Praise for Full Body Contact: A Thriller with some MMA Kick!
"Wow! The chemistry between a by-the-book detective and a bad boy MMA fighter was hot! I found myself questioning if I would make the same choices in Alexis' position. Stayed up late reading this one!"
Bookdiva
“Carolyn McCray is known for her ability to write taut, intelligent thrillers, but wow, she and Elena Grey have written a smart but physical thriller this time. The fight scenes are incredible and let's just say you should have a cold shower ready after the sex scene. Definitely recommend this book to anyone who likes thrillers, not just those involving the mixed martial arts”
Thrillers RockT
Book Reviewer
“I seldom read martial arts thrillers, but I couldn't resist Full Body Contact. The pages flew by. I just had to know. Did he do it? Was he playing Alexis or truly reformed? And the conclusion? Suspense at its very best.”
Amber Scott
Bestselling author of Fierce Dawn
“Full Body Contact had me at 'mixed martial arts.' Add in a beautiful undercover cop and I was so there. What more can I say besides, I loved it and... Go read it! Now!”
Kelli McCracken
Author of What the Heart Wants
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
Alexis Reed watched the grisly carnage unfold on the monitor. Bloodied and glistening with sweat, their suspect, Travis Dekker, circled his opponent in the ring. Muscles rippling, Dekker took two quad-fueled steps before landing a roundhouse kick to his opponent’s jaw. Even though the television was muted, Alexis could swear she heard the crack of bone. Blood and spit sprayed from his opponent’s mouth.
Before his opponent could drop to the mat, Dekker landed a side kick to his chest, sending him flat on his back. While the opponent lay unmoving, Dekker stomped on his knee, obviously breaking his kneecap as his leg bent at an odd angle. The body lay motionless.
With a mixture of revulsion for the cruelty and admiration for the skills, Alexis watched as the referee tried to separate Dekker from his downed opponent. Dekker’s features contorted in rage as the referee braced an arm against the mixed martial arts champion’s chest. In horror, Alexis watched as Dekker lifted the referee over his head, tossing him like a crumpled piece of paper over the ropes. The champion paced the ring, stalking the crowd, challenging anyone to dispute that he was king of all that he surveyed.
Alexis had some experience with MMA, but Dekker’s behavior was so far out-of-bounds that it bordered on criminal. Still, Dekker’s fierce stance stirred something. Something that Alexis did not want to admit—even to herself.
Lieutenant Beck paused the DVD as three men jumped into the ring, trying to subdue Dekker. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is who we’re dealing with. Mr. Travis Dekker—three- time MMA champion.”
Alexis shifted in the hard metal chair, pushing it farther into the corner. This viewing room barely fit two people, let alone four. Why was she suddenly so warm? The air felt stale. Her lungs rebelled against taking it in. She had to stifle the urge to get up and leave the room.
“Looks like a psychopath to me,” Detective Nick Logan said next to her as he leaned his chair back. His leg brushed hers. Had he meant that as an intimate gesture, or was it just a side effect of the cramped room? She hoped the latter. Two dates with the guy didn’t give him “brushing” rights.
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit,” Lieutenant Beck responded as he flipped open a file. He scanned the cover sheet. “In and out of juvie after his father—a kickboxer, I might add, was found dead.” Lieutenant Beck held up a black and white photo of the deceased. “Broken neck in a back alley.”
Alexis studied the picture. It should have been like looking at any other crime scene photo, yet this one seemed all the sadder—knowing that the man had a boy he left behind. The two looked so similar. Father and son. So much violence in one small family.
“And the mother?” Detective Grace Richards asked from Alexis’ other side.
“Died when Dekker was an infant.”
The older detective nodded sharply, causing her short-cropped bangs to scatter across her forehead. While Alexis admired Grace for her pointed mind and thorough police work, her elder did take the “dress like a man to be accepted by a man” philosophy a bit too far. From the blocky suit to the butch haircut, Grace exemplified the old-school approach.
Grace glanced over at her. Busted, Alexis looked away, but not before Grace frowned. Alexis was used to it, though. Being the daughter of the previous police chief came with some decidedly heavy baggage. She’d felt the sting since the first day at the academy. The razzing from her peers, the disdain from her superiors.
Alexis had hoped that everyone could lay off the nepotism riff once she earned her gold detective badge, but, if anything, her promotion had intensified it. Now she had a whole new set of people who resented her and searched under every rock to find fault with her.
“So, who killed Dekker’s father?” Nick asked.
Their lieutenant shrugged. “They never found his attacker. A half dozen foster homes couldn’t contain the kid after that.”
No wonder. Mother dead. Father murdered. Alexis couldn’t help but wonder how she might have turned out under those circumstances. Maybe having a police chief for a father wasn’t the worst fate.
“According to this,” Beck stated as he ran his finger down the file, “his caseworker simply thanked God that Travis turned eighteen and was booted out of her caseload and onto a parole officer’s desk.”
Grace, not exactly living up to her name, snorted. “Once in the system, always in the system.”
Alexis didn’t say anything. She always just got grimaces when she did, but was that really the kid’s fault? Or was it the system’s? No kid she knew went into foster care willingly.
Beck looked up from his file as he finished, “Simply put, he was—and still is—a loose cannon.”
Glancing to the still frame on the monitor of Dekker’s mouth contorted in rage as his opponent lay bleeding, Alexis really couldn’t argue with that.
“So what kind of time did he serve for that stunt?” Grace asked.
“Not a day,” Beck answered.
Nick leaned forward in his chair. “What?”
“Believe it or not, the opponent survived and refused to press charges. Same with the ref,” Beck said as he flipped to another page. “Dekker did some short stints as a kid for fighting and vandalism, but after that he learned to stay off our radar.”
Nick still didn’t seem able to accept the fact. “He didn’t get punished at all for that beating?”
“I didn’t say that,” Beck replied. “He was fined over a million bucks, lost his belt, and got booted from the ring. Now he makes his money legally, teaching people how to beat the crap out of other people.”
Grace tilted her head. “He’s got his own dojo, then?”
“Gym,” Alexis corrected before thinking. All eyes turned to her. She glanced down at her hands. “A dojo is a Japanese term.” Even though she could feel Grace glaring at her, Alexis continued. “Mixed martial arts are just that. Mixed. Some Japanese, Brazilian, even Thai influences. They call their training facilities gyms.”
Nick whistled. Was that appreciatively, or sarcastically? Wait, it was Nick. Of course he thought he was supporting her. “Round one goes to Reed.”
“Fine,” Grace snapped. “Dekker has his own gym?”
“Yes, along with a grudge the size of his ego.”
Alexis l
ooked at Dekker’s feral snarl on the monitor. Again, she couldn’t argue.
Beck pressed ‘Play’ again.
In vivid Technicolor, Dekker shook off two of the men trying to restrain him. He punched one so hard in the nose that the security guard dropped like a dead weight to his knees. Six more men swung over the ropes, slamming into Dekker’s body, pinning him to the mat. Still he bucked and flailed.
Beck stopped the video. “Several bodies have turned up around town beaten to a bloody pulp. They seemed random. We assumed they were gang related. No leads. Nobody talking. The usual for that part of town.”
Nick said what they were all thinking. “Then why brief us on Dekker?”
“Ah, so glad you asked,” said Beck as he pulled one last photo out. “Suddenly, we realized that these cases might be related—once Mr. Dekker’s girlfriend showed up with her neck snapped.”
Alexis scanned the new crime scene photo. The woman was young, early twenties. And stunning. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Truly, there weren’t enough adjectives to describe exactly how striking she was. Even in death, her platinum-blonde hair spilled around her face, framing the high cheekbones and gently sloping nose. Those green eyes still shone pure. If Alexis didn’t know better, she could easily have guessed this was one of those artsy photo shoots in Vogue.
“I’m confused,” Grace said. “So, Dekker is under arrest?”
“Brought him in for questioning,” Beck explained. “And let’s just say he was more distraught about missing practice than the fact that his girlfriend was faceup in the morgue.”
“Did he have an alibi for the time of murder?” Alexis asked.
“Nope,” Beck replied.
“An alibi for any of the other murders?”
“Nope.”
Confused, Alexis looked at Nick, and then Grace. Did she miss something? “So, um, again, why isn’t he behind bars?”
Beck shrugged. “No evidence. A lot of conjecture, but nothing solid enough for the DA to indict. They got a search warrant, but found no supporting evidence.”
Nick stood. “So I am the lead on the case, then?”
“Not so much,” Beck replied.
Grace stood. “Thank you, sir. I will be sure to—”
Beck shook his head, and then purposefully brought his gaze to Alexis. “It is looking like we need some undercover work.”
“Sir!” Nick nearly shouted, and then dialed back to his “inside voice.” “I am by far the best candidate to—”
“Please,” Beck responded. “Nick, I love you like a son, but you dress like a cop … even when you are off duty.”
“But—”
“Do you know how my wife describes you?” Beck asked.
Nick squirmed a bit before answering. “No.”
“She says, ‘Oh, you mean the detective who smells like a cop.’ ” Nick went to open his mouth, but Beck kept going. “And do we have to go over your track record during your most recent undercover work?”
Alexis’ mind went directly to the time Nick was loaned out to vice for a prostitution sting. Not only did he not snare a single working girl, one of them actually thought he was a missionary and asked him for a pamphlet. At least he helped get one girl off the street, but just not in cuffs.
Nick must have been mulling over the same experience, because he shook his head. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Grace took in a sharp breath. “Sir,” she said, but then stopped. You could see her mind racing through the argument for Beck to choose her. Oh, how she probably wanted to throw something out there about Alexis’ connections having something to do with being picked for an assignment of this caliber, but not even Grace dared. Beck didn’t tolerate anything, not even an innuendo about Alexis’ father pulling strings for his daughter.
Before Grace could gather her thoughts, Beck pointed to the latest crime scene photo. “Grace, I love you like … well … a sister, but come on. That is Dekker’s type.”
Even Grace couldn’t argue after glancing at the beauty queen’s picture.
Slowly Alexis stood, trying not to feel quite so self-conscious or young. Sure, she had done some undercover work as a uniformed officer, but that was catching the dorm “x” dealer. Staking out serial shoplifters. Alexis looked again at the screen, where Dekker’s image was frozen as he opened his mouth wide to bite the security officer trying to restrain him.
Was she up for this?
Nick echoed her thoughts. “Sir, I respect your decision, but this man is a brutal murderer and Alexis is …” He looked at her, the apology in his eyes before he finished. “Not seasoned.”
Beck didn’t back down, though, as he leveled his gaze at Nick. “Noted. However, unlike the two of you, Alexis does know the difference between a dojo and a gym. Plus, she looks …”
Alexis’ cheeks burned as everyone studied her features. She thought she was past this “Who is prettier?” phase in high school. It wasn’t her fault that she inherited full lips and long eyelashes.
“Like Dekker’s type.” Beck turned to the door. “Nick, you and Grace dig into Dekker’s life. Financials, his favorite restaurant, everything.”
Alexis stood there as the others exited the room. Was that it? What was she supposed to do? Or should she know that already?
Her lieutenant turned back to her. “Well, Reed? Are you coming into my office for a private briefing, or are you just going to stand there?”
With a flicker of a grin, Alexis hurried to catch up. “Coming to your office, sir.”
She didn’t have to glance to either side to know that both Nick and Grace were not smiling.
As Alexis followed Beck into his office, she straightened her shoulders. “Sir, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Let’s hope not,” Beck said, dropping into the chair behind his desk. A mess of case files and empty coffee cups littered the surface. Another night spent at the office. A photo of his smiling wife, Sue, sat amidst the tornado of papers. A photo of Beck with his arm around Alexis’ father was next to it.
“Do you know why I really picked you over Grace?” Beck asked, casually leaning back in his chair. The sunlight peeping through the blinds highlighted the flecks of gray in his hair.
Alexis pulled out the chair across from him and perched herself on the edge. She hated these “guess what I am thinking?” games. However, if she did want to be a cop, she probably should get used to it.
“I can fit in with Dekker’s crowd better.”
“Nice try, but no.” Beck’s tone turned serious. “Travis is streetwise. He’ll be looking for a mole. We need someone who doesn’t think like a cop.”
“Sir, I have an exemplary record and—”
Beck put up a hand. “Let me add, ‘yet.’ You don’t think or move or act like a cop—yet. Procedure isn’t baked into your bone marrow like it is with Nick and Grace.”
“But—” she stammered.
“Look at it as a good thing, Alexis,” Beck said, overriding her. “There is a golden moment in a cop’s career when he or she knows enough intellectually to get the job, but is inexperienced enough to keep the job.”
“Thanks … I think.”
“Look, I just wanted to make it very clear that you need to be careful.”
All cops needed to be careful. If you went in unprepared, you were dead. How many funerals did her father have to attend? But would Beck be telling Nick this, or even Grace, for that matter, if either one occupied her chair?
Alexis tensed. “I always am.”
“How’s your dad?”
Just like that, Beck turned off his stern lieutenant mode and went into godfather mode. If it wasn’t hard enough having a father that was chief of police, try having your godfather be your lieutenant.
“Enjoying retirement, sir,” Alexis said, nearly on reflex. The truth was that her mom was about to toss her dad out unless he got a hobby or something. Following her around Walmart figuring out the cost per ounce of dishwashing soap was getting to be a
little too much.
“Good. He deserves it.” Beck sat forward, his arms resting on his desk. His eyes softened. “It’s not the same around here without him.”
Alexis couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that her next statement was absolutely true. “I don’t think he would have retired if you weren’t my commanding officer.” She had that specific argument with her father. If she didn’t stay in Beck’s unit, her father would come out of retirement to find out why.
“I know,” Beck sighed. His eyes studied Alexis. “He’s entrusted me to look out for you. Don’t make me regret my decision to put you on this case.”
“You won’t, sir.” She hoped. Her gut had not quite caught up with her brain. She was going undercover for a murderer. It still seemed unreal.
Beck shuffled some papers on his desk. “I know that you’ve taken a lot of flak from the rest of the department.”
That was putting it mildly.
“But you should know …” Beck suddenly looked decidedly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat and avoided eye contact.
Was he regretting his decision so quickly?
“I should know?” Alexis prompted.
“That we both, your father and I, are proud of you,” he blurted out. “You’re a fine detective, and you get to take all the credit for that.”
Alexis wasn’t quite sure what to say. Beck didn’t seem to know, either. That was possibly the most personal thing that Beck had ever said to her. Usually he just elbowed her and told her to tell her father “thanks for the cannoli.”
If anything, this only amplified the pressure that Alexis felt. If Beck was digging deep down into his emotional well to tell her that, he must think that this assignment was important. Really important.
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