by Lee Taylor
Red Rock Rises
Book 1
The Red Rock Series
Sizzling Romantic Suspense Series
by
Taylor Lee
Praise for Red Rock Rises…
The riveting Book I in The Red Rock Series Taylor Lee’s HOT new romantic suspense series.
“Taylor Lee does it again! Red Rock Rises introduces another unforgettable heroine and a hero who is more than her match. From the first page to the last, the sparks fly between Major Jesse O’Donnell aka Red Rock and the sexy Police Chief. Red Rock Rises has everything you’ve come to expect from Taylor Lee. Memorable characters, high octane action, and Lee’s special brand of hot sexy romance. A hugely successful entry from an author who is raising the bar for Romantic Suspense.”
~ Only the Best
“’Fiercely independent’ doesn’t begin to describe Jesse O’Donnell. Hard lessons in her past convinced her that the only one she can depend on is herself. In a stunning court scene, Jesse’s ‘go it alone’ attitude puts her in danger of not only losing the man who loves her but comes perilously close to losing her son.”
~ Primo Plots
Jesse knws that every man she meets sees only her red hair and bodacious come hither body. Too late, she learns that the commanding Police Chief doesn’t fit the mold. Before she can ramp up her defenses, he breaks through her carefully constructed barriers and makes a beeline to her heart.”
~ Sneaky Romance Reader
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Chapter 1
“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.
Jesse stiffened when she saw him approaching. His casual stride belied the power radiating off of him. Drawing her protective cloak around herself, Jesse assumed an indifferent pose. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest she was sure he would hear it. Refusing to be intimidated, she raised her chin and met him with a glare. It was a look designed to repel the most intrepid would-be suitors. The easy grin on his handsome face confirmed he wasn’t impressed or intimidated by her fierce glare.
Dameon had watched a parade of men surreptitiously find an excuse to move in the redhead’s direction. In each case they were met with a stony stare. Visibly shriveling, they slunk away. If any were brazen enough to make it through the first gauntlet, within thirty seconds they also turned tail and ran. Dameon didn’t know what she said to them but whatever it was, it was potent. It st
opped eager prowling men in their tracks. Which made her all the more interesting to him. He shrugged. What the hell? Why not throw his hat in the ring? All she could do was stomp on it.
Ignoring the icy glare she turned on him, he came just close enough to invade her personal space without overtly threatening her. Resisting the urge to touch her, he kept his voice casual, pleasant.
“You’re new here.” It was a statement not a question.
She responded as tersely as he expected.
“Yes, and?”
He smiled. “That was rhetorical.”
She merely raised a bored eyebrow and turned away.
Dameon persisted. “We don’t get a lot of newcomers at events like this.”
“I guess I should be honored to have been invited.” Her snippy response was accompanied by a further lift of her chin.
Given that he got more than a two word response, Dameon declared progress and decided to up the ante. Ignoring the brush off, he narrowed his eyes and thoughtfully studied her. The smile lurking in the corner of his mouth was the only give away that he was teasing her.
“No, you’re definitely new. No way I would’ve forgotten you if I’d seen you before.”
To his surprise, she whirled on him, her eyes flashing. It was the first time he was close enough to appreciate the color of her eyes. He had seen stormy oceans that green, that turbulent, but they had never been this bewitchingly beautiful. Facing her full-on, he was stunned. She was even lovelier close up. And her fragrance was as enticing as the rest of her. She smelled like lemon and exotic verbena, two of his favorite fragrances.
Her glare hardened. “Let me help you. The answer is no.”
“Hmm. And the question?”
“No—to any of the suggestions you were about to make.”
Dameon’s eyes crinkled and he shot her a devastating grin. He kept his response as curt as hers. “I see.”
Obviously determined to get rid of him, she clarified. “I’ve found that a blanket ‘no’ cuts short the conversation. As well as getting rid of all the unwanted suggestions and unwarranted assumptions.”
Holding her gaze, he perused her attentively managing to stifle his grin.
“Hmm. May I presume that you get a lot of unwanted requests and unwarranted assumptions?”
She tossed her head. “That’s an accurate presumption.”
Dameon couldn’t help but smile at her. She reminded him of Sheba, his Siamese cat, who arched her back whenever he came near. If he startled the feline princess, he was lucky if he got a growl or a hiss instead of a swipe of her paw. But this was the same cat that crawled up and slept at his feet every night. Knowing how unlikely that was, Dameon moved a few steps closer to the prickly woman and offered a truce.
“I’ve got a suggestion. Instead of questions and one word answers, how about we start our conversation like normal people do—by introducing ourselves?”
She gave him a dismissive shrug.
“That’s not necessary. I already know who you are.”
Dameon reared back in surprise. “You do, huh? So in addition to being beautiful, you’re also psychic?” He raked his eyes up and down her bodacious body and winked. “Why am I not surprised?”
She took an additional step back and tossed him a frosty smile.
“Trust me. I know you. You’re the arrogant asshole who sees a redheaded woman with big tits and automatically assumes that she’s a whore. And… you’re wondering how much it will cost you to get a look at these tits.”
A sneer tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Do I have that about right?”
Dameon’s eyes flared. His voice was cool.
“Actually, no. You don’t. But I do have a question for you.”
At that moment, a tall, good-looking Latino man came rushing toward them. His dark, almost black eyes flashed with appreciation. He grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled her close. “My dear, I’ve been looking for you. I’m sorry I was late. Forgive me.”
Dameon retreated, annoyance flooding him. Christ, he should have known. A woman like this? Brazen, beautiful, standoffish? Of course. A woman who looks and acts the way this one does would have to belong to some rich bastard. A man who owns a herd of Texas oil wells perhaps, or in this case is as well-connected to the Mexican mafia as his old buddy Raoul Morales.
Nodding to the strikingly handsome dark-haired man, Dameon greeted him with a cool smile.
“Good evening, Raoul. Nice to see you.”
The Latino’s eyes danced with amusement.
“Likewise, Dameon. I see you’ve met my gorgeous escort, Jesse O’Donnell. I’m not surprised that you discovered her, bro.” Turning to Jesse, he grinned. “So, Jess, you’ve met our handsome and charming police chief?”
Jesse threw Dameon a startled glance then quickly looked down.
Dameon interjected. “No, Raoul. We haven’t formally met. I was just about to correct an assumption Ms. O’Donnell made.” He captured her gaze and refused to relinquish it. “Your escort mistook me for other men she’s known.” Gratified to see Jesse’s cheeks flush, Dameon extended his hand. When she reluctantly offered hers, he grasped it firmly with a slight bow. “Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Dameon Macarios. I’m the police chief of this fair city.”
Raoul wrapped a big arm around Jesse’s shoulders and gave her a mock warning.
“Don’t let all that charm and Hollywood good looks convince you otherwise, Jesse. Dameon is the meanest, toughest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet.”
A smile fought with Dameon’s stern expression. “May I return the compliment, Raoul?”
Hearing a man on the other side of the hallway shouting at him, Raoul huffed an annoyed grunt.
“Jesse, I’m sorry. Please excuse me for a moment. Let me get that annoying asshole off my back and then I’ll introduce you to all the makers and shakers in this bustling metropolis of ours. Although, I have to admit, you’ve already met our most famous star, my old buddy Dameon. We call him ‘Wolf.’ ”
Raoul leaned over and buzzed her cheek. He headed across the room, leaving Jesse pale and shaken in his wake.
Jesse stood still for a moment wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. They were too far from California to pray for an earthquake and just her luck that tornado season was over. Squashing her embarrassment, she took a deep breath and faced her tormentor.
Minutes ago, his eyes had been dancing with teasing humor. Now they were cool, hard. She’d seen how he reacted to Raoul. He’d concluded that she was Raoul’s mistress, which would confirm his first impression. Jesse recognized that look. She’d been around cops and tough guys all her life. To them there were two kinds of women. The kind they married—and whores.
Proving her point, Dameon clasped her arm. His touch was as electric as his startling blue eyes. Being this close affirmed that even in four inch heels he loomed over her. It didn’t help that he smelled of expensive cologne and strong man. She flinched and pulled away but his gaze was as powerful as his grip.
Dameon’s voice was low, commanding.
“The question I was going to ask wasn’t how much you cost. Or, whether you would like to sleep with me. Although I’ll admit those are both interesting propositions. No. The question I had is, whether you have a permit for that weapon you’re carrying?”
Jesse startled but quickly recovered. Twisting out of his grip, she gave a flippant shrug as she walked away. “Which one?”
Chapter 2
Dameon stared after her, a toxic cocktail of emotions tearing at his gut. He couldn’t remember when he’d been more attracted to a woman. That was the only way he could explain how far off the mark he’d been. Damn, he’d always prided himself on his shrewd antennae. He could sniff out a criminal the way an owl could spot a mouse in a field of tall grass. How could he have been so blind? Christ, the ignominy of it burned. The hell of it was that she was correct. Red hair and a pair of bodacious breasts had brought his crack
observation skills to a screeching halt. At least he’d seen her apprehension, her edgy reactions. But sap that he was, he’d mistaken them for nervousness, anxiety. Fuck a duck for the horny asshole he’d been. With an embarrassed sigh he admitted he’d even thought she might be shy.
Stiffening his shoulders, Dameon made a point of keeping her in his line of sight. Now that he knew that, in addition to his own lawmen, Raoul and his moll were also armed, this little soiree was getting more interesting. He’d positioned his men around the room, cognizant of the status of the attendees. The guest of honor, a former councilman who’d thrown his hat in the ring to become New Mexico’s next U.S. Senator, was standing in a crowd of well-wishers. A crowd that now included Raoul and his mistress. Even saying it to himself hurt. Dameon was self-aware enough to acknowledge that it was his pride that was injured. The sexpot had short-circuited his vaunted professional savvy. Not an easy thing to do, or so he’d thought.
Dameon watched Raoul introduce Jesse to Councilman Hernandez. The slight flush on her cheeks and the wariness he’d noted earlier were still apparent. If the garrulous Raoul noticed, it didn’t stop him from pushing her forward. Soon Jesse was in the center of an admiring crowd of men, many of whom Dameon had seen her give the stink-eye to only minutes earlier. Clearly she didn’t appreciate the gang surrounding her. Her nervousness was obvious. At least he hadn’t been wrong about that. But now he knew it was more likely jealousy, possessiveness, rather than simple anxiety. She kept looking over her shoulder, keeping a close eye on Raoul. Dameon wished her luck. In addition to his shady associations, Raoul was an inveterate womanizer. Dameon felt a pang of satisfaction watching her jealous reaction to the bevy of women who’d surrounded Raoul as tightly as their spouses were crowding Jesse.
Dameon had to give Raoul credit. He was moving among the elite as though he were one of them. And dammit, he was. His boyhood friend had asked Dameon on several occasions to give him the benefit of the doubt, to see that he was trying to change his ways, shake off his heritage. In Dameon’s cop mentality, Raoul was attempting the impossible. Nephew to Victor Morales, the declared head of the Morales cartel, Raoul insisted he was determined to cut the ties that bound him to the family. He told Dameon that in deference to Raoul’s dead father who was the big man’s brother, his uncle had warned off his goons. Supposedly that left Raoul free to build his own legitimate collection of related businesses. Dameon guffawed at the thought. He could have told Raoul—indeed he had, on several occasions—that if you wanted to go straight, carving out an empire that was as questionable as the one he’d supposedly left behind was a problematic choice. The police force under Dameon’s leadership didn’t buy Raoul’s nominal conversion. Neither did the cartel. In the unlikely event that Raoul was serious about his reformation, he was riding the edge of a very sharp sword.
