Marshall: A Bad Boy Romance

by Kara Hart

  Marshall: A Bad Boy Romance

  Kara Hart

  Kara Hart

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!

  Prologue: Marshall

  1. Virginia

  2. Marshall

  3. Virginia

  4. Marshall

  5. Virginia

  6. Marshall

  7. Virginia

  8. Marshall

  9. Virginia

  10. Marshall

  11. Virginia

  12. Marshall

  13. Virginia

  14. Marshall

  15. Virginia

  16. Marshall

  17. Virginia

  18. Marshall

  19. Marshall

  20. Virginia

  21. Marshall

  22. Virginia

  23. Marshall

  24. Virginia

  25. Virginia

  26. Marshall

  27. Virginia

  28. Marshall

  29. Virginia

  30. Marshall

  31. Marshall

  32. Virginia

  33. Marshall

  34. Virginia

  35. Marshall

  About the Author

  Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!

  Copyright © 2017 by Kara Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Author’s Note

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  Other Bad Boy Books by Kara Hart!

  Come on, Kitten. Let's go for a ride.

  I’ll stop when she begs

  The hardest men take what they want

  I play hard. On and off the field.

  Lust is HARD. Love is DEEP.

  Ripped SEAL. Filthy mouth. Big… gun. What else does a woman need?

  You want to play rough? Be careful what you wish for.

  I made one big mistake that almost ruined my life -- I had the quarterback’s baby.

  Prologue: Marshall

  “Marshall! Marshall!” The words sound like harsh bells ringing against my ears. “Wake up!” Then comes the banging against the doors, twisting of metal knobs.

  “Shit,” I hiss, rolling over and pressing the pillow against my ear. “Come on. I’m sleepin’!” I say.

  “Marshall, you better wake up, you bastard,” the guy says. It’s Adam, from back at the station. If he’s banging on the door this hard, God only knows what’s happened.

  “Alright, alright!” I yell. “I’m getting up.”

  I glance over at the left side of my bed and there’s a body next to me. No, not like that. She’s alive and she’s, well, fine as hell. She’s beautiful, young, and her ass practically shines against the moonlight coming through the windows. She rolls over too and moans and I have to ask myself, Did I fuck her last night?

  Truth is things always get a little hazy in the evening for me. When you give me a bottle of liquor, or two, you never know what’s going to happen. Hell, I’ve woken up in worse situations before. Much worse.

  The banging just continues, which makes me want to bang my pistol against Adam’s head when I open the door. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Adam?” I ask him, squinting my eyes. I check my watch and… “It’s four in the god damn morning! This better be good.”

  “Sir, there’s been a robbery. At the bank, down south on Holton Street,” he says, out of breath. “I’ve been calling you for the past twenty minutes. We need you.”

  “Like hell you need me,” I sigh, glancing over my shoulder to look at the girl in my bed.

  “Come back to bed, sweetie,” she says, drunk.

  “Not now, baby,” I say. When he looks at me as if I’m crazy, I just shrug and say, “Who knows.”

  “You going to get some clothes on, or what?” he asks. That’s when I notice that he’s trying his hardest not to look down at my cock. I’ve never really had the same boundaries as other people, I guess. I don’t care for that sort of thing. If people are offended, they can move along. I’m a goddamn police officer, for Christ sakes. I’ve earned the right to roam around naked in my house.

  Plus, the women love it.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I laugh. “Try not to get too excited.”

  I grab my favorite pair of jeans, my lone star belt buckle, and my boots and t-shirt. I put everything on as fast as I can and I take a deep breath. I’m drunk still, but I feel pretty good. At least, maybe I can figure out where these supposed bank robbers are going to next, ‘cause they sure as hell aren’t staying around town anytime soon.

  “Out,” I smack the girl in bed’s ass. “Come on. Get.” I hate to be rude, but there are more pressing matters that I need to attend to.

  “You fucker,” she says, shielding her big ol’ breasts. I hate to see them go. I really do. It’s just this damn job sometimes takes all my fucking time away from me. Frankly, it’s not very fair.

  “Sorry, honey. Time to go to work,” I say.

  “I’ll sleep here.” She forces a smile.

  “No, you won’t,” I laugh. “You’ll go home. Thank you very much.” I give her a twenty, not for the sex, but for the gas home. She throws it on the floor and spits in my face.

  Adam slaps the side of the door, laughing hysterically. “Whoa there!” he yells. “She got you good.”

  She walks by him and spits on his face too. That makes the laughing stop. “Ignore it,” I warn him. “Happens too often.” I wipe the spit off my face and watch as her butt jiggles away into her car. She speeds out of there and I sigh loudly because I don’t remember being with her. It’s a shame, really.

  “You ready?” Andy asks, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I say. “Show me what’s going on.”

  1

  Virginia

  “Move!” I hear Craig scream. “We have like ten fucking seconds.”

  “Foul mouth,” I whisper, checking my watch. “And we have 30. Calm down and cut the chords, grab the cash, and detonate the C4.”

  Men. They can’t get anything done without help from a woman. That’s just a fact. He cuts the lights and the whole bank goes dark. The sirens aren’t too far away. When I glance over my shoulder, I see the red and blue reflections, darting toward the glass. “They’re coming,” I say. “Hurry it up.”

  “Almost got it,” Elroy says. “Almost…”

  Craig and Elroy heave the money into the bag. After a few seconds, I hear the zipper move up. “Got it!” Craig yells. “Blast this place. Fuck the police.”

  “Give ‘em what they give us every single day,” Elroy whispers, pleased with himself.

  The front and back sides of the bank explode and we dart into the tunnel below. We’ve got this all planned out pretty damn well. We’ve been researching for a year now and
it looks like we might make it out alive. Might.

  Craig and Elroy, however, are in this for the wrong reasons. Social justice, power to the people… sure. I’m all for it. But for me, it’s all about the money. I want to dip out of this place, start a new life in Bangkok, or Tokyo, and never come back to the States again. It’s not that I’m even against the place. I just have some bad history here. I’d rather not think about it ever again. I’d rather not think about him ever again.

  “Move!” I scream, pushing past them. I grab two bags of cash and lurch toward the underground tunnel. “See you on the other side,” I whisper. We all split up. There’re at least 12 different routes down here, and I doubt the cops have any idea where they lead to. It’s good for us, down here. Bad for them.

  Away from them, I run against the metal platform below me. I can finally have some peace of mind. If they get caught, they’re out of their own cut of the money. They won’t snitch. I know them too well. They have sealed lips.

  I feel free, running like this, even with the sound of police boots echoing yards behind me. “Stop!” one of them screams. They aim their gun and sigh when they lose sight of me. I’m too fucking fast for them and much too smart. I hear one of the guys trip and fall against the metal platform and he screams a curse word I can’t quite make out. Part of me wants to slow down and tempt fate. The other part of me wants to get the hell out of here.

  I get to the end of the line, where a large seal closes off the exit. I grab the metal twister near the ground and turn it as hard as I can, lefty-loosey, as they say in grade school. It unlatches. Loudly. But it doesn’t matter. I keep the metal twister at my side and go through the exit, closing the thing behind me and locking it. I see the cops duck around the corner just as it slams shut for good.

  I reach into the bag and heat up the metal with one of my torches. The whole thing is elaborately genius, I have to laugh out loud, though I hope it doesn’t give me away as a woman. That’s something I never want them knowing, despite how good it would feel to see the shock on their faces. There aren’t too many women in this town who can rob a bank and I don’t think with my history, it would be that hard to find me.

  I heat up the metal until it’s glowing. It’s locked shut and when one of the cops reaches out from the other side, I hear him scream in pain. “Too hot,” I whisper. “Dumbass.”

  I grab my tools and my bag, and run the hell out of there. I climb the stairs up and peek my head out of the small manhole. There’s no one around. Not another human for a whole block. The government thought this street would be good for some construction and now they have to pay the price when they bail the city bank out of half a million dollars.

  The construction guys leave this area every single night at around the same time. As for now, it’s only some drunk stragglers that are out. Derelicts, winos, homeless wanderers who don’t give a damn about me. As I move off the street, I duck into the forest by me, walking along the trees. Every time a car moves by me, I carefully put my back up against the bark and hold my breath. Nothing. No one knows a thing.

  Cop cars zoom in the other direction, toward the bank. I’m free. Fucking free.

  2

  Marshall

  “I envy you,” he laughs, steering us toward the bank.

  “Why the hell would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” I ask him, looking straight, toothpick in my mouth. I move it up and down with my lips and make sure my hat hovers in just the right way to make me feel confident I can solve this one. Truth is, I doubt I can. I’ll need them to be stupid. I’ll need them to make another move.

  “You kidding me, sir?” he laughs again, awkwardly now. His breath is quick and irregular. He’s scared. I’m not sure if he’s frightened of me, or if he’s simply thinking the same thing I’m thinking. We can’t find them. We don’t have anything on them besides some names. Shit, I doubt we’ll even have CTV footage, knowing the lack of money this city is circulating these days.

  “Not kidding,” I say. “Envy is a sin. You know that?”

  “Well, then call me a sinner, sir,” he says. I hate how he’s sucking up to me right now. It’s pitiful. “Every time I come over there, and I know it’s not much, you’re always with some new girl. When I see you out at the bars, you’re with a new beautiful woman. I don’t know how you do it.”

  I carefully side eye him and he nearly shits his pants. “Adam, are you calling me ugly or something?” I ask him. He chokes on his words. “‘Cause I know I’m nearing 40, but you don’t have the rank to start talkin’ shit to me, boy.”

  “I—I—didn’t,” he stumbles and closes his eyes. “Watch the road, son,” I tell him. “Jesus.” Then I start laughing a little, letting him know it’s okay. “Ease up. You don’t have to be so high strung. It was a fucking joke.”

  “Sorry, man,” he says, dropping the whole sir thing now. Thank the lord. “I just don’t think we have a case here.”

  “Let’s see what comes up first. Cool?” I say, lifting my hat up for a second to wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead. “And, shit, man. Don’t envy me for fucking women. It’s weird.” He nods. I wish I could be like everyone else. Like Adam. Like the guys around me at the station, wifing up their high school sweethearts and feeling good about themselves. Having children. I’m not like them. The whole thing kind of makes me sick, to be honest.

  When we pull into the bank, he stops the car, but keeps the lights on. “Thank God you came,” the owner runs out. “The bastards got in and took practically everything.”

  “Who the hell robs a bank at night?” I sigh, shaking my head. I hold my hand out and he instinctually takes it. “Warren. Warren Marshall. Friends call me Marshall.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are,” he says, eyeing me like a whipped dog. “You do good work out here. I’m glad I got you working this thing.”

  That line of his breaks my damn heart. Crushes it, really. “Seeing a small bank owner get robbed under his nose hurts my damn soul,” I say. “We’ll figure this out. Not sure what we have to go on though.” I have to be honest with the man. At least, I do a little.

  “Figured,” he says. These things are taken care of at higher levels anyway. That’s not really the point, if you ask me. “Let me take you through.”

  He walks me in and my jaw nearly comes unhinged. The whole front is blown to bits. The back too. “They demolished the whole place,” he says. “I’m going to be dealing with this for months.”

  I just nod and keep walking. “They left underneath. I didn’t know there were maintenance tunnels here. Why they would build them here is beyond me,” he says. Again, I just nod and keep my eyes open.

  It takes me a few minutes to see it, but when I do, I know I’ve found something. A piece of cloth, near the gnarled-up vault. It looks like some of the burnt money scattered on the ground, only it’s got a slight pink hue to it. I grab it and put it in my pocket, making sure Adam doesn’t see shit. It’s not regular police work to do so, but it’s how I work. I don’t bring things into the station. I don’t play by the government’s rules and regulations.

  I walk through the bank and see what I need to see. Adam just keeps sighing, whispering, “Shit,” and “Well, I’ll be.” Good police work, Adam. What a fine job you’re doing.

  “Get forensics on this,” I say. “Any footage around the next three streets would be great. Stoplights. Traffic cams. CTV?” I turn to the bank owner.

  He shakes his head. “Nah. We can’t afford any decent CTV. All we have are the back cameras, but that won’t do any good,” he says.

  “Get that footage from him too,” I say. “Maybe we’ll find something. You never know.”

  I nod to myself. I need a fucking beer. I need a nice set of thighs wrapped around my face right about now. Fuck, I need a woman. Bad. It’s too early to be policing. I just want to be continuing last night’s fun.

  We exit the bank and I get in the car. When we drive away, Adam’s silent. “Turn on the radio or something,” I
motion. He does and while he does, I glance at the opening to my pocket. I caress the fabric until it slides out onto my fingers. Pink. Thin. Why the fuck would any bank heister be wearing pink? I stretch out, making sure Adam doesn’t see anything he doesn’t need to see.

  Pantyhose. That’s the only thing I can connect it to. Did the guys wear pantyhose around their faces? If so, why? It was nighttime. They were shielded. There weren’t any customers. A woman? Did they have a woman with them? No fucking way. A woman couldn’t plan a heist like this out. There’s no way in hell I’m going to believe that.

  Well, if they have a woman with them, it must be that she’s taken under their will. That’s the only thing I can come up with. Maybe I’m too tired. Maybe that’s fucking stupid of me. Maybe I’m getting lazy. Older. Whatever the case, I need to find her. If she’s being taken advantage of, I’ll fix this. I’ll come out as a hero to the city and to the citizens. Frankly, it’s a win-win.

  Good thing too. I never lose.

  3

  Virginia

  I never lose at pool. It’s practically the one competitive game I’m good at. When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to the dive bar across town, Six’s, and I’d watch him drink and play pool all day. I was too young to know how fucked up it was. For me, I was just proud to be near my dad. I was happy then…

  Now, I’m stuck on my own. No friends anymore. No nothing. I just have the money that I stole and it’s buried under a bush outside. I’m here because… well, I’m here really because I’m lonely. The idea was that it would be a good alibi. I’m not really sure how it’s the best alibi anymore. I should be home. I should be asleep, dreaming of my escape out of this country.