by Lexi Blake
Damn it. He was drinking far too much lately. He thought Damon was starting to notice. His boss had told him they would have a talk when the team got back from Loa Mali.
Was he going to lose his job? Owen had been his closest friend on the team. He hadn’t seen what he was going through and it had almost cost Theo and Erin Taggart their lives. It wouldn’t surprise him if Damon had thought about it and decided to cut him loose.
He would take it. He deserved it.
He fucking deserved all of it.
Like he’d deserved to lose Des.
The words flowed in front of him, everything they’d been able to record on the man they’d codenamed Tucker. Nick was supposed to be compiling all the data for Ariel, but he couldn’t quite concentrate.
That bottle was calling him.
Maybe if he drank it, he could forget he’d lost her, forget he’d chosen her over the girl he’d been too afraid to really love. Forget he was the shit who’d watched her die and couldn’t get another woman out of his head.
He said it was all about Des and it was, damn it. Des had been the siren calling him away from everything else.
Calling him away from the woman he’d nearly walked away from everything for.
Yes, all he had to do was take that first drink and not stop. When Damon returned he could turn in his access cards and go back to Russia where he could become what everyone always thought he would be. A feckless drunk with a meaningless life. A thug who worked for mobsters because no one else would have him.
That was what he deserved.
He started to open the drawer to his desk when there was a knock.
“Mr. Markovic?” Owen opened the door. He was a shadow of his former self. He’d lost a ton of weight, but sometimes when he smiled, Nick could see a hint of his old friend. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m helping Teresa manage the front office.”
He was nosing around Teresa was what he was doing. Despite the fact that the man had been wretchedly sick, he perked up around the sub.
He didn’t remember that he’d already screwed the poor girl over and she’d likely never give him the time of day.
What would it be like to forget all his sins?
“It’s all right. What do you need?” Ariel had told him it would be good for the men to have something to do. He’d arranged for them to handle some small jobs around The Garden. He’d also begun training for their Master rights. Well, he’d begun Master training for the ones who identified as Dominants, and sub training for the one who had admitted he needed to submit.
So far things had been quiet. Too quiet.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
That had Nick sitting up. No one knew where he worked. Unless it was someone Damon sent. He relaxed a bit. “Is Ezra back from wherever he’s been?”
Owen shook his head. “No. It’s a woman. Pretty thing, too. Says she knows you. Quite insistent.”
“Yes, I am. Could you please move? I’m not leaving until I see him.”
Nick froze at the sound of that husky American accent. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t seen her since the day of Desiree’s funeral, and even then it had been from a distance because the family wouldn’t let him in. He’d watched her, remembering the way she looked when she’d clung to him, wrapping her body around him while he drove into her.
And he’d remembered the way she looked when he’d told her he still wasn’t leaving her cousin.
Hayley Dalton pushed past Owen, barging into his office. She looked every bit as delicious and curvy as she had that night they’d spent together five years before when she’d found him after a nasty fight with Des. She’d offered him comfort and he’d taken her up on it.
He hadn’t taken her up on her proposal of marriage the next morning.
She’d been the funny, sweet, smart girl he’d enjoyed talking to when he was forced to spend time with Des’s horrible family. He’d liked her and he would never, ever tell her how close he came to walking away with her.
Especially not when she despised him. Not when she blamed him for her cousin’s death.
“You owe me, Nick. You owe me and I’ve come to collect.”
He forgot about the vodka. It looked like his trouble was just beginning.
Nick and the entire McKay-Taggart group will return in For His Eyes Only, coming in February 2017.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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MASTER BITS AND MERCENARY BITES
The Secret Recipes of Topped
By Lexi Blake and Suzanne M. Johnson
Coming November 1, 2016
Click here to pre-order
Top restaurant has become the hot spot in Dallas for elevated comfort food—and a side of spicy romance. Run by executive chef Sean Taggart, Top is the premiere fictional destination for gourmet food. Join creator, New York Times bestselling author Lexi Blake, and Southern food expert Suzanne Johnson as they guide you through the world of Masters and Mercenaries via the secret recipes behind the food served in Top.
But what would a gourmet meal be without some company? Spend an evening with your favorite characters from McKay-Taggart as they celebrate the special moments that make up their happily ever afters. Learn how to make Sean’s specialty dishes and Macon’s desserts while exploring the private lives of the characters who make up the world. From Charlie and Ian’s next demon spawn to a change in path for Simon and Chelsea, these are the times that bind us together, the moments that make us a family.
Good meals, good times, good friends.
Bon appétit!
* * * *
Ian went to grab the dog’s leash. Bud started up his pee-pee dance, his massive body twisting and turning as he ran after Ian. His big paws thudded against the brand new hardwood he would never have spent that god-awful amount of money on had he realized a dog would pee on it.
He looked back Charlie’s way. “You know there’s a whole forest out back for him to go in. He should be a free-range dog. Aren’t we taking away his dogness by putting him on a leash?”
Charlie frowned his way as she refilled Kenzie’s cup. “Yes, he’s the mighty wolf dog, Ian. I watched him run away from a bunny the other day.”
He grabbed the leash. “See, if he had to go out and hunt, he wouldn’t be such a shitty guard dog. Don’t even say it, you two. Say good words. Not Daddy words.”
Charlie put a hand to her belly. “I swear this one will come out giving the world the finger and cursing.”
Bud whined, running back and forth in front of the door. Ian sighed and attached the leash. He stepped outside and Bud took off, barking and jumping against the leash until he managed to drag Ian out onto the lawn where he immediately squatted in the middle of Charlie’s azaleas and started to take a crap.
Yep. This was his life. Watching the dog crap. He was so building a fence. “You know you were supposed to be a guard dog. You were supposed to be a raging, feral beast who would take out anything in your way.”
Sort of like Ian had been at one time.
He’d been the bane of intelligence agencies. He’d been Dr. Death, raining down justice and protecting America.
Now he was a dumbass with a mortgage, a dog who seemed to be a bit constipated, two tiny chaotic things, and another on the way. No one
even let him kill people anymore.
It was a never-ending cycle of waking up in the morning and seeing their faces, taking care of them, going to work, coming home, and going to bed with his wife.
It was kind of fucking awesome.
Sure, his younger self would likely tell him he’d sold out and he was a pathetic version of himself, but his younger self had been stupid as shit. His younger self thought a great time was following a known terrorist around for three weeks so he could find the cell. His younger self had needed a freaking shower, some decent food, and a comfy bed.
And a dog who didn’t take his time with the poop.
“Come on, Bud. Pinch off, man. We’ve got shit to do today.” Well, he did anyway. He was sure Bud would have a full day of licking his private parts and waiting for the girls to drop food. Bud seemed forever optimistic that one of these days the girls or Charlie was going to drop a ham in front of him.
A butterfly landed on the bush next to Bud and that was when he went into protective mode. He barked, the deep sound threatening to anyone who didn’t know what a wuss he was, and he pulled hard at his leash.
Hard enough to make Ian stumble and damn near break his toe on the garden gnome Alex had left as a joke. Hard enough to send Ian crashing down to his knee, pain flaring and making him curse.
Bud twisted again and Ian tripped over the riding ladybug thing Kala liked to push around the yard. He landed flat on his back, looking up at the sky.
Taken down by a freaking ladybug. And his back was spasming. The pain flared through him and he could feel his lower back seizing like a motherfucker.
Bud suddenly blocked out the sky, his big doggie face staring down.
“Don’t you dare.”
It was too late. Bud licked his face and Ian realized he shouldn’t have gotten up that morning. Nope. He should have stayed in bed and then he would be warm and happy and not having his face licked by a gargantuan mass of body odor and a tongue that licked its own ass from time to time.
God, if he didn’t die from breaking his spine he was going to catch some dog disease and waste away. Right here. Because he wasn’t sure he could move. “Bud, I need you to go get Charlie. Go on. Run and get her.” He let the leash drop. Bud simply sat down beside him. “Go get Charlie, boy. I think she’s got a ham for you. Go on.”
Bud laid his big head down on Ian’s chest.
Now he had a sleeping mutt and a garden gnome that was practically up his ass. He could feel the pointy cap thing attempting to violate him.
“Ian? Ian, I need you.”
Thank god. His wife would laugh her ass off, but at least she would be able to maybe help him up.
“Ian, I think the baby’s coming.”
Yep. It was that kind of day.
PERFECTLY PAIRED
Masters and Mercenaries: Topped, Book 3
By Lexi Blake
Coming November 29, 2016
A table for two
Waitress Tiffany Hayes knows what she wants and she wants Sebastian. Top’s grumpy sommelier calls to her in a way no man has before. She simply needs to show him that they belong together. Finding an opportunity to spend some quality time with him turns out to be the easy part. Convincing Sebastian to look beyond his damaged heart and soul is far more difficult.
A thirst he can’t deny
After losing everything he held dear, Sebastian Lowe has finally rebuilt his life and the walls around his heart. Tiffany is a sweet temptation he struggles to resist. She’s bright and complex, but he’s sure she can’t handle his dark desires. When they’re thrown together on an assignment, he can’t help himself.
A perfect pairing
As passion builds, the new lovers are both forced to face their pasts. To have a future, they must find a way to heal the wounds they thought would haunt them forever.
* * * *
“I thought you just liked European wines.”
Everyone thought he was a snob. “Not at all. I appreciate many different types of wine and the places the grapes are grown. I love an Argentine Malbec and a French Bordeaux. One of my favorite wines to drink is a shitass strawberry wine sold in boxes in convenience stores around Southern Georgia. It costs seven dollars a box, and that’s a big box.”
“Seriously? I would not have taken you for a lover of cheap hooch. I’ve never even seen you drink a beer.”
“I wasn’t surrounded by beer in my youth. My father loved wine. He sampled it and appreciated it, and when I was a teenager and couldn’t get my hands on anything good, my best friend and I found a man who would buy us strawberry wine as long as we paid for a pack of cigarettes. We would take it out to the beach and we were the heroes of the high school. When I drink that wine, I am young again. I am sitting on the beach looking out over the Gulf with my feet in the sand and a whole life ahead of me.”
“I would like to try that wine sometime,” she said wistfully.
He couldn’t help but wince. “It tastes like hell, but it’s important to me. My point is that wine isn’t something to be snobbish about. It’s something to love. It’s something that brings people together and it’s been doing it for thousands of years. What I love about Riesling is it’s a transparent wine.”
She held the glass up again. “Not entirely.”
She’d likely slept through his entire wine for beginners course he’d given for all the servers. She’d probably memorized the pairings list he’d given her and picked up no theory at all. “I wasn’t talking about how it looks. I’m talking about the grapes and how Riesling grapes tend to embody the region they were grown in. It’s why Rieslings vary pretty wildly. An Alsace Riesling is higher in alcohol. It’s got more mineral notes and it’s full bodied while German Rieslings can be quite sweet and fruity. There’s a vineyard in Australia that produces Rieslings that zip with lime and citrus tones. Every Riesling is different and the wine’s taste comes from the earth it was grown in, from the air it breathed and the rainfall that nourished the vines. It’s a little like people. It’s all about where it came from. That is why I love Riesling.”
“Okay.” Tiffany held the glass up to the light. “I like the color. It’s a pretty yellow when sunlight filters in and turns a room bright. I don’t think my sense of smell is anywhere near as good as yours though. I mostly smell wine.”
“It’s all right,” he replied. “I just wanted you to think about it before you drank it.”
“Because it’s meaningful to you.” She took a slow swallow this time as though truly considering the taste. “It isn’t as sweet as some of the Rieslings I’ve tried. I like it.”
“Good.” He took a sip himself, letting the notes flow. Broad. Dry. Citrus and green apple. “It’s quite a nice wine for the price. It’s why I put it on the menu. It’s going to pair with the pork dishes and some of the fish.”
“I will make note of that.” She sat back.
Damn but she was a beautiful woman. She was also something he needed to keep his hands off of. No matter what Big Tag said, he did not date women he worked with.
He didn’t really date anyone anymore. He played with subs. When the need got too great, he found a partner for a brief time. He didn’t sleep with anyone. He fucked and that was starting to get very old. Empty.
No one had seen him naked for years with the exception of doctors and nurses. He hadn’t been skin to skin with a woman since before he’d lost his legs.
“So you said something about house rules?” Tiffany leaned forward, her elbows on the bar. “Are these housekeeping rules or like big bad Dom rules?”
“I don’t suppose I differentiate.” He couldn’t let those big eyes of hers soften him up. It had almost happened back at her apartment. When she’d stood back up after he’d spanked her and there had been tears running down her face, his impulse had been to reach for her. He’d wanted to draw her in the way he had that night when she was drunk and she’d cried on his shoulder. He’d wanted to smooth back her hair and promise her everything was goin
g to be all right, that he could fix things for her. It was a path that was sure to lead to discomfort for her and humiliation for him. “I prefer a clean living space. I don’t like for things to be messy. I expect that you will keep your things in their proper place.”
Because no matter how hard he tried, he could still trip. The legs he now walked on were only a year old. He’d spent the first two in a wheelchair.
The Garden’s Wheelchair Dom.
He still wasn’t completely comfortable in the prosthetics.
“I can try,” she said with a frown. “I’ll be honest, I’m not the world’s biggest neat freak.”
He’d been able to tell that from the state of her apartment. It had been cluttered, a bit dusty. With the exception of her easel. That had been perfectly taken care of. He rather wished he’d taken the time to ask to see her art.
He’d seen one painting that night he’d taken her home. It had been a painting of three laughing girls, the swirling colors so vibrant he could hear them giggling as they splashed in a puddle on a rainy day. The figures had been more impressions than photographic reality, but he’d known what she was trying to convey.
“If you cook I’ll clean and the other way around.” He’d started a list in his head on the long drive. The drive that would have been considerably shorter had they left at the proper time. As she’d sung along to sugary pop songs after she’d changed his radio, he’d sat and considered how to proceed.
With caution. Lots and lots of caution.
“I’m not the best cook in the world,” he continued, “but I can manage. Most nights, of course, we’ll be eating at Top as our training sessions for the new restaurant will last long hours, but I would prefer to eat breakfast here rather than skipping the meal or picking up fast food. Eric made sure the fridge was stocked with a few items I requested.”
