Out of Bounds: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinful Bachelors Book 2)

by Khardine Gray

  Out of Bounds

  KHARDINE GRAY

  Contents

  Out of Bounds

  1. Ethan

  2. Bree

  3. Bree

  4. Ethan

  5. Bree

  6. Ethan

  7. Bree

  8. Bree

  Chapter 9

  10. Bree

  11. Bree

  12. Ethan

  13. Bree

  14. Bree

  15. Ethan

  16. Ethan

  17. Bree

  Chapter 18

  19. Ethan

  20. Bree

  21. Bree

  22. Ethan

  23. Bree

  24. Bree

  25. Ethan

  26. Bree

  27. Ethan

  28. Bree

  Epilogue

  Out of Bounds

  Sinful Bachelors Book 2

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Khardine Gray

  Chapter 1

  Ethan

  My alarm goes off on my desk again, a reminder I promised myself I’d leave work an hour ago. Last time I hit the snooze button, as if I was in bed and wanted a bit more time to sleep. I can’t remember the last time I did that or when my bed saw me for longer than five hours.

  No that’s a lie. If I’m being honest, it’s more like three to four hours and if I were the average thirty-two-year-old male I would have been asleep over an hour ago, most preferably with a woman in my arms.

  She should be the one keeping me up or waking me up for late night sex. Not work.

  Since I’m Ethan Carson—Detective Carson—and the new second in command at the precinct, I’m still at the station. It’s looking like I’m going to be here for another hour before I can call it a night.

  So, I switch off the alarm.

  It’s better to process the paperwork for the new perps tonight. That way I can keep tomorrow clear and just maybe I might make it to the one day I’ve had scheduled off for the last two months.

  I love my job. It’s the kind that will see me working until my legs can’t move anymore. It serves as a reminder that a mess up, almost high schooler like me who went to juvie so often I had a room reserved, can make a life for himself on the other side of the bars.

  But sometimes I overdo it.

  Thursday will be my somewhat normal day. Mom and I are meeting with Grandfather to discuss the transfer of the billion-dollar family business to me after his upcoming retirement.

  To say I’m excited is an understatement.

  When I get the business, I plan to take a much-needed, lengthy sabbatical.

  That’s what I look forward to when I clock in these long hours filing away details of Wilmington’s misfits. That and Vegas next weekend.

  Can’t forget Vegas. Denver, one of my good ol’ pal’s, is getting married so the guys are heading to Vegas for one last fling.

  A knock sounds on my door and I find myself smiling. At two in the morning there could only be one guy in this world knocking on my door.

  “It’s open Logan,” I call out because I’m so sure it’s him.

  I’m right. The door swings open revealing a tired looking Logan Savage.

  We’ve been friends since birth, and we work together.

  When he opened Savage Private Investigations, I hired him. That was a few years ago. His business has progressed exponentially since then. Now when he’s not working with the Feds or the C.I.A., he’s working with me here at Wilmington P.D.

  We’ve been investigating a case that rose from one of the biggest cases we’ve ever worked on. It was involving Jackson Fairchild, the attorney general for North Carolina. He was linked to a drug ring, and so were several other politicians.

  That motherfucker got squashed into the ground after we were finished with him. I have a feeling this case is going to be like that, but about to be taken over by the Feds because it’s gone federal.

  Since Logan also looks pissed off and he’s here at this ungodly hour, I’m assuming he has news about that for me.

  “I knew you’d be here.” He smirks, moving his shaggy blond hair away from his face.

  “Of course, I’d be here. Unlike you, who has a wife with a baby on the way, I’m married to my job. I don’t have to say ‘Honey, I’m home.’ I’m always home.”

  We both chuckle.

  “Funny, but not.”

  “I know, and if you keep this shit up your wife is going to hate me.”

  He’s been married for six months, and I hate that this case dragged him away from the bliss he and Quinn should be living as newlyweds.

  “Don’t worry about Quinn, I’ll be all hers in no time. Especially when this is over.” He nods and sighs as he holds up a manilla envelope.

  It’s large, which means it contains the shit this job was made for. Basically, every cops dream and Logan is the bad ass ex-marine version of a fairy godmother.

  Time to get serious.

  “What have you got for me?”

  “I have news, both good and bad. Which do you want first?”

  “Logan, it’s late. A man wants the good news first at this time of day.”

  “All right. The good news is I have enough evidence of Lev Ivanov’s involvement with the drug ring for you to arrest his ass and question him about the shipments.”

  My fucking mouth drops, and I have to stare at him in disbelief. We’ve been trying to get that bastard for almost a year with no leads whatsoever. Only loose, then dead ends. He’s a motherfucker linked to the Bratva who’s an expert in covering his tracks. Of course, I’m sure they helped cover those for him too.

  Yet here Logan is with actual evidence.

  “How the fuck did you get evidence?”

  He smiles weakly. “Ethan, I told you if you ask me things like that, you might not be able to continue using my services.”

  “Fine. I’ll try not to ask. What the fuck did you get?”

  He opens the envelope and shows me an image of Liev with Santiago Hernandez, a known drug lord from L.A. and part of the Alvarez cartel, one of the most powerful cartels in the world. The two are at the docks standing right by the cargo ships.

  While my mouth continues to drop to the ground, Logan sets that picture down on my desk then proceeds to take out another couple of images. One has Liev taking a stack of cash and a suitcase. Another has him laughing with Santiago and then the last couple with the men we questioned weeks ago. All are standing together. When we questioned them they said they knew nothing of Liev. I knew there were lying. Now I have proof.

  “I’d say that’s enough evidence to take him down. I also have a recording that captures what they were saying, but I have to clean it up. You’ll have that by tomorrow night.”

  “Jesus Logan, what the hell? When did this happen?”

  “About an hour ago give or take. He’s the link to get to the big guy and this looks like a side job he stood to benefit from. There were no other Russians there and it’s not common for a guy like him to travel alone. With this type of evidence, he’ll sing like a fucking canary. He won’t want this to get back to his leaders because they’ll kill his ass. Ethan, believe me when I say we got him.”

  “Good work Rambo.”

  He smiles at me. We have our running jokes where he’s Rambo and depending on what day I’m having I’m either Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry or Bruce Willis as John McLane in Die Hard. Tonight, feels like a Die Hard night.

  “What the hell could be the bad news?” I add straightening up.

  He presses his li
ps together and pulls out two more photos from the envelope.

  When he sets them down before me, I get my answer.

  The pictures are of Bree Carson, the girl—woman now—who’s haunted my mind for the last twenty years of my life, and Liev.

  A pang of jealousy strikes me first like a punch to my gut. Then I see nothing but red when I think of the danger she could be in.

  What the hell are you doing with this guy Bree?

  On the first picture she looks happy and beautiful with her long brown hair flowing to the side and her bright green eyes hooked on Liev while they have a candlelit dinner.

  The second picture makes me want to shoot something. The two are kissing in the black Range Rover we’ve been tracking Liev in for the last few months.

  I have no business feeling like I’m about to pop a blood vessel, but I do.

  “Bree and Liev?” I grit my teeth, giving Logan a narrowed stare.

  “Yeah. They’re together. One of my men got that image yesterday. I have another guy who checked out a few things and it looks like they’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”

  “You didn’t know she was seeing him?” Bree is Quinn’s best friend. They’re the exact equivalent of Logan and me.

  He shakes his head. “I knew she was seeing somebody, but I’ve been so busy I didn’t meet him. Of course, if I knew it was Liev I would have ended that right away.”

  “Jesus.”

  Fuck. That woman has by far the worst taste in men.

  I guess that explains why she liked me when we were kids and she continued to see whatever good she thought was in me until our later years in high school.

  I met Bree Dawson when I was twelve.

  She was ten and had just moved in from Mayberry. I was probably the first person in the circle of friends she met. We were at the beach by my grandfather’s resort. I was in one of my moods because of Dad, and she came up to me all nice as pie and sweet like that annoying as fuck nursery rhyme about little girls. I almost thought she’d turn into a pile of sugar if I touched her.

  I remember her rich southern accent as it poured from her doll-like lips when she offered me one of the muffins from her lunch box.

  I never took it and never answered either.

  Poor Bree, she never took the hint I was too bad for a girl like her.

  She walked right into my bully radar and that day was the start of the vicious circle of hatred between us.

  As the years went by it was like the devil possessed me and I became obsessed with showing her just how bad I could be.

  And it looks like Bree Dawson hasn’t learned her lesson one damn bit. She’d get shacked up with the devil if his door was open. She’s still drawn to the worst of the bunch, and this guy is worse than me.

  “Please tell me she’s not mixed up in Liev’s dirty dealings.” That’s the last thing I want.

  “She’s clean,” Logan replies. “I’ve already done the ground work. She has no connection to any of Liev’s extracurricular activities. They’re just dating.”

  At his confirmation my entire body sighs with relief, but I feel like teaching her a fucking lesson.

  “The only bad thing is we’ll still have to question her because it looks like he’s been using her account for money laundering,” Logan adds.

  Great, Bree. Money laundering?

  I bet her sugary ass gave him the passwords to her account or she probably didn’t think twice if he gave her money.

  “How much money are we talking about here?”

  “Just under ten thousand. It seems he was helping her with her business. I was thinking of speaking to her tomorrow. I don’t want her mixed up in this any more than she is. You know what the feds are like. We need to know what kind of access he has to private stuff.”

  Logic is telling me to allow Logan to talk to her, but that part of me that’s always been lured to Bree Dawson wants to overpower anything resembling logic.

  Besides, since she’s in the all clear that gives me room to bring home some hard truths she should be aware of if she’s going to go after assholes like Liev Ivanov. Fuck even his name is a warning to stay away, and he has Russian Mafia prison tattoos. I’ll bet she just thought they were pretty and didn’t even think twice about what they could mean.

  “I’ll do it,” I say before Logan can go any further. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Ethan, she’s going to take this news hard. I think I should speak to her because she trusts me.”

  “She keeps ending up with these low lifes.” I won’t bother to remind him of Bree’s previous love interests—the ones we know of. They weren’t as bad as this guy, but it needs to be said. “I think a heart to heart with a detective she knows will set her straight and give her a little scare. You can’t tell me this couldn’t have been worse.”

  He gives me a knowing look. “I agree, but this is Bree, and you are you. When you guys get together it’s like you’re back in high school all over again. This is serious business, and I really don’t want you to do anything to piss her off when she’s in the clear.”

  I’m hearing him but my brain is already conjuring up how sexy Bree Dawson looks when she’s pissed off with me.

  I find myself smiling. “We’re a long way from high school, Logan Savage.”

  “But you still like her.” He points at me, and I don’t refute the statement because he’s right.

  Any man with eyes would like that little firecracker. I just don’t do relationships and I still think a nice girl like her should stay far away from men like me. I might be a cop, but the rebel never left me. I just learned to be the master of my inner wildness.

  “Which means I’ll be tactful,” I say, and he furrows his brows.

  My no-relationship rule doesn’t stop me from playing. I haven’t done that in a long time and not for something like this.

  We’ve been working on this damn case day and night. Now that we can wrap it up, I can grab a taste of freedom until the captain adds the next fucker to my work list.

  Until such time, I’ll kill two birds with one stone by preparing a comfy cell for Liev—he’s going to be here for a while—and teaching Bree Dawson a lesson or two about her choice in men.

  “Tactful? What are you going to do, Ethan?”

  “Don’t worry,” I say with a wide smile. “Leave it to me.”

  Chapter 2

  Bree

  “Printsessa, you are thinking too much again,” Liev says with a charming smile. His deep voice is thick with his Russian accent and my nerves spike as he looks me up and down in the little lingerie set I brought for tonight.

  “Am I?” I tease playfully, knowing I fully zoned out again.

  I’ve been stuck in my thoughts about us since the other day. Or rather it could have been since we started going out. Now that it looks like we’re getting serious, I’m more anxious than ever when I should be happy.

  We’ve been together for six months and that means my longest relationship in many years.

  “You know you are.” He laughs heartily tucking a dark lock of his medium length hair behind his ear. “Turn around for me slowly. You know how I like to look at you and take my time enjoying every part of you.”

  And that’s why I shouldn’t be having any sort of second thoughts about us.

  Tonight, couldn’t be any more perfect than it is.

  Liev and I had the perfect day, perfect date, perfect everything.

  He’s the one who suggested we celebrate our six-month anniversary, not me.

  He’s also the one who suggested an extravagant dinner at La Chez tonight after splashing out only two nights ago.

  He calls me Printsessa—princess in Russian and he has the whole hot Russian accent to go along with the package, which has heads turning when wherever we go.

  Most would say I have a good catch. I know I do, and maybe it’s just me being paranoid but every time I’m with him I always get this feeling he’s too good to be true.

  Too
good for my terrible track record of men, and that’s why I’m so skeptical, and willing to shoot myself in the foot.

  The stupid thing about it is there’s no reason to sabotage us especially when Mama likes him and says he’s a keeper.

  Although, I suspect she might have said so because with my cousin, Lucille’s engagement to a real live prince, Mama’s eager to see me with anyone.

  While on the other hand, Aunt Shelby, my man crazy aunt, said he’d be good for sex for the moment, which means she didn’t see us lasting.

  Pushing every thought out of my mind, both good and bad, I turn for him displaying my finest assets that have saved me on occasion from trouble.

  Working in Burt’s Bar—which is practically a strip club, to pay my rent many years ago is one secret that dies with me.

  At that point, I was the good girl gone bad because she had to. I was nineteen, broke, and couldn’t turn to my parents because they were having financial difficulties with their business. I never stripped, but I danced, and it was enough.

  Liev shuffles on his sofa and smiles at me.

  “Come here to me.” He crooks his finger.

  I take one step toward him. My bare feet connect with the soft gray carpet on the floor and suddenly the sound of a hard knock on his front door has me jumping out of my skin.

  “Police! Open the door!” demands a gruff voice.

  My eyes almost pop out of my head.

  Did I just hear right?

  The police are here.

  Liev pushes to his feet with his face contorted in rage and his nostrils flared.

  “Why are the police here Liev?” I ask.