Celebrity Dirt: A Fake Relationship Romantic Suspense Standalone

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Celebrity Dirt: A Fake Relationship Romantic Suspense Standalone Page 15

by J. D. Hollyfield


  “Hor—horrib—ahhh…” He slides two fingers into my soaked pussy.

  “Come on, baby cakes, tell me you’re not drenched for me. Those moans are not meant for me. Your tight cunt is not begging. For. Me.” Three fingers, so much tongue, his filthy, filthy words, and I’m toast.

  “Yes, yes,” I pant. My head whips back and forth. Once again, my body becomes not my own as I move my hips against his tongue. “Oh God, how am I…I’m going to…again—”

  And like a bomb, I explode. Fireworks blast behind my eyelids. The warmth of his tongue and fullness of his fingers disappear, and I peel my eyes open. Logan tugs his jeans down his thick legs along with his boxer briefs.

  “What’s it gonna be, Addy? Ready for a confession?” His lips curl into a smug smile. I hate that he’s stripped me bare, forcing my vulnerabilities to show. Can he see the pounding of my heart? The flush of my cheeks, giving it away that I’ve never felt so wanted or been taken to such levels before? The layer of goosebumps on my sensitive skin in anticipation of what he has in store for me next. Most importantly, does he see the look in my eyes that screams none of this was ever fake?

  “Well?” he prods, forcing me to expose my true desires. Without waiting for my answer, he prowls onto the bed like a predator, ready to devour its prey. Inch by glorious inch, his body covers mine, and my throat locks. I wet my bottom lip with my tongue. What if he doesn’t want me to confess? What if I’m taking this little game too far and confusing what’s really happening? A mind game to prove who holds the power. His lips are mere inches from mine. I inhale a ragged breath, and at the last second, I chicken out. “I mean—”

  “If you won’t put a stop to all this nonsense, I’ll show you exactly what’s real.” He drives into me, and there’s nothing fake about the way my body melts around him. He pulls out, then powers back in. “Tell me this doesn’t feel real to you.” In and out, each time, with more endurance and intent. “Tell me you think I’m faking it when I fuck you like this. Tell me your greedy little cunt is pretending it doesn’t love when I fill you, fuck you, own you.” I shake my head, fighting him. “Fucking admit it. That you feel the same thing I feel.”

  “I can’t,” I cry out in pleasure.

  He becomes ruthless with each thrust, breaking down my walls. “Be mad at me. Hate me for lying to you, but don’t deny what this is.” He grabs my face and slams his lips to mine. Every nerve-ending in body detonates, and I tremble beneath him as my orgasm takes flight. He swallows my moan, taking me until I go limp under him.

  Logan grunts, losing himself in his own powerful orgasm. I can’t catch my breath. He collapses on top of me, and our hearts beat furiously against one another.

  “I’m not sure it’s healthy how fast my heart is beating. Can someone have a heart attack having sex?” I’m out of shape.

  Logan’s lips graze across my shoulder. “You’re not having a heart attack.”

  “Are you sure? I’m dizzy and can’t feel my toes. I read somewhere that tingling is a sign of a heart attack. I’m nowhere close to the age bracket but never say never. I read once that a—”

  “Addy.” Logan leans up to stare at me.

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s your body telling you something really fucking good just happened.” Ugh, I know it is. I’m just too afraid to admit it. What happens once I confess he’s owned this part of me from the first moment I locked eyes with him at the gala?

  He rolls off me and rests his back against the mattress. I snuggle up to him, my head resting on his chest. A short amount of time passes before I break the silence. “Logan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to talk. I have some questions and feel you owe it to me to answer. I need to know who you are. Not the person you’ve been leading me to believe you are.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I’m surprised yet thankful he doesn’t give me any pushback. Therefore, I continue. “How old are you? Are you really from Ohio?”

  He brushes the hair away from my face. “I’m thirty-two. And I’m really from Ohio. All that shit I told you before was true.”

  “And when you said you went off the grid, where did you go?”

  “I went into the military. I was in for a while. When I got out, I joined the police academy. It wasn’t thrilling enough, so I went back into extensive training until I landed a spot in the DEA. In those years, I saw a lot of messed up shit and was sick of it. Wanted to make a difference. Help reduce the illegal drug flow, violence, everything, so I applied to be a special agent in the Crimes Unit and have been there ever since.”

  “Have you always been undercover?”

  “No. I worked as a detective back in Ohio. Did high crimes for some time. Vincent Leoni was my first major undercover—and probably my last.”

  I sit up to face him. “Why your last?”

  He smiles. “Well, for starters, it’s frowned upon to begin a relationship on the job.” My mouth drops. “Why do you look so shocked? I thought we just established where we stood. Or do you need me to show you again?”

  “Why did you risk your job?”

  He waits a few beats before answering. “Because I couldn’t stop what was happening. The way you spoke to me in line at the gala, it sparked this little fire inside me. I wanted more of your lip. I’d planned on figuring out who you were once I was done with my job, but then you turned out to be the job. I was pissed. Maybe more at myself because I’d let something slip. I didn’t know if you were a decoy. A set up. When I followed you to the bar, I was set on getting the truth out of you before anyone figured out Francesca had outsmarted us. But then you caved and spilled all your secrets. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such a pull to someone. Just touching you sent an electric charge through my veins. I should never have said what I said to Chino, but I knew I couldn’t let you walk away either.”

  Okay, that confession makes losing my story, possibly my job, being attached to the mob, and a target for Chicago’s biggest kingpin a lot more worth it. I reach up and press my lips to his. He accepts, pulling me up his chest, then flips us so my back now rests against the bed.

  “It’s my turn for a confession.” He grazes the back of his hand down my cheek. “Look at me.” I do because he always seems to have a way to get me to bend to his every whim.

  “I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you.” I open my mouth to reply, but he stops me. “Just let me finish, okay?” I nod. “I need you to know if I had to do it all over again, I would do things a lot different. This job…the last two years have been exactly what you pegged them to be. Dark and ugly. I’ve had to lose a part of myself in order to create this person. I’ve had to do things I’m not proud of. But my overall goal is to do the exact things you’ve harped on me for. Take these drugs off the streets. Put a stop to human trafficking. This job isn’t easy, but the outcome is why I do it.”

  A whirlwind of guilt swarms in my belly. “Logan—”

  “I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I know what it meant, getting this story, but your life and safety are more important to me. You have no idea who we’re dealing with. And I couldn’t risk—”

  I lean up and silence him. He cups the back of my head and accepts my olive branch, kissing me back. We get lost in the moment, and when he finally pulls away, my lips are swollen from the perfect, sensual kiss. “I must say, even though you’re faking it, you sure do know how to win over a man with those lips.”

  I slap him in the chest, and the sexiest laugh falls from his lips. “Stop. I didn’t mean—”

  “That you’re not really faking it, and I’m actually the most amazing lover you’ve ever had?” My cheeks are on fire. This is why my mother taught me to never lie.

  “Okay, so I may have stretched the truth a little.” That glimmer in his eyes activates that tornado of butterflies in my belly. Every second that passes, he breaks me down until I forfeit. “Okay! It was all a lie. You may as well teach a master class on becoming an expert
lover. Even better, how to ruin sex with any other man, because there’s no way anyone will ever compare. There! Happy?”

  Flushed with embarrassment, I stare up at his cheeky grin, admiring how unbelievably attractive he is. “Yes. Much, much better.” He presses his lips against mine and kisses away my shyness. His hand grazes down my side and takes hold of my hip while his mouth finds my nipple. “I can do this for hours. Days…”

  I’m just about to tell him I’ve cleared my schedule for the whole year when his phone rings. Logan’s body becomes rigid, and he pulls off me. Like flipping a switch, he’s back on alert and wearing nothing but a scowl. Literally.

  He reaches for his phone, his knuckles turning white as he peers down at his screen. I sit up and grab the sheet for some covering. I wait for him to answer it, but he lets it go to voicemail.

  “Was it Vincent?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he answers curtly, shooting off a text.

  “What are you going to do?” His phone buzzes with a reply. His jaw clenches as he reads it. “What? What is it?”

  “Vincent’s moving up the job. He wants it to go down tonight. He’s requesting you accompany me.” He fires off another message.

  I sit up straighter. “What are you telling him?”

  “I’m texting Bishop. I want you out of this. I don’t want you involved a second fucking longer.”

  “But what about what he said? It would hurt your case—”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the case. I’ve let it go too far already.”

  “Logan, what if I can just help—”

  Shoving himself back into his jeans, he narrows his eyes and walks out. I only realize he’s on the phone when I hear his raised voice.

  “I don’t give a fuck! I want her out. Send over an officer to get her. Then fucking hold her. Ship her away, but she’s done. I’m not putting her life at risk. Fuck Vincent. No. No! I’m not fucking doing it! Then pull me too. That’s insane. No. You’re a piece of shit. Fuck you. After this, you can have my badge.”

  By the time he finishes, I realize I’ve crawled off the bed and somehow found my ear pressed against the door. I throw myself back onto the bed as the pounding of his footsteps gets closer.

  The second he reenters the room, I rattle off questions. “What happened? What did they say—?”

  “Give me a fucking second,” he snaps, shooting off another text. I count about fifty of those seconds before I open my mouth, but he beats me to it with a string of curse words. Taking a seat on the bed, he grips my chin. “I need you to listen to me. No fighting on this, okay? I was denied in so many words from my boss to pull you. They feel it’s riskier than keeping you with me. I fucking hate that you have to be a part of this. You don’t deserve this.”

  I cup his face, hoping to ease some of his tension. “Logan, it’s fine. Whatever you need from me.”

  “I need you to stand down. I know you want to be involved, but Vincent’s a wild card.” He takes his hand and covers mine. “This won’t be like the other times, Addy. Shit’s gonna get ugly. Vincent Leoni isn’t who he is because he plays fair. If I can find an out, you’re not coming. I can’t worry about you and do my job. When he starts laying out demands, I need you to convince Vincent you’re not feeling well. Promise me you’ll get in my car and leave?”

  “What if I can’t convince—”

  “You can. You seem to have a way about you that makes men crumble at your feet. I have no doubt you got this.”

  I smile, enjoying his compliment, but then catch myself being thrown off course. “Hey! You’re trying to sweet-talk me out of the action.”

  “Damn right I am. Promise me.”

  No fun. “Fine, I promise.” He kisses me quickly.

  “You’ll fake sick and take my car home. Call Agent Bishop the second you pull out of here and have him take you somewhere safe, so I know you’re okay.”

  “And when will you be back?”

  “That, I don’t know. Depends on how this goes down. Could take hours. Then I have to go in and do a shit ton of paperwork. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I can.”

  “And how will I know you’re okay?” That cocky smile does me in. “Okay. I get it. You’re badass and unstoppable. If you won’t let me in on the action, let me help in other ways.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “Where’s my laptop?”

  “Addy, I told you, you’re not—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Not writing the story. Got it. You may be the muscles of the operation, but I’m the brains. Kind of. Give me those files, and let me do my research. You’re trained to fight bad guys—I’m trained to search in places someone may never think of for information.”

  He stares at me, weighing his options. Knowing there’s no harm in a little investigative work, he nods, goes into his closet, and retrieves my laptop, phone, and recorder.

  “No funny business, you hear me?”

  I put my three fingers up. “Scout’s honor.” He hands me my things, and I get to work, spreading the papers across his bed.

  “So, what’s your plan?”

  “To decipher everything on these papers.”

  “Addy, that could take weeks. We don’t have that.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  I start with the man on the profile. Victor Norfolk. As I suspect, nothing comes up. First thing you learn in journalism is never to take anything at face value. I start hammering keywords related to his name into my search engine. An hour later, I get a ping.

  “Logan!” I call for him, and he rushes back into the bedroom.

  “You get something?”

  “Victor Norfolk is supposed to be Vincent’s contact, right? The one you’re supposed to meet tonight?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Hear me out. I knew nothing would ping when I did a search, but when I dug deeper, this is what I found. I don’t think Victor Norfolk is an actual person. It’s a decoy for a company and location.” I point to an open browser. “Look at this. Victor Transportation, Inc. It’s a transport company out of Chicago.”

  “Okay, but that can just be a coincidence.”

  “Is this?” I pull up another browser. “Norfolk Southern. It’s a train line. Their services specialize in ocean containers—and look.” I shuffle through the papers until I pull out the sheet with the Calumet Harbor information. “We assumed Vincent had his shipments coming through Calumet Harbor, but only Calumet is highlighted. Norfolk is out of Calumet. I didn’t think anything of it, but now, they were never coming through his waterways. I think he has them coming by freight train.”

  Logan leans in, inspecting the screen. “Fuck.”

  “I’m not done. I also did some digging on these barcodes, and they are definitely for individual people. A few years back, a popular company was rumored to be trafficking girls through their online retail site. The theory was they were selling girls under the guise of home goods. The names listed had specific keywords indicating what they were buying. Enter in a promo code under a professional account holder, and voila—get yourself a trafficked girl.”

  “Yeah, I remember that. We had a shit ton of missing girls pop up in Ohio when I was working their crimes unit.”

  “Yeah. Anywho, it goes on and on. Dimensions and weight of the product were really the descriptions of the girls for sale. I don’t think this is any different. So, I started entering the codes. The thing is, I realized they were missing dashes separating the numbers. It took me some time but put those dashes in the right places, and this came up.”

  Logan leans in further. “What am I looking at?”

  “A company that deals in agriculture. What is one of the biggest agricultural things transported via ship? Livestock! Here’s an example. Look at this code.” I type in the long number. “Who in their right minds would pay eighteen-thousand for a cow? A female cow, and at that size? That’s a pretty odd-sized cow, if you ask me. Every single barcode comes up as livestock or agricul
tural supplies. I figured the supplies are the drugs. The animals, girls.”

  “Jesus, how did you find all this so fast?”

  “Like I said, I’m more advanced than a stupid gossip columnist. But wait, there’s more. I’ve had hunches for a while, but there was one thing I couldn’t put my finger on—Vincent’s connection to Calumet Harbor. You said he’s tight-lipped about who his connection is, but I think I have an idea. Hear me out. So, for the last couple of months, I’ve been doing some digging on William Brighton.”

  “Mayor Brighton?”

  “Yes. There’s been a lot of corruption talk going around the mayor’s office. Tons of rumors that Mayor Brighton has the Illinois Port District on his payroll.”

  “Well, no shit, the IIPD falls under his jurisdiction. There’s been speculation about that since forever. Every mayor is pinged with suspicion of wrongdoings. That shit is always political.”

  “True. But under Brighton’s term, there have been a lot more unsolved crimes and evidence that’s gone missing. Corrupt law enforcement officials who are being promoted.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Not only do they all have the approval stamp of the mayor, but in some fashion, they are linked to the ports.”

  “And? Addy, I think you’re getting off course with this one. Yeah, he may make shitty calls, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s the biggest advocate for the city’s homeless. Spends millions of dollars donating to orphanages and starving children, why would he…?”

  It takes a moment for his own words to sink in. “Son of a bitch.” Wiping his hands down his face, he stares at the screen in shock.

  “Right. Why would you suspect someone for drug corruption and child trafficking when they spend all their money supporting children?”

  “This is some heavy shit, Addy.”

  “I can’t prove anything, but I do know he has control of Calumet Harbor. And if there’s anybody who can give the clearance and have it go under the Coast guard’s nose, it’s gotta be him.”

 

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