The Law Of The Beast: A Bad Boy Romance
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
The Law of the Beast
Carter Blake
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Read the first three chapters of The Nanny and the Beast
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the Author
Also by Carter Blake
Chapter 1
ADDISON
Ink.
Everywhere.
There are intricate, colorful tattoos covering almost every inch of his arms and neck, disappearing beneath the collar and sleeves of his uniform.
Whatever I expect Chief Kerr to look like, it isn’t that.
What happened to the typical middle-aged cop with the protruding abdomen and the dangerous love for doughnuts? Instead, the New York Police Department’s Chief of Police looks like the latest inked model to grace Inked Magazine’s cover, and he can’t possibly be a day over twenty-five. Leaned back in his chair, with his boot-clad feet on the desk, he seems to be sizing me up just as I am him. The faintest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Ms. Kent?”
Goddamn it, even his voice is sexy as hell.
But as he addresses me, I realize all too late that I’m standing in the doorway of his office, my hand still suspended in mid air from knocking on the door…and I’m staring.
Like I damn fool. I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s mother-effing gorgeous.
And I’m in trouble. Big trouble.
“C-Chief Kerr. I’m Addison. Addison Kent.” He knows that, you idiot. He just said your name! “I’m, uh, sorry. I guess I’m a little earlier than scheduled.” I take my gaze away from him only long enough to glance at the half-eaten breakfast sandwich and extra-large coffee with steam still billowing from the opened lid.
He waves his hand dismissively, leaning forward and letting his feet drop to the floor. “Nah, early is good. We can hit the road. It’s good to meet you, though, Ms. Kent. Can’t say as I’ve ever had a journalist do a ride-along with me, but there’s always a first for everything.”
“I’m not a journalist,” I snap. “I’m a photographer. This is just a freelance gig I picked up for SKB Productions. They’re doing the documentary on your department.”
Photojournalism is not my interest, but this two-day gig pays well, and that’s what I need now. That doesn’t mean I need anyone believing I’m anything other than what I truly am—a self-taught creative photographer.
Chief Kerr holds up his hands in mock surrender. “My mistake, Ms. Kent.”
The smirk he wears is fully evident now, and even though he looks positively edible, my desire to slap it off his face is just as strong as my desire to devour him and his entire beautiful body.
“I’m ready when you are,” I say through clenched teeth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him open his mouth, second-guess whatever he’s about to say, and then close it again.
I think I like him better when he’s quiet.
I follow him outside to his squad car. From behind, I can see the tattoos peeking out from the back of his collar, too, touching just below his closely clipped hair. I take advantage of the fact that he’s not looking at me and I shake my head, hoping to clear the thoughts running through my mind. I’m wondering what it’d be like to run my tongue along those beautiful designs, when I should be holding my camera up to my eyes and getting to work.
I take a few shots of the cruiser, then reach for the door handle on the passenger side. The sirens begin to blare, causing my heart to leap into my throat as a strangled yelp escapes me.
On the other side of the car, Chief Kerr stares back at me over the hood, holding up his key ring. He presses a button, and the sirens stop their incessant wail. All that’s left in the deafening silence that follows is the pounding of my own heartbeat…and the amused chuckle of the chief as he pulls open the driver’s side door and gets in.
The bastard had done it on purpose. I pull open the passenger door. “Asshole,” I mutter just a little too loudly.
Inside, I watch as he pulls the radio from the dash. “This is Chief Kerr, reporting a 10-6. Dispatch, you read?”
A moment’s static answers him, then, “10-4, Chief Kerr. Copy that.”
“Well, Ms. Kent, my coffee’s cold as fucking January. First stop, the Starbucks Drive-Thru. Then, we’ll get you those pictures you need.” He shifts the car into gear and leaves the precinct without another word.
He’s crude, vulgar, and undeniably gorgeous. It’s going to be a long two days.
Chapter 2
DOMINIC
When the Commissioner advised me that I’d have someone tagging along for two damn days with me, in office and out on patrol, I won’t deny it—I wasn’t fucking thrilled, and I let my distaste be known.
So, imagine my surprise when Ms. Kent—someone I expect to be twenty years older and a hell of a lot less enticing—shows up at my door, camera bag slung over her leather jacket, paired with a purple above-knee pencil skirt and a shade of red lipstick that practically begs me to kiss her pouty lips.
I’d had to shift my position to ease the ache I felt between my legs when she said, “I’m ready when you are.”
I’ll bet you are. It’d been on the tip of my tongue.
I would have to be careful. She’s beautiful, fantasy inducing, and intriguing enough to turn me into a Human Resources nightmare.
Then, I’d watched as her jaw went slack as she took in my appearance. I wasn’t offended; almost everyone who entered my office looking for Chief Kerr did a double-take when they saw me. At twenty-eight, I’m the youngest police chief the New York Police Department has ever had, and I’m also the least likely to ever be deemed typical. Between the tattoos and the single earrings I wear in both ears, I’m more likely to be mistaken for a criminal than the cop that’s running the precinct.
About the only thing that is typical when it comes to the fact that I’m a cop is my love of coffee. The stronger, the better. And as I pull up to the drive-thru window, I cast a glance over to the passenger seat. “Ms. Kent? You want anything?”
She hesitates, and at first I think she’s going to tell me she doesn’t drink the stuff. Well, shit, maybe she’s not perfect after all.
“Extra-large, two milk, one sugar,” she states. “Please.”
That’s my girl.
We get our coffees and proceed on with our day. Every now and then, she slides her paper cup into the cup holder of the door and picks up her camera with it’s big-ass lens. Whether I’m calling in to dispatch, scanning the graffitied sidewalks for anything suspicious, or flipping the sirens on and chasing down a speeding vehicle, the faint click of her camera is heard beside me.
She takes it all in, but never says a word.
I’ve never minded silence, and some silences don’t need to be filled. But there’s something different evoked from the silence that comes from the words she doe
sn’t speak. Something that I want to know more about. Something she possibly doesn’t want me to know.
It’s my job to pick up on these kinds of things, and right now, my inner radar is going off loudly in my head. “So, you from around here?”
“Nope.”
Okay, so it’s a dead-end question. My bad. I try again. “Where are you from, then?”
“Nowhere you’ve heard of, Chief Kerr.” She holds up her camera and snaps a picture of the dashboard gadgets before checking the digital display to see how it turned out.
I knew damn well she was doing it just so she didn’t have to concentrate on me.
“Not much of a talker, are you, Ms. Kent?”
She huffs a sigh, lowering her camera into her lap. “Call me Addison, please. This Ms. Kent crap makes me sound like some kind of fifty-something librarian.”
What I wouldn’t give to see her as a sexy little librarian.
“So, you can talk…Addison.” Even her name is sexy, and it feels luxurious and seductive on my tongue. I shift in my seat again. Fuck, if she lives up to half the thoughts I’m having about her right now…
“I’m just trying to do my job, Chief K—”
“Dominic.”
She stares at me as though I’m speaking a foreign language.
“If you’re going to insist I call you by your first name, then I’ll have to insist on the same. It’s Dominic. Or Dom. Whichever you prefer.” Hardly anyone ever calls me Dominic, so I know which choice I’d prefer, but I’m interested to see which variation she chooses.
“Fine. But, like I said, Dominic, I’m just here to do my job.”
I have to stop the satisfied moan I can feel threatening to erupt from my mouth. If saying her name is sexy as hell to me, then hearing her utter mine is going to be my undoing.
“And that’s quite all right, but you don’t have to avoid small talk all together in order to do your job, do you? I’ve got a feeling you’re a smart girl and can handle multitasking with the best of ‘em,” I tease, casting a quick sideways glance in her direction.
“Does being a jerk come naturally to you?” Addison’s eyes narrow.
“Why are you pretending to be the evil stepsister, Cinderella?” I can’t deny it. I’m goading her, and purely for fun. Just to see what makes her tick.
“Who says I’m pretending?”
I pull the cruiser up to a red light, and stop. Using the moment to focus squarely on her, I turn to face her and lean in closely. My lips are dangerously close to her ear, close enough that she’ll definitely feel the heat of my breath against her skin, but not close enough to actually touch her. “Prince Charming always knows the difference between Cinderella and the evil stepsister, Addison.”
I pull away, not even trying to hide my grin now.
“Asshole,” she mutters again, before turning away to stare out the passenger side window.
But I can see the heat flaming in her cheeks, and the wave of satisfaction that rolls through me is probably bigger than it should be.
“Twice in the first few hours of meeting,” I say jovially. “That might be a new record.”
Chapter 3
ADDISON
What starts out as two days of paid work, now quickly turns into two days of torture. This man is relentless, and totally not what I bargained for.
The arrogance in him is astounding. He’s narcissistic, and obviously a total prick. I mean, he referred to himself as Prince Charming, for God sake!
So, why am I still sitting here stealing furtive glances toward him, feeling something clench deliciously within me as I wonder what the tattoos beyond his shirt cuffs look like?
I’m picturing the NYPD Chief of Police naked; that’s a new low, even for me.
He asked me about my hometown, and I suppose my dismissive answers don’t exactly help to highlight his best conversational features. Hell, maybe I’m bringing out his asshole-ish tendencies.
I wonder what other side of him I could bring out? Maybe the good, maybe the bad, and maybe the downright dirty.
Addison! Stop it!
I don’t talk about my past. With anyone. There’s no one in New York who knows where I’m from, what my childhood was like, or that the last name I use is actually my mother’s maiden name. It’s not hard to keep any of it secret, especially when I’ve got no real friends anyway. I’ve never wanted any, so I’ve never tried to get any.
So, small talk isn’t my thing. And talking about my past really isn’t my thing.
But now I feel bad for being a total bitch to him. And I feel bad for calling him an asshole. Kind of. He also kind of deserved it.
“New Hampshire.”
The car is silent save for the sporadic crackling of the radio and spurts of police codes and voices that come across on its airwaves. Because of that, my voice sounds loud in comparison. Dominic doesn’t turn toward me, and I don’t expect him to while he’s driving.
“That’s where you’re from?”
“Yes.”
I try to act like talking about it is no big deal, but from the corner of my eye I see his shoulders lower ever so slightly. My answer is a peace offering of sorts. A truce called between enemy lines.
He seems to mull over his answer before he speaks again. “Did you always want to be a photographer?”
His new line of questioning calms me a bit. That’s an easy one to answer. “Always.”
“You studied it in college?”
I shrug. “Never went to college. I’m self-taught.” I stumble on the last sentence. Mostly because it’s a lie, if I’m being truthful. “Well, actually, my mother taught me the basics.”
I see his eyes flicker toward me for only a split second, hardly ever leaving the road. “She must love the fact that you made a career out of it, then.”
“My mother’s dead.”
I don’t know why I say it. It would have been easier to just nod and tell him a lie by omission. Instead, the truth falls from my lips before I have any chance to swallow it back down into the darkest pit of my soul where it belongs.
Dominic visibly winces. “I’m sorry, Addison.”
I reach for my coffee in the cup holder, now ice cold. I take a drink anyway, needing the moment of reprieve. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
I’m thankful when the conversation lulls again. I’m petrified what else I might actually tell this man, seeing as he seems to have a knack for making me speak about things I haven’t spoken about in years. Not only is the truth too horrific for anyone to want to hear about, but the man I’d be admitting everything to is the Chief of Police.
And there’s no way I can tell the police chief that I’m a wanted man’s daughter. Or that my father murdered my mother…in front of me, no less. Or that I know things that should have been confessed to the DEA and police years and years ago. And worst, I can’t tell him that my father is looking for me right now, and if he has his way, the secrets that I hold will be buried with me in a shallow grave where no one will ever find them…or me.
The rest of the day goes by without any crazy or terrifying calls that we have to speed toward, and I’m glad. Being the police chief, I’m sure Dominic is privy to more frightening and disgusting things than I would ever want to know about, but I’m sure as hell not hardwired like that. With the childhood I led, if I ever have to deal with anything classified as horrific or terrifying again, it will be too soon.
“That was a lot quieter day with you than I expected,” I admit.
Dominic pushes the driver’s side door open and gets out, ducking his head back inside the car to look at me. “That’s because I had to force you to talk.”
“You didn’t force me to do anything.” And you wouldn’t have to use force, you beautiful man. “Besides, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Dominic rolls his eyes as he waits for me to get out of the car and slam the door. A bleep announces that the doors have been locked, and I fall into step beside him as we head bac
k into the precinct to get the bag of camera lenses I’d left in his office. “It was a quiet day because I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I called in a 10-6 when we got into the car.”
“What does that mean?”
“Busy, unless urgent.” He offers me a sexy grin as he holds the door open for me. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
“You mean, I was stuck in a vehicle with you all day, and you weren’t even technically on duty?”
“If shit hit the fan, Addison, I’d have punched the gas and turned on the lights and sirens. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if you were in the car or not. Believe me, I was on duty. I am always on duty, and don’t you forget it.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
Chapter 4
DOMINIC
Being a cop isn’t just a job to me. It isn’t just a career. I live and breathe to be a cop. Which is exactly why I need Addison to know that I’m an officer whether I’m wearing my uniform or not. Enforcing the law isn’t something I do during a nine-to-five shift, and it’s not something I can just go home and forget about until I do it all over again the next day.
My uniform doesn’t make me a cop; my instincts do.
And my instincts are on high alert when it comes to Little Miss Pouty Lips. There’s a darkness in her eyes she tries to shield from me—probably from everyone—but I can see it.
Probably because I’ve known that kind of darkness myself, and it’s not something that can just be left behind and forgotten. Addison Kent harbors something shadowed within her, and if it’s something to do with her past—which I’ll bet my next paycheck it is, or else she never would have been so damn confrontational about telling me where she’s from—then that past is still very much her present.