Dominic

by Mazzy King

  Dominic

  A Badge Bunnies Novel Book 1

  Mazzy King

  MZK Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by Mazzy King

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  DOMINIC: Badge Bunnies 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

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  Sneak Peek of RHYS: Badge Bunnies 2

  About the Author

  Also by Mazzy King

  DOMINIC: Badge Bunnies 1

  A Steamy Alpha Bad Boy Cop Romance

  The good Bad Boys of Ridge City…and the women who love them.

  Put your hands where he can feel them…

  Dominic

  I went to the bar to do my job—bust drug dealers lurking in Ridge City. I’m a Vice Detective, and I made an oath to protect the people. I’m always focused, and I always get my guy. Nothing can throw me off my game…until I saw that gorgeous brunette bartender. One look at her, and my oath to protect and serve the city suddenly became…protect and serve her.

  Serena

  I swore off men six months ago after a bad breakup, and even though it was the best decision of my life, I’ve never been lonelier. And…hornier. But no man is worth the trouble—that is, until this tall, dark, and oh-so-mindblowingly sexy man walked into my bar. Something about him made me throw inhibition to the wind. He’s dangerous—and he might be one of the bad guys. And nothing has ever scared or excited me more.

  This is an insta-love, happily-ever-after, STEAMY romance. No cliffhangers, no cheating. This is a standalone story part of the BADGE BUNNIES series.

  1

  Dominic Black

  I stroll into Triple 6 bar a little after ten, per the arrangement, and take up a post at the bar, where I’m one of just two customers. My contact said he’d meet me here at ten fifteen—not so late to get caught up in the party crowd, but late enough. No names, no numbers. The only trace of him I have is a throwaway social media account that our cyber department still hasn’t been able to hack into, and that’s saying something, because the Ridge City PD cybercrimes unit is one of the leading in the country. If they can’t crack it, nobody can.

  That also comes in handy in reverse—the last thing I need is any kingpin I’m trying to buy drugs from learning his prospective buyer is actually an undercover vice detective.

  Tonight, I was told that I’ll be “found” buy my seller. That makes me nervous, but there’s no way in hell I can let on. So, with my captain, a handful of other detectives, a few SWAT officers including my best friend, Sergeant Rhys Hartley, we set up a sting. They’re out of sight in strategic places. The detectives are inside the large, dark, strobey bar, SWAT is outside. I can’t be wired, so they’ve got to be close by and inconspicuous. I don’t know exactly where the detectives are, so my eyes won’t be drawn to them and give any of us away, but they all have eyes on me, and I’m grateful as hell for that.

  “Can I get you something?”

  I glance up at the woman’s voice, then do a double take hard enough to put a crick into my neck.

  The bartender braces her palms against the surface, tilting her head as she looks at me expectantly. But it takes me a minute to remember how to use my voice. Toned arms, tan skin, thick dark hair like a waterfall reaching down to her elbows, all topped off with a delicate, heart-shaped face, large, slanted pale eyes circled with dark eyeliner, and a pair of luscious, full pink lips.

  She’s absolutely stunning, and she makes me forget my own name for a moment.

  “I, uh—just a Corona,” I say lamely. I don’t even like Coronas. And I order the beer before I remember I’m technically working. Although, since I’m undercover, it helps me look more natural. You know, like not a cop.

  Beautiful lifts an eyebrow, then retrieves an icy bottle from the fridge under the counters. She pops the cap, stuffs a lime wedge into the neck, and places it on a napkin in front of me. “Tough night?”

  “Long day at work,” I reply, then take a swig. One drink won’t kill or impair me. Two drinks is the approved max before the possibility of legal issues start becoming more realistic.

  “I can relate,” she says with a smirk. “You know where I work. How about you?”

  “Oh, just a businessman,” I lie. “Office life.”

  “Which office?” She leans closer, and I finally get a whiff of her. Her perfume is equal parts vanilla, musk, and some kind of sweet, juicy fruit. It’s dark and alluring—like her. “Or will you have to kill me if you tell me?”

  I flash her a grin. She’s given me a relatively easy out here. Despite the fact that it’s a chief job requirement, I don’t actually love all the lying I have to do. “That’s right. Sorry, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not that sweet.” She eyes me from beneath long, thick lashes, then turns away to check on the other guy at the bar who was here before me.

  I’ll bet you are. She’s on the petite side, but she’s got curves just where a woman should, and they look sweet enough to me. I can’t help but stare for a moment before shaking myself. I’m supposed to be working, not ogling the sexy bartender like an asshole.

  Even if it does seem like she’s flirting with me…

  I tip back another sip of beer and study her as she whips up a craft cocktail. Based on the highball glass and the thin, curved slice of orange peel she deftly carves right into the drink, I’m guessing it’s an Old Fashioned. I’d love to order one of those, but policy says two beers, and that’s it.

  “At least it seems to be a slow night for you,” I say when she slinks back to my side of the bar.

  She pours herself a tall glass of ice water and takes a long drink. I watch the column of her throat work, and can’t help imagining what it’d be like to run my tongue up it.

  “Nah,” she says finally. “Not slow. Just early. Around eleven or so, this place fills up and stays that way until two.”

  “Tips must be good.”

  “Everything can always be better,” she says, and meets my gaze.

  Okay, I’m not imagining things. She is flirting with me. In fact, it’s beyond flirting. That look in her eyes is permission. It’s damn near an invitation.

  “What do you got that needs improving?” I ask, leaning closer over the bar.

  One corner of that delicious-looking mouth tilts up. “I’m in need of pretty much a total body overhaul.” Her gaze travels down my chest to my tattooed forearms, then back up to my face. “I go on break in thirty minutes, if you’d like to join me.”

  Holy. Shit.

  Assertive, confident women are my weakness, and she fits the bill to the letter. It’s been a while since I was with a woman in any capacity—even a date—and the purr in her voice jumpstarts the engine between my legs. She is sexy and mysterious and I’m pretty sure I’ve already fallen in love with her. She’s a goddess posing as a bartender in this dark, seedy, big-city bar, and I am ready to prostrate myself at her feet and let her have her way with me.

  Hey, I’m a cop. I never claimed to be a saint.

  Speaking of being a cop…you’re working, Dom.

  Fuck.

  Someone brushes against my back. It’s a slender guy with buzzed blond hair. Pretty unassuming, but I know better than to make assumptions.

  When he turns to glance my way, his blue eyes are so ice-c
old, I suppress a shiver.

  Something instinctual deep in my chest, the thing that’s kept me alive on more occasions than I can count on both hands and toes—sets off alarm bells inside me.

  It appears my date for tonight has shown up.

  A soft, cool hand rests on mine, and I turn back to Beautiful Goddess Queen.

  “So what’s it gonna be, shy boy?” She runs a thumb over the back of my hand, and I meet her pale eyes. They’re more gray than blue, and they’re bottomless.

  I huff out a wry laugh. “My, uh, job has the worst timing. I…need to take a raincheck.”

  She blinks several times in surprise. “Oh. Um. All right.”

  I shouldn’t spare the seconds it takes, but I grab her wrist before she can walk away. “Tell me your name. Please.”

  She gives me that sweet, crooked smile. “Serena.”

  “Serena,” I repeat, enjoying the way it slides out of my mouth. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. “I’m Dominic.”

  She slides her wrist out of my grip and slides her palm against mine in a seductive little shake that sends tingles of heat coursing through my body. Those tingles quickly extinguish when I notice the blond man is staring at me intently from a few seats down.

  Fuck. “I’ll—I’ll be right back,” I tell Serena, then reluctantly release her hand and go meet my mark.

  When I reach his side, those weirdly cold eyes of his are narrow. Like he’s waiting.

  I tick my chin at Serena, then glance at him. “A real…golden girl, huh?” It’s a common street term for heroin, one of many.

  Understanding dawns in the guy’s eyes and he nods once. “Indeed. She is.”

  What accent is that? It’s definitely European, but that’s not saying much in the way of narrowing things down.

  “Gonna take a lot of dough to keep her happy,” I go on. “Don’t you think? How much would you guess?”

  He shifts his gaze to the tumbler of clear liquid in front of him. Could be water, could be vodka. “About five grand, for the things you mentioned she wants.”

  He never specified a price before, but it’s about what I expect, based on my experience. Five grand is clearly enough to buy an amount of drugs, about thirty grams—and that indicates distribution.

  I can practically feel the commendation for a job well done in my hands.

  That feeling dissipates fast when it’s replaced by the pressure of a gun barrel pressing into my ribs.

  Buzz Blond smiles at me. “I almost had you there, didn’t I, cop?”

  2

  Serena Jackson

  I watch Dominic walk over to a pale blond dude halfway down the bar, trying to steady myself when his back turns.

  To be honest, for as gorgeous as he is, I’m a little relieved for the sudden and weird interruption, even though I was the mack here, not the other way around.

  “I go on break in about thirty minutes if you’d like to join me.”

  What was I thinking?

  I’m no prude. And I’m no angel, either. I own my sexuality—or what’s left of it, anyway. I’ve been in a dry spell for almost six months, ever since I caught my last boyfriend exchanging nudes with the girl he was humping behind my back. I did the cliché thing and swore off men for, like, ever, and have been doing just fine.

  And then Dominic—sexy, dark-haired Dominic with the confident swagger that sings to my lady parts—strolled into my bar in jeans that hugged his ass and a beat-up leather jacket that makes me want to wrap it around my naked body, and I lost my ever-loving mind.

  I’m horny, yes. But not for just anyone.

  But Dominic, who I’ve known for fifteen minutes, isn’t just anyone. I can tell.

  He bought me some time. I have about three hours to decide if that invitation to a perfect stranger into my bed was a good idea. If I still want it to happen.

  The bar’s filling up now. I take a young couple’s order when they come up for air—Malibu and pineapple for her, Landshark for him. As I mix the lady’s cocktail, I glance over at Dominic again. He’s still talking to the weird pale dude—or at least, that’s what it looked like at first. Actually, he’s smiling at the guy.

  And as I study him longer, I realize it’s not at all a nice smile. They definitely don’t seem like pals. But Dominic said “work.” What kind of work would he have with this guy? He said he was a…

  Come to think of it, he didn’t say he was an anything.

  Suspicion flares inside me and I shift my gaze back over to them. They’re practically nose-to-nose.

  I’ve worked at this bar for a long time. I’ve seen thousands of people. I know how to read them, too. It’s part of this job, this lifestyle.

  And I know a fucking drug deal happening when I see one.

  Shit.

  Go figure the first guy I’m sexually attracted to in the better part of a year is a drug dealer. Or he’s a buyer. Either way, that’s not anything I need in my life, even if he is a lion in the sack.

  No fucking way in hell.

  It’s time for my break.

  I pour one last beer and tell the other bartender working with me I’m going to take my twenty-minute break. It boggles my mind that just ten minutes ago, I’d wanted to spend it riding Dominic.

  I’ve taken two steps toward the back room, where there’s an exit outside that faces my favorite late-night coffeeshop, when a volley of gunshots rings out.

  That’s another thing you learn the sound of pretty fast when you work downtown Ridge City—what gunshots, real, live gunshots, sound like.

  My heart leaps into my throat and my mind blurs into a panic. I hear screams and cries and then—oh, God—more gunshots. There’s a stampede of people rushing for the exit, and the other bartender is urging people to go out the back, the same direction I’d been headed in. The sight of all those people who are slowing down my escape makes me panic even more.

  How the fuck am I going to get out of here?

  I start shoving around bodies, trying to fight my way toward a door or even a window to break my way out of if I have to, when a hand lands on my shoulder. There’s another dizzying blur as someone spins me around, and the next thing I know, I’m staring Dominic in the eyes from the arms of someone he’s facing off with. Whoever has me has a forearm tight across my throat, and—

  Oh my God.

  There’s a gun pressed to my temple.

  I’m not even sure I’m breathing. I’m so scared shitless, my knees go weak and my bodyweight drops downward. But that only creates more tight, unbearable pressure between the guy’s forearm and my throat, and breathing becomes a definite impossibility.

  Through my hazy vision, Dominic has a gun out and it’s pointed at me.

  I freeze.

  No, not at me, I realize after a second. It’s pointed just beyond me.

  At my captor.

  “Let the girl go,” Dominic says in this low, low voice that’s full of death and danger. He’s speaking on my behalf, and it’s frightening me.

  And why the fuck does he have a gun!

  “No,” the voice at my ear hisses. “You tried to set me up, you piece of shit, but it’s not gonna work. I’m gonna walk out of here, and you’re gonna let me do it, or I’m shooting your little golden girl.”

  Golden girl? What? But there’s no time to dwell on that for now.

  “You can get mad at me,” Dominic continues in that super calm voice, “but you’re going to let the girl go. She doesn’t deserve to be mixed up in this.”

  All of a sudden, I realize there are three other men in the club with guns trained on me. On us.

  Are they aiming at me, or the dickhead behind me?

  I feel a surge of hope, but it quickly dies when I realize at least twice as many other men have materialized behind Dominic’s friends—or whoever—and have guns pointed at them.

  “Put your weapons down,” one of them sneers.

  I don’t know who does it first. But someone…someone makes a horrible move and fire
s a shot, and then there’s gunfire everywhere.

  I’m suddenly released from my captor and drop to my knees, my head dizzy. Before my entire body can hit the ground, another pair of strong hands scoops me up. As bullets slice the air at insane speeds, I feel myself being half-dragged, half-carried somewhere.

  My back hits something hard. I’m behind the bar, and there’s someone on top of me.

  Dominic.

  One of his arms cradles me close to him. He uses his other hand to cup my face, his dark brows drawn together.

  “Serena,” he murmurs. “Are you all right?”

  “What’s…happening?” I mumble, and it scares me how far away my voice sounds to my own ears.

  He surprises me with a smirk. “Bad guys with guns, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Why…?”

  I have this weird, lucid sense of self-awareness that informs me I am losing my shit and likely going into shock. I’m suddenly freezing cold and trembling violently.

  Dominic tears off his leather jacket and enfolds me in it, maneuvering my body like I’m a life-sized ragdoll. In the back of my mind, I’m struck by how earlier I’d had a fantasy of wearing this jacket—albeit with far less clothing than I have on right now—and now, here it is, wrapped around me. It smells as good as I thought it would—old leather, smokiness that’s rich like cigars, his spicy cologne. And it’s warm—so warm. The residual body heat pushes through the icy shell of my shock and starts to bring me back to life.

  The gunfire is still going strong.

  “What’s out that way?” Dominic asks, pointing toward the kitchen.