“Plans change,” Gretchen said simply.
As though he knew she was thinking about him, Lucas looked up from whatever make-believe game he was playing and gave her a warm smile. His eyes were lit with mischief and something else—something that made any change in her life plan more than worthwhile. For the first time ever, she was confident that, whatever else changed, what she and Lucas shared would endure.
“So, what are you going to do instead?” Elena grabbed her seltzer and settled back in her seat. “I cannot wait to hear this!”
Gretchen brought her eyes back to Elena’s and couldn’t help the silly grin that spread over her face. “I’m freelancing. Just like you suggested the last time we spoke.” In the few days that had passed since she’d resigned from The Star, she’d already been offered contracts with several huge online news sites and she felt more energized about writing than she had in a while.
“So you’ll get to choose your own stories? Be your own boss? Make your own rules?” Elena asked excitedly, just as Lucas and the kids finished their game and came over to join them.
“Yes, I will,” Gretchen agreed. But as Lucas caught her eye and grinned wickedly, she amended, “Er, well. Mostly.”
Elena looked from Gretchen to Lucas and burst into knowing laughter that set Gretchen’s cheeks aflame. “Anyway, I think we’re off to Qatar in a couple of weeks,” Gretchen said, changing the subject. “I’m still working with a few contacts there, but I’ve got a couple of good leads and a million ideas.”
“We?” Blake said, approaching the table with a platter of grilled chicken that looked and smelled delicious. “You mean both of you are going?” He set the platter in the center of the table, next to a bowl of Elena’s famous pasta salad, and buckled Alessia into her high chair.
Lucas took his seat next to Gretchen and grabbed his beer. “My woman’s got a job to do. And do you really think I’d let her traipse around the Middle East without me?” His voice suggested that Blake was crazy.
“When you put it that way…” Blake laughed and dipped his head in concession as he cut chicken into bite-sized pieces. “But what about your work? You taking a leave of absence?”
Lucas shrugged. “Nah. No need. Our team doesn’t do the nine-to-five, you know? We just work if and when we’re available and let Slay and Matt deal with finding us assignments and getting paid. I’ll still be around, here and there, and doing stuff remotely. Now, I’ll just be focusing on my main client.” He gave Gretchen a wink before grabbing the pasta bowl from Blake.
Elena grinned and pointed a finger at Gretchen. “We are so throwing you a going away party before you leave,” she declared. “I know the whole crew is gonna wanna see you and wish you well before you take off on your next adventure. I’ll ask John to make you that banana cake I promised you.”
Gretchen nodded. “That would be fun.”
Elena waved a negligent hand in the air as she turned her attention to her son, who was flicking the vegetables out of his pasta salad onto the patio. “If my best friend and her man are going off to write stories that change the world, the least I can do is make sure you get some cake before you go.”
Gretchen felt Lucas’s hand brush hers beneath the table, and she smiled as she threaded her fingers through his. There were a million stories waiting to be told, but she had a feeling the one she and Lucas were building together would be her best one ever.
The End
Maisy Archer
Maisy is an unabashed book nerd who has been in love with romance since reading her first Julie Garwood novel at the tender age of 12. After a decade as a technical writer, she finally made the leap into writing fiction several years ago and has never looked back. Like her other great loves - coffee, caramel, beach vacations, yoga pants, and her amazing family - her love of words has only continued to grow... in a manner inversely proportional to her love of exercise, house cleaning, and large social gatherings. She loves to hear from fellow romance lovers, and is always on the hunt for her next great read.
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Visit her blog here: https://janeandmaisy.com/
Don't miss these exciting titles by Jane Henry and Maisy Archer with Blushing Books!
Boston Doms Series
My Dom, Book 1
His Submissive, Book 2
Her Protector, Book 3
His Babygirl, Book 4
His Lady, Book 5
Her Hero, Book 6
Anthologies
Hero Undercover
Sunstrokes
A Taste for Red
By
Piper Stone
©2017 by Blushing Books® and Piper Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
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is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Piper Stone
A Taste for Red
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Chapter 1
“All right, asshole. Let’s see what you have.” Shanna Jacobs shoved the Glock in the pocket of her jacket, threw her leg over the Harley and buckled her helmet. She kicked the stand into the up position and revved the engine. Mr. Jerkoff thought he could get away. Well, he had another thing coming. She eased the bike out from the alley and waited, watching as he slid into the Corvette. He had no idea she was on his tail. The elusive Stoker Wilde, the perp she’d been following for a solid week, didn’t have his entourage with him. Mistake. Bad mistake.
Chuckling, she idled as he started the engine, then she rolled out to the curb. No matter where he went, she would follow.
He roared out of the parking lot, flooring the engine within seconds. She hunkered down and followed closely behind, weaving her way through the darkened city streets. How many nights had she staked out the man who her client believed was responsible for at least two deaths? How many times had he alluded her? Too many. Not tonight. She’d learned all about his weaknesses for wine and women. On this sizzling summer evening, she’d take him down singlehandedly.
Stoker picked up speed, running several red lights as he made his way out of the city. She knew his destination, had learned everything about a man believing himself to be the King. As wind whipped through her hair, she lowered her body toward the handlebars. She had one last chance to catch Stoker in illegal activities before her client walked, securing another investigator. That shit wasn’t going to happen on her watch. She was the best at what she did.
Accelerating out of the city limits he picked up speed, racing past the last of the titty bars and massage parlors, his bread and butter in criminal activity. All she had to do to complete the lucrative assignment was confirm his relationship with the most powerful man in the city. Pictures were worth a thousand words and in her case, ten thousand dollars, money she desperately needed. The prize was worth the danger.
Shanna was careful, remaining behind two cars and a van. After losing him for a few seconds, she craned her neck as he made a sharp turn. No way you’re getting away from me. Ten seconds later she made the same turn and gasped. Flashing blue lights blinded her and she skidded, the bike shifting in a perpendicular manner. She noticed the Bronco crisscrossing the road just seconds before she slammed on her breaks. Where the hell did Stoker go? “Fuck!”
<
br /> Wham!
Stars floated in front of her eyes as she rolled across the pavement. She was cognizant enough to hear her beloved Harley crash into an immovable object, the crunch matching her high-pitched scream. The mother fucker had figured out he was being tailed. Then what were the blue lights about? She landed with a hard thud. Every muscle ached like a son of a bitch. There was no way she could pass out. She’d never be seen again. Struggling to move, she managed to turn over, and dug her fingers into the dirt as she opened her eyes. She could vaguely make out a set of cowboy boots and long legs closing the distance.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
The flashlight beam cut her vision to scattered streams of light. Shanna groaned as she pushed up from the ground. Woozy, she blinked, trying to focus and was unable to see any details of his face. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“I should ask you the same question. You’re lucky to be alive.”
The voice, the husky and sensuous tone was melodic, alluring. She panted as she struggled to figure out what the hell was going on. There was no way she could have lost Stoker. No way. She was a damn good tail. “Who are you?”
The man with the sexy voice crouched down, moving the flashlight out of her eyes. “I think the real question is, who are you?”
Mr. Sexy Voice had a chiseled face, hair down to his shoulders and the cutest set of dimples she’d ever seen. She also knew instinctively he was a cop. “You almost killed me.”
“But I didn’t. Your bike might need some adjustments though.”
Shaking like a leaf, she still managed to lift her arm and give him her middle finger. “Go fuck yourself.”
He shook his head and held out his hand. “Let’s get you up. Then we need to talk.”
“About what? You’re the asshole who stopped in the middle of the road.” How in the hell had she missed where Stoker had gone and why had the cop shown up at the exact same minute? The situation wasn’t making any sense. She managed to crawl up onto her knees. The cop still had the same eat-shit kind of smile and it pissed her the hell off. Using the last of her strength, she did exactly what came to mind.
She cold-cocked him just seconds before passing out.
“No, you’re not listening to what I’m telling you!”
“What the hell?” Shanna muttered. What was the woman saying? She licked her lips and groaned. Her throat was clenched, dry as a bone. What was happening?
“I heard you, but that doesn’t give me any justification for that woman to interfere in a police investigation.” The voice was decidedly male with a slight twang.
Shanna shifted and as pain coursed through every cell in her body, her eyes flew open. Where in the hell was she? Dear God, her head hurt like she’d been used as a battering ram. As she tried to move, her stomach lurched. She sucked in her breath to keep from retching and concentrated on her breathing. The voices were close. Yes. She could almost recognize them. Where? Who?
“Interfere? How the hell was Shanna supposed to know the police were investigating? And what does it matter? She was hired to do a job,” the woman huffed, the tone full of anger.
Yes, Shanna definitely recognized the woman’s voice. She looked around the room as memories began to roll through her mind. The chase. A crash. Her motorcycle! Jerking up, she winced from the pain. Swallowing, she willed her foggy brain to kick in. Christine was here. Hospital. She was in some freaking hospital. Oh hell no.
“I could arrest her. You have no idea what she’s done,” the male stated.
“You mean punching you or deflating your huge ego?” Christine continued.
“Shut up,” Shanna said as she rubbed her head and glanced down. Shit. Her boots were scuffed and covered in mud. Someone was going to pay.
“Arrest? Are you out of your mind? She’s a licensed investigator working on a case. You should praise her for getting so close. Perhaps if you did your job then she wouldn’t have to pick up the crumbs!” Now Christine was yelling.
“I said shut the fuck up!” Shanna roared. Her vision cleared, she glared at the two people standing six feet from the steel and plastic bed.
“Shanna! Thank God you’re okay.” Christine exclaimed, her face full of concern. “You could have been killed.”
“Christine? What are you doing here?” Shanna shifted and dropped her legs to the floor.
“Don’t move. You might have internal damage,” Christine half whispered.
“I don’t think I’d be lying here unattended if I had internal damage.” Shanna looked up at the man flanking Christine’s side. Gorgeous blue eyes, shaggy dark hair and… Dimples. The damn cop. She snarled as she looked down. Yep. He was wearing cowboy boots all right. Who the hell did he think he was, Wyatt Earp? “My dream date. The man who almost got me killed.”
Sighing, he walked forward. “Ms. Jacobs? I’m Detective Walker.”
“Well, Walker. Do you mind telling me why you purposely had me crash?” Shanna groaned as she rose onto her feet. Falling back against the bed, she thrust her hand out when Christine attempted to grab her. “I’m fine. Stop coddling me.” Granted, Christine was her oldest and dearest friend. The formidable woman was also her attorney. “What are you doing here?”
“Detective Walker called me,” Christine said, her tone full of attitude.
“How and why?” Shanna took two tentative steps forward until she was a mere six inches in front of the detective.
“You may have thought you were clever, Ms. Jacobs, but I knew who you were two days ago. My guess is Mr. Wilde was also aware of his tail,” Detective Walker stated.
“Mr. Wilde?” Shanna played coy. If the cops were onto Stoker, then her entire case could be blown to shit.
Detective Walker moved even closer. “Ms. Jacobs, while you were running around playing detective, I’ve been investigating Mr. Wilde for months. We were just about ready to blow the case wide open when you jumped in. What were you playing, hooker of the year?” He motioned to her attire.
“Jesus Christ. Leave her alone!” Christine snapped.
“I got this.” Shanna stole a quick glance down. Sure, the flaming red body hugging dress wasn’t her usual attire, but called for given the club where she’d found Wilder. “I was working. By the way, nice shiner.” She adored the way the cop blushed.
“While you were working, Stoker Wilde disappeared, wasting months of time and money. For that alone, I should arrest you.” His eyes flashed. “By the way, I confiscated your gun.”
Shanna held her breath and her tongue long enough to gather her wits. She smiled and brushed her hand through her long red hair, praying to God she didn’t look like a wet mop. “If you’d actually done your job, I wouldn’t have been hired to finish the case. I’ll be getting that gun back tomorrow, even if I have to pry it out of your cold, dead hands.” When he opened his eyes wide and his face flushed, she felt vindicated. “Now get the hell out of my hospital room.”
“Be careful, Ms. Jacobs. Playing with fire could get you burned.” Detective Walker huffed and took a step back. He remained unblinking for a full minute then turned toward Christine. “Bring your client to the department tomorrow or I will have her arrested. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” Christine stated as she flanked Shanna’s side. “Now get out.”
Shanna held her head high as he looked her up and down, then turned on his heel, walking out. Exhaling, she lowered her head and rubbed her eyes. “He’s an asshole. Now what in God’s name is going on?”
“That’s what I want to know. What in the hell did you think you were doing following a criminal into a club infested with the kind of criminals who could make you disappear without lifting a finger? Do you understand how dangerous that man is and what he could have done to you?”
“I was hired to do a job and I almost had everything I needed until Mr. Cowboy Detective interfered.” Shanna looked around the room, grabbing her leather jacket from the sterile looking chair. She searched the pockets. The jerk-of
f had taken her gun. “I’m going to kill that man.”
“Detective Walker probably saved your life. You were hired to take pictures, not pretend to be a cop.” Christine huffed as she paced back and forth.
“I can take care of myself.” Too bad she would be black and blue for days.
“Oh yeah?” Christine exclaimed as she stopped short. “Take a look in the mirror, sunshine. You live from paycheck to paycheck. You have maybe five hundred dollars in your bank account. You live in a shit hole of an apartment and your clients are deadbeats. All of that glamour after giving up a lucrative career and tonight, you almost got yourself murdered by a madman. If that’s taking care of yourself, then stop the bus, cause I want to get the hell off.”
Shanna opened her mouth to retort, but the realization her friend was right hit her hard. She was a two-bit private investigator with clients ranging from wives finding scuttlebutt on their cheating husbands to low class businessmen who would prefer to fuck her instead of issuing a cash payment. This case was supposed to drag her from the pits, but her unscrupulous practices bordered criminal activity. She knew it. The detective knew it. Shrinking back, she lowered her head into her hands and groaned.
A few seconds later Christine sighed. “Look. Let’s get you home to rest. Then you and I need to talk. Detective Walker is right. He could arrest you for more than just interference from what he’s told me. You need to play nice and work with him.”
“Work with him? Are you crazy? I don’t work with cops!” Snapping, Shanna folded her arms and looked out the window. She had her reasons, ones Christine knew all about.
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Come on. I’ll take you home. Try not to deck anyone before we get there. Oh, and your motorcycle is going to be out of commission for quite a while.”
Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 122