Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (65 page)

Pollack looked from Ciara to Bryce and backed away in a hurry, already raising his phone to his mouth.

“We won’t have to sleep alone ever again, okay?” Bryce said.

She nodded. “Promise?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

The EMTs arrived in biohazard suits and that severed her conversation with Bryce. But they’d said amazing things to each other. She hoped there’d be time to say the rest. A lifetime.

Bryce fitted Ciara’s nude body against him in his bed. He’d never been so frightened as when the ricin flew into the air in front of her. That she’d managed to avoid inhaling any of it while he pulled her free amazed him. She said she’d held her breath. She was a very smart woman. She’d realized Monique meant to harm him, and she’d risked her life to protect him.

Agents Pollack and Garrison had found printed directions for making ricin and letter bombs in Monique’s condo. Bryce had spent a year with her and never realized she had a vicious nature. She didn’t like losing. It was now obvious she didn’t want to break up with him. She must have thought he’d change his mind about seeking a judgeship if she left him. When he didn’t, she decided if she couldn’t have him, no one could. He shuddered. He could have died before he knew the love that now rested in his arms.

“You’re all tense again,” Ciara complained from his shoulder.

Bryce leaned down and kissed her long and hard. “I could have lost you.”

She hugged him. “And I could have lost you.”

“But you protected me.”

“I had to. I wanted you for myself.”

He chuckled. “You had me.” He nodded to their cooling bodies.

“That was hardly want. Give me a minute and I’ll show you real want.”

“I can’t wait. Ciara — ”

She pressed her finger to his lips. “I know. I betrayed you. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do it again.”

Bryce removed her finger. “Apology accepted. Will you marry me?” The words slipped out, but they felt right.

Ciara inhaled. “Don’t you need time to be sure? I mean, I live in Lansing. You live here.”

“I’m giving up my practice. I don’t want to do that kind of work anymore. I thought I’d move to Lansing, give your mother a break from playing matchmaker.”

“And what, become a kept man?” Ciara playfully whacked his arm. “Fool. I was looking forward to joining your practice as a full partner. Gannon and Alafita.”

“Gannon and Gannon, you mean.” Bryce sighed. “I’m tired of defending the bad guys.”

Ciara lifted her head. “Who says we have to? Since you want to be a judge, you probably should turn over a new leaf.”

“If I become a judge, I’d have to leave the practice anyway.”

“Maybe we’ll have a child by then and I can stay home and play mommy for a while.” She looked dreamy.

He smiled. He wanted that too. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Ciara. You haven’t even said yes yet.”

“Yes!”

They sealed their contract with a kiss.

Avon, Massachusetts

This edition published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

www.crimsonromance.com

Copyright © 2013 by Shay Lacy

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 10: 1-4405-6711-5

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6711-7

eISBN 10: 1-4405-6712-3

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6712-4

Cover art © istock.com/AleksandarNakic

Life offers us chances to make a difference. You can be the change that you want to see in the world. My thanks to all the people who use their chances and make this world a better place
.

Thanks to Crimson Romance for believing in my work. To Maumee Valley RWA, whose members uplift each other, cheer for achievements, and offer hugs during times of struggle. To the B-I-C group for online accountability and support, and to my fellow Panera Prison inmates who leave the house to write. Special thanks to Ray Wenck, Constance Phillips, and Jenna Rutland, whose friendship has been invaluable. And, as always, my thanks to my husband, who encourages me to do what I love.

1. Title Page
   
2. Copyright Page
   
3. Dedication
   
4. CHAPTER 1
   
5. CHAPTER 2
   
6. CHAPTER 3
   
7. CHAPTER 4
   
8. CHAPTER 5
   
9. CHAPTER 6
   
10. CHAPTER 7
    
11. CHAPTER 8
    
12. CHAPTER 9
    
13. CHAPTER 10
    
14. CHAPTER 11
    
15. CHAPTER 12
    
16. CHAPTER 13
    
17. CHAPTER 14
    
18. CHAPTER 15
    
19. CHAPTER 16
    
20. CHAPTER 17
    
21. CHAPTER 18
    
22. CHAPTER 19
    
23. CHAPTER 20
    
24. CHAPTER 21
    
25. CHAPTER 22
    
26. About the Author
    

Why would somebody steal a sculpture of a fertility god instead of buying Viagra? Private investigator Charlie Ziffkin had followed the thief’s trail from Hollywood to Miami, proving this was no petty thief. His actions suggested he worked for a client—a rich one. Charlie needed to find out who had that kind of money for illegal activities. Who better to help him locate his client’s fertility statue than a hooker? He hoped to get lucky on this street where they stood on every corner. He’d start with prostitutes and work his way up the food chain.

He smiled at the brunette in the barely-there mini as he approached.

The hooker’s eyes glinted in the streetlight as her gaze ran over him from head to toe. “Hey, baby, I can make you feel real good.” Up close, even the night and her heavy makeup couldn’t conceal the wear and tear her lifestyle had caused.

“I’d like to feel good.” Wasn’t that the truth. Since his brother, Billy’s, senseless murder two years ago, he hadn’t felt anything but pain. “But what I need is information.” So he could retrieve his client’s property and get out of this town where he’d been born. Where Billy was buried. Why the hell had the thief come here, of all places?

The hooker’s mascara-heavy lashes had been at half-mast as she’d leaned toward him. Now her eyes opened fully and filled with wariness. She took a step back. “I don’t talk to cops.”

“I’m not a cop. My name is Chaz. I’m out here from Hollywood for a few days looking to get connected, you know what I mean? I have lots of friends back home. I need a way to make them happy. You must know who to talk to when you want to have a large party. I’m sure you know all kinds of things, like who holds the money and power in this town. If I wanted something and I didn’t want people asking a lot of questions, who would I talk to?”

“What do you do in Hollywood?”

“I’m a promoter.”

Her suspicious gaze raked him. “You’re mighty young.”

“Age is meaningless if you can get things done. And I can.”

“Baby, listen, if you’re not interested in the merchandise, I need to make a living.” She glanced around as though looking for another john.

“How much?”

Her sly gaze swung to his face. She ran her tongue slowly over her upper lip. “For you, good looking, thirty bucks.”

Charlie pulled his wallet out of his suit jacket pocket and retrieved the money. He’d better not have to pay everybody for information on this job. His client had offered a hefty fee, but he’d only gotten a retainer upfront. He held the bills out toward her. As she reached for them with long purple fingernails, he said, “I need names.”

“See Carlos at the Bottoms Up bar on Hialeah. He’s there every night. He’ll know who can help you.” She snatched the money and stuffed it into her neon blue bra. A sultry smile lifted the corners of her red lips. “I can get rid of that tension you feel.”

He was losing his acting ability if she could see that. He forced his muscles to relax and gave her a slow smile. “You’ve helped me already. Thanks. If you’re ever in Hollywood . . . ”

She shrugged. “Sure, baby.” She strutted away on sparkling stilettos.

A blonde hooker lounged under the streetlight at the next corner. He fought the urge to jog toward her because he needed answers
now
. He couldn’t linger in Miami. His parents and brother, Michael, whom he hadn’t seen since Billy’s funeral, lived here. He couldn’t face them knowing he lived while Billy’s body lie in a grave just miles from here.
Too close
.

Billy had been brilliant, with a PhD and a new job as a research scientist. He probably would have cured cancer if he’d lived. But a freak robbery turned murder had buried those dreams. The police thought it might have been somebody high on drugs or looking for money for their next fix. His murderer had never been caught.

Charlie, on the other hand, had been a mediocre student who’d only cared about one thing—acting. He’d lit out of Miami for Hollywood thinking he only had to arrive to fulfill his dreams. A dozen years later, success still eluded him. In professional terms, he was a failure.

But he was trying to right the wrong of living. He couldn’t be Billy, couldn’t take over where his brother’s life had ended. But Charlie could succeed instead of fail. He could make life better for others, one case at a time. This was the biggest case he’d worked so far. Retrieving Hollywood producer Jordan Hessler’s stolen relic would guarantee him referrals and success. He just had to find it and escape Miami before his past sucked him back in.

In the next block, a young Latina spoke to a john. She reminded him of his childhood and teenage sweetheart, Juliana Sanchez. She’d been his greatest supporter, participating in every dramatic endeavor he dreamed up. Rarely did a day pass when she wasn’t playing pirates or detectives or space aliens with him and, as they got older, Romeo and Juliet. It had been just acting, until one day it wasn’t acting anymore. Charlie didn’t know when he’d fallen in love with her, somewhere around age fifteen. They’d had two years together where he’d had to hide how he felt from his best friend, afraid his heart would burst at the mere sight of her.

Then Juliana’s mother died, and her father had sent her to live with her aunt until he could sell their house. Sergeant Sanchez had severed all contact between Juliana and Charlie. He should have taken his police revolver and killed Charlie; that would have been kinder. Thirteen years apart and, still, no woman had ever measured up to Juliana. He didn’t think one ever would.

As far as he knew, she still lived here. For years after she’d been ripped from his arms and his life he’d wanted—needed—to run into her. But he couldn’t see her like this. He was the walking dead. She deserved better than him.

Charlie drew on his acting skills. He forced his face to relax into a smile as he approached the blonde. He had to make the hooker feel safe so she’d provide the intel he needed.

• • •

“This bra is killing me,” Juliana Sanchez muttered toward the microphone hidden in her long brown hair. In her opinion, push-up bras could be used as instruments of torture.

“It looks
fine
from here, sugar,” Vice Detective Hector Muñoz drawled into her earpiece. “So fine.”

She smiled toward where her protection watched from a white panel van down the street.

“Better hope her daddy doesn’t catch her wearing that outfit,” his partner, Detective Karl Polaris, retorted. “He’s smart enough to put two and two together, and then he’ll do worse than break us back to beat cops. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

Juliana should be worried, too. If her dad, Police Captain Alejandro Sanchez, found out she was subbing for her friend in vice, he’d break her back to… Gee, what was worse than treating her like a teenager instead of a woman nearly thirty? She was stifling under his overprotectiveness. His behavior had been understandable after her mother was killed and Juliana was injured when a drunk driver had hit their car, but that was over a decade ago. Since then, he’d remarried and had two young sons who enjoyed more freedom than she did. They’d probably even get to be cops when they grew up, unlike her, who did medical transcription for a living. Damn it, she was an adult living on her own. When was he going to think of her as one?