by Henry, Jane
“Miss Jay if you’re nasty,” Sonya mumbles under her breath. She shuts her mouth quickly at a sharp look from Colt.
“She’s the little sister of Leon Francoise. We used to think she might be an accessory to the French Connection, now we suspect she’s a more integral part of the gang. These guys traffic jewels. Blood diamonds. Ivory. If there’s illicit luxury involved, they’re into it.”
“Drugs?” Colt asks the question.
“Doesn’t seem like it. Too low-rent. Maybe some high-end designer stuff. Maybe.”
“So what are we looking to pin on this pair? Trafficking? Seems like a job for customs.”
“We don’t want them for trafficking. We want them for murder.”
“She’s too pretty to kill anybody,” Sonya says, almost absent-mindedly. “That manicure alone is worth more than most people’s lives. And she’s not going to get those shoes bloody. Though, I guess, if they’re Louboutins, they already have a red bottom.”
“Someone else is going to have a red bottom if she’s not quiet,” Colt rumbles the reminder. Sonya blushes and falls silent again.
“You’ll find files in your office,” I say. “Wire taps. Phone records. Surveillance. I want you to start putting it all together. I want you to give me something solid. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” Colt says swiftly.
“Oh, yes sir!” Sonya adds after a nudge. “Sorry. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be talking now. Or if I was supposed to be acting like my mouth got sealed by aliens who… OW!”
She gasps as Colt’s hand meets her ass.
“I warned you about that sass,” he lectures. “Now get to my office.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as she scoots out. “She’s getting there. It’s just going to take some time.”
“Oh I know,” I say. “And I know you’ll keep her in line, because you know what’s on the line if she steps out again.”
“Not going to happen,” he says with grim determination. “I appreciate you giving her another chance—us another chance. And so does she. We’ll help you get these guys.”
“Alright, get on it.” I dismiss him. Don’t want to keep him tied up in my office and leave Sonya loose for too long. I have an out of control young lady of my own to catch up with.
* * *
Jasmine Francoise is out in her Ferrari. I know that because she has six different cars, every single one of them lo-jacked. I peel out in my non-descript Fed car to see what she’s up to. It soon turns out, it’s no good. Driving like a damned idiot, to be precise. Whenever that thing pushes the speed limit or shows up somewhere it shouldn’t, I’m alerted. I can’t actually bring her in unless I catch her in the act, but maybe I’ll get lucky today.
We’ve been looking for an excuse to bring her in. If she’s acting up, this could be that chance. Hunting her down through the grid of Manhattan is almost too easy. Even without the lo-jack, I could probably have found her. Jasmine is flamboyant. I spot the fire-red tail end of the car in traffic. She’s not at speed anymore, and as she pulls away from the light, she slows down. It’s like she senses I’m there. I don’t know how she pulls that trick off.
She likes to show her wealth. Likes to splash cash around. Likes to have an audience. She also likes to drive far too fast for her own good, or anyone elses. Either I let her go now, or I take this opportunity to do try and shake her up a little. See what comes out of it. I put my lights on and she pulls right over. We’ve done this dance before.
She smiles at me as I get out of the car. She’s not surprised to see me. Over the last few months, we’ve developed a relationship of antagonists. I’m old enough to be her father with my forty-eight years to her twenty-two. She thinks she knows it all. She’s cocky and cool as ice. She’s been brought up to believe that nobody can touch her. She’s wrong.
I’m going to do more than touch her. I’m going to bring her and the rest of her family down. I’m going to make her pay for the crimes she’s committed. The French Connection are a menace. Even if they’re not directly responsible for some of the worst kinds of crime, they’re an accessory to most of it.
“Sometimes I think about running when you do that,” she purrs at me in those pretty accented tones. “Would you chase me, Ricky?”
There’s no going undercover with the French Connection. When our man died two years ago, the cover was blown. They know us almost as well as we know them. Sometimes I think they might even know us better.
“Out of the car please, ma’am. Hands on the hood of mine.”
She does as she’s told, swinging her legging clad legs out of the vehicle. She’s a short girl, but she’s trying to make up for it with the most ridiculous high heels I’ve ever seen. Must be like trying to drive with a pair of hooves on.
“I missed you, Ricky.” She says the words over her shoulder as I approach from behind to do the pat down. Her smile is a little too bright. And her tone is entirely too familiar. “I know you go through my trash. Shall I throw some dirty panties in there for you to sniff?”
She’s being provocative. And rude. She’s trying to get under my skin, but I’ve been doing this job for far too long to let that happen. But she does affect me. My palm itches with the desire to whip her shapely ass. She’s a spoiled princess. New York is full of them. Most of them are harmless. Not this one.
I run my hands briefly, professionally up the insides of her taut thighs. It’s unlikely that she’s secreted a weapon in her pants, but you could fit a slim blade or something in there I suppose. I’m not expecting to find anything as I round her hips , but I do. Underneath the puffy fabric of the shirt which covers her rear, I find something hard and familiar.
“I’m going to guess you don’t have a license for this,” I say, slipping it out of the holster.
“You’d guess wrong.”
Getting a concealed carry permit in NYC is almost impossible, especially for the daughter of a criminal family.
“Check my purse,” she says, sensing my doubt. “It’s legit.”
I take the gun and go get her purse from her car. She’s just given me consent for a search. That means, if I find something in this bag, she’s coming in today. I rifle through the contents, hoping to find some evidence of drugs. I find nothing, except the carry permit, which seems to be legit.
“And how much did that cost you, girl?”
“Probably more than you make a year. Then again, most things I own do.”
Oh she’s a spoiled, snotty little brat. Images of what Colt did to Sonya flash through my mind. This girl needs an even harder, longer punishment. She needs that cocky, impudent, bratty little smile whipped off her face.
“Maybe you should spend less time harassing me, and more time chasing criminals.”
“You are a criminal, girl.”
Her smile grows broader. She could be on a toothpaste commercial right now.
“You can’t prove anything.”
I lean in over her. “Maybe not today, Miss Francoise. Maybe not tomorrow, but when I do, you’re going to be going away for a good long time. You mark my words.”
She laughs, a bright, tinkling sound of amusement tinged with disdain. It’s the perfect pitch to make me want to take my belt off and use it on her until that laugher turns to her begging for the mercy she doesn’t deserve. This girl is beautiful, and dangerous as all hell.
Her time is coming. She doesn’t know it yet, and all the warnings in the world won’t get through to her, but she’s is going to find herself in my custody sooner or later.
THE END
Also by Loki Renard: SCAR
He is pure dominant alpha male. I am damaged goods. But that didn't stop him branding me with his body, turning me over his knee, taking me any and every way he saw fit.
He wants a future, but I've always known that my past is coming for me.
I am not who he thinks I am.
Everything in my life is a lie.
Everything, except him.
Cl
ick here to read SCAR: A Dark Military Romance!
Also by Jane Henry: Island Captive
I was hired to apprehend a monster - a Dom who'd been sentenced to life for killing his submissive. I've seen what he's capable of, and the images will haunt me forever. I swore I'd stop at nothing to put him behind bars.
But then our plane back to the States crashes.
We are the only two survivors.
And the monster will make me wish I'd died along with the rest of them...
Click here to read Island Captive!
About Loki Renard
USA Today Bestselling Author Loki Renard lives in the South Island of New Zealand, where nobody is quite sure what she's getting up to. She writes sizzling hot stories of dominance, submission and discipline.
Bestselling Books by Loki Renard
Dark Romance
Bought
Brute
Captive
The Doctor’s Captive
SCAR
Shamefully Broken
Dark Reverse Harem Romance
Savages
Shamefully Shared
Dark M/M Romance
House of Vitali
Pet Play
The Dragon's Pet
The Alien's Pet
The Barbarian's Pet
A Short Leash
The Hunter's Pet
And many, many, many (really, many) more! Check out my Amazon author page for my complete backlist!
Sign up for my newsletter and get a free book here!
Check out my FB reader group, Loki's Vixens (fun, prizes, and the occasional goat) here!
Oh, and my official website: www.badgirlbooks.com
About Jane Henry
USA Today bestselling author Jane Henry pens stern but loving alpha heroes, feisty heroines, and emotion-driven happily-ever-afters. She writes what she loves to read: kink with a tender touch. Jane is a hopeless romantic who lives on the East Coast with a houseful of children and her very own Prince Charming.
What to read next? Here are some other titles by Jane you may enjoy.
Contemporary fiction
Island Captive: A Dark Romance
NYC Doms
Deliverance
Safeguard
Conviction
Masters of Manhattan
Knave
Hustler
The Billionaire Daddies
Beauty’s Daddy: A Beauty and the Beast Adult Fairy Tale
Mafia Daddy: A Cinderella Adult Fairy Tale
Dungeon Daddy: A Rapunzel Adult Fairy Tale
The Billionaire Daddies boxset
The Boston Doms
My Dom (Boston Doms Book 1)
His Submissive (Boston Doms Book 2)
Her Protector (Boston Doms Book 3)
His Babygirl (Boston Doms Book 4)
His Lady (Boston Doms Book 5)
Her Hero (Boston Doms Book 6)
My Redemption (Boston Doms Book 7)
You can find Jane here!
The Club (Facebook reader group)
Website