by Alice Ward
There was no one to trust other than myself. There was no one to care for other than myself.
I stared harder at the city, the lights twinkling even faster, dancing like fireflies on cocaine. Soon it would be mine. The whole city.
And then, who knew?
My fingernails curled into my palms, cutting them. I would have it all. Everything.
There would be no other way.
THE END
Continue on to read the next in the Lords of the City series, Torn.
Torn
LORDS OF THE CITY
BOOK 1
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Welcome to the first sexy STANDALONE novel in Bestselling Author Alice Ward’s bad boy billionaire romance series, Lords of the City.
Noah Stafford wants me. All of me.
Sleek and formidable, Chicago is an empire, controlled by the men and women who rule from the upper floors. Beneath grey skies, there’s an order to the city, but when office hours are over, a scorching heat pulses within its walls that has nothing to do with the sun.
An adventurous and quirky graduate from Milwaukee, I’m unexpectedly offered a job interview at Stafford Scientific after a sabbatical in the jungle steals my heart. I never expected to meet Noah Stafford, the billionaire founder. Dressed in a sharp designer suit that flaunts his ripped muscles, Noah draws me to him with a power I’m unable to control. But there’s a problem.
With his sandy blond hair and impossibly bright green eyes, Noah has a face I can love... because I already have. I’ve fallen for his twin brother, Corey, a rebel who lives on the edge. Torn between the two, I must decide to follow one brother’s rules, or run wild with the other.
When I’m looking into the same face, the same eyes… same heart... how can I choose?
CHAPTER ONE
Thailand
“Such power,” I breathed, watching as an elephant pushed aside a heavy boulder with its trunk, employing a strength I didn’t know it possessed.
Sweat dripped down my back in the sweltering heat, soaking my navy-blue tank top. Though the inferno of the jungle made it almost impossible to move, it was a day to explore, to run wild. My only restraint was the ponytail holder that held the long waves of my chestnut hair back, exposing the flesh of my shoulders, tanned by the blazing sun.
I was in Thailand, backpacking my way through the inheritance my grandma left me. It had been her dream to travel, not mine. But she had raised me, so I wanted to honor everything she would have done with the money had she not been confined to a wheelchair the last years of her life. As much as I loved my grandma, I’d rather be home, in the cold of Milwaukee, putting my Masters in Environmental Science to use, preferably at one of the breweries along the lake, ensuring the fish didn’t become as inebriated as the overexcited brew hoppers.
I hope you can receive postcards in heaven, Grams, I thought.
Traveling may have been in her honor, but I was enjoying myself, especially now. Somewhere between Bangkok and Chiang Mai, I’d joined a group of trekkers in search of a herd of migrating elephants. We’d found them, but we kept our distance, observing the playful beasts from the safety of the lush trails.
“Do you admire power, Imogen?” a man asked, his voice as deep and rugged as the valley we wandered.
“I admire elephants,” I said, refusing to face my companion, keeping my focus on the herd in the distance.
“It would appear so,” he said, fingering the tiny plush elephant I’d tied to the strap of my rucksack, a cute trinket I picked up outside Bangkok.
It was him, Corey, the criminally hot recluse who had joined our party a few miles back. With the legion of tattoos that ran across his strong arms and ripped chest, I was convinced he was an actual criminal. Beneath his sandy blond hair, his eyes were bright green, a fusion of the jungle around us and the sun above, but they were reckless, full of sins he would never confess.
He’d stuck close to me since emerging from the bushes to greet us. I was nervous around him, nervous about the mystery that surrounded his sudden arrival, and nervous about the way my body woke when he was near. It didn’t help that he was shirtless, his tattoos exposed for all to see. Being on vacation ignited me, made everything more tempting. The sun. The fruit. Corey.
I swallowed. With him near, the day had gotten impossibly hotter, but I didn’t trust him. “And how do you feel about elephants, Corey?”
“They’re beautiful creatures. I appreciate beautiful creatures.” He kept his gaze steady on me, studying me with his bright green recklessness.
I didn’t let it sway me. “Beautiful enough to kill?” I asked, unable to hide my suspicion.
“No,” he claimed, unfazed. He wasn’t the type of man to be taken aback by accusations. He was his own pack, fearless and unrestrained. He didn’t play by anyone’s rules. He wasn’t easily admonished. “I’m not a poacher.”
I wasn’t convinced. “So you just happened to find us in the jungle?”
He smiled, as if we were playing a game of wits. “You weren’t exactly exploring new territory. You were following a well-marked path.”
“Exactly. We were on the trail, but you weren’t. You came from the bushes. What were you looking for out there?” I demanded, irritated by his nonchalance. I didn’t consider myself a confrontational person, but when it came to protecting the elephants, I could rip the horns off the devil.
“Maybe I was looking for you,” he teased. “A goddess. Phra Mae Torani, the lovely one who drowns demons with her detachment.”
“Don’t flatter me,” I snapped. “Tell me the truth.”
“Or what?”
I lowered my voice. “Or I’ll tell everyone here about the gun you slipped into my rucksack when I set it down to rest.”
Corey remained undeterred. If anything, he seemed to be impressed. “So you’ve got brains behind those hazel eyes.”
“It doesn’t take brains. I saw you. You were quick, but you weren’t discreet. Tell me why you’re here. What is the gun for? Do you plan to hunt the elephants for their ivory?”
They were brave words to speak to a tattooed maverick with a deadly weapon, especially one as sinfully gorgeous as Corey, except that now I was the one with the gun. He had given his power to me, and that power was safely stored in my rucksack.
“Amongst Asian elephants, only the males have tusks.”
My stomach sank. “So you’re going to hurt them.”
“With a handgun?” he challenged, his smile as fierce as ever. He was winning the game of wits.
“Then why hide it?” I pressed, my voice rising with the rate of my heart.
A middle-aged couple nearby heard. They glanced at us, curious.
“Friendly fire,” Corey said to them and took my arm, guiding me out of earshot from the rest of the group, behind the shelter of a palm tree. “I’m not a poacher,” he insisted, his body close to mine. The bulge of his arm pressed against my shoulder as I inhaled the raw male scent of sweat on his skin. “I have the gun to protect the herd, not to hurt it.”
“Against what?”
“Actual poachers. A handgun doesn’t frighten an elephant, but it sure scares the hell out of a man.”
My suspicions disappeared, but my questions didn’t. “Are you some sort of jungle police?”
He laughed. It was a careless sound that dragged me in, took me captive. “No. I’m self-employed, so to speak.”
“A vigilante?”
“Of sorts. Asian elephants are endangered, the males hunted for their tusks, something I obviously don’t have to tell you. With the decreasing population, the males are becoming harder for poachers to find. Males don’t usually travel in herds. They travel alone and can be difficult to track.”
“How do you know all this?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I came to Thailand months ago to assist with conservation efforts. I was working on a reserve up until a few weeks ago. There were several herds there, many with young.”
I squinted u
p at him, trying to understand. “I thought you said the males travel alone. If you want to protect the males, why were you with the herds?”
His eyes grew hard and a muscle popped in his jaw. “The young males. In the middle of the night, a group of fucking poachers stole all the bulls from their mommas. It’s the new way. Steal the males while they’re little and raise them for their ivory.”
“That’s sickening,” I said, disturbed to hear it.
“It is.” I didn’t flinch as he lifted a hand and pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I searched for the missing bulls. I couldn’t find them, but I did come across this herd here, and I’ve been following it ever since, making sure it’s guarded.”
I was struck by his sincerity, the truth of his love for the animals in his eyes. He leaned closer, and my stomach twisted as his thumb traced my lower lip. I pulled away, just an inch, and his hand fell to grip my upper arm.
“You’re like the Batman of the jungle,” I managed to say after a hard swallow.
He laughed again. “Batman didn’t carry a gun, not in the old comics.”
“I like the old comics,” I said, dazed, even more aware of how close Corey was to me. If I leaned forward slightly, his lips would be on mine. I could taste him, and he could taste me.
Sensing my arousal, he ran his hand slowly down my neck and over my shoulder, his callused palm a stark contrast to the softness of my skin. My breath burst out as he reached behind me and pulled my rucksack loose, reclaiming his power.
“I’ll need this back,” he said, taking the gun from the front pocket. “Now that I know your group is no threat to the herd, I can go back into hiding.”
“Why did you put it there in the first place?” I mumbled, irritated that I’d fallen for his deceitful charm.
“I couldn’t walk around with a gun sticking out of the belt of my shorts, could I?”
“Why not? It would save everyone the confusion.”
He flashed his perfect smile at me one last time before heading towards the brush, ready to disappear from where he came. “Don’t look so sad,” he called behind him. “I’ll see you again.”
“What makes you so certain?” I asked, regaining my composure.
“Because I’ll find you, Imogen Clare. You’re too beautiful to wander the jungle alone.” He turned to face me fully. “I’ll protect the herd, and when it’s within safe borders, I’ll protect you.”
***
So you’ve got brains behind those hazel eyes.
I did have brains, and not because of my master’s degree. My real brains came from my grandma. She possessed an intuition that guided her through life, a natural intelligence that made her formidable. She’d given me her strength. It lived on within me. I had to remember that if I was ever around Corey again.
I doubted I would be. Corey had been a fever that caused my blood to ache, but I was far from the jungle now. Sipping a lemongrass mojito beneath the grass roof of an outdoor bar, I gazed out onto the shore where a full moon hung over the sea, pulling the day away and pulling me with it.
I’d be leaving Thailand soon to return to Milwaukee. It was a bittersweet ending to my trip. Amongst the lush valleys and tropical coasts, I’d felt close to my grandma here, as if she were traveling with me, sharing the adventure. When I left, it’d be my final goodbye to her, the woman who’d raised me.
I didn’t know my mother. When I was an infant, she’d left me on my grandma’s doorstep and ran. Neither of us had seen her since, but I didn’t care. I was glad my grandma had been my guardian. We’d had a lot of fun together. She was a real gambler. Every Friday night, she’d bring home a pizza and a fistful of scratch tickets. With a slice of pepperoni in her hand and the TV sputtering in the background, we’d run pennies against the silver on the tickets, celebrating the smallest win with an excited cheer. Those scratch tickets had paid for my trip to Thailand. They had probably paid for my entire education.
I sipped my mojito, enjoying the fresh basil within it, and I vowed to buy a bundle of scratch tickets when I got home.
“You look so sad,” a man said, coming up behind me. My heart raced in anticipation as I turned in my seat, certain it was Corey, but it was the bartender, a round but friendly guy from Canada.
“I’m not sad,” I told him. “Just reminiscing.”
“I’ll get you another,” he said, taking my glass. “On the house, for whoever you’re reminiscing about.”
Maybe I shouldn’t go home. Maybe I should stay right here, in this quiet little corner of Thailand, where bartenders are friendly, and the ocean is musical.
There was really nothing to return home to. All my family was gone. My friends were buried in their work. I’d been able to travel because I was unemployed. Since graduating, I’d failed to land a job.
“Grams was right,” I murmured, the whimsy of three lemongrass mojitos kicking in. “I should have become a truck driver. People always want pineapples delivered. They don’t want an environmentalist telling them what they’re doing wrong.”
“You’re an environmentalist?” Corey asked, taking the seat next to me.
I squinted at him and hiccupped. “Are you a hallucination?”
“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “I’m real.”
Needing proof, I reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling his strength. It wasn’t enough. “Take your shirt off,” I ordered. “I want to see your tattoos. Corey has tattoos.”
Without hesitation, he stood and lifted his T-shirt over his head, then turned in a slow circle. His tattoos were as I remembered them, but there was a patch of gauze over his lower back, near where his rock hard muscles glided into his jeans.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I got new ink. A Hindu elephant.”
“But Thai people are Buddhists.”
He grinned. “Not all of them.”
I hiccupped again. “Does that mean the herd is safe?”
“As safe as they can be,” he assured me.
“Good,” I praised, beaming up at him.
The bartender returned with my mojito and placed it on the bar. “I’ll take that,” Corey said, grabbing it for himself. “You’ve had enough.”
“I’ve only had three,” I protested, reaching for my drink.
“Three will do.” He addressed the bartender. “A sparkling passion fruit to sober her up. Hold the liquor.”
“Add the liquor!” I amended sprightly, throwing my hands in the air. “All of it!”
“I’ll come back later,” the bartender resolved and left.
“He’s not coming back,” I muttered.
Corey laughed. “No, he’s not. Shame. You would have liked the passion fruit.”
I peeked up at him. “How do you know that?”
“Because the day I met you, I could smell the passion on your breath, and I wanted to taste it too.”
“The passion fruit,” I corrected, but Corey only smiled in response.
I sat back in my seat, relaxing into my buzz. “You know, you try to be intimidating with your skulls and fangs tattooed all over you, but I saw how concerned you were for those baby elephants. You loooove baby elephants. You wish you could bring them and their whole herd home.”
He downed the mojito and slammed the glass on the table. “Chicago isn’t big enough to hold everything I love. I need the world.”
“You’re from Chicago?” I asked, surprised. “We’re neighbors!”
“Let me guess. You’re a cheesehead, overly polite and impossibly friendly.”
I tapped my head. “There’s no cheese up here. I’m from Milwaukee.”
He leaned in close. I tried not to wither beneath his green eyes. I remained strong, like my grandma taught me.
“What does an environmentalist do in Milwaukee?” he asked.
“Nothing as of now,” I admitted. “There isn’t much work going around. At least none that I can find.”
“Why did you become an environmentalist?”
“Because I can’t drive a truck,” I joked, but Corey remained quietly intense, waiting for me to tell him more. I sighed and went for it. “Because I want to do good with my life. I want to help make things better.”
“I see.” He brushed my hair back, my waves loose and free, and his hand fell to my shoulder. It was heavy, grounding me. “I’ll give your name to Stafford Scientific in Chicago. You’ll have a job soon.”
I rolled the name over in my mind. “Isn’t that a technological firm? Why would they want—?”
“They’ll want you,” he said, squeezing my shoulder, telling me to trust him.
I fell into a momentary silence, the last of the mojitos warming my cheeks. Then I was hit by a thought that returned me to my giddiness. “Hey, you found me,” I said, happy.
“Of course I did,” Corey declared. “You were easy to find. I’m a dragon, Imogen, and you are my gold.”
***
The market was crowded, full of people pushing their way to the umbrella-covered stalls that lined the canals, haggling for their ginger and milk. In the water below, long rectangular boats drifted in the gentle current, baskets full of colorful spices and exotic fruits resting at the feet of those who used staffs to steer, their heads protected from the penetrating sun by woven hats. The day was new, the morning fresh, but the city was alive, a harsh contrast from the peace of the coast.
I searched for Corey. After seeing me safely to my hotel room last night, he’d written a note on the back of my hand that instructed me to meet him here, and he’d left me to sleep off the mojitos, a gentleman despite his hard edges.
I wished he hadn’t been a gentleman. On the walk across the beach to my hotel, I wanted to be seduced, to feel the sand on my back as he entered me, filling me with his goodness…
“Watch it!” a woman scowled, pushing past me in the crowd, her almond eyes painted with thick liner. She looked like she’d just left a club. The night owls and the morning jays were united in the early day.