by Mazzy King
I gesture to the sofa. “Have a seat, please.”
But instead, she steps forward and grabs my hands. I blink in surprise. “I really need to tell you something,” she says rapidly. “First of all, I know it’s been a whole week since we last talked. And I’m not sorry for needing that time to get my shit together, but I am sorry for any hurt it might have caused you.”
I shrug, hoping it looks casual. “It didn’t. I mean, I’m not hurt.” That, friends, is what you call a lie.
Isla arches a dark brow. “That’s not what Jaxson told me.”
“J-Jaxson?” I’ll kill him.
“Don’t get mad and kill him,” she says in a soothing tone, and her unintended clairvoyance almost makes me laugh. “He stopped by because he was worried about—well, both of us, frankly, but you more than anything. I know I’ve put you through some kind of hell and I am sorry for that.”
“It’s—it’s okay,” I say lamely, because I don’t know what else to say.
“It’s not okay,” she says earnestly. “I should have communicated better. I was really reeling after the bank situation. It dredged up a lot of really bad shit I thought I’d dealt with. And then you kept mentioning things about dying and getting killed and it—it really scared me. Messed with my head.”
“I shouldn’t have said those things,” I say. “I’m sorry. It’s just something cops come to terms with, that that’s a reality in this line of work. It’s not something we sign up for, but it’s something we accept as possible reality.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says firmly. “Do not apologize for that. You’re absolutely right—it’s something you’ve come to terms with. But I needed to come to terms with it, too. And after talking with Jaxson and understanding…” She blushes. “Understanding how you might feel about me after everything you’ve gone through in your past relationship, I felt I owed you a more thorough explanation.”
And then she explains—everything. In detail. About her ex. The things he did to her. Everything it required of her to find the strength to break free of the bonds of manipulative, emotional abuse and put herself first. The therapy she subsequently underwent. And the fear of love, finding it and losing it, that lingered well after the fact.
“I’ve loved and I’ve lost before,” she says quietly, “and it was for the best. Because that love wasn’t love at all, and it was breaking me down, tearing me apart, every day I stayed. But finding you…that was love I didn’t want to lose, ever, and the possibility that I could scared me to death.”
I grip her hands tightly. “Isla, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I love you,” she says, looking me right in the eye. “I love you, and even though the reality that I could lose you based on your line of work terrifies me, the thought of letting go of the truest love I’ve ever felt for someone scares me more. Gunner…” Isla steps closer and places her hands on my bare chest. “I want to be with you. I want to find happiness with you. I want to love you past your pain, and I want you to love me past mine. I want to build a life with you. If…you’ll have me.”
If I’ll have her?
An immense feeling of relief and gratitude and happiness floods me, and I decide I’ll go easy on Jaxson when I administer the sound ass-beating he’s earned. Thank you, my brother…you dick.
I sweep her into my arms. “I love you, Isla. I was yours the second I saw you in the bank. If you’ll have me, that is.”
She kisses me, and it’s as much of an affirmation as any words she could utter. Her lips are the sweetest yes of all.
The kiss turns from sweet to smoldering in the blink of an eye. A week is a long-ass time, like I said earlier.
“I need a shower,” I chuckle against her lips as she cups my rock-hard cock through my flimsy shorts.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she purrs.
“Then I guess you’re coming with me.” I lead her down the hall, stripping off her clothes as we go. In the bathroom, as the shower gets nice and steamy, I sit her on the counter, spread her thighs, and feast on her pussy like I’ve been dreaming of—and jacking off to—every night this week. It takes a disappointingly short amount of time for her to come all over my tongue.
“I’m not done with that,” I warn as I tug her breathless form under the hot shower.
I waste no time hoisting her into the air and pressing her back against the tiled wall. She yelps at the coldness at her back, but it melts into a moan of pleasure as I slide inside her tight, wet pussy, sucking on each of her nipples before claiming her mouth and tongue. I fuck her slowly against the wall, hitting her deep, until my orgasm creeps over me like a warm tide. As she comes on my dick, gasping my name over and over, I grunt, loud and low, as I explode deep inside her.
We fuck hard in the shower until the water begins to cool, and then we hastily wash and get out as fast as possible. Cold showers are not so fun.
I dry her, then myself, then carry her to the bedroom. Fuck red meat and craft beer—this is how I’m spending the rest of my night.
We make love and nap for the next few hours, pausing to order pizza. I eat her for dessert, and I have several helpings.
Later on, she gives me a massage. Like a massage-therapist massage, and it’s so good, not only does my dick miraculously get hard again, but I blurt out in a moan, “Marry me.”
Her hands still. I freeze.
You know what? Fuck it.
I sit up and face her. She looks like she wants to laugh and cry at the same time. I need to clarify what I just said.
“I’m…dead fucking serious,” I say, as if the thought has just occurred to me, which it has. “Isla, I love you. I don’t want to waste any more time. I believe in living life to the fullest, because…I could lose it at any time.”
The words are dark, but she doesn’t crumble in the face of them. She climbs into my lap, her naked body warm against mine. “You really want to marry me, Gunner Hansen?”
“I really want to marry you, Isla Gregory,” I say, gazing into her eyes. “But…saying yes to me means saying yes to the badge. And that’s a huge thing to ask of someone.”
“It is,” she agrees softly, “so it’s a good thing I’ve had time to think it through.” She cups my face. “The answer’s yes, Officer.”
Before, her kiss told me everything I needed to hear. Now, I channel my love, my promise, my oath to her that I’ll protect and serve her forever, and I know, based on her returning kiss, she not only believes me but makes me the same promise in return.
Epilogue
Isla
I wield the electric clippers deftly, shaping Jaxson’s hair with the same dexterity as a pottery maker. Ridge City PD has regulations for uniformed officers, which Jaxson is going back to from working undercover.
“He’s reinstating his campaign to be a sergeant,” Gunner informs me from where he sprawls in one of the shampoo chairs. He runs a hand over his own freshly barbered hair. He likes to wear it longish on top and tight on the sides, which looks crazy-hot on him and it’s still in regulations.
“That’s great,” I say, giving Jaxson a friendly smack on the shoulder. Ever since he showed up on my doorstep and told me everything going on with Gunner, I’ve had a lot of gratitude toward him. He’s a great guy. A little broody—which might be due to some kind of unrequited love situation Gunner told me about—but very nice and incredibly loyal.
I can’t ask for a better play-brother-in-law-to-be.
“When’s that going to happen?” I continue, making sure his edges are even. Jaxson is less trendy and boundary-pushing with his regulation cuts than Gunner is. He likes a general cleanshaven appearance and is pretty fussy about his hair being crisp. Men.
“Probably not for a little while yet. Gotta kiss the right asses sometimes,” Jaxson says with a sigh. He smirks at Gunner. “But anything to fast-track into being your boss one day.”
Gunner laughs loud and long. “You could never.”
“Just wait, H
ansen.”
“Okay, now, boys,” I playfully scold. I hand over a mirror so he can inspect my work.
“Looks good,” he says with a nod. “I was overdue for a cut, anyway. Looks like I’ll be heading to court soon.”
“For what?” Gunner asks.
“Murder trial.”
“Who’d you kill?” I crack.
Gunner chuckles, but Jaxson, ever the serious one, just says, “I was part of a big arrest. This guy had raped and killed a bunch of women a couple states over and was getting ready to do the same here.”
I snap my fingers. “I remember that. There was a woman who was rescued, right? In the nick of time.”
Jaxson nods gravely. “Anyway, he’s going to trial and I’ll be testifying soon.”
Gunner cocks his head. “The woman—is she the one you…told me about before?”
A frown creases Jaxson’s handsome face. “Yes, Gunner.” He stands up before I can brush him off and gives me a little hug. “Thanks again, Isla.” He tries to hand me a twenty, but I wave him off.
“You know your money’s no good here.”
He shrugs, then smacks the twenty against Gunner’s chest. “See that she gets this anyway. Later, guys.”
He walks out, and I turn to Gunner, who’s folding the twenty and sticking it into my purse. I make a face. “You take that out and give it right back to him.”
Gunner smiles. “You’re stuck with it. He won’t take it back from you.”
I stick my tongue out, then meet his gaze in the mirror as I clean up the hair trimmings from the floor. “What was that about? He got…pissy. Or sad. It’s hard to tell with him.”
Gunner sighs. “I shouldn’t have asked him what I did. That woman he saved from the murderer—I don’t know the details, but she’s the one he’s in love with.”
I look up from sweeping. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Gunner shakes his head. “I don’t know what’ll happen, but I just hope he finds some peace. He’s carrying a lot of pain around that he just doesn’t really talk to a lot of people about.”
“Not even Saint?”
“He talks more with Saint than anyone, but even then, only so much.”
I finish sweeping and go to sit in Gunner’s lap. “Maybe we can help him. I feel like I owe him a lot. In a way he helped us find our way back to each other.”
Gunner kisses me. “He did. Even though you know you couldn’t stay away from me too long, baby.”
I tilt my head back and laugh, swatting his shoulder. “I suppose you have a point.”
He grins and brushes my hair behind my ear. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that.”
“Don’t get used to it, Officer.” I kiss the tip of his nose.
“That’s all right,” he says confidently. “You’re stuck with me, so I’ll get to hear that way more often.”
“Forever’s a long time to hold your breath,” I murmur against his lips.
He smiles, brushing his thumb down my cheek. “Forever’s not nearly enough time. But I’ll take whatever I can get with you.”
JAXSON
BADGE BUNNIES BOOK 5
A Steamy Alpha Bad Boy Cop Romance
The good Bad Boys of Ridge City…and the women who love them.
Put your hands where he can feel them…
Jaxson
I see a thousand people as a Ridge City patrol officer. Most of their faces, I forget. But a couple months ago, I rescued a woman from a man who nearly murdered her…and I’ve thought of her face every single night since. But she’s a witness now, and it would be unprofessional of me to cross that line. But when I learn she’s going to be testifying at the trial soon, I can’t help but check on her…because I’m in love with her.
Hazel
The last couple months of my life have been hell…but one of the things that gets me through is thinking about that gorgeous cop who rescued me. I was safe in his arms…and I want to be there again. I never thought I’d hear from him again, but when he calls me to check on me before the trial, I know I’ve got to see him. I have to thank him. I have to tell him how grateful I am…and how much I want him.
This is an insta-love, happily-ever-after, STEAMY romance. No cliffhangers, no cheating. This is a standalone story part of the BADGE BUNNIES series.
Chapter 1
Jaxson Rivers
I lean back in my desk chair at my precinct assembly and stretch. Paperwork sucks, plain and simple, and there’s not a cop alive who would disagree. And if they do, they’re lying to you.
But it’s also a necessary component to doing this job well. And if I want to be promoted to sergeant, I need to do the job very well.
Since returning to patrol, I’ve been working C shift, or the three p.m. to midnight shift. Of course, those hours are just a guideline. I’ve been on a scene until five, six, seven in the morning. I go where I’m needed and stay until the work is done. It can be tough, but like anything, you get accustomed to it after a while. Besides, I’d much rather take this shift than another officer with a family. It’s already tough when you don’t get regular weekends and holidays off, so anything I can personally do to ease that strain on others, I will.
I don’t have a family outside my parents and my brother, who’s also a Ridge City police officer. I don’t have a spouse or anyone special in my life other than my rescue dog.
Yes, I know how pitiful that makes me sound. I haven’t had the best relationships in the past, and when I decided I wanted to develop myself in my career, it was easier to close myself off from love.
Until the night I met…her.
“Jax.”
I shake off the thoughts that have haunted me for the past two months and glance over my shoulder. Sergeant Brendan O’Brien strides toward me, a case file in his hand. He’s a man I truly admire. Twice my age, hard as nails on the job, but has incredible loyalty to his “guys,” as he calls us—this includes the women officers on our crew—and constantly makes sure we’re okay, both on and off the job. His leadership is what I intend to emulate if and when I make sergeant.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He pats my shoulder. “You were supposed to be out of here an hour ago.”
Is it one in the morning already? A glance at my watch confirms that. Shit. Time flies when you can’t focus.
I gestured toward the computer screen. “Finishing up a report. Trying to get caught up other paperwork.”
“Go home,” Sarge says sternly. “This shit will still be here tomorrow. I’d rather you come in early than stay late. Who’s watching Cookie, by the way?”
“Neighbor girl,” I say. “I think she likes her more than me these days, anyway.”
Cookie is a one-year-old black lab/border collie mix I rescued last year after her previous owners—a couple of meth-heads I busted—were forced to surrender her after their arrests. Cookie was barely out of puppyhood then, but she was so timid and sweet, it broke my heart. I kept aggressive tabs on her at the shelter, and as soon as I was able, I adopted her. The only thing she kept from her past was her name, but I’ve given her a brand-new life. And she’s given my life a level of brightness I don’t think I could otherwise have found without her.
Yes, I really love my dog. Judge away.
“Well, go on home.” Sarge gently sets the file in front of me. “Maybe read up on this tomorrow before you come in.”
I flip on the cover, read the first few lines of the report on top of the slender stack of documents, then turn my gaze sharply to Sergeant O’Brien. “This is the statement from…the victim.”
I would rather call her a survivor, because that’s what she is. Hazel Summers survived the sadistic attempts of a deranged motherfucker to end her life, after he did the same thing to a number of other women.
She refused to be his next victim.
He nods gravely. “Ms. Summers is testifying on Wednesday.”
I blink. “She said she wouldn’t.”
“Well, I
guess she changed her mind.” Sarge lifts a shoulder. “She said she would testify as long as the officer who saved her that night would attend while she does. I believe that’s you.”
For a second, I forget how to speak. She…wants me there?
Then I realize I’m staring like an idiot, and Sarge is expecting me to say words. “Uh, yes, sir.” I glance down at the report again, but I practically have it committed to memory, just like I have her committed to memory.
Hazel Leigh Summers, age twenty-six. Shoulder-length, wavy, medium-brown hair, warm honey-brown eyes. Beautiful smile. Bachelor’s degree from Ridge City University. Worked as a project manager at the local pharma company. Was every bit a model citizen and a vibrant young woman who enjoyed her life until Howard Barber decided she was the perfect person for him to abduct and attempt to torture.
But he chose the wrong one.
“You’ll be called to testify at some point,” Sarge goes on. “So you should spend some time brushing up on the case.”
Like I could forget a single detail.
I finally say goodnight to Sarge—who should take his own advice about going home—and drive my black Ford F250 home. I have a house in a family-friendly neighborhood not far from the precinct, but far enough to allow me to breathe.
I hear Cookie barking as I unlock the front door, and the sound puts a smile on my face, as does seeing her silly face, ears against her skull, all big brown eyes and huge smile. She’s all black except for a white muzzle and a white spot on her throat that extends down over her belly. I draw a deep, calming breath as I walk inside, then tumble onto the carpet, Cookie leaping all over me. We play-wrestle-snuggle for a little while, as is our usual routine, then I let her out in my small backyard.
My neighbors down the street, a couple not much older than me, have a five-year-old girl, Gretchen, who’s smitten with Cookie. Little does Gretchen know, she’s due to get her own puppy this Christmas. I went with her dad to the shelter to help him choose the right one for their family. On my nights at work, Gretchen and her mom come over to feed Cookie and let her out, play for a bit, then head home. It’s not uncommon for them to also leave me a little something for dinner, because they’re just really nice people.