His Betrayal: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 5)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  He grinned. "I get to tackle the paperwork because I'm greener. You get patrol because you're on your way to 'veteran' status."

  I rolled my eyes. "Not even close," I muttered. Brandon heard me anyway and laughed.

  I sighed, balancing the box on one hand and taking the keys from Brandon—and my weapons, that he handed to me as I clipped them onto my belt—then I was heading right back outside with my box of treats and my coffee. I went slower, taking the time to drink the coffee before it cooled down.

  Using the key fob, I tracked down the car I would be taking. Because I was still new, I didn’t have a car that was just mine. Until someone else got promoted and I got their car, I was stuck using whichever was available for whomever I was covering.

  After finding the car, I had to balance my stuff again to open the door. I didn’t realize until I had it open that I could have just put them on top of the car. I sat inside, put the coffee and box on the middle console. Then I froze, raised my eyes to the shotgun seat, stared at something that should not have been there.

  "What the…"

  I reached for the phone sitting innocently there. Where had it come from? No cop was idiot enough to leave a patrol car unlocked. Or someone left it, maybe?

  But…. I didn't think so. It was a burner phone, not exactly appropriate when you were a cop and had nothing to hide.

  It had only been a few weeks since everything happened. It wasn’t even two months. I looked at the phone in my hand, and I could feel my heart start to beat heavy in my chest.

  The phone surprised me when it rang, and I nearly dropped it. I managed to hold onto it, but it was still ringing. Slowly, I hit the accept button—I had to search the keys and make a guess, I was too used to smartphones—and held the phone up to my ear.

  "Hey."

  I felt my breath hitch in my throat, then release in a gasp. No way.

  "Say something or I'm gonna think you can't hear me, Lara."

  "I…" but then I couldn't get more past my throat because it was closing. I dragged in a shaky breath, tried to get ahold of myself. "Clay."

  "No need to sound so shocked. It's not like I went and died or anything."

  I gave a breathy laugh, even as I scolded him. "It's not funny."

  He laughed at me.

  My breath caught on a gasp. "Clay, where the hell have you been?"

  I blinked rapidly, trying to keep back the tears. I'd been waiting for some sort of communication from him. I'd refused to think he would just kill himself like that. The house didn’t exactly burn to the ground, but enough of it came down that the place was going to be demolished after the police finished picking apart the remains.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice turning serious. "I was gone longer than I thought. But I had to lay low the last few weeks to make my death more believable, while I got myself a new identity."

  "A new identity?" I parroted.

  "Yeah. You know, Clay Newbury wasn’t my real name. At least the surname wasn’t. I've used plenty of names, plenty of them temporary, Clay Newbury… was just a man that needed to die."

  "But then… your face won't change."

  "That won't be a problem. I wasn’t mainstream in any of Eric's various activities. He had my number, he called when he needed me to take care of someone, and that was pretty much how our relationship went. I didn’t meet a lot of my contracts face to face, the few who I did, I won't be meeting again. And even if I did, if they admitted to me being a hitman, it would backfire on them, wouldn’t it?"

  Well… yeah. Someone could still make an anonymous call, but those were pretty much taken as pranks most of the time. Someone would still have to look into it, but if the guy Clay found was good, he wouldn’t get caught.

  I had a moment to be ashamed of myself, aiding and abetting a criminal. But when it came down to it, he deserved a medal even more than I did. It was for selfish reasons, not for the good of society, but he did risk his life and managed to bring down a psychopath's empire.

  "I want to see you."

  His tone of voice made my body shiver, but…

  I sighed, feeling frustrated. "I have work."

  It was just driving around for hours, but it was still work.

  "That's okay, honey," I could practically hear the grin in his voice. "I'll wait for you at home, okay?"

  And he hung up.

  I gaped at the phone in my hand, tried to redial the last number called, but nothing. I wanted to toss the thing out, it was so useless. But Clay had held it, had probably sneaked into the parking lot to hide it. I wasn’t sure how he got into the squad car without setting off the alarm, but I didn’t want anyone asking questions.

  I kept the phone in my pocket and went to do my job. I was more than useless, though. If any crimes happened, I sure as hell didn’t see them.

  When I finally made it home, I was in a hurry. I dropped the keys at least once, and I cursed as my shaky hands refused to get the key in the hole fast enough. But then I had it open, and I slid inside. Before I got the chance to turn on some lights, I felt someone grab me.

  A hand slid around my waist, tugging me back into a rock-hard body, another covering my mouth to stop the instinctive scream that wanted to escape. My heart beat fast in my chest in anxiety, my hand let go of the keys and they fell to the ground. I heard my door close, and then the arm around my waist released me as I was pushed back into the door.

  Light from the street coming through the windows was the only lighting in the room, but it was enough for me to see his face. I made a desperate sound, mingled with relief, pulling his hand away as I threw myself into his arms, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and dragging his mouth to mine for a ravaging kiss.

  He laughed, sounding breathless under my attack, until he suddenly moaned and slammed me back into the door, his tongue slipping into my mouth, battling with mine.

  "Hey, Lara." His voice was breathless, but he still sounded amused.

  I growled, but it was weak and he just laughed again. Then we were kissing and tearing at each other's clothes, right there at the door. I couldn’t bring myself to care, as he played with my breasts, his fingers slipping inside me, mimicking what he would be doing with his cock as soon as I got his pants off him.

  "Fuck, Clay, I missed this. Are you even still Clay?"

  He hummed against my chest, pulled back to peck again at my neck, around where my carotid artery was located. I shivered at the intimate touch.

  "It's still Clay. I changed my surname to Meyers. I can give you the details later." He slid my boxer shorts down my legs, and I kicked them aside as they came off. Then his hands grabbed the backs of my thighs. "Jump."

  I did as he asked, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lifted me up. He was bare from the waist up, but his pants still hung on his hips. He reached behind and held something up between us.

  I took the condom from him.

  "We've done this before without protection at least twice, but no more being careless. We'll take tests before bypassing them again."

  I'd been surprised by myself when I realized I had sex with him twice and both times without a condom. I'd never done it before. Just as well he had one now, I finished my prescription and hadn't gotten a refill.

  "We go soon," I told him even as I ripped the condom off and fit it over his cock. I'd loved doing it bareback, and I would make damn sure I got it again.

  Clay just grinned, grabbed my ass cheeks to lift me a bit higher, then lowered me onto his cock. I moaned and writhed against the door as he took his time, slowly pushing inside until he bottomed out.

  We both got a little impatient then. It didn’t last, became more of a race to orgasm. We were kissing and cursing, and I dug my nails into his skin, scratched at it. His hands tightened on my ass, and he was slamming into me, we were rattling the door; groans and pants and moans and whimpers—that last mostly just me—of pleasure drowned everything else out. I held onto him as I came, and he kissed me one last time before we both had to ca
tch our breath.

  After a moment, he pulled away, holding onto the condom as he let me slip slowly until I was on my feet, then pulled it off him and tied the end, dropping it somewhere. My legs shook, and I had to lean into him or I would fall. He took my face in his hands, giving me a slow, soft kiss, and I sighed into his as I melted against his body.

  "Hey, you wanna live happily ever after?"

  I growled at the stupid question. Then I grabbed his hand and tugged him toward my bedroom. I'd stocked up on condoms, just in case. Now that we'd taken the edge off, I wanted more. A lot more.

  "Do you seriously have to ask?"

  He just laughed, threw me across his shoulder, ignoring my protests, and carried me to the bedroom, where we made sweet, passionate love until the early morning hours.

  Crap. I'm gonna be late tomorrow.

  It was my last thought as I fell asleep. I didn’t let it worry me, clinging onto Clay with my limbs. I could worry about it later when I wasn’t so sated and blissed out.

  About Roxy Sinclaire

  Roxy Sinclaire writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories as the main genre, and this includes a variety of different topics. Some of these include dark romances, action packed romances, mafia romances, and many more. She currently works in customer relations in New York City, but is trying to fulfill her passion in writing and eventually have her dream job become a reality.

  Please see her Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of her titles.

  Sign up for her mailing list and find out about her latest releases, giveaways, and more. Plus, get a FREE book! Click here!

  For more information, be sure to check out the links below!

  roxysinclaire.com

  roxy@roxysinclaire.com

  Also by Roxy Sinclaire

  Pass To Win Series:

  Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 1)

  Line of Scrimmage: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Book 2)

  Between The Tackles: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 3)

  Fourth and Goal: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 4)

  Game Winning Catch: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Book 5)

  Mafia Romance Series:

  Dirty Indiscretions: A Dark Mafia Romance (Book 1)

  Her Protection: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 2)

  Deadly Ink: A Dark Mafia Romance (Book 3)

  His Revenge: A Mafia Revenge Romance (Book 4)

  His Betrayal: A Mafia Hitman Romance (Book 5)

  Standalone Novels

  One Night With The Tycoon: A Billionaire Romance

  Lethal Seduction: A CIA Romantic Suspense

  Dirty Money: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Object Me: A Bad Boy Lawyer Romance

  Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

  Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance

  The Devil’s Dream: A Dark Romance

  Trapped In His World: A Dark Romance

  Deceived By The Hitman: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

  Excerpt From Dirty Indiscretions

  Excerpt from Dirty Indiscretions: A Dark Mafia Romance (Book 1)

  I walked around the spacious room, keeping an eye on the guests. I could think of a dozen things off the top of my head, that I would rather be doing, but it was part my job description, apparently.

  I wasn’t a guy that liked to wear suits, but I'd had to get used to it with the crowd I ran with. Still, dealing with the upper crust wasn’t a part of my job that I liked. I was supposed to be there to enjoy the events, not working; but I couldn’t help but act as a lookout. The party was boring, anyway.

  And then she caught my eye, and I had second thoughts.

  Tall, slim, in a close-fitting black dress with a slit up the side that stopped high on her thigh, showing a mile of pale, toned leg. The dress had a 'V' neckline, down the front and back, that showed, even more, skin, so pale that the contrast against the dark dress was striking. The hem nearly swept the floor, even with her high heels. Her dark brown hair was held back by pins on one side so that it hung down her back and onto her opposite shoulder. I wasn’t close enough to see her eyes, but I thought with her coloring, they would be a dark color like her hair, maybe brown.

  She wasn’t the best dressed, nor was she the skimpiest dressed woman in the room, I could see that with just a cursory look around. Yet, when I took my eyes off her to do just that, I found my attention skittering back to her.

  I didn’t think I knew her. That wouldn’t be surprising; I didn’t know a lot of the people at this party, considering I was technically just the help. But I'd been to enough of these parties that I knew the crowd my boss ran with.

  Intrigued, I followed her around the room. She interested me more than most, because unlike everybody else, she didn’t find a group and stand around chatting with them. Instead, she moved around the room, never sticking to one group long, always with a glass of champagne in her hand that she never drank from, though she brought it to her lips a couple of times, only to be 'distracted' and forget about it again. I noticed, that in all the stops she made, she didn’t speak to anyone.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  I looked around. Everyone was busy, making polite conversation and whatever else those rich types did when they got together at a party. I caught sight of my boss on the other side of the room and decided that for once, he wasn’t doing anything shady. No one was paying attention to things they shouldn’t, yet this woman didn’t look like she was paying attention to anything specifically.

  Trying not to act suspicious, I moved into her orbit. She wasn’t following a pattern, but I'd gotten good at maneuvering this sort of shindig.

  I was lucky enough to have her coming closer to me. No one was close enough to pay any notice to either one of us. I couldn’t resist the urge to move and intercept her circuit.

  She looked up, almost surprised, to see me. I'd seen her moving with single-minded focus, despite how randomly she seemed to move, so I wasn’t sure I bought that she was surprised to run into me.

  "Please, forgive me for interrupting you, ma'am, but I couldn’t help but notice you and get a little curious." I gave her a genuine-looking smile, playing the part of a young gentleman.

  It was almost laughable.

  The surprised look was instantaneously replaced by something gracious, a small smile curving her lips. "Think nothing of it. Who, if I may ask, do I have the pleasure of conversing with?"

  She held her hand out to me, the curl of her lips turning up into something like mirth. Feeling amusement curve my own mouth in response, I took her hand and brought it to my lips, kissing the back of it. Her dark eyes watched me, intent on mine.

  "Luke Bable. But please, call me Luke."

  Bable, technically, wasn’t my real name, but it was the name I’d taken when I’d left my old life after being recruited. It was a safe enough name to use, the few times I’d had to introduce myself to people because Luke Bable did not exist.

  The pretty lady in front of me didn’t need to know all that, though.

  "It's wonderful to meet you, Luke. I am Elda Abba. But you can call me Elda," she added, her smile turning into a smirk.

  "Elda," I repeated, curling my tongue around the name. Her eyes grew slightly darker in fascination, and I felt almost smug. Her last name was foreign, but I couldn’t begin to think from where. "Well, Elda. I was wondering if you would mind accompanying me."

  I tugged her closer by the hand, pulling it around my elbow and flattening my hand over hers on my arm. She moved without resistance.

  "Should I be worried? A strange man comes up to me and asks me to accompany him. It's suspicious, no?"

  I chuckled, keeping my voice low. "It’s a private party. Trust me, everyone is vetted for these things. We're both here, so you should have nothing to worry about," I said pointedly.

  Her lashes lowered to cover her eyes, lips pursing. "As you say," she murmured, diplomatically.

  I pulled her with me
and she followed. We avoided other guests and the staff. The room was quite large and littered with guests, but I didn’t need to take her from it.

  Instead, I dragged her over to a corner that left us out of view from most of the room, and the section that could still see us weren’t going to be considering dark corners unless they wanted some action for themselves. But this crowd was much too classy for something like that.

  I stopped her there, turning so we were facing each other and took a quick glance around, just to be sure.

  "Are we here for any reason in particular?" she sounded amused.

  I decided to be blunt. "I need to frisk you."

  Just about any other person would have been annoyed or insulted. No one got frisked at these parties, they were checked before they got this far. This woman was a little special, though.

  "Is there any particular reason?" she murmured, looking up at me from under her lashes, but I thought her amusement only grew.

  "I never saw your name on the guest list."

  She gave a Gallic shrug. "Maybe I was invited last minute and my name isn’t on it."

  I smiled tightly, repeating, "Just the same, Miss Abba, I'm going to need to frisk you."

  "There's no reason you can't still call me Elda." She tugged her hand away from me and I didn’t stop her. "And of course, you can frisk me. For purely security reasons."

  I narrowed my eyes on her. "Are you laughing at me, Elda?"

  "I wouldn’t dream of it, Luke."

  I was sure she was, though.

  She took a step back and raised her arms from her sides, arching an eyebrow at me, her look practically daring me to go ahead.

  I couldn’t help the suspicion. These parties had such tight security, even I was impressed. No one not on the list—prepared weeks in advance, should have been able to bypass it. How she got in, I didn’t know, but I didn't think asking would get me anywhere. She'd just deny, deny, deny.

  Or, if she was especially good, she'd have an airtight excuse.