Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Jeana E. Mann

  For a split second, she thought he was going to hit something. Rage, fury, and frustration blazed in his eyes. He drew back his arm to throw the phone at the brick wall then thought better of it. As if suddenly aware of his exposed emotions, he turned his back to her. The broad shoulders rose and fell in rapid succession, his breathing harsh and audible. After a beat, he let out a deep sigh and turned to face her. The guarded caution in his eyes haunted her, a reminder of the dog in the park, as if he’d been kicked one too many times.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What Mitch and Pilar did to you——it was shitty.”

  The questioning tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes should have tipped her off. Instead, she kept talking like an idiot. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy. Especially since you’ve got a child together. I bet you’re pretty pissed.”

  “Yeah? You think?” A muscle twitched in the side of his jaw while his eyes darkened.

  Just stop talking, Karly, she thought, but her mouth continued independent of her brain. “I know he’s my brother, but he can be a dick. And now that she's pregnant…” She didn’t get to finish the sentence, stopped by the look of absolute shock on Randy’s face. He didn’t know? Oh, God. Blood rushed into her cheeks, her guts shriveling with the knowledge that she’d unintentionally hurt him.

  He exhaled a long breath and turned his back to her, head bowed and one hand propped against the wall for support. The exit door squealed open on rusty hinges. A trio of laughing men tumbled out into the damp heat. Music blared through the opening then turned into a muffled throbbing as the door banged shut behind them.

  “Randy? I’m so sorry. I – I thought you knew.” She rested a hand on his back. The muscles beneath her palm twitched like a horse shooing a fly, and she withdrew her touch quickly. “Are you okay?”

  “Just give me a minute. Will you?” The normally confident voice cracked with emotion, and her heart ached for him. She knew the pain of betrayal as well as anyone. The way it shredded your guts into confetti and left you hollow inside. After a minute, he turned to her, his face splotched with red. “Are you—are you sure?”

  Tears of empathy stung her eyes. She blinked them back and nodded. “I’m sure. He told me yesterday. They’re moving in together, I think."

  A deep sigh gusted from him, an echo of the grief in his eyes. The long muscles of his throat worked as he swallowed. Spurred by guilt over her part in his distress, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. At first, he stood immobile, a monument of stone, but his arms eased around her, clutching her to him.

  They stood that way for a long time. She felt his anguish, the way it seeped into his bones, making every joint and muscle ache, and wrecked his soul. His heart beat beneath her ear, strong and steady, despite the trauma. All she could do was hold him and murmur words of encouragement the way she held Emma after a nightmare.

  The exit door squealed open again as more people rolled out amid laughter and drunken chatter. It was late, and the night was rapidly winding down. The interruption seemed to jerk Randy from his funk. He gently pulled from her embrace and pushed her back, distancing himself physically and emotionally. The look on his face sent a shiver down her back. His eyes were blank, completely devoid of the emotion she’d felt so strongly within his arms. Like a light switch, he’d turned it off.

  “Okay,” he said, rolling his head on his shoulders, as if loosening up for a fight. “I’m good. We should get back.” He opened the entrance door and motioned her inside with a jerk of his head. With another flick of the switch, he was back in control, exuding the confidence she found so alluring, as if nothing had happened. The disparity between his personas confused and intrigued her.

  In the darkness of the narrow hallway, he seemed larger. Intensity rolled off him in waves, filling up the small space, and enveloping her. “Hold up,” he said with a touch to her arm. “What were you doing out there?”

  “I just needed some air,” she said. “It’s hotter than the seventh circle of hell in there.”

  “Well, the alley isn’t the place to go. Unless you want to get raped or mugged. You never go out there alone. Come get me next time. Understand?” He exhaled through his nose, somber eyes boring into her. “Now. What’s wrong?”

  After witnessing his drama, she’d almost forgotten her own. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. “I fucked up once back in high school, and it comes back to haunt me now and then. It’s nothing, really. I’m over it.” When she opened her eyes, he stood in front of her, leaning on the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed. To her relief, there was no judgment in his stare, only compassion and curiosity.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Just the one time? Shit. I fuck up on a daily basis. Consider yourself lucky.” One corner of his mouth quirked into a reluctant grin. “Just ask my ex.”

  “At least no one thinks you’re a worthless whore.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she bit her lip and wished she could take them back.

  Randy cocked his head and studied her. The exit sign above the door illuminated the sharp edges of his profile with devilish red light. He took his hands from his pockets, grabbed her hand, and tugged her down the hall. “Who was it? Point them out to me.”

  “No. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” She forced a reluctant smile, caught off guard by his concern. "It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let them know they hurt my feelings. Besides, why should I care what they think? It was a long time ago, and I know the truth about what happened.” She raised one shoulder and let it drop in an unconcerned shrug.

  His eyes met hers, the connection irrefutable between them. “You’re a smart girl.” His thumb whispered over the back of her hand, gentle and encouraging. A hint of a smile twitched in the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go kick their asses?”

  She didn’t say anything but shook her head.

  Randy huffed through his nose, feigning disappointment. “Fine. Come on then.” He tightened his grasp on her hand. “I don't know about you, but I could use a drink.”

  Seated at the bar with the counter between them, Randy poured two generous shots of Jaegermeister and slid one silently across the polished wood in front of her. “Jack asked me to take you home tonight.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't delivered a deathblow to his heart a few minutes earlier. “I’ll need to close up first, though.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Really. I don't want to be any trouble."

  "Nope." He placed both hands flat on the counter, one on each side of her empty water glass and studied them. "Jack said I was to deliver you to your door. So deliver you, I will."

  "Do you always do what Jack says?" The Jaegermeister burned as she tossed it back. The sweet taste of licorice lingered on her tongue. Randy leaned toward her, his movement stirring a whiff of masculine shower gel and fabric softener.

  "Not usually," he replied. Something had shifted between them, taking them over the hump from strangers to friends. The weight of mutual disappointment and heartbreak spanned the distance between them like a bridge. “But I’m going to make an exception for you."

  “So you’re the rebellious, break-all-the-rules type?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

  He stared back, his gaze unwavering in its intensity. Humor curled the corners of his mouth. “More like the can’t-catch-a-break, fuck-everything-up type. As I think you already know.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m the Queen of Bad Decisions.” She extended a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

  The broad shoulders lifted in a shrug before he poured out two more shots between them. They raised glasses and clinked them together in an impromptu toast. “Here’s to life,” he said. “Fucked up and unpredictable as it is.”

  They drank in silence, each lost in separate musings. When she cast a glance in his direction, she found him staring at her with curious eyes.

  “You asked me last night if anyone had eve
r ripped out my heart.” He paused long enough to pour a third shot and choked it down before continuing. “That guy last night——the one in the parking lot? He hurt you pretty badly, didn’t he?” The question rang with sincerity and a forthrightness that caught her by surprise. If anyone else had asked, she would never have answered or made up some self-deprecating lie to deflect his attention from the true pain inside her.

  “Yes.” Unable to meet his gaze, she stared into her shot glass, wishing it were bottomless like the ache in her heart. “He fucked me over in a major way. I keep thinking I'm over it then something happens like last night and bam…” She snapped her fingers. “I’m right back where I started.”

  Tears stung the backs of her eyelids. She blinked rapidly to hold them at bay. A rough hand covered hers. Startled by the touch, her eyes flew to his. An enigmatic expression guarded his gaze. One corner of his mouth twitched in a smile tinged with so much sadness it made her heart squeeze. The warm grasp tightened before releasing her, fingers trailing over the back of her hand in a whisper of sympathy.

  After three years, Randy could close the bar without thinking, and it was a good thing. His brain was too busy flipping through every conversation he’d had with Pilar and every shared encounter with Mitch. The signs had been there. He had attributed their surreptitious glances, covert smiles, and an occasional brush of hands as coincidence. A vision of Pilar sitting at the bistro table with skin glowing and the loose material of her top fluttering over the slight bulge of her stomach should have given it away. Now that he knew for sure, the signs of infidelity slapped him in the face.

  Once the initial shock and anger faded, he settled into a boneless, gnawing void. He’d grown up alone and, except for Jack and Jack’s uncle David, had spent most of his adult life in solitude. Pilar had been a welcome distraction, keeping his head busy and his bed warm. But it was Caleb who filled the hole in his heart. He needed Caleb like he needed air to breathe. Without Caleb, he lived in perpetual darkness, shivering and stranded on an island of his own making.

  The band packed up and split in record time while he tried to count the cash drawer. After starting over a dozen times, he finally gave up. He shoved the drawer into the safe, planning to finish tomorrow morning or afternoon, whenever he recovered from the massive buzz he was about to acquire. When he returned from the office, a flash of color behind the bar drew his attention. Karly wore his black apron, several sizes too large, over her dress and busied herself by wiping down the bar, washing the glasses, and straightening the liquor shelves. Sensing his gaze, she flashed a smile, brilliant as the midday sun, and a little of the coldness inside him melted away.

  CHAPTER 9

  THE MOON beamed from a black velvet sky sprinkled with stars and bathed the street to Karly’s apartment in surreal blue light. Droplets of humidity hung in the air, giving cars and buildings a sweaty sheen. A few damp strands of hair clung to her neck and temples. She brushed them away and tried not to stare as Randy rounded the front of the car to open the passenger door, extending a hand to help her out. The chivalrous gesture took her by surprise, and it took her a few seconds to recover. With hands shoved deep into his pockets, he waited on the front steps while she rummaged for the door key. She bit her lower lip, carefully avoiding eye contact.

  "I should go," he said and took a tentative step toward the street.

  Yes, you need to go. Before I do something stupid, like kiss you.

  "Wait," she said. Once again, her mouth spoke without permission from her brain. "What are you going to do anyway?”

  “Honestly?” The sensitive mouth twitched with self-deprecating humor as he stared into the distance, but the darkness in his eyes suggested he was serious. “I thought I'd get shit-faced drunk then drive over to your brother’s and beat his ass.”

  “Well, I can appreciate your motives, but your plan has a few holes in it.” She drew in a deep breath. “First of all, you shouldn't drink and drive. Second, assault and battery carries a hefty jail term. And third, Mitch is a cop. So any way you go, that program will probably put you in jail.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” He rubbed the back of his neck and studied her from his great height. “And I can’t really go home, because Jack’s in the apartment with Ally. I promised to make myself scarce tonight."

  “Come on.” With a light touch on his arm, she nodded toward the door. “We can watch a movie or something.”

  "Are you sure?" His brow furrowed as if confused by her invitation. He gave her a wary glance. “When you say watch a movie, is that code for something else, or do you really want to watch a movie?”

  With a shy smile, she took his hand and tugged him into the building. “We can discuss it upstairs.”

  A case of nerves had her hand trembling when she tried to fit the key into the lock of her apartment door. Randy crowded behind her, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body through her clothes. Warm breath brushed her ear. He bent over her shoulder, took the key from her hand, and unlocked the door.

  With an arm braced on the door above her head, he leaned into her, chest, hips, and thighs solid against her back. Off balance physically and emotionally, she pushed back to keep from falling. The dips and swells of his insane body trapped her between his torso and the door. She heard his breath hitch.

  “Are we going in?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in her ear.

  The door had barely closed behind them when he turned and pushed her against it. She fell back, one hand on his chest. His heartbeat thudded against her palm. The keys fell from her hand to the floor with a jingle. Warm fingertips traced the column of her neck and slope of her shoulder. He drew in a deep breath before cupping her breast, cradling it with care. The tip of his nose skimmed the shell of her ear, and every muscle south of her waist clenched with abrupt desire.

  There was something hesitant about his touch as if any minute he expected her to recoil. If only he knew how exquisite it felt to be stroked by someone so powerful. The tips of his fingers were rough from hard work but gentle in their exploration. They drifted over her skin with butterfly lightness, causing quite a commotion in her nether parts. She bit her lower lip and sighed.

  “This is probably a bad idea,” he said. The deep, rough voice was tortured with emotions she couldn’t begin to identify, their sounds echoing her own internal anguish. "Neither one of us is in a good place.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard to hold down the lump in her throat. “We’ve both had a shitty day. But maybe we just need to fuck through it.” When her eyelids fluttered open, she found him staring at her with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

  “Fuck through it? Okay. I’m intrigued.” He tugged on the tendril of hair curling behind her ear. “Go on.”

  “Yeah. You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t want you to hate me later.” He tickled her nose with the end of her hair. “These kinds of things don’t usually end well for me.”

  “I won’t hate you.” What was it about him that made her feel so deeply? She couldn’t imagine ever hating him. “But maybe we should set some ground rules.”

  “Like what?” He leaned forward and nuzzled the column of her throat. The tip of his tongue tickled beneath her ear, sending tingles down her neck.

  “Like no expectations. No regrets.” She angled her head to the side so he could nibble along her jaw, enjoying the softness of his lips and the occasional brush of his beard against her skin.

  “I can’t give you anything more than tonight.” His nose rested alongside hers, their breaths mingling. “Is that enough?”

  “I don’t want to be alone right now. And I don’t think you do either.” She raised her hands to cup his face, skimming her thumbs over the soft skin of his lips, sensitive in their masculinity. “I just want to forget. For tonight.”

  CHAPTER 10

  THE FRONT door chilled her back despite the heat. Randy trailed a hand along the side of her ribs and the swell of he
r hip to rest at the hem of her dress. The brush of his fingers on her bare thigh raised the skin into gooseflesh, heightening her desire. She closed her eyes, enjoying the slow, deliberate sweep of his palms along her outer thighs. There was no hurry in his movements. Each caress possessed a measure of control and reverence at odds with his strength and size.

  Air brushed between her legs as he swept the dress up to her waist. He grabbed the hem with both hands and dragged it over her head. She raised her arms to help. The fabric tickled past breasts and shoulders. When the dress cleared her head, he kept her hands tangled in the fabric and pinned her trapped wrists to the door. The charcoal gaze made a slow and leisurely perusal of her body, taking in every inch from hair to toes, lingering on the tight buds of her nipples and the appendix scar on her abdomen. When his focus stopped to rest on her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to climb up his lean length and devour him.

  What was he waiting for? Was he going to touch her or not? She huffed in frustration. Her body, taunted by his proximity, the roughness of his voice, and the scent of testosterone, tensed with desire and confusion. The harsh sound of her breathing and the tick-tock of the clock on the wall filled the room. She bucked against the door and scowled.

  “So impatient.” He looked up at her through thick lashes, his dark eyes swirling with wicked intent.

  “Yes.” The word came out stilted and breathy as she wriggled, impatient for his touch. “You’re torturing me.”

  “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” he said with an unexpected intensity that stole her breath. The smoky gaze locked with hers. “And probably more than once. You should know that I’m a stickler for details.”