“Good,” Mike grunted. “I know you think this is all some sort of conspiracy against you, but Ben’s really worried about this Shepherd guy. He thinks Brit was way more creeped out by him than she’s letting on.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Alex had read the report, which was fairly detailed. Three years ago, Brit had been doing work for the Miami Police Department as part of a statewide program that placed a specially trained clinical psychologist with trauma victims during their police and medical interviews, the point of the program being to ease the process between victims and the officers fighting to bring them justice. That was when she’d met Ben, who had been working as a homicide detective in the city. Not long after she’d started with the program, the doc had worked with Shepherd after he’d been the victim of a violent sexual assault perpetrated by his own mother and her boyfriend.
After counseling him during the week he’d spent in hospital, Brit had passed the nineteen-year-old on to a local therapist who was meant to work with him on a permanent basis, and her association with the young man had come to an end. Until two weeks ago, when Shepherd had claimed to be the victim of another brutal attack while living on campus at Fenton, a private south Florida university in the city of Westville, located north of Moss Beach. He specifically requested a visit from Dr. Cramer when he was admitted to hospital, and being the dedicated professional that she was, she’d immediately driven up to meet with him. Two days later, after being discharged, he’d traveled down to Moss Beach for an appointment at her office, and everything had gone south after that meeting.
Though she had cautioned Shepherd several times during the appointment, he’d grown increasingly personal with her, crossing the line. When she warned him that kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated during their sessions, he’d stormed out, only to return several days later, when he’d caused a scene with her receptionist, verbally abusing the woman. That was a week ago. Brit had immediately filed the report against him with the local sheriff’s department, and made it clear to the Westville Police Department that she would no longer be seeing Shepherd as a patient. According to his attorney, Shepherd regretted his behavior and was willing to keep his distance, claiming the emotional strain he was under had caused him to act out. But Ben apparently wasn’t buying it. He said there was more to the story than Brit was letting on, but Alex knew she was too smart to play with her safety.
Which meant this whole setup was nothing more than his family doing their best to yank his chain and meddle where they weren’t wanted. God knew he loved them, but there were times when he wondered why he hadn’t just packed up and moved to another state, putting some distance between him and their good intentions.
Despite what his brothers thought, he didn’t need anything more from Brit Cramer than a hard, furious fucking that left them both wrung out and the bed in shambles. And since that wasn’t something he could have, seeing as how she was so close to his family, the best thing he could do was see as little of her as possible.
“Alex!” Mike suddenly barked. “Are you even listening to me, man?”
“What?”
Mike grunted in irritation. “Fuck. Why do I even bother talking to you?”
“Damned if I know,” he shot back, realizing his little brother must have been giving him a hell of a lecture while he’d zoned out thinking about Shepherd and the doc. Then he realized he’d also zoned out on watching the lobby doors of the medical complex for Brit, and a surprisingly sharp slice of anxiety knifed through him. Shit. “Look, Mike, I gotta go.”
Without even waiting for Mike’s response, Alex shoved his phone back in his pocket and started making his way between the parked cars, carrying on a silent argument with himself the entire time. He didn’t understand why he was so twisted with tension when he didn’t think she was in any real danger to begin with. Why was he freaking out? He was damn near running, his heart pounding as he made his way down the last row, when she emerged through the lobby doors of the clinic in a gaggle of coworkers, laughing at something one of the women had just said, and he exploded with a violent, stifled stream of curses as he jerked to a stop behind one of the parking deck’s concrete columns, careful not to let her see him.
“Christ, what a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself, peeking around the column. He’d damn near given himself a heart attack, thinking he’d screwed up and missed her leaving, and there she was, looking hot and happy in one of those little designer dresses she always wore to the office, her legs appearing a mile long in a pair of fuck-me heels. The woman knew how to dress to make a man hard, that was for damn sure. He hated it as much as he loved it, seeing as how he’d made a personal vow never to lay a hand on her.
Why in G
od’s name had he even freaked? He honestly didn’t think she was in any danger from Shepherd. If he did, he wouldn’t be skulking around a parking garage just to make sure she made it to her car okay each day. He’d be on her 24-7, ready to rip the throat out of any sick fuck who so much as breathed on her.
Not because it’s her, he silently assured himself. I’d do the same for any woman who was in trouble.
“Screw this,” he muttered, reaching for his cigarettes as he spun on his heel, heading back to the Rover. He could hear Mike’s smoking lecture droning on in his head, and mentally flipped him off. Cancer, emphysema, tarring his insides black. Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. Like he gave a shit. He could no longer touch a bottle, so this was the next best thing.
He’d parked the Range Rover at the end of the first row of cars on the ground level, next to the wall, and there was enough room that he could brace his back against the driver’s side door as he took a deep drag on his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs. With a scowl, he slowly exhaled, determined to ignore a niggling thread of unease over the way he’d turned away from Brit, letting her make her way to her car on her own, instead of under his watchful eye. She was parked at the other end of the deck, just around the corner. Odds were good one of the women she’d walked out with would be parked close by her Audi, and they could look out for each other. He didn’t need to be wasting his time with this crap. He just needed to take whatever shit Ben felt like doling out and tell his brother to put one of his deputies on watch duty if he and Reese were so worried about her.
Taking another deep drag on the cigarette, Alex made the sudden decision to ring up one of the single women who lived in his condo complex to see if she was free later on. Her name was Chloe, she was blond, and she was built. She was also definitely interested, considering the way she bopped her tight little ass over to flirt with him whenever he swam laps in the community pool. He’d been putting off messing around with her, since she lived a little too close for comfort. It would no doubt come back and bite him in the ass if they hooked up, but damn it, he needed the distraction. If he had to sit around his condo by himself that night and mull over the way he’d just acted like an idiot, panicking for no reason, he’d end up driving himself crazy.
Keep Me Closer (A Dangerous Tides Novel) Page 1
