BETRAYED:: Sizzling HOT Detective Series (Book 3, The Criminal Affairs Collection Book 3;)

by Taylor Lee

  Jax turned a narrowed gaze on Nicolas, then nodded, a smile quirking his lips. “If you are referring to the fact that Sergeant Moreau is wearing my jacket, suffice it to say I’ve learned that you randy gents can handle only so much of Sergeant Moreau’s infamous gold lamé dress. Being the gentleman that I am, it seems unfair to wave a red flag in front of snorting bulls that can only look and not touch. In addition, chivalry demands that I protect the sergeant from her fawning admirers.”

  Nicolas Garza nodded. “Wise move, Chief Hughes. You’re smart to understand the reaction that your woman provokes in the rest of us hapless aficionados, who regretfully acknowledge that the Enchantress is off limits.”

  Jax gave a mirthless chuckle and said smoothly, “Good that you know your limitations, Mr. Garza.” Making it clear that Enrique was his target, Jax turned on the frowning candidate. “Best you stick to politics, Mr. Assistant Attorney General. If you lose, you can always pin it on your campaign staff or even on a public that was too ignorant to appreciate that their long-awaited messiah has come to life.” His smile widened and he said with a sardonic shrug, “But when the Enchantress shuts you down—as she will—you simply join an exceptionally large group of men who’ve tried and failed.”

  Not waiting for an answer from the disconcerted group, Jax nodded to the valet who’d brought his car, then led Viviana to the passenger side and opened the door for her. He retrieved Viviana’s go-bag from Mick, who was standing off to the side, clearly enjoying the drama playing out before him. Tossing the bag into his car, Jax glanced over his shoulder at the Vega entourage. Shooting them a sly grin, he said with a pleasant tip of his head, “Good evening gentlemen, madam.” Rounding his classy automobile, he pressed a large bill in the appreciative valet’s hand and hopped into the car. The roar of the powerful engine and squealing tires underscored his dismissal of the group left standing in his wake.

  Bracing her feet against the floor of the speeding automobile, Viviana wrenched her bag open and yanked out a pair of slacks and a sweater. Deciding against climbing into the back seat to undress, she unzipped her wrinkled dress. Knowing that it was probably ruined from their escapade in the hotel garden, she stripped it off and tossed it to the floor. She looked over to see Jax openly leering at her breasts that were overflowing the lacy cups of her underwire bra. Infuriated, she covered the straining flesh and snapped, “Why are you looking at me like that, Jax? Aren’t you supposed to be driving? It’s bad enough that you spent the last three hours humiliating me, but now you’re going to drive us into a ditch because you can’t keep your eyes on the road?”

  Jax chuckled, then frowned. “Why am I looking at you ‘like that’? Because, Viviana, I can’t turn away from such an erotic sight. Besides, in a minute or so, I will have the pleasure of watching you struggle to get your rosy red ass into those tight pants of yours. Even the thought—much less the sight—of said ass gives me a hard-on.” He added with a cocky grin, “Too bad that arrogant pol doesn’t get to watch you transform from a hot babe in a wicked gold dress to an equally hot cop in skin-tight pants and a sweater.”

  His cocky enjoyment of her awkward striptease infuriated her. But his taunting reference to Vega brought back the memory of the embarrassing public duel he and Enrique had fought at her expense. Dragging on the tight pants and shrugging into her sweater, Viviana glared at him. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Jax? Your fucking dick contest with Enrique!” She fought against the sob rising in her throat and said bitterly, “I hate you, Jax. No, even more. I . . . I despise you!”

  He shrugged as he guided the powerful car expertly through the speeding traffic. “Sorry, darlin’. That’s what happens when two alphas enter the ring.” He added, “Even though it’s crystal clear to anyone with a brain in his head which of the conceited assholes will win this contest. Hell, sweetheart, it ain’t even close.”

  “That’s it, isn’t it, Jax? This is about you and your fucking pride. Whether everyone acknowledges you are the big man, the winner!” She brushed at the tears she couldn’t hold back and glared at him. “Too bad, Jax. I’m not a piece of meat for you two alpha dogs to chew over. You both lose. I despise you both!”

  To her surprise, Jax jerked on the wheel and maneuvered the powerful car next to the curb close to the crime site. Slamming on the brakes, he reached for her. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to meet his steely gaze. “You’re wrong, Viviana. Yeah, I’m an arrogant son of a bitch. And I admit I acted like a first-class prick tonight. I didn’t know it was possible to be as angry as I am with you. But, sweetheart, to be clear, while it definitely involves that overbearing motherfucker Vega, this situation is about you and me. That fucking asshole just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t have a chance.” His jaw tightened further as he glowered at her. “To be clear. You are my woman, Viviana, and I’m your man. Case closed.”

  After a long moment, he unsnapped her seat belt and nodded at the door. “Now, Sergeant Moreau, if you would, please. Get your classy, rosy red ass out of this car. It’s time you show who is the most strategic, most-feared police officer on this force as well as ninety-nine point nine percent of all cops.” With a wink, he added, “With the exception of your renowned police chief, whose most compelling achievement just may be the fact that he has managed to corral the uncontrollable Enchantress.”

  At her aggrieved snort, he added with a grin, “Although, he admits that he had to surrender his heart in the process.”

  ****

  Over the next two hours, Viviana talked to as many of the Diablos as she could, piecing together the violent attack that killed their leader and two other gang members. She managed to convince Paulo Fernandez, the third in command, to hold back the rest of the ravenous gang until Carlos Mendes came out of surgery.

  She and Mick were deciding if it was worth staying at the hospital until Carlos regained consciousness when Jax joined them in the waiting room. Viviana should have known what was coming when she saw his stern expression.

  “I just finished talking with the surgeon, Sergeant. It’s unlikely that we will be able to interview Carlos until tomorrow morning. I’m placing a four-man guard outside his room for the night to ensure that no one—good or bad—gets to him.” He focused a narrowed gaze on Viviana. “Which means, Sergeant, you can go home.”

  When she started to object, he reached for her arm. “Look, Viviana, if you feel half as beat as you look, I’m surprised you’re still standing.” He turned to Mick, who was nodding in agreement. “Detective O’Reilly, will you please get your partner out of here. She needs to go home and get into bed. Now.”

  Tightening his grip on her elbow, Jax frowned at her. “Sergeant, I can tell you’re running on empty. Which, in addition to getting your sensational bod into bed, means no ten-mile, pre-dawn runs tomorrow. You copy?” When she just shrugged and refused to look at him, Jax turned to Mick. “You have her car. I’m depending on you to take her home. And, Detective, don’t let her talk you into driving herself. You drop her off and then get her to the precinct at seven a.m. tomorrow morning. You got that, Mick?”

  At Viviana’s attempt to pull away, he said, “Uh-uh, Sergeant. For once, Detective O’Reilly is going to see that you do as you’re told. Isn’t that right, Detective?” At Mick’s grinning nod, Jax pulled Viviana up next to him. He tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Go home and get some sleep. Do you understand? We need you at your best tomorrow.”

  When she jerked away and started to follow Mick, he pulled her back and said gruffly, “And goddammit, Viviana, eat something. That’s an order.”

  Chapter 26

  Don’t get out, Mick. No matter what our overbearing chief said, I’m more than capable of walking myself to the door.” With that curt admonition, Viviana leapt from the car, slamming her door behind her.

  Mick’s troubled countenance confirmed he was reluctant to let her go. Poking his head out the window, he called after her, “Jax is right, sweet cheeks. You look like hell. Get
some sleep. I’ll be out front at six-thirty a.m. sharp.”

  Practically crawling up the steps, Viviana castigated herself. Gee, no wonder she looked like shit. She’d had a total of five hours sleep in the last two nights. In addition, she’d been reamed out by a jealous wife who may or may not know that her husband had hit on Viviana during a midnight visit. And then there was being chased through the crowd at an exclusive political event by her clearly infuriated lover. The crowd that, incidentally, included the man she’d been onstage with for the last three days. She snorted a rough sound, close to a sob, remembering Jax taking her against the wall on the patio of the five-star hotel within earshot of the elite audience. She could only hope that their illicit coupling hadn’t become topic numero uno among the gossiping elite. She admitted with an embarrassed groan that the most compelling element of Jax’s assault was how his taunting words and outrageous actions had driven her to the most passionate orgasm she’d ever had.

  It was hard not to dwell on the ugly confrontation with Enrique as they had left the hotel. It was embarrassing enough that her disheveled appearance had made it crystal clear that Jax had caught up with her and did God-knows-what to her. She was further humiliated when Enrique brazenly challenged Jax by saying that she was his guest and he planned to see her home. It took Jax two shots across the bow to shoot that off-base assertion to hell. The final indignity was when Jax, his cocky arrogance firmly in place, parked her in his car, dismissing Enrique as if he wasn’t worthy of further attention.

  Still smarting from the ignominy of the humiliating square off between the two arrogant men, Viviana tried to focus on Jax’s fierce claim that the untenable situation wasn’t about a cockfight between him and Enrique. Rather, it was about him and her. In an about-face scant minutes later, he’d donned his imperious police chief cloak, and she became simply another member of his squad waiting for his commanding orders. His crisp, detached commands to her and the rest of the team made taking her as outrageously as he had a dim memory. Now entering her dark, silent condo, she wished that he had insisted on taking her home. That he’d reasserted the fierce connection between them. But instead of so much as kissing her goodnight, he’d dismissed her as casually as he had Enrique. Shunting her off to her partner, he’d given Mick a raft of instructions worthy of a disobedient child who’d stayed up past their bedtime. The final order on his list of what she was to do and not do was admonishing her to eat.

  Hovering in the doorway to her empty kitchen, Viviana fought her tears. It was easy for Jax to say she should eat. When she was at his condo, he fed her an array of exotic food fit for a queen. Given the haphazard state of her housekeeping, she knew the most she’d find in her cupboards were stale crackers and expired cans of soup. Opening the refrigerator door, she stepped back in surprise. Instead of wilted vegetables, moldy cheese, and week-old cartons of take-out, she saw a refrigerator stocked with her favorite foods. The addition of the healthy options Jax insisted she eat confirmed who her personal assistant, or private chef, was.

  Already feeling vulnerable to his omnipresence, Viviana didn’t want to look in the freezer. Certain of what she would find, she forced herself to peek inside. Sure enough, lined up in all their seductive glory were four pints of upscale gelato: two cartons of sea salt caramel, one Mediterranean mint, and one toasted coconut. They were her secret addictions, ones that only Jax knew.

  Overwhelmed by the emotional maelstrom that had been tearing at her spirit for the last week, Viviana sank to the floor and gave in to the torrent of tears she’d been fighting since she saw him tonight. With a heartfelt sob, she acknowledged she’d never felt more lonely in her life. And, not incidentally, she’d never missed Jax more.

  ****

  “Holy crap, sugar lips. Did you sleep a wink? You got circles under your eyes that would make a panda bear claim you as kin.”

  Viviana sneered. “Thanks, partner. Gotta say you sure know how to make a girl feel good.”

  Mick met her annoyed glare and shot her an apologetic shrug. “Damn, Vivi. In a four-way most glamorous contest between you and Marilyn, Rita, and Angelina, even with your raccoon eyes, you would win hands down. But, sugar lips, I’ll confess, I’m more concerned about the sadness in those baby blues of yours than any dark circles ringing them.” Before she could object, he added, “But whatever floobs your boobs, gorgeous as they are, I’ll accept. I’m just achin’ for the day that you will be back with us—your team. You know I don’t care if you are keeping us in the dark, lyin’ your sweet ass off ninety-nine percent of the time. I just want you with us, not that asshole politician.”

  Viviana swallowed a sob, making her response three times harsher than she’d intended. “Goddammit, Mick. What the fuck do I have to do to prove that I’m on the team? Line you up in a row and take out my tape measure to see who’s worthy of my attention?”

  “Forget the tape measure, sweet cheeks. Remember, you’re not measuring a flash in the pan politician.” Tugging her next to him, Mick’s dancing eyes and heavy Irish brogue spoke volumes. “If it’s your VCU chums you be linin’ up, let alone our fuckin’ police chief, better you forget the tape measure and bring out your yardstick.”

  They were still laughing when they entered the squad room and met Jax’s frowning gaze.

  “Glad you could make it, Detectives.” He glanced at his watch as if to confirm the reason for his annoyance.

  Apparently not seeing his underlying anger, Mick tossed him his usual cheeky grin. “Hey, Jax, you know it can take a while for the sergeant to don her Enchantress garb.” He smiled at Viviana and shot Jax a salacious wink. “But hell, man, you gotta admit the result is worth the wait.”

  Ignoring Mick’s familiar geniality, Jax pinned him with a hard glare. “To be clear, Detective O’Reilly, seven o’clock doesn’t mean seven forty-five. Particularly since I assigned you the task of getting your partner here on time, which as I recall, was seven a.m. sharp.” Motioning to the conference table where Greg Bannon was sitting with a troubled frown on his face, Jax said, “Please join Commander Bannon. Greg and I already updated Serge and the guys on the situation here. I dismissed them, waiting for you two, but will notify them when we are ready to talk. I wanted you both to hear the broader ramifications of our gang war.”

  Shoving at his frustration, Jax admitted that as annoyed as he was at Mick’s nonchalant disregard for timeliness, his real concern was Viviana. She’d looked exhausted when he sent her home last night, but from her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes, he doubted she’d had any sleep. Even knowing that it had been impossible for him to leave the crime scene, he kicked himself for not taking her home. At least he would have seen that she ate decent food, rather than relying on the Maker’s Mark he was sure had been the sum total of her sustenance. He also would have drawn a hot bath for her, replete with relaxing herbs, before he tucked her in bed, where he would have held her until he was sure she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep.

  When Viviana refused to meet his gaze and moved toward the empty chair beside Greg, Jax reached for her arm and pulled out the chair next to his. Her involuntary shiver as he seated her confirmed that she was as on edge as he was. Their razor-sharp reactions to one another didn’t bode well for what was sure to be a challenging day. Trying for humor to lighten the palpable tension in the room, he said with a forced grin, “Tell me, Sergeant Moreau, which flavor of gelato did you pair with your trusty scotch last night?”

  At her pained gasp, confirming he’d only ramped up the strain between them, Jax doubled down. Pointing at the bagels and fruit in the center of the table, he said, “No need to respond, Sergeant. If anyone knows your egregious eating habits, it’s the three of us. But given that this is likely the last chance any of us will have to eat today, I suggest you and your partner imbibe.”

  Not waiting for Viviana to respond, Jax put one of the bagels on a plate next to a colorful array of fruit and placed it in front of her. Nodding to O’Reilly, who was standing back, a
slight flush on his cheeks confirming that he was reeling from Jax’s reprimand, he said, “I presume I don’t have to encourage you to eat, Mick. And while you’re at it, how about getting a cup of java from the counter for you and your partner?”

  When Mick returned with two steaming mugs of aromatic coffee, put one in front of Viviana, then took the chair next to Greg and began filling his plate, Jax resumed his seat.

  “All right, lady and gentlemen, let’s get to work. I just got a message from Serge indicating that he and the DC team got pulled away and won’t be able to talk now. Given that we need to get our asses in gear, I’ll summarize the info they gave us earlier. To put it succinctly, the shit has hit the fan. While we think we have a burgeoning gang war erupting in our modest burg, the signs are clear that the big boys—to be specific, the El Blanco cartel—are fanning the flames. From what the Feds are hearing, El Blanco has chosen sides, exemplified by the murder of Raphael Torres and two of his top men. Our most immediate challenge is to contain the Diablos’ response to the murder of their leader while we figure out how the Padrones are connected to El Blanco.”

  Jax turned to Viviana, who was pointedly staring at the table, her food untouched. “After the two of you have finished eating, we’ll divide into teams. Mick, I want you and Greg to partner today. I need you to interrogate as many of the low-hanging fruit in both gangs as you can haul in. Knowing how hard it’s going to be to get so much as their mother’s name from any of their leaders, the wannabes might unknowingly give away gold. And if anyone knows how to mine gold, it’s you, Mick. Just unleash all that Irish malarkey of yours that even the gangbangers can’t resist. Greg can fill you in on the shit we learned from Serge and the others. Meanwhile, Viviana and I are going to meet with Carlos Mendes. According to his docs, Carlos is coming in and out of consciousness because of the drugs they have him on but can still be interviewed. Once we get what we need from Mendes—which is a promise to hold back his goons—the Enchantress and I are going for the big prize: a conversation with Manuel Ortiz.”