Rogue Love (Kings of Corruption Book 1)

by Michelle St. James

  “I don’t know the details of our planned inventory off-hand,” he said. “But I can assure you it does not — will not — have anything to do with what you may or may not be selling.”

  She looked at her hands in her lap. She thought about her father. His strength. His kindness. She wished he was with her now. He would know what to do.

  “Mr. Glover, I’ve worked hard to keep my business going, to develop the clientele I have now. I’m just looking for neighborly consideration. Your full-service book section won’t just hurt my business — it will hurt The Big Bean across the street, too. Zach worked two jobs for ten years to save enough money to open his coffee shop.”

  Malcolm Glover steepled his hands in front of him. “I suppose you’ll have to innovate like the rest of us. My business is making money. It’s what I do. What I’ve always done.” He stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.”

  She stood, forced the appropriate words from her mouth. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

  She extended her hand even though touching him was the last thing she wanted to do. He took it, held it a beat too long, let his eyes drop slowly to her chest, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking her out. Her dress wasn’t revealing. Not really. But she felt suddenly naked, wished she’d already retired the summery garment for fall.

  “I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Ms. Matheson.” His eyes pierced hers. “I’m sure you have… other talents. Should the bookstore thing not work out, I mean.”

  It took her a few seconds to work past her shock. When she did, she yanked her hand from his, slipped the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and hurried from the room, wondering if it was her imagination that his eyes were on her body along the way.

  She pulled open the door so fast she almost stumbled, then rushed into the hall and out the door leading to the store. She hardly registered the brightness of the lights, the low hum of conversation as shoppers went about their business. She kept her gaze focused on the front of the store, weaving through the crowd, past the toiletries and cash registers. Then she was pushing through the front door, sucking in the fresh air like someone long deprived of oxygen.

  She was shaking, a swell of unidentifiable emotion rising inside her like a hurricane. She was almost to the corner when she realized it was anger.

  She stopped at the light post, the white light indicating it was her turn to cross the street already blinking, marking down the time before it would turn red. She suddenly saw everything that led to this moment with such clarity, it was like watching her life play out on a movie screen.

  Her parents getting the notice from Hathaway Holding that their building had been bought, that the lease would be increasing threefold.

  The nights when she’d been home from school for Christmas and had walked in on them running numbers at the kitchen table, cups of coffee growing cold while they tried to find a way to keep the store.

  Her father, the lines on his face etching deeper by the day, his skin sallow and pale in the hours before he fell over at the kitchen island, dead in moments of a massive heart attack.

  And finally, the closing of Matheson and Matheson. The store her parents had opened together when they’d been barely out of college themselves. She would never forget that day: the sad boxing up of twenty years worth of memories.

  None of that was Malcolm Glover’s fault, but it was the fault of people like him. Lachlan’s parents hadn’t cared about anything but money either. Maybe it was the way the world worked now. Maybe she was just naive.

  But she was also breathtakingly angry.

  Who did that asshole Glover think he was? It was one thing to blow her off. He didn’t owe her anything. Asking for some kind of negotiation had been a long shot.

  But he’d been a total dick. Had treated her like a child, then like a piece of ass he could demean and ogle. He was probably used to getting what he wanted.

  Used to taking what he wanted.

  She didn’t know how people like him became the way they were, but she was willing to bet they hadn’t been told no very often. That people tip-toed around them, kissing their asses and letting them get away with murder because they were rich and powerful.

  Well, she didn’t have much, but she had a voice. She could let him know that she wouldn’t go quietly.

  She turned around, the anger building, spreading out from her chest, up her neck until her face felt flushed. By the time she reached Bolton’s, adrenaline was surging through her body, the words she planned to say welling inside her throat.

  But she was so intent on her mission that she threw the door open too fast, right as someone else was pushing from the other side. She crashed into a cotton-clad brick wall so wide it blocked out everything else, stopped her momentum cold.

  She stumbled backwards a little, felt a hand clamp firmly but carefully around her upper arm as she wobbled on her feet. Then she was looking up into familiar eyes, glowing like chips of amber as they stared down at her, a mix of shock and fear in their depths.

  For a moment, she could only stare at him, her breath stuck in her lungs, every system in her body shutting down in his proximity. She was still searching for words when he spoke.

  “Elle… jesus… Are you all right?”

  Four

  He couldn’t move, his hand still on her arm, the feel of her skin like satin in his palm. He hadn’t been paying attention when he’d pushed through the doors of the store, hadn’t seen that someone else was entering through the exit at the same time. Reaching for her had been a reflex, the same attempt he would have made to keep anyone from falling.

  But this wasn’t just anyone. It was her.

  The woman who haunted his dreams.

  She’d frozen, her green eyes growing wide when she realized it was him. He braced himself for her anger. To feel her wrench her arm free of his hand. To walk past him like the ghost he was.

  Instead she just stood there looking up at him, her expression frozen. When she finally spoke, he was surprised to find that her voice was just as he remembered, low and soft.

  “Lachlan… I’m sorry,” she said. “I was…”

  She shook her head, and he noticed she was trembling.

  Someone bumped into them, and he gently led her to the edges of the crowd coming and going through the doors of the store. When he got there, he removed his hand from her arm, not wanting to be presumptuous about touching her.

  Not wanting to be haunted by it later.

  “What’s going on?” he asked her. “You look upset.”

  It occurred to him that she might be upset because of him. Because she hadn’t expected to see him. Because she didn’t want to see him.

  But he didn’t think so.

  She’d been distracted coming into the store, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed with something like anger even in the moment before she realized he was the one keeping her from falling over.

  “I’m just…” She lifted her hands to her forehead, rubbed her fingers lightly across them like the motion would erase whatever was going through her mind. It was a gesture he remembered, and he was suddenly twenty-years-old, staring at her in bed, wondering how it was possible to feel so connected to another human being. “I am a little upset, I guess. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for.” He looked around, ready to beat on whoever had upset her. There was no one there. Just regular people moving in and out of the store. “Can I help?”

  She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. It was something a child would do, something he’d loved about her. She felt things so deeply. When she laughed, it was loud enough to make people turn around. When she cried, it was in deep, shuddering sobs.

  “There’s only one person who can help,” she finally said, standing straighter. “And I”m going to talk to him right now.”

  “Hold up.” He took her hand as she went to move around him, then dropped it. “I’m thinking it might be best to wait this out for a bit.”

&
nbsp; Her eyes flashed. “Are you saying I’m too pissed to make a point?”

  “Far be it for me to say you’re too pissed to make a point,” he said. “I don’t even know what this is about. But I do know it’s better to confront someone when you’re not shaking with rage.”

  She sighed, looked up at him. “What are you doing here, Lachlan?”

  He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I was shopping.”

  “Shopping?”

  He held up the bag in his hands. “Even monsters need deodorant.”

  She tried to suppress her smile, then gave up and shook her head. “You’re still ridiculous.”

  “And you're still beautiful.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  He slender throat rippled as she swallowed. “I should go.”

  “Let me buy you coffee.”

  He didn’t know why he said it. It was absurd to think that Elle Matheson was going to let him buy her coffee after all that had happened between them. Crazy to think she would spend one minute longer in his company than necessary. Generous that she’d spoken to him at all, let alone given him a smile that would sustain him for the next six years when she would undoubtedly be absent from his life.

  She tipped her head, like she couldn’t quite believe he was asking. “Coffee?”

  “Coffee,” he said. “Just until you calm down enough that whoever you’re confronting has a chance in hell of fighting you off.”

  She took a deep breath, nodded slowly. “All right,” she said. “I know a place.”

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  Read on for Notes from MSJ and find out where the idea for the Kings of Corruption series came from, how these books fit into the Mob Boss world, and which movie was an inspiration for the series, the setting, and Locke Montgomery.

  Notes from MSJ

  Secondary characters are funny. Sometimes they walk onto the scene, serve their purpose, and leave. Other times they capture my imagination and it quickly becomes obvious they have their own story to tell.

  I felt that way about Luca and Farrell in Ruthless (I was obsessed with writing Farrell’s story from the moment he came to life on the page), and about Christophe in Eternal.

  And I definitely felt that way about the mysterious Locke Montgomery in Fearless. Who was this rich, Zen surfer anyway? Where did he come from? How did he have all this money? What did he do when he left Nico and Angel at his house in La Jolla while he gallivanted off to some far corner of the world?

  It was only later that I realized I saw the character Bodhi from the 80s movie POINT BREAK in him (not the new one - let’s forget that one happened). But unlike Bodhi and his band of brash thieves, Locke had a higher calling, a method behind the madness of his crimes that had more to do with evening the score than lining his own, already-wealthy pockets.

  He teased my imagination for over a year (Fearless came out in September 2015, and it’s March 2017 as I write this final note in Rogue Love), hovering in the background, feeding me bits and pieces about himself while I waited for the opportunity to write his story.

  But strangely, I felt like I needed a way into it. His world was too wild, too different from the one I wrote in the Mob Boss series. How then to make the segue-way in a manner that made sense?

  Enter Braden Kane, the brooding FBI agent whose alliance with Nico Vitale helped bring down the old Syndicate. I wondered what would happen to someone like Braden, someone on the straight and narrow, after spending so much time with people like Nico, Farrell, Christophe, and Luca. Would the moral ambiguity become a problem?

  I’m always most fascinated with the nuances in life. Things are so rarely as clear as they seem, and it’s in that complexity that my imagination always takes root. Braden’s unique position as an FBI agent who’d developed friendships with criminals was the perfect way into Locke’s world, and what better foil for him than a strong, independent fellow-agent with a loyalty to law and order?

  I have a confession to make here; as much as I love writing men, women are every bit as fun and even more challenging. I like my heroines strong, but I also recognize that there is a spectrum to strength, and strength isn’t always manifested in the physical. The Mob Boss books featured women that were emotionally and mentally strong, but I was ready to explore a woman who was physically strong, too. Someone who could hold her own in the field with Braden, and maybe eventually, Locke and his men.

  Raised by an old school Irishman with a houseful of brothers, Nora Murphy was the perfect match for the conflicted Braden Kane. She challenged him in all the best ways — and he challenged her as well. It’s precisely because of this conflict that sparks flew in the bedroom between them, and I had such a great time exploring the challenges and excitement of such a relationship.

  With the conclusion of their story (and an open door to Locke’s), I finally get to focus on my long-awaited story about Locke Montgomery. I could not be more thrilled. I’m holding all the things I loved most about the movie POINT BREAK as a teenager in the 80s in my mind as inspiration — the beach and surf culture and recklessness and adventure and freedom. But with Locke there will be other elements, too. Namely a critical mistake for which he can’t forgive himself and a quest that is as much spiritual as it is tangible.

  The best part? In my mind Locke is an Alpha mix of young Patrick Swayze and my beloved Heath Ledger.

  So, yeah. I’m looking forward to those sexy scenes!

  I hope you’ll come along for the ride by preordering Rebel Love! And stay tuned on Facebook and Instagram for teasers and sneak peeks along the way.

  <3

  MSJ

  Other books by Michelle St. James

  Ruthless

  Fearless

  Lawless

  The Muscle

  Savage

  Primal

  Eternal

  The Sentinel

  Covenant

  Revenant

  Rule

  Rebel Love