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

by Roxy Sinclaire

  "You can frisk me," she told me when I didn’t immediately begin.

  I moved closer, moving my hands and placing my fingertips on her wrists. There was no need, her arms were bare so there was no way she could have hidden anything there, but I ran my fingertips up her arms and to her shoulders. I followed the straps of her dress, sliding my hands down her sides and around her back, being thorough.

  Of course, there was nothing on her. I also noticed the very conspicuous lack of a purse on her person. And what self-respecting woman, even in a crowd like this, wouldn’t have a purse on her? I didn’t see her coming in, so there was no way to know if she had one somewhere in the room. I'd have to leave her and go ask the guard outside the main entrance.

  But I couldn’t think about that for long. I couldn’t really think of anything but slowly frisking her, all the time my eyes on hers.

  When I got to her hips, I lowered into a crouch, craning my neck to keep her eyes.

  "Widen your legs for me, just a bit." The words came out in a murmur, and I saw her swallow, felt her body shift under my hands as she moved to comply.

  I'd looked at her body long enough to know every curve, even as I mapped them with my hands—for purely business purposes, of course—but I hadn't gotten a good look at her eyes. They were brown, like I'd guessed, but not a dull brown like I was used to seeing. Even in the slightly shadowed corner, they seemed to glimmer.

  They were surprisingly familiar eyes. But right then, all I was interested in was how intently they watched me.

  Click HERE to continue reading Dirty Indiscretions: A Dark Mafia Romance

  Excerpt From Touchdown

  Excerpt from Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  My head was still buzzing from the weekend’s excitement on Monday morning. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that I saw a vulnerable side to Alexa Hall. She tries to appear so perfect, but it was nice to see that she’s human too.

  I was excited to see her in Sociology class. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was thinking about what I would say to her.

  She always sat directly in front of me, so maybe I would lean down and whisper something in her ear. It would be like an inside joke between us. Or, I could just flash her a seductive, knowing smile and watch her blush. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s too easy for me to make girls blush.

  Maybe I’d just go for it and ask her out. Say something about how I want to spend another night with her that ends with both of us being conscious. I was nervous, but it was the perfect moment. I really felt like we made a special connection Saturday night.

  I got to the classroom a little earlier than normal to make sure I had enough time to talk to her before the lecture started. I was feeling a bit anxious, but ready. It was now or never.

  A few minutes passed. She was usually in her seat by now, with her notebook and pen out, ready to take notes. Her hair always draped over the back of her chair. Sometimes, a few locks would fall onto my knees and I would carefully brush them away with my finger.

  The professor entered and began the lecture. No Alexa. I figured she must be sick. Maybe her hangover was so bad that she was still not feeling well today. I was a little concerned. I pulled out my phone and texted her.

  Are you sick? Do you want me to take notes for you? We can meet up later and I’ll fill you in on what you missed in class.

  I hit send. This was just as good. It would give me a perfect reason to see her again. Because it had to do with school, she would never accuse me of trying any funny business with her.

  I checked my phone a few minutes later. No response. Poor girl, maybe she was really sick. Would it be weird if I showed up at her dorm later? Maybe with flowers or chicken soup and apologize to her for getting her so drunk?

  I tried to take good notes, but I kept getting distracted. I was daydreaming a hundred different scenarios where I approached Alexa and she was so thankful that I took care of her that she wanted to show her appreciation. Any possibility from a nice dinner, to a kiss, to a night in my bed—I thought of them all.

  Before I knew it, class was over. I followed the herd of students exiting through the door in the back of the classroom. That’s when I saw Alexa, quickly stuffing her books in her bag. She never sits in the back row of classrooms. That’s where the slackers sit, and she was definitely not that. I called out to her, but she was already lost in the crowd.

  I felt confused. I was so nice to her and I really thought she had a good time with me. She wanted to come back to my place, and when that obviously didn’t happen, she told me I was nice. That’s a lot coming from this girl. She seemed to have a general mistrust of men, and I thought I had finally broken through by proving to her that I just want to be good to her.

  Now I was angry. I texted her with concern about her well-being and she didn’t even have the decency to respond? She deliberately avoided me and ignored me when I wanted to talk to her. I could have any girl I want, and she knows that. Did she hate me so much that she couldn’t even look at me?

  I was right. My friends told me that she was worth pursuing, and they were totally wrong about that. She was a cold person. She only cared about herself. Of course she would, though. Girls who come from money never have interest in guys like me. I was stupid to think that this was going to work out.

  I fumed the whole way back to my dorm. It was probably better this way. Before long, the school year would be over. I didn’t have time to chase girls, anyway.

  I needed to focus on finishing up my degree and preparing for the professional football combine. With any luck, I would be moving, and she’d go back to her hometown, or wherever rich girls go when they graduate with a degree they’ll never use.

  I was done with Alexa Hall. I had been turned down by plenty of girls in my life, and it was no big deal. I was just so surprised that she, of all people, wanted nothing to do with me.

  In my anger, I typed out a text, my fingers shaking.

  Sorry I made sure you got home safely the other night. I didn’t think it would upset you this much. Next time, I’ll leave you on the street, puking your guts out.

  My finger hovered over the send button before I quickly deleted it. I didn’t need to make things worse than they already were. I decided to take a page from Alexa’s book and just ignore her too. I’ve been dumped many times for doing the wrong thing with girls. This was just the first time I was ever rejected for doing the right thing.

  Click HERE to continue reading Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Excerpt From Lethal Seduction

  Excerpt from Lethal Seduction: A CIA Romantic Suspense

  Fourteen hours was a long drive to make, especially if you made it in one shot and didn’t do more than stop for gas and to piss. He hadn’t bothered to sleep either before he got on the road. He ate fast food and paid for everything in cash, leaving no paper trail. It had been a part of the brief training that involved disappearing and leaving nothing but a body.

  Making a job of killing people would surely affect his view of the world, or it should. He should be jaded and angry, suffering from the ghosts of the people he killed. But he felt nothing, which worried him to some degree. If he felt no remorse, how did that separate him from any other bloodthirsty killer? Was it because he was getting paid? That he was government contracted?

  Was he bloodthirsty? Did he enjoy dealing out death?

  He didn’t think so. He didn’t look forward to the next mark that took up his inbox. It wasn’t the next chance to put a bullet in someone or glide his knife through their throat. He didn’t look for inventive new ways to kill people. He made sure to make it quick and as painless as he possibly could. There was no need to make them suffer.

  There was something sacred about taking the life of another person, and he didn’t really want to lord over them like some sort of death god. A quiet Grim Reaper that swept in to take a life was something he preferred. It held a nice image for him.

  He made quite the smal
l fortune living this life. His bank account attested to that every time he gave it a look. If he quit today, he had enough to buy a decent sized plot of land, find a girl, and start a family without the need to work another day. It would all be easily taken care of. There would be no struggle, no wonder of how to put food on the table.

  Find a girl? Start a family? Were these serious thoughts he was having? Could he love someone? If he felt nothing after ending another person’s life, would he be capable of something as simple as love? If a woman knew the amount of blood that was on his hands, could she even fathom loving him?

  He didn’t know, but this was one thing the road was good for. Deep thoughts. He rubbed a hand over the scruff that had grown on his face as he considered his line of thought. The thoughts sobered him and twisted up his gut. He reflected on the girl he had left back in the motel, the prostitute.

  He spent his free time with women he paid to get him off. How was he supposed to relate to a woman? Would he garner a worthwhile woman? How would he even know how to love her and get her to love him?

  He wasn’t a bad looking guy, or so he’d been told. He kept the close-cut hair that was forced upon him at boot camp, but he occasionally sported the beginnings of a beard when the idea of shaving was just something he didn’t want to do. Beards were in now, right? Honestly, he didn’t know.

  He hadn’t tried to pick up a woman that he didn’t have to pay for since high school. It was just easier to look for women on street corners. He looked in the rearview mirror. His eyes were a vivid blue that was something chicks were into, or at least the girls he saw commented on them.

  Considering his demons, considering what he was, he was surprised at the brightness that looked back at him. Should he be attractive? It didn’t seem right.

  It was then that he realized what he wanted. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but he wanted someone. Someone to love and someone who loved him. The idea of having a home and someone to come home to was something that hit him like a brick. It hit almost hard enough that he swerved on the empty road.

  Wasn’t that the American dream? A house and a wife with two-point-five kids? Was this why he had no problem doing what he did? Why he didn’t feel anything? Why he was empty? Because he really didn’t have anything? Why hadn’t he considered it before? He hadn’t considered any of that until just now, driving in the predawn hours, going to end the life of some unsuspecting woman.

  “This will be the last one,” he said to himself. “It’s time that I stop getting my hands dirty and start working on what I want.” He would just have to let Austin know. Surely, a man who sat in an office and dealt out death safely behind his desk would understand. Austin could have a wife and a family, for all he knew.

  He could have a life. Scott didn’t feel like he had one. But he would stop the lifestyle of getting by, pretending to live, and start work on what he wanted, what he deserved to have too.

  When he started rolling into Denver, he had the misfortune of hitting five o’clock traffic. The interstate became clogged and his patience for the stop and go traffic was starting to wear on him. He was tired. He would have to get a motel room while he was here because he would definitely need to break for sleep.

  With the thought of a bed in mind, he pulled off at the nearest exit, which happened to be downtown. After driving around aimlessly, he stopped at a chain motel. Though he preferred the non-chain variety, he wasn’t going to be picky. He got a room with little fuss, paying in cash. The idea of sleep had him lingering in his rented room for longer than necessary. He thought about showering, about falling onto that bed and getting much-needed sleep.

  He had shit to do. He could sleep afterward. The more he loitered here, the longer it would take. First, he needed a lead. He needed to find a trail.

  Seeing a bar across the street gave him an idea. He started on foot, going to each bar with his description, looking for some sort of lead. It was just past six when he wandered into a bar that was more than a mile from the motel he was staying at when he picked up the lead he had been looking for.

  “Jovy?” a little redheaded waitress eyed him curiously. “That sounds like her. She’s usually in here on Fridays for the bar crawl. We don’t really get a crowd until about ten. She’ll probably be in then.” Curiosity turned to suspicion, though he had already gotten what he was looking for. She was a little late to be protective. “Why you looking for her?”

  He found a probable lie, since the mark was female. “I was in here last week and I saw her.” He looked down, playing at being bashful. “We had a couple of dances and I didn’t get her number at the time. I was hoping I’d get lucky tonight.”

  The waitress seemed to buy it, though it didn’t stop her from checking him out. “Well. Hopefully, you’ll see her later.”

  He nodded and left the bar. There were only a few people there, and the only one who would recognize him was the waitress. She didn’t get his name, and his reasoning for looking for the woman was vague enough. He wouldn’t worry about it. He decided to scope out a perch, somewhere close to the bar, so he wouldn’t have to get close to the mark and he could just pick her off. An office building with a For Rent sign in a window caught his eye. It looked like the perfect nest.

  He found his way back to the pick-up truck that brought him to Denver and took his time setting up, getting his rifle set up and gathering snacks for the wait. He had time to kill getting ready for his target.

  Click HERE to continue reading Lethal Seduction: A CIA Romantic Suspense