by Taylor Lee
SEIZED
Book 2: The Criminal Affairs Collection
By
Taylor Lee
SEIZED
Book 2: The Criminal Affairs Collection
By
Taylor Lee
SEIZED: Book 2 in USA Today best-selling author Taylor Lee’s Sizzling Hot Detective Series, The Criminal Affairs Collection.
She’d been warned. No off-the-books missions, or she would face the consequences. Unfortunately for the renegade cop who is as gorgeous as she is incorrigible, toeing the line isn’t in her DNA.
He’s arrogant, powerful, an accomplished leader. Accustomed to being obeyed, she tests his resolve. But then, he didn’t plan on falling in love.
The FBI has been after the child pornographers for over five years. It only took Viviana three weeks. She had an inside track. She knew the Dark Web from the inside out. She should. She could have been on it.
WARNING: Romance so HOT it singes the pages. HOT, tough, explicit. Not for the faint at heart. Definitely bring a fan!
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SEIZED: Book 2
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Prologue
Viviana fought to see through the red haze smoldering her vision. For a hideous moment she was convinced that she couldn’t breathe. A hard, vise-like band gripped her chest, making it impossible for her to draw air into her lungs. Through the roaring din in her ears, she heard someone calling her name.
“Sergeant Moreau. Are you all right, Sergeant? Can you hear me? Answer me if you can! Please, Sergeant . . . ”
Choking on the bile rising in her throat, Viviana tried to answer. Shaking her head, she sucked in one ragged breath after another. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest, she didn’t know if her skin was strong enough to keep it from breaking free. A cold chill swept over her, followed by a rush of heat that almost brought her to her knees. Fighting to hang on to the side of the table, she felt Agent Reynolds shove a chair against her shaking legs. With a grateful sigh, she sank onto it and bent over, resting her too-heavy head on the cool metal table.
Dragging his hand across the top of his balding pate, Reynolds said with a heartfelt sigh, “Thank God, Sergeant Moreau, that you are working with Chief Hughes. Jaxton Hughes is one of the finest agents I’ve known, and from what I hear, he is turning out to be a hell of a police chief. Seriously, Jax is a legend in his own time. What with your reputation and his, damn, between the two of you—”
Viviana interrupted him. “Please, Agent Reynolds, you need to understand. It is essential that this conversation between us is confidential. I need your promise that, at least for a few days, our discussion is strictly off the record. You can’t discuss it with anyone, including Chief Hughes.”
Still shaken by the hideous images of Ariel and the other girls being posed, raped, sodomized, and brutalized by packs of vicious men, Viviana managed to get into her car. Relying on autopilot, she somehow made it to Flemings. Realizing that she’d been sitting in front of the pub, staring sightlessly for God knew how long, Viviana shook herself out of her tortured reverie and hobbled inside. Nodding to the barmaid, she headed for a back corner booth where she could hide from nosy patrons until she got herself under control. Quaffing the healthy dose of Maker’s Mark and then refilling the glass from the bottle the frowning waitress had brought, Viviana knew she needed to deal with what had been a first-class panic attack. She guffawed and chided herself. Fuck it, if she was going to come to grips with what had happened, why not call a spade a spade? Her near-breakdown at the FBI office was PTSD in the flesh. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been there before. But this truly was the worst episode she’d had—if you didn’t count her violent, too-frequent nightmares.
As hard as it was to know that it was Ariel in those hideous scenes, Viviana had an even more difficult challenge. If she were ever to break through the crippling memories, it was essential she absolutely convince herself that the pre-teen, blue-eyed girl with thick blonde hair streaming over her shoulders was Ariel, her informant. Aka one of the Lolitas Unbound. It was not an eleven-year-old Viviana Moreau.
Chapter 1
Three weeks earlier . . .
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce the new SJPD chief of police, Jaxton Hughes.”
The enthusiastic crowd of police officers roared their approval as Jax stepped up to the mic. The hearty cheers lasted a full minute until Jax held up his hands, a bright smile wreathing his handsome face. “Thank you, my friends and fellow officers. If it were possible, I would be humbled, frankly embarrassed by your effusive response. But those of you who know me well know my DNA doesn’t include a humble gene or, for that matter, allow for embarrassment.” Smiling at the roar of laughter and catcalls from the appreciative officers, Jax raised his hands again. “However, please don’t conclude from my irreverence that I’m not proud as hell to serve as your chief. Even though my friend and fellow former special operative Mac McElroy essentially blackmailed the mayor into offering me the job by insisting that he wouldn’t accept the position of commissioner unless I tagged along as the chief.”
Jax grinned at Mac, who was standing by Mayor Simpson. Both men were shaking their heads in agreement and laughing along with the crowd. Gazing over the assemblage, Jax waited for the crowd to quiet, then pivoted. Frowning slightly, he assumed a solemn expression. “I don’t have to tell any of you that the SJPD is under siege from a fulminating media and an outraged citizenry—and rightfully so. The worst part of our challenging situation is that the wound we suffered was self-inflicted. Not by the ninety-nine-plus percent of the men and women who proudly and honorably wear the uniform, but by a despicable group of political, cultural, and law enforcement criminals. A reprehensible gang that, to our horror, included the former police commissioner and five dirty cops. This gang of supposed community leaders molested and tortured young girls in the most hideous ways possible. They shamed themselves and, by extension, all of us by their despicable criminal activities. We can take a small amount of pleasure knowing that all of them will spend most, if not the rest, of their lives paying for their crimes, locked away in the hellholes they rightfully deserve.”
Gazing out at the now-silent gathering, Jax sought and nodded to Viviana Moreau, who was standing beside her partner Mick O’Reilly. “The only bright spot in this contemptible episode that has stained the city and our department is that the crime was solved by the intrepid work of none other than the renowned VCU.” Waiting for the applause to end, Jax added with a grin, “That bold investigation was led by one of the most courageous and, might I add, most challenging officers I’ve ever commanded, Sergeant Viviana Moreau.”
Jax waited until the wild hoots and hollers from the adoring crowd died down and then added, “While Mac blackmailed the mayor into offering me the position of your chief, I engineered a little blackmail of my own. Given the presence of Sergeant Moreau, who I can understand why the media named her the Enchantress, I couldn’t in good conscience leave the command of the VCU to just anyone. For that reason, I’m delighted to introduce Lieutenant Greg Bannon, another former special operative, who has agreed to take on the daunting task of commanding the VCU and all of its infamous cops.”
Watching the throng of enthusiastic officers pushing and shoving to be next to congratulate the impressive new police chief, Mick O’Reilly sh
ook his head and murmured to Viviana, “I hope the new chief is wearing a sturdy jock cup. Face it, every fuckin’ cop in that crowd would go down on their knees and suck his dick if they could.” He whistled in appreciation. “But, hell, can you blame them? I don’t know when, if ever, I’ve known a more impressive man than that guy of yours, Vivi.”
Viviana frowned, jabbed her voluble partner in the ribs, and whispered, “Damn, Mick, not so loud.”
O’Reilly raised a cocky brow and chortled. “C’mon, sweet cheeks, you gotta know that you and the righteous commander, make that the new chief, are the hottest gossip that’s ever ricocheted over these unhallowed halls of ours.” He added, “And for what it’s worth, partner, every damn one of us is jealous as hell of that studly dude who did what none of us thought was possible. He actually corralled the Enchantress herself.”
A harsh voice intoned from beside them. “Forget for a moment that if Chief Hughes and you are involved, Sergeant Moreau, it is clearly against the fraternization rules. Frankly, if it is true, you should both be ashamed of yourselves.”
Viviana and Mick turned to see Lieutenant Travis Jensen, who had come up on them unnoticed. Glancing at the flushed lieutenant who was glaring at Viviana, his expression a cross between distaste and scorn, Viviana couldn’t resist poking at him. “Why, Lieutenant Jensen, I’d almost forgotten that you were the head of the morality committee for the VCU. I’ll have to be more careful, but given what a stickler I am for rules, you can be reasonably certain that I didn’t break any of them.”
Mick guffawed. “Right on, Vivi. If anyone is a rule follower, it’s you!” With a wide grin, he added, “Or not!” He shook his head and sneered openly at the grimacing lieutenant. “Hell, Travis, if anyone should be ashamed of anything, it’s you. You know damn well the reason you’ve got an even bigger stick up your ass than usual is because Jax didn’t put you in charge of the VCU. Rather, he brought in a guy who from everything I hear has creds up the wazoo, including serving on a bunch of missions with the commander—I mean, the chief.”
A deep voice from behind them broke into their conversation. The frowning glare Jax pinned on the flushed lieutenant made it clear that he had overheard Jensen’s incriminating charge. Apparently deciding to ignore it, Jax addressed Mick. “You are correct, Detective O’Reilly, my former agent and, I would add, my friend Greg Bannon is going to be a hell of a commander for this auspicious unit.” Nodding to the blond-haired man beside him who had riveting blue eyes and a casual smile, Jax said, “You’re lucky, Commander Bannon. These are three of your senior officers, and I’m confident they’re all eager to meet their new boss.” Turning to Jensen, who was standing at a distance with a sour expression tightening his ruddy face, Jax said, “This is Lieutenant Travis Jensen, the senior most officer on the squad who, along with Detective O’Reilly, was one of the VCU officers who participated in that off-the-books mission in Belize.”
Bannon nodded and said blandly, “Yes, I believe I heard about that unusual mission.” Turning to Viviana, he smiled at her and said, “May I presume that you are the famous—make that infamous—sergeant that Jax called the Enchantress? From all I’ve heard, you were primarily responsible for bringing down that despicable gang of statutory rapists.”
Viviana met Bannon’s gaze and, like him, pretended as though this was the first time they’d met. Allowing a smile to cross her face, she held out her hand to the man she’d known in Belize as Marcus. Only at that time, she’d thought he was the bartender he presented himself to be, not a senior member of Jax’s undercover team. For a brief moment, a flash of pain caught her off guard, proving that Jax’s subterfuge still had the power to hurt. She wondered if she would ever be able to put his duplicity behind her. Mimicking the blond-haired man’s casual tone, she said, “How do you do, Commander Bannon? Welcome. We’re honored. From everything Chief Hughes has told us about you, you are not to be believed. It will be a privilege to work with you.”
Bannon’s smile widened as he took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. “The privilege and the pleasure is mine, Sergeant Moreau. Your fame has preceded you.” He quickly added to O’Reilly and Jensen, “And yours, gentlemen, as well. You can all be very proud of the fact that the VCU took down the despicable criminals. Jax told me that the dastardly group included a virtual who’s who in San Jose’s political and legal hierarchy.”
Travis Jensen grimaced. “I’m surprised you knew that someone other than Sergeant Moreau was involved in cracking the case. According to her media cheerleaders, as usual, the inimitable Enchantress waded into the thick of the vicious miscreants and took them down single-handedly. The media even coined a colorful name for the mission. According to her press, Sergeant Moreau was responsible for dethroning the Dominatrix Diva.”
At Jax’s frown and Mick’s step toward him, Jensen lost his insinuating grin and seemed to recognize that what he’d probably intended as a humorous remark had more than fallen flat. Apparently deciding that there was no graceful way to explain his rancor, he quickly added, “But that’s the way it rolls in Viviana-land.”
Never one to hold back, Mick O’Reilly said, “You’ll have to forgive our lieutenant, Commander Bannon. As I said not five minutes ago, he seems to have an even bigger tree trunk up his ass than usual. And yeah, as always, Viviana was a fucking Amazonian warrior the way she figured out who those assholes were. But compared to Viv’s previous missions when our old captain didn’t know what hit him, Jax—I mean, Chief Hughes—came in and organized a raid that none of us could have pulled off without his leadership.”
Jax didn’t hide his annoyance with Lieutenant Jensen but breathed an audible sigh and flashed his customary grin. “You know as well as anyone, Greg, taking down that vicious crew required us all to be at our best. Mick’s SWAT team was brilliant and a perfect accompaniment to the agents I brought in from the field.” Moving toward Viviana, he reached for her arm and pulled her next to him. Gazing down at her, his lips quirked up at the corner. “But without a doubt, the star of the show was Sergeant Moreau, who gives new meaning to the words intrepid and courageous. As well as challenging as hell.”
Glancing at his longtime friend, Jax said, “All I can say, Commander, is that I hope you are prepared for the ride of your life. I promise you this young woman would give the one hundred fifty mile-per-hour Formula Rossa, Ferrari World rollercoaster a run for its money in death-defying loops.” Holding Viviana next to him, Jax said with a smile, “But never fear, Commander. If she starts acting up, know that the police chief’s office is just down the hallway. Also know that if Sergeant Moreau becomes too much for you to manage, I’m always available.”
Feeling her cheeks heat at his provocative allusion, Viviana tried to break Jax’s hold, but he tightened his grip, annoying her further. His eyes flashing with suppressed laughter, Jax said, “Speaking of my new office, Sergeant, how about you join your new commander and me. I’d like to show you my new digs. I think you’ll be impressed. From what I can see, our friend the former chief McElroy had a taste for expensive liquor. Hell, they even stocked the bar with my favorite booze.” Nodding to Greg, he said, “I can’t think of two people I’d rather host in my swanky office.” Pulling Viviana closer to him, he ignored Viviana’s irritated frown and murmured, “Besides, I need to reassure my friend Commander Bannon that you really are manageable—at least some of the time.”
Chapter 2
Was that necessary, Jax?”
Grabbing a bottle of Maker’s Mark and three glasses from the side bar, Jax glanced over his shoulder and met Viviana’s stormy gaze. Nodding to Greg Bannon, who was coming into the room behind the bristling sergeant, he asked, “Was what necessary, Viviana? That I spirit you away so that obsequious, annoying lieutenant can stop surmising about what is going on between us and instead make it clear?” He placed the whiskey and glasses on the coffee table, his grin widening. “Besides, I assumed that you would want to renew your acquaintance with your old friend Marcus. As I
recall, the two of you seemed to have a bond, an affinity of sorts, when we three were previously acquainted.”
Viviana’s chin shot up in the air, confirming that the festering sore between them—their experience in Belize—while not as raw as it had been, was still painful to his feisty woman. Deciding that Greg needed to understand the dynamics, Jax poured them each a couple fingers of Greg’s favorite libation and pointed to the comfortable armchairs in the sitting area of the spacious office.
“Please, both of you, sit down.” Seeing Viviana’s resistance, Jax shook his head with a slight frown. “On second thought, Greg, you take a seat while I deal with this beautiful young woman who, like Lieutenant Jensen, appears to have a stick up her ass.”
At Viviana’s outraged gasp and attempt to back away, Jax reached for her arm and reined her in next to him. “C’mere, you. It’s clear that we need to have a conversation. In case you didn’t hear all of those accolades about yours truly from every power broker in this fair city, I am your new police chief. While that position of authority isn’t necessary for me to command you, as I’m perfectly capable of doing that and more, it does put a little more oomph in my orders.” He winked at Greg over Viviana’s shoulder and said, “Don’t you agree, Commander Bannon?”
Greg reached for his glass and took a deep draft, then shook his head. “I dunno, Jax, I seem to remember that no less than a murderous cartel thug learned the hard way not to tussle with Sergeant Moreau—or Maja Nilsson, for that matter.” He raised his glass to Jax. “You might want to guard your stones, buddy. I watched this little wildcat take on the Morales cartel’s queen bee without thinking twice.” Smiling at Viviana, he shook his head as if in wonder. “Damn, Maja, I mean, Viviana, you had every one of us tied in knots, especially the big guy, who couldn’t believe that our high-level mission had been invaded by a slip of a girl.”