Tough Justice Series Box Set, Parts 1-8

by Carla Cassidy

  His face was like a slab of granite, and her heart made a helpless lurch. She could imagine how hard that had to be for him. He worked in law enforcement. He’d seen the underbelly of this city, the world of violence the addicts inhabited, and the horrors they went through. And to know his brother was out there, suffering the worst kind of indignities to feed his disease, while there was nothing he could do to help...

  Was that why he’d joined the FBI? To atone for an imagined failure? To get drug dealers off the streets and safeguard others from his brother’s fate? She slid him another glance, her mind crowded with questions, but she knew she couldn’t push.

  “Jason was dyslexic,” he continued a moment later. “That drove our old man crazy. He refused to believe that any child of his could have a fault. He tried to beat it out of him. He kept insisting that Jason was doing it deliberately, that he could write properly if he tried. Jason finally broke. He started rebelling—drinking, using drugs. Then, during high school, he ran away.”

  “Did your father try to find him?”

  “Hardly. He liked playing the concerned father. He donated a bunch of money to homeless shelters and programs for runaway teens. That gave him a lot of publicity. But he was glad to have him gone.”

  “That can’t be true. He must have had some regrets.”

  “You think so?” He shot her a bitter smile. “The cops picked Jason up once and brought him home. My old man was furious that he’d come back. He told him he was such a screwup that he couldn’t even run away right.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  With a shrug, he drained his glass.

  “And you?”

  “What about me?”

  “How did it affect you?”

  “It didn’t.”

  She didn’t believe that for a moment. Living with a man that controlling, the entire family would pay the price—emotionally, psychologically, even physically. No one emerged from a battle zone like that unscathed.

  And Nick... She slid him a sideways glance, taking in his thick, unruly hair, the sharp planes of his handsome face, the corded muscles lining his strong neck. And a thrum of sexual awareness hit her low in the gut. He was a disturbingly sexy man, all prowling hunger and unbridled tension, with that underlying threat of danger that turned her on.

  But he was far more than a sexy face. He was principled, honorable, determined. And he had a mile-wide protective streak that had even extended to that homeless man.

  “You fought with him a lot?”

  “Not really. I’d learned early on that it was pointless to try to please him. There was no way I’d ever be good enough. So I kept my head down and minded my own business until I was old enough to leave. But it drove him crazy when I joined the FBI. His son, a lowly cop.” His lips curved up. “He doesn’t respect anyone who believes in justice. He considers it a weakness. Real men are tough. They do whatever it takes to win.”

  “You’re tough.”

  “Not like him.”

  “He’s a bully.” Whereas Nick was a survivor, a man who’d gained his strength through adversity, experiencing a childhood as traumatic as hers, albeit in a different way. And she realized that Nick could never be like his old man. He was a warrior for the weak, planted firmly on the side of justice. He’d never use his power for selfish ends.

  Her heart wobbled at that—because for the first time since she’d met him, she felt she was really seeing him. He’d let down his guard enough to give her a glimpse into what made him tick. And it affected her. It changed him from being a tough, sexy FBI agent into a man. A very real man. A man who worried about his brother. A man who’d suffered a painful past.

  A man she really didn’t want to know.

  “Is that lasagna almost done?” she asked. “I’m ready to start gnawing on the coffee table.”

  “It should be. Come on.” Rising, he reached out his hand and helped her up.

  Shaken, she followed him into the kitchen, still reeling from her insights into Nick. She didn’t want to get to know him. She didn’t want any feelings of intimacy to grow between them and change her perception of him. And she definitely didn’t want to form an attachment to another man after the number Andrew Moore had done on her.

  But sex, on the other hand...

  She stopped by the kitchen table, taking in the width of his solid shoulders, the play of muscles beneath his T-shirt as he moved, the way his faded jeans hugged his perfect ass. He had an amazing physique, all hard muscles and tawny skin. And the way he kissed...

  She set her glass on the table, suddenly breathless, erotic images surging inside her, stirring needs of a different sort—the need to forget her cares, forget the case for a little while, and lose herself in the oblivion of this man’s touch.

  He clicked off the oven and turned. His gaze collided with hers, and he went dead still, an answering awareness flaring in his dark eyes.

  For an eternity, she couldn’t move. Her eyes stayed riveted on his. Her blood surged in her ears, pounding in time to her frantic heart. Then slowly, deliberately, he stalked across the kitchen toward her, his gaze holding hers captive, and she forgot to breathe.

  He stopped just inches away. She inhaled the warmth of his skin, felt the raw male energy radiating from his muscled frame. And then he reached out and cupped her jaw, sending thrills skipping and slamming through her veins.

  “I thought you were hungry.” His deep voice rasped through her nerves.

  “I am.”

  He kept her spellbound. His thumb slid over her lips, trailing a blaze of heat in its wake. And then he lowered his head and kissed her, his lips soft and warm and insistent, igniting a frenzy of desire in her blood.

  This she understood. Sex. Need. There was nothing murky or dangerous, or even remotely complicated about it.

  This was safe.

  He made a rough, low sound and pulled her against him. She arched her back, glorying in the feel of his rigid body, the press of his hard angles against her softer curves. He slid his hand through her hair, changing the angle and deepening the kiss, and a torrent of heat scorched through her veins.

  He was lethal, explosive and so potently male, he was impossible to resist.

  She looped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. The thrilling abrasion of his beard stubble incited a riot of need in every cell. She ran her hands through his short, thick hair, delighting in the impossible width of his shoulders, the banked strength in his muscled arms. Then he widened his stance, urging her even closer against him, and every part of her came alive.

  A low moan reached her ears. She realized distantly that it was hers. But damn, he felt so good, his big hands sliding down her hips, his mouth evoking such a kaleidoscope of erotic sensations she could barely stand.

  A thought intruded on her bliss, that she’d felt this way with a man before, and it had been a mistake. And she worked with Nick. She had to face him every day. An affair with him could prove to be unwise.

  But she ruthlessly shoved the doubts aside. She’d been through hell over the past year. Her life was in constant danger, with people dying around her every day. Why shouldn’t she seize this moment when they were both clearly game?

  Nick abruptly ended the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, his unsteady breath mingling with hers. “I thought you said this was a bad idea.”

  “Is it? I’m having trouble remembering why.”

  “So am I.” The muscles of his strong throat worked. She could tell he was grappling for control even as his eyes turned darker yet.

  “Let’s not analyze this, okay?” Her voice came out breathless. She ached to kiss him again. “Let’s not think about it too much. Let’s just—”

  “You’re sure? Because if we’re going to stop—”

  “Shut up, Nick.” She fisted her hand in his shirt and yanked, forcing his head back down to hers. With a growl, he reclaimed her mouth, the rough sound like a shot of adrenaline to her bloodstream, eliciting another moan.


  His tongue swept hers. His hands slid under her shirt, then swept up to her tender breasts. Her entire body jolted, her knees buckling at the exquisite feel. She needed him everywhere, now, his hands roving every inch of her aching skin. “Hurry,” she murmured against his mouth.

  “The bedroom.” He nudged her backward.

  “No time. Right here.”

  He let out a laugh, the husky sound prompting another wild rush of lust. Then he stepped away, leaving her suddenly feeling bereft, but it was only to remove his shirt. He tossed it on the floor, and all she could do was stare. He was powerful and sleek, the hard angles accentuated by the deepening shadows, the light from the overhead fixture bathing his skin with a golden sheen.

  But then her conscience popped up again, a tiny voice of reason warning her that this could be a mistake. But damn it, they were adults. They deserved a moment of release. Why shouldn’t they have some fun?

  She made short work of her clothes as he stripped off his jeans. Then they faced each other naked, and a sudden spurt of vulnerability nearly caused her to balk again. He was gorgeous—virile and strong, almost feral in his masculinity. Absolutely perfect, except for the small white bandage still covering his biceps where he’d been shot. But his gaze turned molten hot, devouring every sensitized inch of her, his obvious approval dispelling any doubts.

  “Damn, Lara,” he ground out, his voice growing raspier yet. He stepped close and pulled her against him. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him, as need swelled into an ache. She felt his mouth tormenting her throat, his hands stroking her throbbing breasts, and an overload of hunger nearly did her in. Her world narrowed to this one man, the cacophony of sensations coiling inside her, the fierce desire spurring her on.

  His kisses grew longer and more insistent, his raw urgency making her heart rate spike. She surrendered gladly, needing the oblivion he offered, desperate to lose herself in his touch.

  He pulled her down to the floor atop him. Then he rolled, pinning her beneath him, his strong body trapping hers. His eyes were wicked and dark, like whirlpools pulling her under, his breath as ragged as hers.

  She was distantly aware of him fumbling in his discarded jeans for a condom. He sheathed himself and poised above her, then bracketed her head with his hands. “Last chance. Tell me now if you—”

  “For God’s sake, Nick. Since when did you get so chatty?” Her control eroding, she jerked his head down to hers.

  And then he drove into her, shooting her straight into ecstasy, and they didn’t speak again for a long, long time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  What the hell had she just done?

  Lara lay sprawled on the kitchen floor, remorse flooding through her as she came crashing back to reality, driving out the little aftershocks of pleasure still shimmering through her veins. She glanced at Nick lying beside her, his eyes closed, his handsome face bathed with a sheen of sweat, and her doubts roared back, big-time. The sex had been great, without a doubt. She’d never met a man so attuned to her every need. He was rough, demanding, then unexpectedly tender, driving her to the brink of insanity.

  And she liked Nick a lot. They had the same intense need for justice, the same crazy work ethic that had them logging ungodly hours. Nick seemed to understand her, just as she got him.

  But no way did she want any sort of relationship with him. She’d shut down that part of her life completely after the devastation Andrew Moore had caused. She’d acted like such a fool, falling head over heels in love with someone who turned out to be a total myth. The truth had destroyed her, shattering her confidence in her judgment. Because if he’d been able to deceive her that thoroughly, what did that say about her?

  Feeling like an idiot, she rolled away. She grabbed her clothes and rose, then began tugging them on, aware that Nick was doing the same. Casual sex was fine. Sex was something she could control. But not with Nick, for heaven’s sake! She couldn’t get involved with a man she worked with, not even for some mindless fun. Any fallout could affect their mission and damage the camaraderie of their team.

  Feeling less vulnerable with her clothes on, she turned to face him just as he finished zipping up his jeans. She tried to ignore the muscles rippling in his bare chest, the impressive power in those sculpted arms. “Listen, Nick...”

  He shot her a frown, then bent to pick up his shirt. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “But—”

  “Forget the postmortem, Lara. I don’t need it.” He tugged on his shirt.

  “That’s a little hard to do when we just had sex.”

  “That’s right, sex.” His eyes met hers, and she couldn’t mistake his regrets. “Look, we had a good time. More than good, actually.”

  Her face warmed, little spasms shooting through her at the memory of just how good it had been.

  “And we both needed to relax,” he continued. “But it was no big deal, right?”

  “Right. Absolutely,” she agreed, knowing she should feel relieved. And she did feel relieved, damn it. This had been a momentary lapse in judgment, an aberration, nothing more. And Nick was onboard with that. So now they were back to being colleagues. Everything was once again professional between them, which was exactly how she wanted it to be.

  But it still stung that he was backtracking as fast as she was—which didn’t make a bit of sense.

  Just then her cell phone buzzed from the living room. Glad for the interruption, she hurried back to the couch where she’d left her jacket, wondering who could be texting her at this late hour. Unless it was someone on the team...

  Praying there wasn’t an emergency, she grabbed her phone. The name anonymous popped up on the screen, and her heart began to thud. The killer. He’d contacted her again. Oh, God. What would he say this time?

  Her hands trembled as she tapped the screen. She held her breath, every part of her tensing as the text appeared.

  Did you know Nick Delano was sleeping with Mei Wang last year?

  She blinked. What the hell? She read it again, but it still didn’t make any sense. What did this mean? Who was this guy? How did he know what Nick had done?

  And more importantly, why was he telling her this now?

  Her mind whirled as she struggled to take it in. The killer must know she’d been intimate with Nick. But how could he? It had just happened. Even she hadn’t anticipated that they’d have sex tonight. Unless he was watching them...

  With a jolt, she spun around. But the blinds were securely drawn. No one could have seen them through the windows. Unless he’d seen her enter the apartment earlier and had assumed that they’d had sex.

  But why would he care? Why would anyone care? Neither of them was married. This was no one’s business but theirs.

  She sank on to the couch, trying to make sense of this latest twist. This text smacked of Moretti. He was playing with her mind, trying to drive a wedge between her and Nick—and reminding her how bad her judgment was when it came to men.

  And damn it if it wasn’t working. Because if Mei and Nick had been having sex, that meant he took it casually. He took her casually. Lara meant little or nothing to him. He’d simply been blowing off steam, using her for a quick release. Which was fine. Wasn’t that what she’d been doing with him?

  But Mei... She pictured their gorgeous teammate with her glossy black hair, lush mouth and seductive eyes. And to her profound annoyance, a spurt of jealousy had her gritting her teeth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lara turned at the sound of Nick’s deep voice. He lounged against the kitchen doorway, his feet still bare, his hair attractively disheveled, his five o’clock shadow even more pronounced. And for a minute, his stark masculine beauty bulldozed through her, along with memories of that fantastic sex.

  Sex which had meant nothing, she reminded herself fiercely. Sex he’d also had with Mei.

  “I just got another text, an anonymous one,” she said, proud at how calm she sounded. But it was hard. She felt humiliate
d and angry—especially at herself.

  Nick instantly straightened. He quickly closed the distance between them, his expression serious now. “What does it say?”

  Instead of answering, she handed him her phone.

  He studied the screen. A frown cleaved his brow. Then he looked up, the same confusion she felt mirrored in his brown eyes. “What does this mean?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  He shook his head, still looking perplexed. “I don’t know. I never slept with Mei.”

  She wanted to believe him. Her traitorous heart leaped to his defense, tempting her to ignore the truth. But she’d already played the fool once before with disastrous results, and she refused to do it twice. “According to that text you did.”

  “Well, I should know.” When she didn’t answer, his frown turned into a scowl. “Don’t tell me you believe this?”

  “It’s none of my business if it’s true or not.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. But it isn’t true. I mean, we kissed a couple of times, but that was it. And it happened a while ago, before we joined the task force.”

  She closed her eyes, disgusted to realize that she felt even more jealous now. So what if they had kissed? Hadn’t she just run through a litany of reasons why she couldn’t get involved with him?

  And why on earth had she put herself in an awkward position like this? She’d let down her guard, which was understandable after the hellish day she’d had. Looking at those case files had wreaked havoc with her emotions, causing her to turn to him. But in the process she was beginning to feel things for Nick she had no right to feel. Things she couldn’t allow herself to feel if she wanted to survive this case.

  “Nick, it really doesn’t matter what you did with Mei. As you said, this was fun, but it’s over, so let’s just forget about it now.” Suddenly needing distance, she grabbed her jacket and rose. “Look, I’d better go.” Before she said something she would regret.

  “It’s late. You can stay here.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Lara—”

  “Nick, I’m exhausted. This stupid text just put a cap on what’s been an amazingly lousy day.”