Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys

by Annabel Joseph

  “Best guess, she was between thirteen and fifteen. Third one in two months. Coyotes dug her up, the four-legged kind. We suspect the two-legged ones snatched her to sell to the highest bidder.” Settling in the chair facing his desk, his ex-boss waited with patient calmness that crawled right up Travis’s spine.

  Unable to help himself, he glanced down then winced. It wasn’t the worst he’d seen, but it was bad enough. Pushing the picture toward Peter, he said, “If it’s human trafficking, and probably is, that’s out of my jurisdiction. Nice seeing you again.”

  Ignoring him, Peter forged on. “She was found over in Brewster County, as was victim number one. But victim number two was an eighteen-year-old local girl, found dead in a rundown highway motel here in Presidio County, but right on the edge of Brewster. All three died of a GHB overdose after being raped. Then there’s the multiple reports of overdoses from those lucky enough to still be breathing. I don’t have to tell you the stats on ones that go unreported.”

  Okay, he wasn’t a hard-hearted son-of-a-bitch, but Travis still hadn’t heard what Peter wanted from him. “I’m not about to spend another year of my life infiltrating a human smuggling ring.”

  “We don’t have time for that. Look, Nolan, I get it, I really do. All I’m asking is that you take some time over the next few weekends to visit some of the bars and night clubs along the highway in Brewster county. I checked with local law enforcement, and you’re still new enough no one’s heard of you. Just hang out, give your first name only, and keep an eye out. You know what kind of suspicious behavior to look for.” Handing him a piece of paper, Peter said, “Those two are closest to where the victims were found, both about a forty-minute drive from here. If you see anything, we’ll have probable cause, which isn’t much, but a hell of a lot more than we have now.”

  Travis didn’t want to, but Peter knew how to reel him in. Between the photo, the short time frame and ability to step in when, or if he saw something, his conscience wouldn’t let him refuse. He just hoped he didn’t end up regretting it. Tossing Peter the bag with one donut left, he said, “One month, Friday and Saturday nights, that’s it.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  His plans to pursue Sarah just hit a snag, but Travis wouldn’t let that stop him. He’d just have to find a way to squeeze her in around bar hopping the next couple weeks. With forty sneaking up on him fast, he wasn’t looking forward to returning to the pastime of his younger days, but another peek at that photo made the sacrifice worth it.

  Chapter 2

  “Well?” Sarah emerged from her bedroom wearing a mid-thigh length, snug denim skirt with a tucked in white, lacy camisole top that revealed way too much of her abundant cleavage. Tossing back her blonde-streaked, newly styled, layered hair, she waited for Todd’s opinion. When he did nothing but twirl his finger, signaling for her to turn around, she huffed a frustrated breath but followed his silent instructions. After spending all afternoon shopping and at the hair salon with her, humoring him was the least she could do. Besides, she didn’t mind stalling a little longer before heading out to Brewster County’s most popular night club, The Raging Bull. Finding a nice guy at a night club might seem far-fetched to a lot of people, but the rough neck areas of Texas didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment venues that were more sophisticated.

  Todd whistled and a wide grin split his face when she faced him again. “Nice, boss. You’re going to knock ‘em flat.”

  “I have to. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to consider moving to a big city where there are more choices.”

  Cocking his head, he asked, “Why haven’t you left Piedmont?”

  Sarah walked over to a wall mirror to check her make-up again, grateful the woman who gave her the new hairstyle also applied the blue eye-shadow, a stroke of mascara and dusted her cheeks with blush. She’d been so nervous, she most likely would’ve ended up looking like a clown if she’d done it. “At first it was to help my mother with my father, who was a lot older than her and in poor health by the time I got out of college. When he passed away a few years ago, I was already established with the bakery and making a nice profit.” Shrugging, she turned to face him. “I’m comfortable here, prefer small towns to big cities, but I want more, damn it.”

  “Swear jar.”

  “First thing tomorrow. If I don’t go now, I’ll talk myself out of it.”

  Todd followed her down the outside staircase to her car. “Be careful, text me when you get home. Tomorrow, details.”

  Todd’s lascivious leer made her laugh. “Get out of here. I have a man to catch before I chicken out.”

  Thirty minutes later, Sarah pulled into the crowded gravel parking lot at The Raging Bull and breathed a sigh of relief she wasn’t pulled over and given her third ticket in less than a month. The ‘three strikes and you lose your license’ penalty would have really put a crimp in her plans to find a husband. Afraid she would chicken out if she didn’t get out here as fast as she could, she’d pushed the limit as much as possible. Stepping out of her car, she could hear the beat of country music as she ran her damp palms down her denim skirt. Her heart rate picked up the closer she got to the door, already responding to the pulse of the place reverberating through the walls.

  Opening the door with a nervous, but excited tremble to her hand, she stepped inside and blinked in rapid succession to adjust to the dim interior. Her sandaled feet crunched over broken peanut shells strewn on the sawdust covered, worn wood floor as she scuffled along the wall, looking for a place to sit. A band perched on a small stage at the opposite end of the room pealed out their version of Josh Turner’s, Why Don’t We Just Dance while patrons, jam-packed on the dance floor, tried to two-step in the small space.

  A warm rush of adrenaline surged through Sarah’s bloodstream as memories of her college days came roaring back. Icing on the cake was the handsome man approaching her with a friendly smile and appreciative once over that had her itching to tug down the snug skirt in a lame attempt to cover a few of the ten pounds she’d gained since the last time she’d been dancing.

  “Hello, darlin’. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be standing back here alone.” Holding out his hand, he said, “I’m Carl. Dance?”

  The quick dance offer left Sarah giddy with excitement as she took his hand. “I’m a bit rusty,” she warned him as he led her through the crowd then pulled her against him as soon as they reached the dance floor.

  “No problem, just follow my lead.”

  Within minutes, Sarah found herself caught up in the music and the attention from her partner. Look at plain, mousy me! She thrilled to the hot look in Carl’s eyes as he spun her about, stunned at how fast she had gotten into the swing of things and attracted attention. Maybe this’ll be easier than I imagined, she thought a few minutes later when another man cut in and took her in his arms with an admiring gaze and swung her around.

  Laughing, she shook her head, enjoying the feel of her loose hair flipping around and the perspiration inducing movements of her long-neglected body. Before she could break away to get a much-needed glass of water, yet another man cut in, but the crude leer and cold gleam in his beady black eyes sent a shiver of unease down her spine.

  “You here with anyone?” he yelled over the music.

  Not willing to let on she wasn’t, she nodded her head. “Yes, I’m with friends.” Something about this man made her feel like a bug being viewed under a microscope.

  “They shouldn’t mind if you have a drink with me.”

  Sarah didn’t care for the insistence behind his tone or the way he inched his hands down to her butt and pulled her closer. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t want this man’s attention.

  The front legs of Travis’s tilted back chair hit the floor with a resounding thud the minute he spotted Sarah Thompson entering The Raging Bull. His Sarah. Narrowing his eyes, he took in the new hairstyle and sexy as sin clothes and swore under his breath. Just what the hell was she up to? Seated
at a back corner table in order to better observe the patrons without notice, he watched her skip onto the dance floor, surprised at the rapid surge of possessiveness strangling him. He’d been attracted to the cute baker for weeks, enjoyed giving her a hard time and fantasized about getting that soft, round body under him. It took seeing her smiling at other men, lapping up being in their arms to consider moving faster in his pursuit.

  There were three men he’d spotted during the last two hours of undercover surveillance whom he thought bore watching closer. One of them just cut in with Sarah and brought him to his feet. Striding toward them, he caught the subtle shift of the man’s hands toward her ass and her quick scowl, the one his cock always responded to. With a tap on the man’s shoulder, Travis ignored his glare and shouldered him aside.

  “My turn.” Before Sarah could blurt out and call him Chief, he swooped down and covered her startled gasp with his mouth, pulling her up against him just as the band switched to a slow ballad.

  She stiffened at first, then melted against him, her low moan filling his mouth, her swift surrender taking him by surprise. It took a sharp nip to her plump, lower lip, to encourage her to open. Delving in, he explored the warm recesses of her mouth with teasing strokes and felt her immediate response in the hardening of her nipples against his chest. Who would’ve known his prim and proper baker possessed such a sensuous streak.

  Releasing that responsive mouth with reluctance, he whispered above her damp lips, “Don’t call me Chief. I’ll explain later. What the hell are you doing here, Sarah?”

  It took hearing that familiar growl to clear Sarah’s befuddled, shocked senses. Crap! What was she doing? Chief Nolan’s presence could ruin her chances of getting the attention of the right man, dousing her plans before they had a chance to get started. She blamed it on that kiss. No one had ever kissed her like that, with such… possessiveness and control. The sting from that bite on her lower lip seemed to have blazed a trail straight down between her legs, if the way her sheath contracted and moistened was any indication. Shock at her response compelled her to lash out.

  Hissing under her breath, she tried to ignore the press of all those thick, hard muscles against her softer body as she snapped, “What are you doing? Damn it, you need to let me go. You’ll ruin everything!”

  “Such as what? Getting pawed by that ass? Does this ‘everything’ have anything to do with the lighter hair and all the gunk on your face?”

  Travis distracted her from that cutting comment for a moment by twirling her in a slow circle and holding her closer to his enveloping body. A bit miffed at his reaction to her new appearance, she tried to slip out of his embrace. She should’ve known better. The man’s arms were as unbudgeable as steel bands wrapped around her.

  Desperate, she told him the truth, hoping it would get him to back off. “I’m husband hunting, if you must know. And you’re ruining my chances of catching a nice man’s interest. Not that last man.” She shuddered in distaste. “I don’t want him.”

  Travis would’ve laughed at Sarah’s announcement if she hadn’t looked so serious. Given his interest in her, at least for now, and the threat of this serial date rapist and killer, he wasn’t about to let her continue that quest. At least not without him around to protect her and his growing attraction to her. Dropping his arms, he stepped back, needing to give some thought to the snag she’d just tossed on his promise to help Peter with his investigation.

  “Be careful, Sarah, and remember, I’m just Travis.”

  Winding his way to the bar, he perched on the only empty stool, signaled the busy bartender for a beer, then swiveled around to seek out the three men he’d pinpointed as possible suspects. One was on the dance floor, one at a table right in front of him with a woman and the third, the jerk who had shown too much interest in his Sarah, had already found a welcome seat at a table with two young girls, so young he doubted they were of legal age to even be inside the club. His first instinct was to storm over there and demand the girls’ I.D.s, but that was the frustration of going undercover. His hands were kept tied when he itched to act.

  Since all he could do was watch for now, he sipped his beer and shifted his observing gaze between the three men and Sarah. He’d been watching for drinks to be served to the young girls when a screech drew his eyes to the dance floor in time to see Sarah spin around, one arm coming up in a swift, unguarded reaction to something and clobber the man next to her right between his legs. Doubling over, he glared at her, her chagrined expression comical until the couple next to them jostled a woman carrying a drink and caused her spill it down the front of her top and all hell broke loose as two men stepped in to defend both women’s honor.

  The melee unfolded with quick involvement, but luckily, Travis had experience in this sort of thing. After making sure the underage girls were rushing out the door in fear of cops getting called, he shoved his way through the brawling throng. Coming up behind Sarah, he snaked an arm around her waist, lifted her and hauled her out the door.

  “What… what are you doing?” Sarah struggled in Travis’s hold, which did her no good, of course.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Put me down.”

  “Where. Is. Your. Car?”

  Crap. Pointing, she suffered the indignity of being hauled across the lot amid the other patrons rushing out of the night club. Travis opened the driver’s side door one-handed before releasing her and nudging her inside. Slamming the door, his grey eyes gleamed down at her as he ordered, “Go home. We’ll talk later.”

  Sarah fumed as he strolled away and, without considering the consequences, peeled out of the lot and down the highway at high speed. How dare he? She’d been having such a good time until he had intruded. One minute she’d been dancing with yet another man, and the next, someone startled the hell out of her by grabbing her ass. Without planning, she’d swung around, intending to punch whoever it was when her fist caught another man instead. Guilt overrode mortification as she tried to offer apologies then everything went haywire, and she found herself hauled away like a sack of flour.

  If it hadn’t been for her nemesis, Chief Nolan, putting a damper on her first night out, she’d be flying high as a kite right now. Instead, she didn’t realize how fast she’d been careening down the highway until flashing blue lights showed up in her rearview mirror. Double crap. Slowing down, she waited until she came up to the next dirt road pull off and turned in, not stopping until her and the cop were well off the main road. Turning off the car, she rolled down her window, then groaned in abject suffrage when she recognized the slow drawl of the cop who pulled her over.

  “Out of the car, Sarah.”

  Resigned to her fate, she slid out and faced Chief Nolan with only the glow from his headlights blocked by her car illuminating the secluded turnoff.

  Travis wasn’t above working a situation to his advantage, and in dealing with Sarah, he needed every advantage he could get. Bracing his hands on the car, he caged her in and looked down into her wary, defiant face. “Third ticket in, how long? Tsk, tsk.”

  “It’s your fault,” she blurted, panicked at the thought of having her license revoked for three months.

  “How so?”

  The urge to stomp her foot in a fit of pique was getting harder and harder to suppress. “You distracted me on the dance floor. Everything was going fine until you butted in.” She didn’t dare tell him her body had still been warm and tingling from the hard press of his when the fiasco occurred that started the brawl. She’d been distracted by the low hum of arousal, and even more so by who had ignited it, when she’d received that butt grab, which accounted for her inappropriate, startled aggression.

  Reading between the lines, Travis allowed a slow grin to inch up the corners of his mouth. Perfect. “We’ll discuss that later. Right now, I’ll give you a choice. Another speeding ticket or a punishment delivered the old-fashioned way.”

  It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, and when it did, her eye
s widened in shock as she gasped. Too bad she didn’t know if her stunned disbelief stemmed from outrage at his audacity or the instant pick-up of her heart rate, which caused her blood to heat in a volcanic rush through her veins.

  “You… you want to spank me instead of giving me a ticket?”

  “In the worst way,” he admitted with candor. Why hide the truth?

  Sarah’s convulsive swallow could be heard by them both as she contemplated her choices, as if she really had any. It came down to she couldn’t afford to lose her license, not if she wanted to pursue her newfound goal of hooking a husband and getting a life for herself. “Fine,” she grumbled in a whisper, as if there were anyone around who could hear her. “I’ll meet you… what? Here?” she gasped, incredulous when he spun her to face the car and hiked up her skirt.

  “No time like the present. Don’t worry, Sarah, my body is blocking yours completely, but even if I wasn’t, no one driving by can see back in this far.” With a hard yank, he drew another outraged gasp from her when he tore her panties off.

  Warm summer air wafted over her exposed buttocks for the first time in her life. Before she could grasp the significance of that, he palmed her right cheek and squeezed, the instant pleasure from his touch taking her breath away.

  “Just as I thought,” Travis told her, bending his head to nip her earlobe. “Soft and malleable. And so very… spankable.” He drew back and slapped the same cheek, hard enough to sting, light enough not to scare her off.

  A small cry slid past Sarah’s compressed lips, but he didn’t give her time to balk or complain as he set about peppering her butt with light smacks, moving back and forth between cheeks. A slow warmth enveloped her entire backside, along with small prickles of pain as the slaps grew sharper. Unable to help herself, she lowered her head to rest on her hands braced on the car and tried to ward off the escalating pulses that spread down to her sheath.