Shadows and Lies

by Eden Butler

  Alex, though, made it seem like something sacred, blessed.

  My clothes littered the floor, tugged from my body by her eager hands and we got there in a tumble of limbs, blankets, pillows until the hot heat of her mouth, her skin still warm from the bath making me hard, eager, slipping flat on my back with her over me, leading, directing. Taking everything I had. I loved the way she arched over me, how my hands fit perfectly on her waist, guiding, how her sweet, perfect pussy took all of me, clenching, squeezing, milking my dick without question—an instinct, erotic reaction to how I felt inside her, surging up, pushing everything I was into her.

  “Ryan… there, baby. Please!” And I knew what she wanted, my thumb against her clit, my knees holding her up as she leaned back further and rocked down on my dick, driving us toward that sweet damn surrender that only we could make together.

  “Tighter, darlin’, squeeze me tighter.” And Alex did, grabbing my hands, locking her fingers into mine as she moved faster, each downward thrust harder than the one before and I copied her rhythm, rolling my thumb faster until she cried out, those tight, clenching muscles shooting me toward oblivion, toward that poetry I chased the second I first touched her.

  Later, when the tangle of our legs and arms were too twisted, too sated to separate, I heard Alex’s low hum and I smiled, wondering what had her nervous. I listened for a while, then smiled when I realized what I was hearing. “Love is a Battlefield?” I asked, continuing the long stroke of my fingers down her back.

  “Umm,” she said, sounding half asleep. I never pushed Alex, I generally didn’t need to, not when I knew she had something she needed to say. “Ryan.” She didn’t wait for me to answer, but I felt her long sigh against my chest. “I… fuck. I love you.”

  “Umm,” I said, laughing when she jabbed me in the stomach and trying like hell not to smile too big or look like too much of an asshole when she kissed me.

  We still had a mystery to solve. We still had questions that no one seemed willing to answer, but Alex had my back, God knew I had hers and for today, that was just about damn good enough.

  He had never liked the “gentleman”. Not even when the asshole had thrown around his money or his influence to get him that sweet job in Cavanagh and definitely not when the asshole had him—him, the seasoned detective!—covering up the messes he made. Those messes had started back in Atlanta when the asshole couldn’t keep it in his pants and that pretty little girl had to be taken care of.

  Simmons was still taking care of the “gentleman’s” messes. The man in question sat behind his desk, staring down into a full glass of scotch. The ice floated on top of that dark liquid and Simmons wondered how long he’d have to sit there waiting for that jackass to take his first sip.

  “This is going to be a problem,” he told Simmons, not bringing his gaze from the glass in his hand.

  “He’s gone now. No one is the wiser.”

  The scotch spilled against that fine, wood desk when the man slammed his glass against it. “No one? Is that right? Just like no one knew shit about Stevie Rodriguez? Or how about that M.E. or, shit, how about everyone who knew your damn wife offed herself?” Simmons sat up, fist tight and as if ready to strike and the asshole glanced at his hand, smiling at the sergeant’s reaction. “Really? You’re going to resort to violence because I’m stepping on your fucking toes?” Finally, the man took a swig of his drink, eyes steady as he watched Simmons over the rim of the glass. “You think about knocking me around and you remember for every one of my damn skeletons, I’ve got three on you.”

  God, how he hated that asshole, had since they were kids. But Simmons knew he’d never be rid of him. “What do you want me to do now? I took care of Davidson.”

  “We’ve got bigger problems, thanks to you.” The gentleman opened his desk drawer and threw a thick file across the surface. “Alex Black and Neil Ryan. Recognize the names?”

  Of course Simmons did. The girl looked just like her sister and had been a nosey thorn in Simmons’ side for almost a year. He pulled one of the pictures closer toward him, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at the girl with her arm around Ryan’s waist.

  “When the hell did this happen?”

  “How am I supposed to know? But your little mentee fucking Alex Black is the least of our problems. You see this one?” The man slipped another picture in front of Simmons, this one with the three brothers and Ryan, suited up with radios in their ears at the Marriott just a couple of months back. Each one of them had a logo over their chest, NOLA Elite Security and Simmons got the gist.

  “I need you to take care of this any way you can.” He stood, buttoning his jacket and smoothing it straight. “They ask too many questions and they become a problem. I say you stop that from happening.”

  “And if I don’t?” Simmons asked the man, coming to his feet as they both crossed the room.

  “Then, dear cousin, we are both fucked.”

  Simmons was fucked either way, but he knew if he didn’t stop Ryan from finding the truth and using his friends to do it, then more than just his cousin’s career would be on the line.

  And that was a line he was not willing to cross.

  To the city of New Orleans and the magic you make. Nowhere on earth ever fills me with more love and comfort. Thank you. But not you, the asshats responsible for the 2015 New Orleans Saints Trade-Frenzy. That really just pissed me off.

  Sharon Browning, Karen Chapman and Lori Westhaver, specifically, really held my hand with this one. So, ‘thank yous’ are deserved and necessary. You ladies are my foundation and without you, nothing I write would make any sense whatsoever. Thank you!

  To my wonderful readers, and Facebook, Twitter and GoodReads friends, especially those who trusted me to step out of my comfort zone and write something that wasn’t all smooching, all the time, thank you for sticking with me. Thank you to those of you who come out and say hello and support me at signings and cons, without fail. You are amazing. I could never say thank you enough.

  To my wonderful Sweet Team: Trish Leger, Judy Lovely, Leighanne Sisk, Heather McCorkle, Carla Castro, Naarah Scheffler, LK Westhaver, Lorain Domich, Melanie Brunsch, Michelle Horstman-Thompson, Laura Agra, Allyson Lavigne Wilson, Emily Lamphear, Chanpreet Singh, Heather Weston-Confer, Betsy Gehring and Sammy Llewellyn, thank you for the continuous love and support. You ladies rock my world.

  As always, to my ride or dies: Chelle Bliss, Kele Moon, Ing Cruz, Penelope Douglas, Lila Felix and Amanda Lanclos, and all my CHPP bints thank you for having my back, for helping write summaries and working through plots that don’t make any damn sense. I love you all to the moon and back and wouldn’t publish a word without you!

  To all you awesome bloggers who spread the love and support and encourage me, I thank you for the bottom of my heart, especially As the Pages Turn, Book Drug Love, Love Between the Sheets, Totally Booked, Three Chicks and Their Books, Michelle Monkou of USA Today’s Happily Ever After blog, Confessions of a YA and NA book addict and Smut Book Club. You guys are amazing!

  Thank you to Angela McLaurin for the beautiful formatting and to Alleskelle who gave Alex her name and made the most gorgeous cover and graphics I could have asked for. You, my dear, are a true artist.

  To my work girls, Marie, Sherry, Barbra B., Sarah and Kalpana thank you for the photo shoot and for all your lovely words of encouragement. You always have my back no matter what and I could never tell you how much that means to me.

  Big, huge appreciation and gratitude to my family, my nieces Jenny, Kayla and Joy who read everything and love it all, who nag me for the next book, to my mom who doesn’t quite mind the F-bombs, and to my husband, Himself, and my daughters for putting up with me and my ridiculous writing schedule. I love you all.

  To Joey Frump, thank you for sharing my birthday with me and for holding my hand since third grade. I hate that we lost Sabrina. I hate that we had to share in that loss, but I love you for never forgiving what a life-long friend is supposed to be. Love you,
lady.

  Eden Butler is an editor and writer of Mystery, Suspense and Contemporary Romance novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum.

  Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary Romance, “Chasing Serenity” launched October 2013. Since that time Eden has published six books and novellas including the Amazon best seller, “Thin Love”.

  When she’s not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football.

  She is currently living under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast Louisiana.

  Please send help.

  Find Eden on Twitter (https://twitter.com/EdenButler_‎), Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/eden.butler.10), Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7275168.Eden_Butler), and her blog (http://t.co/HkEzgnxb5g).

  You can subscribe to Eden’s newsletter (http://eepurl.com/VXQXD)for giveaways, sneak peeks and various goodies that might just give you a chuckle.

  Chasing Serenity (Seeking Serenity, #1)

  Behind the Pitch (Seeking Serenity, #1.5)

  Finding Serenity (Seeking Serenity, #2)

  Claiming Serenity (Seeking Serenity, #3)

  Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)

  My Beloved (Thin Love, #1.5)