Men in Blue

Read an Excerpt

Men in Blue

APHRODISIA BOOKS

Chapter One

Full awareness trickled back into his sleep-hazed brain when Drew opened his eyes. The spill of glossy platinum strands across the snow white pillowcase and the naughty smile of curving red lips met his bleary gaze. Even with her hair tangled and her makeup smeared, she was still a beauty. Looking at her never failed to summon the tug of need deep in his loins.

His reaction surprised him, catching him off guard. He blinked, close to spellbound, hardly able to believe this gorgeous creature had allowed him to join her in bed.

His companion rubbed against him again, fluid and graceful. The brush of naked skin on naked almost caused his heart to skip a beat. Familiar warmth surged beneath his skin, flooding through his body. Heat pooled in his groin, hardening his penis into a viable length a woman could work with. His primal appetite rumbled, voicing a blatantly sexual demand.

Drew's jaw tightened as his brain filled with a menagerie of erotic images-the visualpleasure of holding her hips as he thrust into her, taking him deep inside her clenching sex.

Body stiffening against the rush of desire trilling through his veins, he curled one fist tight, taking a deep breath to catch his emotions before they slithered out of his grip. As always, he had to be aware of every move he made, every word he said. One wrong move could cost him more than the nude woman beside him.

One wrong move could cost him his life.

Not that he wanted to think about that now.

Tucking the thought back into a dark corner in his mind, Drew preferred to concentrate on the matter at hand: satisfying his partner. "Looks like you are awake and ready to play."

Mischief glinted in the depths of eyes as clear and sparkling as a Caribbean lagoon. "You're damn right I am." Her words came out deep and throaty, her voice a sensual mix of whiskey burn and vodka smooth. In anger her voice could wound like a whip through flesh. Aroused, it could drop a man to his knees, make him beg to hear her heated whispers of passion.

Having achieved the desired effect, Mara Luce stretched against him, sensuously nudging one of her smooth, slender legs between his. Toes painted with a brazen shade of red polish brushed against his ankle. Her simple caress was all it took to keep the necessary sparks alive. His senses suffered another electrifying jolt, especially to that part of his anatomy she'd already worshipped eagerly with her mouth, her hands, and, most important of all, her tight, welcoming sex.

Lifting his weight on an elbow, he couldn't resist leaning over her for a quick kiss. "Now this is the way I wish I could wake up every day of the week." His lips brushed her cheek. "It would make getting out of bed a hell of a lot easier."

Mara turned her head slightly, whispering into his mouth. "Don't you mean it would be harder to get out of bed?" she teased. One warm palm settled possessively on his bare chest. Fingers curving just a little, her perfectly manicured nails dug into his skin. The female aggressor in her permeated through his senses.

Pulling back a little, Drew smiled. Like a wildcat in heat Mara never failed to score his skin in a deeper, fiercer way during sex. She didn't just make love to a man. She owned him. No scars meant no commitment on her part. By the scars across his back, ass, and thighs, Drew considered himself a committed man. He took it all in the line of duty. "If I could stay like this all day, babe, I sure as hell would."

Placated, Mara straightened her fingers, playfully circling one flat male nipple. "Just checking," she purred.

They were both naked except for the sheets tangled around them as they lazed in the afterglow of mind-twisting sex. Mara's breasts rose and fell, tempting him to bury his face in the deep cleft between them. Rose-shaded nipples beckoned to be caressed, touched, and tasted. The smooth curve of her belly disappeared beneath the sheet covering her hips. No matter. He'd soon get another chance to take his pleasure. Her body was an oasis many men sought, but few were allowed to explore. To be granted an embrace in her arms was to be handed the keys to the gates of heaven.

Drew had his key, and was more than ready to use it. But first he had work to do.

Sliding a hand up her abdomen, he cupped one full breast. "So what do you think about being able to wake up together every day?"

Mara's breath caught, a brief rush of air passing over her lips. Her breast pressed harder into his palm. She wasn't drawing away, and that was good. "I think it sounds wonderful ..." she started to say. Heavy lidded eyes briefly shuttered, closing him out.

Drew leaned closer, angling his body so he could look down at her sensual mouth. He teased the pink tip with a little more insistence. "But you're scared of leaving Zinetti," he prompted. Not a question, but a statement to prod her into acknowledging why she hadn't yet given her answer to his proposal.

Hearing the name of her boss, a shiver whisked through Mara's body even as her mouth twisted down in revulsion. Eyes still closed, her breath rattled tremulously. "Witness protection," she whispered as if saying the words aloud would somehow condemn her. She shook her head. "We wouldn't have a chance. He'd kill us both just for thinking it."

Making a subtle power play, Drew leaned in closer, lowering his face to hers. Having put in almost a year of undercover work, he wanted out. His nerves were beginning to wear thin from the constant stress of keeping his guard up. To walk in sunlight again as an officer of the law and not the hooligan he'd been posing as for nine months. He just had to convince Mara it was time to get out of the life-and make her want to go with him. Every bit of evidence he'd gathered would be doubly damning with her knowledge to back up the investigation.

Drew brushed her lips with his, whispering words only she could hear. "We can get out, Mara. I can arrange it all with the feds. All you have to do is say the word and we're gone. Once we're in protective custody, Zinetti won't be able to lay a hand on us." Though there was no way the hotel room could be wired with any outside listening devices-they were very careful about choosing places to meet-he wasn't willing to take any chances. He was too damn close to freedom to blow it now.

Mara opened her eyes and shook her head. "I-I can't. Even the law can't keep Zinetti away. You know that. Anyone who tries to walk away gets a guaranteed death sentence, just like Bruce." Another shiver tore through her. "I'm not going to die like a dog in the street, Drew. Staying with the family means staying alive."

The impact behind her words sent a hot tremor though him. Realizing she was slipping away, Drew narrowed his gaze. Just when he thought he had her in the palm of his hand, she managed to slip right through his fingers.

He had to give Mara credit. Though she'd allowed him to slide between her sheets, she wasn't the kind of woman who'd let a man jerk her around. From the beginning she'd made the rules, kept him on a short leash.

When Drew had first set eyes on his present bedmate, he hadn't been expecting a mob accountant to be so damn good looking. Frankly, he'd been expecting some young tootsie when the old mob boss had introduced his "girlfriend." What he hadn't envisioned was a charming, mature woman of thirty-one with a gorgeous smile and engaging personality.

Mara Luce. Clement Zinetti's right-hand woman. A woman who knew and saw more violence than any civilized female needed to. But more than having a pretty face and luscious body, Mara had brains. A lot of brains. Holding a master's degree in business, her ability with numbers was uncanny-especially when put to the task of hiding the gangster's copious assets from the government. One of the many reasons Uncle Sam had such a tough time curtailing the illegal pursuits of Boston's local mafioso was that all his activities appeared to be perfectly legitimate. Zinetti paid his taxes and his public businesses were above board. It was all smoke and mirrors, though, and Mara Luce was the master conjurer who worked the illusions behind the scenes.

Drew knew Mara had a point when it came to wanting to stay put. Bruce "the Bruiser" Nordstrom, a two-time felon, thug, and general no-good bastard, had been the last man to try and get out of Zinetti's organization. He hadn't gotten very far, very fast. An ax liberally applied had ended Bruce's intentions to become the state attorney general's star witness to rest forever. To rub it in, the killers had dumped Bruce's remains along the highway in plastic baggies. A lot of plastic baggies. It had taken months to pick up the stoolie and put him back together again. His head and hands were never recovered.

No one had ever been fingered for the crime. Not enough evidence. Somehow Zinetti had found out about Bruce's intentions and stopped the traitor dead in his tracks. Literally.

A slight tic pulled Drew's mouth into a frown. He'd known Bruce Nordstrom. They'd grown up in the same neighborhood.

There but for the grace of God go I, he thought grimly.

With Bruce's murder still fresh on her mind, Mara would never agree to bolt. Drew had to convince her the only way he knew how. He had to appeal to the one weakness that would break down her stubborn façade. Her heart. And with Mara it was hard to lie, play the games of seduction.

Before she could say another word, Drew kissed the curve of her jaw, near her ear, moving his lips softly along her cheek. "We're not going to make the same mistakes Bruce made. I promise. You just have to trust me, Mara. Say yes and I'll handle everything."

Mara's breathing accelerated even more. Not entirely convinced, she pressed her hands to his chest, looking at him with a mixture of suspicion and longing. By the look in her eyes, she walked the line between agreeing and backing away completely.

"Don't play me, Drew," she warned, clearly desperate to change the subject while she still had some control over it. "We have a good thing going here."

Drew took control, capturing her wrists and pinning them down against the mattress before rolling on top of her. His hips sank between her spread thighs, his cock settling against the soft nest of her belly. Slender and sleekly muscled, Mara was a lot of dynamite wrapped in a little package. She couldn't have weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, yet she had all the necessary firepower to take on a man twice her size.

Supporting his weight on his elbows, he looked down at her. "It can be better, Mara. I promise."

Mara flinched and trembled, twisting her wrists against his grip. "I told you I don't want to talk about it," she started to say. Her protest broke off into silence. Instinctive fear of the hell-storm of violence such a move would unleash broke over her, drenching her in nervous perspiration.

Her musky scent only served to arouse Drew further. Right now his mind wasn't on getting her to agree. He was more concerned with the throb of need between his legs. If seducing Mara was what it would take to get her to walk away from her life in organized crime, then he'd do whatever it took.

The biggest problem he had to face was making sure his own heart didn't get caught up in the game as well. Hard to do, but he would manage. Somehow.

"Just trust me, babe." Uncurling his fingers, Drew allowed her to free her hands. Getting her to the point of discussion was a small victory within itself. "You know I would never let you get hurt."

Frowning, her eyes closed briefly. A single tear slipped down her cheek. But only one. She blinked the rest away. But the seeds of doubt were still rooted deep enough to have influence. "I've been lied to before, Drew. How do I know I can trust you?" she asked slowly.

It was the question that always came up, putting up a wall Drew hadn't yet managed to scale.

Unable to climb over it, he'd already figured this time he'd have to go right through it like a battering ram, knock it down to so much rubble. Hard as nails, Mara Luce wasn't the kind of woman who wasted tears. The fact he'd gotten a few out of her was proof her feelings for him ran a lot deeper than she was willing to let on.

The truth-and trouble-was she couldn't trust him. Their entire relationship reeked, tangled in the web of lies undercover work entailed. There was no time to think about the morality of seducing a mob boss's moll. He'd deal with the fallout when the time came. For the moment he'd have to settle for the pat answer, the easy answer. The answer that would get Mara to do what he needed her to do: turn state's evidence against one of Boston's most notorious gangland chiefs.

Like a frightened animal, Mara needed reassurance, a strong and steady hand to lead her through the mine field. "Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?" he asked, spinning her words around on her with the ease of a practiced liar.

The hush between them was deep and consuming. Minutes ticked away. Despite the deceptions on Drew's part, they were connected as lovers. No matter what the future might hold, he'd already committed to protecting Mara. Even if she hates me once the whole truth comes out.

Her answer arrived with hesitation. "It's not you I don't trust." She spoke slowly, working her way through her internal reservations. "It's me. I'm not sure about my commitment to you, babe. When I leave the family, I have to know what I'm walking into is rock solid." She reached up, caressing his cheek with slender fingers. "You make it all seem so easy, but I still have to look out for me, you know? Nobody else ever has."

Drew kept his wince private. At least she was being honest. Mara clearly wasn't ready to make the vital decision. She still didn't see any future for herself in witness protection. Somehow, he had to convince her that his pledge was unyielding, that he'd take her every step of the way.

He nodded. "I understand. You think I'm not good enough."

A crease of concern wrinkled her forehead. She stroked one forearm with a placating pet. "It's not that. You know I'm crazy about you, Drew." A short laugh escaped. "You're the best I've ever had." She stroked harder. "And all I want."

Drew snorted irritably. Swatting her hand away, he reached out, catching her chin. "Fucking me is one thing, babe. But trusting me is another." He gave a little squeeze. "Do you think I like having to sneak around Zinetti to see you?"

Goosebumps racing across her bare skin, Mara shook her head. The conversation was definitely getting to her. She clearly didn't like it, but also didn't know how to break away from the ties binding her to organized crime.

"He pulls all the strings and we dance to his tune, Mara," he answered quietly. "Think about it."

More hesitation crept into her gaze. Her features folded under the strain of carrying the burden of skepticism and pain. She started to make the usual excuses. "I owe him too much-"

Drew shrugged, tweaking the tip of one erect nipple. "Well, I don't owe him a goddamn thing." He gave the nub a little twist, reminding her who had control. "Neither do you. You have a right to a life where you don't have to sneak around like a thief."

Mara arched on the mattress, a silent plea for more. "We're not sneaking," she said softly. "We're just being careful."

Visually locking her into place, Drew lowered his head. Her response to his touch revved up his internal engine all over again. Right now there was too much talk and not enough action.

"Shut up," he growled low under his breath. Seconds later his mouth claimed hers.

Right now, words were useless. He'd have to do the convincing with his body, let their lovemaking speak for itself.

---

Excerpted from Men in Blue by Devyn Quinn Myla Jackson Delta Dupree Copyright © 2009 by Kensington Publishing Corp.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---