Deception (A Stalker Novel Book 2)

by Brittany Crowley

  DECEPTION

  A Stalker Novel

  Karen Raines

  Brittany Crowley

  Copyright

  DECEPTION

  Copyright © 2018 Brittany Crowley & Karen Raines

  All rights reserved

  Cover design and promotional items

  Lisa Reads at BTP Designs

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission of the author, except for brief quotations of the book when writing a review.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Contents

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  PROLOGUE

  Sydney

  Three swift knocks to my dressing room door pull me out of my head and back into the present. I turn and stare as someone ducks their head into the dressing room barking, “Five-minute warning.” Randy’s assistant I assume, says this without glancing in my direction.

  I turn back to the mirror and mumble, “Great.” Second nature brings my hand to flip my hair but that’s a no go right now… along with rubbing my hands down my face. Just great.

  “You know what you need to do, just get out there and…” I sigh. “Do it.”

  I hardly recognize myself and when I catch my reflection in the mirror, I take a few calming breaths to ease some of the tension coursing through my body. It’s kind of funny and makes me laugh since I look exactly like myself minus my usual blue hair. Just jzeushed a bit more than usual.

  Ok, that may be an understatement.

  I stare intently at my perfectly coiffed platinum blond hair that is one step from needing its own zip code and thank god I work out daily to be able to hold this beast up. I pucker my lips and the bright pink color makes my insides cringe. Some miracle worker managed to stuff my subtle B cups into the mother of all contraptions. They’re all pushed up and showing perkily through my silver sequined halter neck dress. A task I’ve never had any luck with even with the best push-up bras on the market.

  After another failed attempt of deep breathing, I get up and exit my dressing room. There’s a whole posse of people waiting outside the door and after scanning the sea of nameless faces, I crane my neck to find the one person who’s a head taller than everyone else. The only person who brings me comfort, even though he shouldn’t.

  “Finally! Can you hear that?”

  I don’t necessarily need to strain my ears to hear the chants coming from the stadium full of diehard Ray-Ann Woodley fans. Randy doesn’t let me answer before he starts pulling me towards the screaming throng of people waiting. I pull my arm from his tight grasp and tell him to back off.

  “Fine, make them wait.” He growls then stalks off.

  What an ass. I quickly survey my surroundings looking for anything suspicious. I notice Cross doing the same thing as he makes his way towards me. Continuing, I stop in front of the steps to the stage and freeze.

  Goddamn.

  How did I find myself here? I’ll tell you how. Family. I’d do anything for my family. Even the one thing I’ve sworn to never do.

  Ever.

  I’m about to take my first step when a hand lands low on my waist. Warm breath hits my ear and it takes a ton of restraint not to shiver from the sensation. To show he has no effect on me.

  “Don’t forget to twerk… Ray-Ann.”

  It sounds odd coming from his lips. I didn’t know Cross, Mr. Broody Badass, had the word twerk in his vocabulary let alone could use it correctly. And the fucker knows calling me that messes with my head.

  “Fuck off.” I pop my behind into his crotch making him eat his words.

  A low growl exits his lips and I feel victorious. Suck it Cross!

  The music starts, and I know that’s my cue to get my ass to the stage. But first I turn around and smile sweetly at the big burly man who’s about to witness my humiliation. Even though I’d never admit to a living soul, I’m glad he’s here.

  I have a second to stare at the curtain that’s in front of me and close my eyes. The heavy material finally pulls back, and the fans go wild. I smile through my discomfort, grab the mic and think oh fuck!

  Chapter 1

  Cross

  Uncomfortable.

  There are many words I could use right now to explain this fucked up situation.

  Awkward. Uneasy. They would do too. For now, I’ll stick with uncomfortable.

  “Seriously dude, you look like you’re going to a fucking funeral,” Marcus laughs as he elbows past me to hog the mirror.

  With a sigh, I turn on my heel and head straight for the mini bar. “Why are you in my room again? Shouldn’t you be with the groom?”

  “Yeah well, he had a visitor,” he turns to me, waggling his eyebrows like a whacked-out cartoon character. “They’re getting in a little pre-marital action, if you know what I mean.”

  Didn’t take a genius to work it out, which is lucky since Marcus was the furthest thing from one. My lips turned up at my internal joke before I could school them.

  “See? You love my words, admit it,” the annoying asshole chimed.

  I settled for flipping him the bird before turning to the window and gazing out at the Vegas skyline.

  I thought Colby, my boss and one of my best friends, had been joking when he said he was kidnapping his girlfriend and dragging her to Vegas to get hitched. I should have known the crazy fool was serious. Add in the douche currently singing to himself in my mirror, and all bets were off.

  But Colby was about to marry the perfect (for him) woman. I had to hand it to the bride, she had some serious skills. Not only had Briella worked out his plan, she changed the hotels, the venue and brought the wedding forward a week without him knowing and turned the tables. His face had been priceless. I guess that’s what happens when two private investigators with a penchant for going undercover get together.

  I take a long sip of my beer and wonder what the hell I’m doing here? I hate Vegas and everything it represents, and yet here I am, clad in a monkey suit preparing to watch them tie the knot. I’m happy for them, I am. I just wish this could have bee
n done closer to home and without the theatrics. I had nearly managed to work my way out of it too, but the bride has some impressive persuasive skills.

  “Are you gonna be this miserable the whole time we’re here? Because I need a wingman, and you’re it.”

  Rolling my eyes, I turn back to Marcus. He and Colby own the PI firm I work for, although they are as different as night and day. Somehow, they make it work and we have one hell of a team. Marcus has also come to be a best friend of mine, but I’ll never tell the fucker that.

  “Thought you’d be chasing after a certain bridesmaid?”

  He scowls and makes himself busy in the mirror again. “I’m free to do whoever I want, and so is the shrew.”

  “She gone back to being a lesbian again?”

  “Hey, fuck you man,” he yells, clutching at his heart as if I’ve wounded him. “I could be dying of a broken cock here and this is the support I get from you? Not cool Cross.”

  My face screws up. “Broken cock?”

  He waves me off. “Cock, heart… same difference. Anyway, I didn’t think you’d be wanting to hang with the bridesmaids.”

  And there it is, the elephant in the room.

  Sydney fucking Parker.

  I take another long gulp of my beer and give a nod. “Wingman it is.”

  ***

  Mouth gawking, I nearly slip from the barstool as the bride and her girls get up on the stage. Not because they’re drunk, oh no… the horror starts the second they open their mouths.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Hey! What did that cat ever do to you… stop strangling it!” Marcus shouts from beside me.

  Colby’s leaning back against the bar, a satisfied smirk on his face which most likely has more to do with his extended visit to the bathroom with his wife than the caterwauling.

  “I gotta know, does she sound like that when you’re drilling her?”

  Colby shoots a glare in Marcus’s direction. I chuckle.

  “Fuck sake Cross, don’t laugh at him. It only makes him worse!”

  Shaking my head, I turn back to the stage. The four founding members of FT Investigations, leading women in the Private Investigation world, are wasted. Briella is shaking her hips like her life depends on it, her partner in crime Skylar doing the same. Chantel seems to have completely lost all sense of rhythm and is just kung fu fighting in the background… and then there’s Blue.

  She shakes out her edgy blue hair and sings along to the beat of the song. Badly. Not one of them has a decent vocal cord but Sydney is in a league of her own. While the others continue to butcher the lyrics, she belts out random words. It’s not the singing that has my attention though. It’s the dress.

  Short, flared, tight at the waist, barely covering her perfect tits…

  My cock jumps to life. Traitor.

  Blinking, I mentally flip off my dick and turn back to the boys. Colby catches my eye while Marcus chats up the stacked bartender.

  “You good?”

  With a nod, I raise my beer and take a long glug. “Never better. You happy?”

  His face breaks out with a shit-eating grin. “I can’t believe she actually married me. I wouldn’t marry me.”

  Laughing, I slap his shoulder. “No shit! I wouldn’t marry you either. Fuck knows what you put in her drink to make her do this.”

  “Powerful shit,” he laughs. He smiles over at the stage, a slight wince creasing his brow when she tries, and fails, to hit a high note. “Jesus, I forgot how much she sucks at singing.”

  “Well,” I laugh. “You didn’t marry her for that.”

  He’s still smiling at the woman on the stage as she tackles Sky into a hug. I wait for Colby to speak. When you’re the quiet one, you know when to be patient. Even guys like Colby and Marcus need time to collect their thoughts. Sure, the go-to message in most of their sentences is perverse humor, but every now and then they surprise you. This was one of those times.

  “She’s everything Cross. I don’t know how we got to this point, I don’t know why she would ever even consider giving me this chance but I’m fucking grateful she has.”

  I take a moment to watch him as he watches her, a myriad of emotions etched across his face. Love, desire, tenderness, amusement… they have it in spades.

  Against my will, my eyes flow over the room until they land on the woman that consumes my soul and for a beat, they collide with hers. She stutters over the words and there it is. That connection. That pull. Her eyes widen, her hand flies to her chest. Then it’s like a shutter goes down and she’s back to seductively swaying her curves on the stage, catching the eye of every male in the room and making the beast in me want to kill every fucker that dares to look at her.

  Only I don’t have the right because she isn’t mine. She made that clear the second we got back from our last operation in the Caribbean, the same one that brought the happy couple together.

  “I’m happy for you man.”

  I down the rest of my beer and slap a few bills on the counter. The song comes to an end and the crowd erupts into cat calls and cheers. Briella flies over into Colby’s arms, her lips smashing against his. It’s a drunk, sloppy kiss and fuck its ugly. My cue to leave.

  “I’m hitting the tables, catch you guys later.”

  I wave over my head and start through the busy floor toward the door. A hand slips through my arm and for just a second, I think it’s her. I glance down, expression guarded and relax immediately when I see it’s just Skylar.

  “Mind if I join you, big guy? There’s only so much ‘Marcus’ a girl can take in one night.”

  I smile at the feisty woman. I’ve come to think of Skylar as a sister since our two companies were thrown together all those months ago.

  We look back at our friends to see Marcus standing on the bar doing god knows what, the group laughing and some asshole whispering into Sydney’s ear.

  “I love that girl but when it comes to you, she’s a twat,” Sky sighs, squeezing my arm.

  “Nah, she’s just not ready,” I comment with a small smile. I look down at Sky and let my grin widen. “Come on, let’s go lose some money.”

  Chapter 2

  Sydney

  You know in romance books when the heroine wakes up in her man’s bed, but then she’s all disorientated like, where am I? I don’t remember having motorcycle posters on my wall. Why is my back warm and something heavy draped across my hip?

  This is not one of those moments.

  First off, my head is pounding like a freaking timpani. It literally feels like a percussionist is banging away on my precious brain threatening to turn it into applesauce if I move my head in the slightest.

  But move I must. Because just like those romance books, there’s a sweltering presence at my back. Instead of an arm wrapped around my waist, it’s a leg locking me in like Alcatraz. A strong, sexy, caramel colored leg that’s so muscular and well defined I want to take a bite from the calf.

  It’s going to be tricky, but I’m skilled in the art of dodging the opposite sex. I’m no stranger to the walk of shame after an early morning retreat. I somehow shimmy myself out of his hold until I’m crouched next to the bed naked as the day I was born, wondering where the hell my clothes were ripped off. They’re nowhere to be found and I’m not about to streak through the hotel and give everyone a show.

  I’m ready to grab a towel when off to the side in the corner of the room I notice the shirt Cross wore last night. I slip it on quickly, the buttons all crooked, and tip toe out of the bedroom careful not to wake him up. At the door I look back at the sleeping man that did crazy things to me last night, half of them I’m pretty sure would make Charlie Sheen blush.

  It seemed like a great idea at the time, really it did. And I’d like to say alcohol played a factor, but I’d be lying. All I wanted was to get him out of my system and move on, a one and done so to speak and when I’d seen him at the slot machines by himself, I seized the moment and believe it or not, I made the firs
t move. Hell, I made the first, second and third moves before he snapped out of it, threw me over his shoulder and carried me like King Kong to his hotel room.

  His broody nature stays with him even in his sleep and I have a strong urge to kiss that pout off his plump lips. It’s bizarre how drawn I am to the man. It’s never happened before and I’m fighting through the urge now. Cross stirs as I continue my perusal of his body, and after he flips to his back, I have an unbridled view of his enormous arms, tattoo covered chest and each divot of his delicious abs. He’s a huge man and he knows how to work every inch of his body. He really is the real-life Rock, only better.

  His caramel skin begs to be licked, bitten and scratched. For a second, I ponder going to him, pulling the sheet down his magnificent hips and waking him with my mouth. Then maybe after we’d have a shower where he’d push me up against the cold tile and…sigh. That mode of thinking will get me nowhere but knee deep in messy relationship territory.

  Finally, I exit the bedroom and shut the door. In the living room I find my dress but decide not to change into it. It’ll take too much time and I’ve already wasted enough of that staring at Cross like a girl in love. Which, I most certainly am not.

  I berate myself on the walk back to my room for getting involved with Cross. I know better than to make our relationship complicated especially due to the fact that we team up for work all the time.

  Both our teams at FT Investigations and MB Security worked together on a job four months ago. That’s when all this business with Cross started. It was innocent at first, some flirting here and there, a sexual innuendo to lighten the mood. I’m a sexual person, I flirt with everyone whether it be man or woman. It’s who I am. Somehow the lines became blurred after I went undercover and got kidnapped. Now Cross has it in his gorgeously bald head that I want something more.

  I can’t fault Cross for it all. When I thought he was going to die from a gunshot wound I swore to myself if he made it out I’d be with him. Do the couples thing.

  Chalk it up to the heat of the moment. Thinking I’d never stare into his whiskey eyes again, crack jokes that he’d never laugh at. I don’t do relationships, I’m practically a dude in that department.