by Mazzy King
Onscreen, a huge, glittering silver ball begins its descent down a flagpole.
“…three, two, one!”
“Happy New Year, baby,” Jaxson says into my ear, sending tingles down my spine. He tips my chin toward him and we share our first kiss of the new year.
It’s going to be hard to beat. I hope he’s up for the challenge.
“You were asking about my wish for the new year,” he goes on when we part for air.
“Yes,” I say, stroking his cheek. “Tell me.”
“I wish you’ll marry me.”
I whip my head around to stare at him, my heart pounding. “You what?”
“I wish,” he says, and I realize the room has fallen deadly silent and every pair of eyes is on us, “that you’ll marry me.”
And with that, he sinks to one knee, drawing a small box from his pocket, popping it open, and holding it out to me.
“Hazel Summers,” he says with a soft smile, “will you marry me?”
I think I say yes, but all I know is that I’m in his arms, my legs around his waist, and I’m kissing him silly.
Once I let him put me down and slide the ring on my finger, the room erupts with cheers. I’m hugged by every single person in the room at least three times.
“Welcome to the family, little sis,” Saint says with a huge smile. He is over the moon for his big brother, and it’s so touching to see. “And I don’t just mean the Rivers family. I mean, the blue family.” He points around the room. “Every single person here who wears the badge or not—now that you’re part of the family, we will always have your six.”
“No one more than me,” Jaxson promises, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Good.” I beam at him. “Because I’ll always have yours.”
LUCA
Bonus Badge Bunnies Story
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Luca
As a homicide detective in Ridge City, I see a lot of ugliness. Seeing that ugliness in the neighborhood I grew up in is ever worse, but duty calls. I never thought it would bring me back to the doorstep of Mykie Mancini, the woman I love…who hates me for doing my job and tearing her family apart in the process. I want to give her the space she demanded from me six months ago, but as the investigation takes a dangerous turn, I realize things might not be as they seem…and Mykie might be in danger.
Mykie
Our family restaurant is built on one simple tenet: love. I love my family, and up until six months ago when he put the cuffs on my uncle for a crime he didn’t commit, that love included Luca Romano, too. I haven’t been able to forgive him for what he did, but when he shows up at the restaurant needing to see our security camera footage, I can’t refuse him. Someone, though, doesn’t like me helping the cops…and Luca’s arms might be the only safe haven for me.
Read on for an exclusive excerpt!
Chapter 1
Luca Romano
I’ve lived in Ridge City’s Little Italy my whole life. I was born in the hospital in this neighborhood, I went to school here, and after I graduated from Ridge City University, I stayed here to work. It’s a family community, one that’s near and dear to my heart.
So when people get murdered here, I take it very personally.
Luckily, I get paid to take that personally, because I’m a homicide detective on the Ridge City police department.
I walk into a small café this afternoon in the heart of the neighborhood. I ask the college-age young woman behind the counter if I can speak to the manager. With wide eyes, she nods and disappears to a back room to get her.
I hate making people feel uncomfortable, but it sort of goes with job. I’m wearing a tailored suit, but it’s not hard to spot my gun and holster on my hip under my jacket, or the brass I display on my belt.
The manager returns a moment later, looking confused at the sight of me. Now that the initial shock is over, the young barista eyes me openly. Not to sound like a cocky asshole, but because I’m a young, dark-haired Italian guy, I tend to draw women’s attention. Some are polite with their interest, others brash. None of it matters to me, because I only have eyes for one woman.
It’s really too bad Mychaela Mancini—Mykie, as I’ve known her since we were kids—hates my guts.
She’s always on my mind, but especially when I’m in the same neighborhood as her family’s restaurant, Mancini’s Cucina, which happens to be right across the street from the café. Every time I drive past, I think of the last time Mykie and I exchanged words. It mostly involved her shouting at the top of her lungs at me.
“Can I help you…Detective?” the manager asks.
I glance around and pitch my voice low, so only she can hear me. “I’m investigating a murder, ma’am,” I tell her, and her eyes get huge. “The owner of the jewelry store a few blocks away—A Gem It Is—was murdered late last night. We’ve been piecing his timeline together, and according to phone records and eye-witness testimony, he was spotted at a bar two doors down from here with a male companion about eleven o’clock last night. They would have passed right in front of your shop. You have security cameras, I’m guessing?”
“Yes, of course,” she says, and together we pull up last night’s feed. Sure enough, at two minutes to eleven, parts of two men’s shapes come into view, but it’s impossible to see them in totality based on the positioning of the security camera and the placement of their bodies.
I growl in frustration. “Dammit.”
“Across the street,” the manager says, as if something has just occurred to her. “The Mancini restaurant across the street. I know they have a great security camera. I talked to Angelo, one of the owners, about it just last month. I bet you could see everything from their camera.”
Angelo Mancini, Mykie’s dad. He’s not real fond of me, either.
But I guess that’s to be expected, since I helped set up his brother, Mykie’s uncle, earlier this year to be arrested on racketeering charges. I worked with a couple of FBI agents because I’m from the area, and my sergeant put in a good word for me. Since I might have the tiniest little dream of going to the FBI one day, it was a dream come true…until I realized who they wanted my help with setting up.
Hence that night Mykie screamed at me—and then slapped me when they took her uncle out in cuffs. It’s a wonder I walked away on my own two legs that night.
“And I saw Mychaela go in about an hour ago,” the woman continues. “She’s there, even if they’re not open now.”
She’s going to be thrilled to see me in second. But…duty calls.
I thank the café manager and politely refuse the cappuccino she offers me, but promise to come back when I’m not working.
Then I muster up all the courage I have, cross myself, and head across the street to the restaurant.
I pause in front of the building. I used to have great memories here. The food at Mancini’s used to all be cooked by Mykie’s grandmother, born and raised in Sicily. She passed away about four years ago, but her recipes remain. While new recipes get added to the menus occasionally, the original ones stay the way her grandmother cooked them, with strict rules to follow each one down to the teaspoon.
The last time I was here, though, was six months ago, when I helped the FBI put Nino Mancini in cuffs as his horrified family watched on. He’s accused of stealing jewels—from none other than A Gem It Is—and then reselling them at a much higher mark-up. His trial was swift, and he started his twenty-year sentence in federal prison two months ago.
The look on Mykie’s face that day, when she turned her tear-filled brown eyes to me… It still haunts my sleep. The whole thing does. Nino was like an uncle to me, too.
I peer through the window. It’s a Monday, and they’re only open Tuesday through Saturday. Still, I know Mykie’s here most days of the week, tending to different things, helping bake pastries and bread for the pastry cases.
I only see a woman sitting at the bar, a plate of lunch before her as she looks over sheets of paper
.
She’s beautiful—easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But then again, I’ve never seen someone who I thought could ever measure up to Mychaela Mancini.
She’s wearing a snug-fitting burgundy dress that reaches below her knees and follows every one of her luscious curves. Her dark, glossy hair is arranged in waves down her back and pinned up on one side—my favorite. I used to love running my hands through her thick locks. I used to love tugging them as I took her from behind—her favorite.
That ship sailed a long time ago. It’s my fault I still yearn for her.
Seeing her sitting cross-legged at the bar, one high heel on the rung of the stool, the other dangling from her toes, writing away on the papers with one hand and twirling a lock of hair with the other, makes that yearning resonate deep inside me with an aching pang.
I’ll never get over her, but all I want is her forgiveness.
And today, I need her help.
I just hope she’s not packing heat under that tight dress, or I’ll be in trouble.
The sign says closed. But I know from the past she has a bad habit about leaving the door unlocked during non-business hours when she’s here. I used to give her hell about that, especially when I became a cop, but she would only laugh at me and ask rhetorically, “Who would ever have the balls to break in here?”
I give the door knob a gentle twist, just to see. Old habits never die.
With a deep breath, I push open the door and walk into the lioness’s den.
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About the Author
Mazzy King is the author of short, sexy, romantic suspense. She loves writing about the good bad boys and the women who can’t help but fall in love with them. If you love a sexy, tattooed bad boy with a heart of gold, badass and brilliant ladies, no cheating, and happily-ever-afters with a dose of thrill, you’ve come to the right place.
Enjoy reading Mazzy’s stories with your latte or, better yet, a couple glasses of your favorite vino.
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Also by Mazzy King
DOMINIC: Badge Bunnies 1
RHYS: Badge Bunnies 2
SAINT: Badge Bunnies 3
GUNNER: Badge Bunnies 4
JAXSON: Badge Bunnies 5
Get the whole BADGE BUNNIES series here!