You Are Mine (Bad Boy 9 Novel Collection)

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You Are Mine (Bad Boy 9 Novel Collection) Page 62

by Amy Faye


  He needs medical attention immediately, but he won't let go, until finally three separate cops manage to pull him away as another four pull the gunman to the ground.

  Josh takes a deep breath and loosens his grip on Terry's arm.

  "You need to get to a hospital."

  "The girl. Is she alright?"

  "She's fine," Josh tells him. He turns to one of the other officers, their weight still set to make sure that the big guy doesn't decide to make another try at a felony right in front of the police. "Get this guy in an ambulance."

  And then, like a marionette whose strings got cut out, Terry's prodigious strength starts to fail him, and his knees buckle.

  Josh turns around to try to comfort and calm Anna and the little one. But the space behind the stage, he finds, is empty.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Anna's arm hurts. Mitch is pulling on it too hard, but she's not going to tell him to stop. They turn down another alley. Does he know where they're going, or is he just leading them blindly into the bowels of the city?

  It's hard to say for sure. Mitchell has always lived on the edge of the city. Where things start to spread out. This is downtown, this is where everything starts to tighten in on itself like a giant snake eating its own tail.

  "Hurry, we've got a car waiting," he says. Anna's breath comes in harsh bouts. Nine months of pregnancy hasn't done wonders for her endurance.

  "I need," she gasps. "I need a second."

  A car waiting? She leans against the wall, her arms clutched tight around Ava. What?

  That sounds strange. Do they always plan for these sorts of things? It's difficult to say for certain that they don't. They might, with how many threats there are on a nearly-daily basis to Mitch's dad.

  But it still strikes her as odd. Between gasping breaths, her head starts to catch up with the rest of her. "Mitch, where are we going?"

  "Around this next corner, down a few hundred feet, take a left. The car will be right there."

  He does know where he's going, then. Whether it's suspicious or not, he's clearly got a good sense of where they're going.

  "I just. One second. Please, just the one second, okay? Then we'll go."

  Mitch leans back against the wall himself, now. His own breathing is hard, as well. "A second, but we've got to go. We've got to make sure that damn psychopath doesn't have anyone working with him."

  It's hard to say whether he doesn't, or not. But whoever that guy was, it's not hard to believe that he's at least related to the guy who got his 'payment' up front.

  Anna's breathing starts to come back to her after a few seconds. She gets up, and Mitch pushes himself off the wall beside her. He's got a tear in his suit. Hopefully it won't be so expensive to repair.

  "Ready?"

  "Ready." She follows him through the alleys. They take a slower pace this time, and she has a much easier time keeping her breath, even as the panic threatens to overflow the high walls of her self-control, and her breath catches over and over in his throat.

  Mitch stops dead in his tracks. A body lays in the middle of they alley. He's got a dark suit and he looks like a driver. Anna's chest tightens. There's no question what's happened here.

  And the man who steps out is wearing a pea-coat, same as all the others have been. He raises a pistol.

  "Give me the money, you son of a bitch."

  Anna's already been seen. She knows it, but even still she wonders if she can get away before the guy can adjust and shoot.

  Mitch reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. "This is all I've got. Leave me and my fiancée alone. Please."

  The guy doesn't reach for the wallet.

  "Don't play any fucking games with me. You walked off with my money, and I'm going to have my god damn cash. Now."

  Anna's heart thumps in her chest, and Mitchell's fear slips a little. Now he looks less like he's being robbed and pissing his pants; he looks almost confused.

  "What the fuck are you talking about? Where's Robert?"

  The big guy's gun presses in close to Mitch. It's not hard to notice that he's barely paying a lick of attention to Anna.

  "You're not in charge here, you sack of shit. I'm asking the questions. I was hired to do a job, and I'm not getting away without getting paid, is that fucking clear? You tried to double cross me and you thought that shit was just going to fly?"

  Mitch looks at him with a snarl. It's an instinct that he's never been able to kick. He doesn't like being stood up to. Even the gun in his face hasn't fixed that.

  The gunman looks over at her. "Get out of here."

  Mitch's snarl tightens. "You don't give the orders here. Anna, stay until I give you permission to leave."

  She doesn't need to be told twice, though. She's already moving, already heading towards the other end of the alley. Back the way she came. It's dangerous, but she's not going to be stuck there with a guy with a gun who's that angry.

  A loud, sharp pop permeates the air as she escapes into the open air. A moment later, she's scooped up by Josh.

  "Anna! Are you alright?"

  Her stomach's turned upside-down. "I don't know. Mitch, he's—there's a man with a gun, and he's going to kill Mitch."

  Josh takes a deep breath. "I should really go get someone. I don't know if I should take this by myself." He turns toward the crowd and calls out a name.

  A uniformed policeman runs over, almost looking relieved to be out of the melee.

  "We're going in to look for trouble. Come with me. You're my witness."

  Anna stands there. Should she follow? She probably shouldn't. She just gives directions and waits for them to get back.

  There's no second shot. Ten minutes later, Josh comes back, his expression sour. The uniform's face is drawn and pale.

  "I've got some bad news, Anna."

  She doesn't need to hear what it is. Mitchell is dead. She's not sure how to feel about it. She's not sure what any of it means. Her stomach twists like someone trying to get the water out of a rag.

  "Dead?"

  Josh nods. He pulls her close into a hug. Should he have done it—she doesn't know. But she knows that whether he should have or not, she nestles into his arms.

  It feels warm and safe. Whatever is going on, whatever the bigger picture is… it doesn't really matter right now. All that matters is that she's safe.

  In the end, she'll have things back under control, but right now, with the whole world falling down around her, she feels like Detective Meadows, at least, is there to keep things from hitting her on the way down.

  She reaches up on her tip-toes and presses a kiss against his lips. He takes it like it's a rapture threatening to overtake him.

  "I've got to get back. Your friend, Terry. He's hurt. We've got him waiting on an ambulance. It shouldn't be far, but we've got to have as many people working on crowd control as we can get, either way."

  "What happened?"

  "He stopped a bullet."

  Anna's throat tightens. He'd better be okay. He'd better live. Because she doesn't know who his daughter is, but she knows that she couldn't possibly imagine a woman going through the rest of her life not being able to say goodbye.

  Not that she could do it, either. She gathers up her courage and goes over into the swarming maelstrom of people and police. She's got to make sure that Terry's going to be alright.

  And she's got to calm him down, because God only knows that man will keep trying to protect her until there's not a single breath left in his body.

  Epilogue

  Josh tries to make as little noise as possible as he wakes. Some parts of it are just routine. That's how it is. On-call, you get used to waking up in the middle of the night and making sure that your wife stays asleep.

  She looks every bit as pretty as the day they were married. Every bit as pretty as the day they met. For a moment, he's worried that she might be waking up—she rolls over and digs deeper into the pile of pillows she's amassed on her side of the bed.
>
  He pulls on his jeans and his jacket. Light's starting to peek through the blinds, lighting up the bedroom. It's unusual, these days, to be able to get up so late. But today's a special occasion, and he's not going in to work today.

  Five years ago today, she agreed in front of God and everybody to be his, until the day she died, and he's been thankful for it every single day since.

  Five years, though, is a little more different. A little more special. It's not a day where he can be happy thinking about her while he sits at a desk and assigns boys to go out and deal with all the filth and shit that comes through the police precinct.

  Today is about making sure that she knows exactly how he feels. He pulls the cast-iron out from below the oven, careful to keep the noise low. It still clangs against a pan anyways.

  He turns the oven on; it beeps happily as he tells it to start heating up. A few minutes later, it beeps again to tell him that it's ready, and he pushes the skillet in, covered in long, thin strips of bacon.

  He's got a few minutes before it's time to wake Anna and the kids, but that doesn't mean that he can afford to be idle. He cracks the eggs into a bowl and stirs them up.

  Josh has never been good at anything but scrambled. Anna doesn't seem to mind, Ava doesn't know any better, and Terry isn't old enough to voice his opinion anyways.

  He sets the bowl aside. It'll cook fast, and he's got plenty of time before the bacon is ready anyways.

  He settles down into his seat and closes his eyes. Now there's just one worry left.

  It's been five years, they've been married, and Anna's never complained one time. She's put up with a lot. No different than most detectives' wives, but they all have to put up with a lot.

  It's hard to believe that she'll be happy with anything he could buy her, on the salary he's making. Not when she used to be so close to such a rich guy.

  A pair of warm arms wrap around him, soft breasts pressing into his head as Anna pulls him into a hug from the side. Josh opens his eyes.

  "Morning."

  She smiles down at him. "Morning to you, too."

  "Still working on breakfast."

  "You know, you didn't have to do that. The kids and I could have made do ourselves."

  Josh stands up. His wife has to look up at him a little, now. He scoops her up so they're eye-to-eye, and presses a kiss against her lips.

  "I wanted to."

  "Then thank you."

  His breath catches in his chest. He puts the pan over heat and a second later drops the eggs in, and then pulls open the drawer. A little box is inside. He takes it out. His fingers tighten. It had taken a little while to save up the money, and it had been a bear to get enough saved without his wife noticing.

  But, he hoped, he'd managed it.

  "Hey babe?"

  Anna comes around into the kitchen and leans against the door. "What's up?"

  He holds the box out. No time to worry whether or not she'll like it, now. It's the thought that counts, right?

  "Happy anniversary."

  She takes the box and opens it up, already looking curious, and the look on her face pays him back every penny. She's always beautiful. She's always been beautiful.

  But her beauty's at its best when she's happy.

  Bad Boy’s Baby

  Contemporary Redemption Romance

  Amy Faye

  Published by Heartthrob Publishing

  If you want news about new novel releases, you can sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cmQY05

  Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…

  I pounded my beer until I was a little buzzed. It was a nice bar, surprisingly, but I didn't want to be there anymore. “You wanna come back to my place?” I asked. Going home alone sounded like a lousy idea, and I missed the way his hands felt. “I want you to come back to my place with me,” I added. The look on his face told me he wanted to say no, and I just couldn't have that.

  He looked at me for a good long while, then nodded. “Alright. Let's go.” We left the bar.

  As soon as we got into my house, his mouth was on mine. Sudden unexpected emotions forced themselves upon me as I realized this felt right. Lust washed over me, but maybe that was just because of how drunk I was.

  Brant broke the kiss and tipped my head to the side, revealing my neck. His lips left quick kisses on it before he bit down just hard enough to raise goosebumps on my skin.

  “Ahh,” I moaned, gripping his suit. He sunk his teeth into me again, then pulled me over to the couch. He sat down and draped his arms over the back. It was clear what he wanted.

  I thought for a second, then took a deep breath and bent down. My black dress hiked up over my thighs. Brant leaned back against the couch, smiling in anticipation.

  Closing his eyes, he looked innocent for just a moment, but I knew that something much less innocent was hidden in those pants. I slid my hand up his thigh, gripping his muscles and enjoying how hard they were. I wanted him to feel just how much I wanted him in every movement I made.

  Taking the clasp of his buckle, I pulled it loose and slid the thick leather out from under him. My dainty hands pulled at Brant's pants, unbuttoning the clasp and pulling down the zipper. Brant gave a pleased sigh, running his hands through my hair.

  His touch sent a shiver down my spine as I prepared to take him into my mouth for the first time in 4 years. Anticipation was building up within me.

  Tossing back my hair, I grabbed his pants. He lifted himself so that I could with one smooth movement pull them down to his ankles, along with his boxer briefs. As soon as I saw his glorious cock, my eyes widened and I held my breath.

  That was the cock I had been missing for so long. God, it looked delicious. It was so beautiful and so big, and it was already half hard and ready for me to take it. It twitched while I looked at it.

  Licking my lips, I took his penis in my hand and gripped it tight. Merely holding his unbelievable cock in my hand forced a moan from my lips, a shiver down my spine. The muscles in my lower abdomen began to tickle and my mound was hot and soaking wet.

  In a word, I was fucking horny.

  My eyes flicked up at him, and I caught him watching me with a smirk on his face. His hand left my hair so that his arm could drape over the couch again, allowing me to take complete control over his prick.

  “I'm going to suck your cock until you cum down my throat,” I told him, flashing him a grin. I was acting like a slut all of a sudden, and it felt damn good. Brant smiled back down at me, his rebellious jaw set, then leaned his head back and waited for me to get started.

  His cock was so smooth, and it twitched in my hand. Moving it up and down, I allowed his foreskin to slide along with my hand. He shifted in his seat, his stomach muscles tensing then relaxing.

  After only a few seconds, precum began to leak from his prick. I was absolutely salivating while I watched it. I wanted to taste it so bad, so I leaned forward while pushing my hair over my shoulder to get it out of the way.

  With my tongue held out as if I were about to taste an ice cream, I pressed my wet muscle against his velvety skin and tasted his salty precum.

  “Ah,” he sighed, his fingers scratched against the couch.

  I took that as a good sign. Opening my mouth as wide as possible, I placed it over his cock. Only taking the tip of his prick into my mouth at first, I sucked hard on it and teased him. He sucked in a hot breath and held it as I played with him.

  His precum was a salty, naughty taste in my mouth. I took another inch, then another, until his manhood was in my throat. Looking up, I saw that Brant brought his hand to his mouth and was covering, trying his best to stay quiet. He muffled a moan behind that fist. The sound made my cunt drip.

  A quick movement and his whole member was deep down my throat. My gag reflex was going to kick in at some point, but I held myself down on that cock for as long as possible. Brant's thighs were quivering beneath me. It felt so good to give him pleasure like tha
t.

  The hand that wasn't covering his mouth was gripping the couch tight as he writhed in ecstasy.

  With a few coughs and sputters, I lifted my head and choked in some air. As soon as I composed myself again, I went back down on him, stuffing more of that cock into my mouth. With my head bobbing up and down, I teased him and sucked him as much as I could.

  He gasped and moaned beneath his hand, his hips scooting down so that he could get closer to me.

  I pulled my head up and looked at him, waiting for him to notice that I stopped sucking him off. “Now, I'm going to ride you until you come in me. Are you ready?”

  He only nodded eagerly, holding my hips as I stood to guide me over him. He watched me with those fierce eyes as I kicked off my shoes and hiked up my dress. Pulling my panties to the side, I revealed my glistening cunt and showed him that I was completely ready for his huge dick to be inside of me.

  Stepping up onto the couch, I grabbed Brant by the shoulders and used them to keep me steady. He cradled my hips and back with surprising tenderness and strength, not allowing me to fall as I positioned his prick at my entrance and lowered myself onto him.

  “Sssshit,” I moaned through clenched teeth. Once he was fully within me, I wrapped my legs around him and placed my arms around his neck.

  His large, strong hands grabbed the top of my dress and pulled it down, revealing my tits. His eyes ate them up, and then his hands gripped both of them.

  I didn't move and inch, but his cock twitched inside of me. Even just that sent a wave of pleasure through my body. It had been too long since I had some good cock in me, and it had been way too long since it was Brants. Our past be damned, I wanted this man more than anything else.

  I rubbed my palm against the back of his neck, kissing him as I stroked it with gentle motions. Then I ran my fingers through his hair, a move that I knew he found relaxing. His shoulders relaxed and, finally, I moved my hips back.

  His cock moved with me, hitting me in just the right spot. Pulling myself forward again, I pressed my lips against his. They were incredibly soft, and so familiar. I realized I had never really forgotten how gentle his kisses were, the soft curve of his upper lip.

 

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