“How much?” he repeated. “For one night?”
And there it was.
My bargaining chip.
CHAPTER THREE
Tony
Holy fucking mother of God.
When I walked into the building, my gaze immediately gravitated to the copper-haired goddess sitting at the bar. Legs that never stopped. Full, firm breasts that played peek-a-boo with the top of her dress, begging me to touch them. A firm athletic body I was dying to get my hands on. And when her gaze met mine…eyes a deep, soulful green that called to me, drew me in, sucking the breath right out of my lungs. Her hair was long and wavy and sexy as fuck, cascading halfway down her back like a copper-colored waterfall. Her skin was pale like cream, dusted with freckles everywhere, and looked as soft as cotton. More freckles sprinkled across her nose and along her high, pretty cheekbones. Yeah, my acute vision allowed me to pick up on those things, even from a distance. Damn, those freckles were sexy as hell. I wanted to kiss every single one of them. And those lips, oh hell. I wanted to latch onto them and suck, suck, suck.
Seriously? I really had gone too long without sex. I’d never been so enraptured by a female before.
I didn’t kiss women. At least not on the lips. Ever. The rest of the body was open season. I could lick and taste every part of a woman except for her mouth. Lips were off limits. Lips were too sensual, too intoxicating. Kissing on the lips was too personal. Kissing involved feelings. I had no feelings. So I didn’t kiss. In my mind, if I didn’t kiss a woman on the mouth, then I couldn’t develop feelings for her. So I avoided lips. Sex didn’t become personal if it was just a physical release. No meshing of mouths.
I also didn’t kiss because I liked it too much. Kissing was addicting. Like sex. So I never kissed the women I bedded.
Maldita sea! I wanted to kiss this goddess. I wanted to smash my mouth against hers and suck her in, taste her. Devour her. Everywhere.
“How much?” I asked, holding my breath while I awaited her response.
She jerked those perfectly-shaped eyebrows up. “Excuse me? What did you say?”
I swallowed nervously. Was she not interested? Was I not her type? Should I back off?
Maybe she just hadn’t heard me.
“How much?” I repeated. “For one night?”
Her gaze narrowed as she contemplated me. Something flickered in her eyes. Interest. Contemplation.
The big, blond bartender rested his beefy arms on the bar top and sent me a fierce glare. “Hey, ye dirtball. She’s no sally, so back off before I break your feckin neck.”
I tensed, eyeing him warily, then glanced back at the gorgeous redhead seated before me. Was he her pimp? I didn’t deal with pimps. If he didn’t back off, I’d have to take care of him.
Ignoring the bartender, I swung my gaze back to the redheaded goddess.
This was between me and her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Grace
I would have found the situation amusing if The Smuggler were just some guy at the bar hitting on me. But he wasn’t just some guy at the bar.
He was a dreg.
I feared he would do more harm to Riley than Riley would do to him. And I didn’t want Riley hurt.
I placed a reassuring hand Riley’s arm. “It’s all right. I got this.” I didn’t want him to scare The Smuggler off. This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I needed help finding my girls.
As I met The Smuggler’s gaze again, a shiver vibrated through me. I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement.
Did The Smuggler think I was a prostitute? A “sally”?
Then I recalled what I was wearing. The tight, slinky black dress hugged my curves and left very little to the imagination. My breasts were smashed beneath the tight fabric, barely contained and pressing upward like twin melons ripe for picking. I’d been blessed—or cursed, depending on how you looked at it—with large breasts. Yes, my C-cups were natural. Not huge, but still larger than I needed. I was active, and sometimes my boobs were an annoyance, getting in my way. Thank God for sports bras.
I obviously wasn’t wearing a sports bra right now.
The dress was borderline indecent. When I was standing, the fabric rode high up on my thighs. Now, as I sat, it bunched even higher. I had to use my purse in my lap to cover myself, it was so indecent. Strangely, none of those things had even registered in my brain until The Smuggler had stopped beside me, his smoky black gaze eating me alive.
I didn’t normally blush, but a sudden wave of heat washed over my face. Feck. I couldn’t blame him for thinking I was a sally. I was dressed exactly like one. I’d been portraying a prostitute for the past several hours in a sting, taking out johns. Arresting men who’d propositioned me like this man just had.
Could I arrest him?
Probably not. We were in a bar. I didn’t have any handcuffs on me. And I was dressed like I wanted to hook up. It wasn’t illegal. As long as no money exchanged hands. People did this all the time. Had sex with strangers.
He just asked you how much. That means he wants to pay. That’s illegal.
I decided to play along. This was my best chance to snag him.
Do you seriously think you can snag a dreg, Grace? This man is dangerous. He could hurt you. He could kill you.
I shoved the warning aside. I wasn’t afraid of any man, dreg or otherwise.
And I needed this guy. Desperately.
Just asking him to help me would probably be easier than trying to catch him, but my gut told me that I couldn’t just ask a dreg to help me and expect him to agree. He didn’t know me. Why would he agree to help a stranger?
But how to lure him home and catch him without getting killed in the process? It would not be easy to capture him. The way he was staring at me—no, undressing me with his eyes—indicated that he wanted me. I could certainly use that to my advantage.
Use your body, Grace. That’s your bargaining chip. Use it to get what you want from him.
Shame washed over me at that thought. I didn’t do things like that. I didn’t “use” people. That was morally wrong. I had morals. My parents had taught me to be kind to others. Treat others as you want to be treated. Don’t cheat, lie, or steal. Love one another. Obey the law.
But I really, really needed this man’s help. I would catch him and then make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
I cleared my throat. He was waiting for my answer, his gaze intense.
How much? For one night?
How about help finding my girls? That was fair, wasn’t it?
I let my gaze travel boldly over him like he’d done with me. My heart pounded. My mouth went dry. “Impressive” was an understatement. The man was a perfect specimen of manliness. I wanted to see what he looked like without clothes.
Riley let out a loud harrumph and went to serve another customer.
“Why don’t you come back to my place and we can discuss it?” I suggested.
The blond guy smacked The Smuggler in the arm again and leered. “Go for it, man!”
Riley sent me a disapproving look as he filled a mug with beer. I ignored him. He wasn’t my da.
The Smuggler nodded slowly. “Okay.” He seemed nervous all of a sudden. Awkward. Had he never done this before? A man with his looks wouldn’t have to put much effort into picking up women. He was smoking hot. Though he did give off a dark, dangerous aura that might frighten some people away.
I slapped a ten on the bar to cover my drinks, then reached over to take The Smuggler’s hand. He jolted at my touch, pulling back slightly, then halting and relaxing under my grip.
The man was jittery. Like a wild animal. He would definitely be a challenge to capture. But I had a way of doing that. If I could convince him to have a drink back at my place, I could slip him some Rohypnol and knock him out long enough to capture him.
Yes, I know Rohypnol is illegal, and I’m a cop, so to some, that might make me a “bad” cop. But I don’t use the drug for bad things. I pro
mise. I only use it to catch criminals. The only reason I have Rohypnol is because I secured some off a guy I arrested a few months back. I turned the brunt of the drug into the evidence locker like I was supposed to, but I kept a small amount to use in my bounty hunter business. The Rohypnol came in handy when trying to catch a fugitive. Slip a little into his drink, and once he was out, handcuff him and haul him in. I might be tough, but I was still a woman, and the Rohypnol gave me the advantage against bad, dangerous men.
Was The Smuggler a bad, dangerous man? I imagined I was about to find out.
I glanced at his friends and waved.
They both smiled and winked, the dark-haired one calling, “Later, doll. Take good care of him.”
Oh, I planned to. I planned to take great care of him.
And in exchange, I expected this gorgeous hunk of a man to help me find my girls.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tony
Why don’t you come back to my place and we can discuss it?
Fuck, yeah.
She’d opened her mouth and that sexy European accent that had come out of her lips had desire snaking deep and hot inside me. I didn’t know much about European accents, so I wasn’t sure exactly what her accent was. Scottish, maybe? Irish? British?
After a moment of contemplation, she’d agreed to go with me, actually inviting me back to her place. Was this really happening?
She’d taken my hand and led me out to her car, a small white Kia. Now, I was sitting in that car with her. Was I really going home with her? I’d never done anything like this before. I’d visited prostitutes in the past, but not like this. I’d never gotten into a car with a stranger before. But this woman was so hot, she made me lose my head. I didn’t follow my normal rules around her. If I touched her, I might burn. I might burst into flames.
She glanced askance at me as we headed out of the parking lot. “What’s your name?”
I hesitated. I didn’t usually tell the whores my name, but for some reason, I wanted her to know my real name. For some reason, I just wanted to be myself around her.
I debated with myself for a moment, then admitted, “Tony. What’s yours? Your real name, not your hooker name.”
She startled, her cheeks blossoming into ripe cherries, as if I’d embarrassed her. Or offended her. Then she turned to me with a bright smile that lit up the entire car around us. Damn. “Holly. But don’t tell anyone, okay? It can be our little secret.”
Holly. I wasn’t sure if I believed her. The name didn’t really suit her. She looked more like a Rachel or a Kristin. But who was I to complain? I was about to get laid for the first time in months. A stirring in my pants proved Luke wrong. My dick hadn’t shriveled up. And right now, it was growing with anticipation.
Why did I feel like a hormonal-crazed teenager on my first date?
Because that’s basically what you are. You’ve never been on a real date, you moron.
Holly was so hot, I was getting burned just sitting across the car from her.
I wasn’t good with small talk, so all I said was, “Okay.”
Five minutes later, she pulled into an apartment complex on the edge of town near the woods and parked in front of the building in the center.
“Here we are. Come on up, Tony.”
Nerves jumped along my skin. I was skittish as I exited the car and glanced around, my acute senses scanning for danger. What if one of the gangs was hanging out around here, watching, hoping to catch a dreg?
Holly watched me as I glanced around. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
She came around the car and reached for my hand. I jolted again, unused to human touch. Her hand was warm, lightly callused, her grip firm. She glanced up into my face. “I won’t hurt you,” she murmured. “I promise. Let’s go have some fun.”
I won’t hurt you.
Something about those gently spoken words did something to me deep inside. Warmth spread through me, overwhelming me in its intensity.
No one had ever said anything like that to me before. All I’d ever known was pain, violence, brutality. Never gentleness. Never kindness. I wasn’t sure what to do with gentleness, kindness. But I had a pretty good idea what I wanted to do with her.
She tugged me toward the building and I followed like an obedient puppy. An eager puppy. I wanted to rip that damn dress off and taste her everywhere.
She opened a door to a second-floor apartment and went inside, motioning for me to follow. I hesitated, letting my acute senses check for danger. I sensed no other presence. So I went inside and she closed and locked the door.
“Home sweet home,” she murmured. “Make yourself comfortable while I fix us a drink.”
I didn’t drink. In fact, Ryan and Luke were the only dregs who drank alcohol. They’d rebelled after our discharge, doing everything they could think of that was in violation of our former orders. It had been ingrained in our heads for so many years to never imbibe in any mind-altering substance that I couldn’t turn off that training, even a year later. I didn’t fancy the idea of losing control of myself. Control was essential for survival. So I didn’t drink.
I glanced around the small apartment while she disappeared behind a wall that had a rectangular opening in the center. It was one of those open kitchens where a person could lean against the counter and gaze out into the living room. Three bar stools lined the counter along the outside of the kitchen. I contemplated sitting on one of those stools, then changed my mind. I didn’t want to hang around for too long. The sooner I took care of my itch, the sooner I could leave.
A well-worn, brown leather couch took up most of the living room. I noted the small, flat-screen television on the wall across from the couch, an end table that contained a makeup bag, a pink cellphone, a hairbrush, and a purse. A fashion magazine lay casually on the arm of the couch. No sign of any male inhabitants. A hallway emerged in between the living room and dining room areas, presumably leading to the bathroom and bedrooms.
Holly the Goddess returned with two small glasses filled with an amber liquid. I found it difficult to refuse. How could anyone say no to this gorgeous woman? I just needed to fuck her and get the hell out of here before I made a fool out of myself. This woman could all too easily fuck me up. That thought disturbed me so much I snatched the glass from her and tossed it back with a single gulp. It burned all the way down my throat, leaving a trail of fire clear to my stomach.
I coughed. Shit. That stuff was strong. It was also strangely soothing. And the burn helped distract me from the way this woman took over my senses, my mind, even my actions. She was a witch. A siren. A sorceress.
I wanted another drink to help me relax.
She watched me with an amused expression. “Nervous?”
Fuck, yeah.
I shook my head. “No.”
She looked into my eyes, those gorgeous green orbs delving deep. Whatever she was looking for, she wouldn’t find. I didn’t have a soul. There was nothing but emptiness inside me. “Want another?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
Those sexy, pouty lips tilted up. She picked up my glass and went back into the kitchen. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
I lowered myself onto the couch. I wasn’t normally nervous around whores, but this woman turned me into a bumbling, sex-starved idiot. I shifted uncomfortably while I waited for her to return.
She came back carrying my glass—refilled—and a bottle of Knob Creek whiskey. “In case you want more,” she said with a smile, setting the whiskey on the end table on top of the magazine.
I gulped down the second shot, and again it burned all the way down my throat until it reached my stomach. My first time drinking alcohol and I was already feeling a buzz. This shit was addicting. It was no wonder we’d been warned to stay away from alcohol. I wanted more.
I snagged the whiskey bottle and refilled my glass.
“Easy there, soldier,” she said softly. “Not too fast or you’ll be sick. You ever drank this stuff
before?”
I sipped the third glass instead of gulping it like the first two. The buzz slowly came over me, loosening my limbs, relaxing my mind. This wasn’t so bad, after all.
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t normally drink.” I don’t ever drink.
I paused, eyeing her closely. She’d called me “soldier”. Did she know who I was?
Wariness crept under my skin. Could she be working for the gangs? For The Company?
Shit. What the hell was I doing here?
I bolted to my feet. My head began to spin.
She was by my side in an instant. “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” she suggested, and one look into those deep green eyes caused me to forget all about the gangs and The Company. I let her lead me away, eager to get her naked.
I swayed on my feet as she steered me down the short hallway and into her bedroom. I hadn’t really drunk that much, had I? And I was a big guy. Was alcohol normally this powerful?
She urged me toward the bed and pushed me backward. I fell onto the edge of the mattress, grabbing her arms, pulling her on top of me. No way was she leaving now.
She let out a soft gasp and tumbled into my lap. The short dress bunched around her hips, exposing black lace panties.
Oh fuck.
I grabbed her hips, holding her in place, then kissed along her soft neck and around behind her ear. She moaned and tipped her head back, giving me better access. I latched onto her neck, sucking hard, branding her with my touch. Her hands came up to press against my chest.
Protest? Or need?
I lifted my head and looked into her eyes. She couldn’t back out now, dammit. We were just getting started.
There was wariness in her eyes, but also desire. She wanted this. She wanted me.
I had never been wanted before. By anyone.
She wants me.
I wanted to kiss her then. So badly. But I didn’t kiss. Not on the lips.
So I kissed down her throat and in between her breasts instead.
She moaned again. “God, Tony, you’ve got the magic touch. And you smell so good.”
The Smuggler Page 3