Lovely Wicked Pleasures

by Lizbeth Day

  Lovely Wicked Pleasures

  Lovely Wicked Pleasures

  Lizbeth Day

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Harmony Books

  Copyright © 2017

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitious.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Lovely Wicked Pleasures

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

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  Lovely Wicked Things (Book 1)

  Warning: This book contains explicit language and graphic sex scenes.

  ONE

  The office smelled liked a rat’s nest. When Denver Shea had been a cop, she’d been lucky enough to stumble on a den of rodents in an abandoned warehouse. Now, standing in a room filled with Internal Affairs officers, the same fetid stink hurt her nose.

  Denver knew there wasn’t any odor. It was all in her head. But that didn’t stop the sneer as she approached the man who had summoned her.

  “All right, I’m here. Let’s get this nonsense over with.” She stopped in front of the desk of Paul Clesson.

  His head bowed over some paperwork dotted with tiny black lettering. Denver glared at the thinning spot of light brown hair that would be an official bald spot in another year.

  Clesson shoved the papers into a green file holder. “No interview today. Go home.”

  Denver’s smirk shifted to a frown. Why wasn’t he tossing her into a tiny dank room with a ceiling mounted camera? She’d eaten a complete breakfast in prep for a full day of harassment and lies.

  Clesson was the guy in Internal Affairs responsible for busting most of her former squad on corruption charges. He’d found no evidence to incriminate Denver, so she’d escaped prosecution. But Clesson had formed a real bug up his ass to find something, anything on her. And when that failed, he’d become determined to use Denver to railroad possible dirty cops in another precinct.

  “What did you just say, Clesson?” Denver asked, suspicious she glanced around expecting to see a pack of I.A. cops ready to swoop down.

  Clesson didn’t bother to look up. But it was easy to hear the anger weaved into his tone. “Your assistance is no longer necessary. I will not contact you again.”

  Denver reared back, confused. This man had been damn near stalking her for over a year. Was this the start of some sick new game? A vibration made her jump. She fished her cell phone out of a front pocket.

  The caller id flashed a single first name. Spanky.

  She hit the ignore button. But as soon the call connected to voicemail, another one came in. Denver repeated the process. Again the phone rang before she could put it away.

  Clesson still hadn’t bothered with eye contact. His coworkers went about their business. No one paid any attention to them. She took a step away from Clesson’s desk and answered the call.

  “Not a good time.” Her thumb hovered over the end call button.

  The voice came through clear as if the caller stood in the room. “Let’s establish the rules. When I call, you pick up. Make me wait again and you’ll be punished. Understood?”

  Her heart gave one hard thump. Denver answered what she hoped sounded like a nonchalant yet assertive agreement.

  “Good. Your issue with Detective Clesson is resolved. Say your goodbyes. Keep the line open.”

  In her head, Denver let loose a long stream of cuss words. But she tested out this new premise with the I.A. officer. “All right Clesson, last chance before I book it out of here for good.”

  Again his eyes didn’t rise from the paperwork. Clesson slammed a desk drawer, then pulled his computer’s keyboard closer. “Goodbye, Denver.” He jabbed at the board’s keys. They made a tap, tap, tap sound as a final signal of dismissal.

  She could sense how unresolved this issue truly was, but why push her luck?

  Denver hightailed it past the desks of the other I.A. officers, took a left down the hall, and pushed through a door that led into a dank smelling staircase.

  “Ok, what the hell was that about Maddox?” Denver sneered into the phone after confirming she was alone.

  Aaron Maddox’s shrug was almost audible through the phone. “Like I said, Clesson won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  She made a sound, part groan, part sigh. “Any help from you is gonna settle over me like a greasy stink. I didn’t ask for any favors.”

  “Don’t worry, no one will ever suspect the command came from me. We won’t be linked. And for the record, women like you don’t know when to ask for help, don’t know when to bend. That’s why you end up with a firm hand on your perky ass.”

  Her mind flashed to the night before. Aaron Maddox, wealthy real estate investor, member of a suspected crime family had shown up at her front door. Within an hour she’d ended up stripped naked, spanked, and plowed from behind by billionaire cock. She’d also ended up on the wrong side of blackmail.

  Aaron possessed video footage of Denver taking an illegal payoff when she was a cop. He considered keeping the details of its existence a favor. In exchange, she’d have to grant some favors in return.

  Denver hadn’t been sure if that meant he’d be taking his quid pro quo from between her legs or in other ways.

  As if on cue, Aaron said, “I need a favor. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the Internal Affairs office surrounded by cops!”

  “I know where you are. Where are you in the building?”

  She spotted a sign mounted on back of the door. “I’m in staircase A, on the ninth floor.”

  “Good. Go back out onto the floor, go to the elevator near the B staircase.”

  “Why? I’m not going to jail because you want me to do some crazy bull—”

  He cut her off. “—Denver. Denver. Calm down. Just do what I say and everything will be fine. You have earbuds with a mic? Put it in.”

  Denver growled but dug through her purse looking her earpiece. After clicking it in, she left the stairwell.

  Aaron said, “When you get to the elevator, wait till I tell you to get on.”

  She complied, the whole time looking for familiar faces, or worse Clesson. Knowing her luck, he’d get on the elevator with her. After navigating the hall for a bit, she found the elevator doors next to staircase b. Several people waited. They all wore off-the-racks suits, including the women, and well worn shoes. Each one walked like, talked like, moved like a cop. It was a funk they couldn’t shake. Denver wondered if it had permeated her pores too, and now she’d be marked as five-oh forevermore.

  But again, maybe all that was in her very paranoid mind. A set of elevator doors opened. Zero directions came from Aaron. Annoyed, she backed out of the way to allow the flow of traffic to move around her. Since Aaron remained painfully silent, she leaned against the wall pretending to study her cell’s screen.

  A soft chime rang, announcing the coming arrival of another elevator car.

  Aaron whispered, “Ok get on the next one. Get off on three.”

  She did and avoided eye contact with the other passengers. As soon as her foot stepped onto the third floor Aaron gave the next order.

  “Go to the ladies bathroom, last stall.”

  This floor was busier, lots more people moved about. It housed a mix of various Blue River’s city government offices. Lunch time was ending, and people hustled back t
o their desks.

  Denver strode down the hall as if she belonged there. It was the best way to avoid unwelcomed attention. But a muscle in the back of her neck twitched about every three seconds. She rubbed a hand along the base of her hairline.

  Under her breath she murmured, “What the hell, do you have eyes on me?”

  “No.” His reply was lacking, but she heard the derision in his voice. “Let me know when you’re there.”

  She’d hoped the bathroom would be empty. Nope. Full house with a line three deep for eight stalls. Denver got on line, changed her mind and pivoted for the sinks. Once there, she riffled through her purse, touched up her lip gloss, and washed her hands until the most of the bathroom crowd cleared out.

  Finally after about five minutes, she ducked into the handicap stall. “Now what?” she said into her earpiece. She hated when people held phone conversations in the bathroom. It was so tacky. But being socially decrepit was the last thing she needed to worry about right now.

  “Hook your jacket around the edge of the stall’s door.”

  “If someone takes my coat, you’re paying for it,” she said using someone else’s well-timed flush to mask the conversation. “Now what do I do?”

  “Take a seat and wait.”

  No way she was putting her ass, clothed on not, on a public toilet. She was a squatter not a sitter in general. Besides her booty still stung from last night. “Wait for what?”

  The call was still open but Aaron didn’t reply. She heard his muffled voice speaking to someone else in the room, but didn’t hear the other person’s response. She got a hunch he was on another call, giving instructions to another idiot like herself.

  The muscles along her arms twitched. She craved movement, but even in the concealed stall, somebody might notice her feet going back and forth.

  The ladies room hit a lull. For a while, the traffic ceased. The distant sound of office doors opening and closing made her feel like a pervert waiting for a victim.

  And as far as Denver knew that might be her purpose. Aaron Maddox could be lining her up for any assortment of deviant activities.

  She was so stuck in her heard about what was about to happen, the sound of someone coming in almost didn’t register.

  “Take the folder,” Aaron suddenly piped up in her ear.

  “What fold—,” she started but someone shoved a manila folder under the wall between stalls. She took it and the hand disappeared.

  Aaron said, “Once you have it, look inside, and memorize the first set of numbers. It’s important you don’t record or write down anything in case you get caught. So don’t.”

  About getting caught, Denver almost said fuck this out loud. But she opened the folder instead. The contents seemed familiar. It held some resemblance to a requisition form used by the Blue River police department. Someone had scribbled notes all over the thing. Along the top left corner, three sets of eight digit numbers sat apart from the rest. She concentrated on the first line.

  Three soft knocks issued from the other side of the stall.

  “Hurry, she needs to go,” Aaron said.

  Fuck it. If he wanted a rush job, he should’ve picked someone more prone to follow his instructions. That wasn’t her, no matter what Aaron would dish out as punishment. She ran through the numbers again then shoved the folder back under the metal wall.

  The person greedily snatched it back. Denver listened as the stall’s latch clicked open and the rustling as the other woman rushed off.

  The outer door shut with a very final sounding bang. Denver had had enough. But apparently so did Aaron. When she looked at the phone, the call had dropped. The bastard hung up!

  Her own exit was uneventful. No one stopped Denver, nor spared an extra glance in her direction.

  Outside, she swore the air smelled sweeter.

  She crossed the street to the parking garage across from the I.A. building. Aaron called when just as Denver climbed into her five-year old Honda.

  “The numbers.”

  “Want to tell me what that was about Maddox?” she answered. “Why didn’t you get whoever that woman was to give you the numbers?”

  On the other end Aaron sighed. “Layers of protection. No one can implicate anyone too far along the chain.”

  “And I won’t talk because you’re blackmailing me,” Denver added feeling manipulated and defeated.

  “The numbers.”

  Denver chewed her bottom lip. “Is this going to get someone hurt? If so, I can’t do this. You can do whatever you want to me.”

  Aaron said, “No one will be hurt. That’s not how I do business.”

  His words did little to reassure her. Aaron Maddox may not do business that way, but his family? According to rumor, his clan flirted with all types of underhanded dealings. It would be naïve to believe they weren’t capable of doing harm.

  Or Aaron could be a liar. And he would say anything to get what he needed. Denver weighed the consequences. Which was silly. Without context she had no clue what handing over this information meant.

  “Denver,” he prodded, “the numbers. Now.”

  She rattled them off. “Are we even?”

  Aaron scoffed. “Not even close. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.

  Fucker.

  The phone buzzed in her palm.

  “What!” she screamed at the phone without looking at the id.

  A pause. “Everything ok, Denver? It’s Jonathan.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief despite the wave of embarrassment for screaming at her boss. Denver apologized before listening to him. “Ok, I’ll be at the office in fifteen.”

  Denver tossed the cell on the passenger’s seat and ran a hand through her hair. She inhaled and counted to ten.

  She was coming undone. And it was Aaron Maddox’s fault.

  TWO

  The messenger wore bright orange biking shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

  Denver averted her eyes when he came into her cubicle at the District Attorney’s office.

  “If you’re Denver Shea, this is for you. Sign here.”

  So close. Five more seconds, and she would’ve left for the day. After the morning’s events, all she wanted to do was to go home. One, she had an idea on how to get a lead on Tai. But she needed to use her personal laptop instead of the office computers. Two, she’d been dying for a nice long look at those numbers. Of course, she’d snuck a quick snapshot of the file with her phone’s camera. She was an investigator after all.

  The package was a padded envelope. Not the bulky package that signaled a ton of paperwork. She signed for it and didn’t mind watching the guy’s compact booty stroll off.

  She tore off the packing tape and flipped the envelope over. A car key, attached to a security fob, fell into her palm.

  Now what?

  Her cell phone buzzed. She spotted the caller id and frowned as her stomach did a small flip. She opened the call but said nothing.

  “There’s a Town Car parked two blocks away in front of O’Shenigan’s bar. I need you to pick up someone from the airport. Details are on the driver’s seat. Consider this another favor.”

  Again, Aaron Maddox ended the call without a goodbye.

  Fucker.

  ***

  Denver idled in the bay for passenger pickup. The parking attendants kept shooing her off after five minutes, and she’d circled the airport twice already.

  She had no idea who the mystery passenger was. A known felon? A Maddox family associate? A out-of-town girlfriend? This was so stupid. Was she insane? Maddox could be implicating her in all kinds of scandal. But the thought of the video of her taking a payoff kept Denver in place.

  She picked up the phone the first time it went off.

  Aaron spoke briskly. Music and clinking glasses created a persistent hum in the background. “Listen, the plane was delayed but just landed. Your passenger will be out soon.”

  Denver opened her mouth to pose a question, but the screen on her p
hone flashed—call ended.

  Bastard.

  Aaron had the audacity to give her orders while he sat chilling in some swanky restaurant. Oh, she was gonna get him. Denver wasn’t clear on how, but she was.

  It hadn’t taken long to find the car after she’d left the office. Denver felt conspicuous as she beeped the alarm off and ducked inside. The car looked like an ordinary Town Car on the outside. But the inside featured modifications. A privacy shield separated driver from passenger and all the rear windows sported dark tint. As per the instructions left on the seat, Denver had tucked a white placard marked ABC in the passenger’s side rear window.

  She tapped the steering wheel impatient for her chauffeur duties to be over. It was getting close to eight in the evening. She wondered if Aaron would consider paying overtime.

  Ha. She laughed out loud. Not that she was getting paid at all. Once upon a time she’d been a police detective. And now? What was she? An unpaid car jockey getting jerked around by a criminal.

  Even the things Aaron had done to her last night wasn’t worth the uncertainty that made her stomach upset. The sex—no, the fucking and the intensity of it—was something she’d never encountered before. Thinking about it now made her nipples scratch at the lining of her bra.

  She pushed the thoughts away. Would she have done any of that if he didn’t have that video?

  Denver didn’t know for sure.

  A blast of cool air hit her as someone opened the rear passenger door. Denver watched the rear view mirror. First, a dark-brown leather overnight bag flew unceremoniously into the back seat. A slim man dressed in a lightweight overcoat followed.

  Their eyes met for a second. His were a blue that reminded Denver of secret ice-caverns found inside of glaciers. The face surrounded them wasn’t cold, but the opposite. In fact he looked quite amused as he slid the privacy screen shut.

  From the quick glance, he didn’t look like any of the known associates of the Maddox family. Not that was any reassurance. Best to get this shit over as quickly as possible.

  As per the instructions left in the car, she hit the pre-programmed destination on the GPS and pulled out into traffic.

  A half hour later, she pulled into the basement garage of a downtown building. They’d traversed a series of back alleys to make it to the entrance. Though Denver suspected where they were, she wasn’t sure what building this was. She pulled up close to an elevator bank and put the car in park.