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Fighting For Keeps

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Bad to the Bone

"You can't park there." Great. A cop.

Jodi Israel's shoulders slumped as her umbrella snapped open overhead. It'd be nice if she could just pull out a badge and flash it. TRAIT didn't do that though. Sure, they had badges, but they weren't encouraged to show them off—no one was supposed to know about the agency, which meant no perks like shoving "federal agent" in the face of local authorities. "I'm only going to be a minute."

"Ma'am, I said you need to move the car."

She spun around and squinted, trying to see through the downpour. The cop stepped out of the rain, headed toward her, and her breath caught. He towered over her, presenting the kind of tall and broad that made her feel tiny. He tipped his head down, the dripping brim of his hat shading a square jaw and chiseled features. She wished she could see his eyes better; she'd bet they were blue, the icy kind that sent shivers down her spine. Eyes that matched the rumble of his voice.

"I don't care how cute you are, you can't park there."

And it suddenly didn't matter what color the cop's eyes were—even if the sun had made an appearance, clearing the rain and giving her a chance to find out—not if he was going to talk to her like that. She hated when men noticed her body over her brain. Besides, Marron had asked her to pick up a file while she was in town, and he had said to stay out of parking garages—which meant parking here, whether the cop liked it or not. Of course, her boss hadn't exactly mentioned why, but orders were orders. "And I said I'd only be a minute. So how about we compromise? If I take longer than sixty seconds, you can give me two tickets, but if I'm back before then, you don't give me one at all."

When a response wasn't forthcoming, she decided to take it as a yes. The instant she turned her back, the asshole cop snarled, "Laws exist for a reason. If you're going to flout them, you're going to pay for it. Or you could just do what I said and move the car."

The threat of money and points was lame. Marron would take care of the ticket. She would have rolled her eyes if not for the sudden chatter over the cop's radio. She didn't catch all of it, but the crossroads called out were the last corner she'd passed before parking. Apparently, uber-cop didn't care about her parking violation anymore because the guy spun on his heel and took off running.

Jodi was about to take the opportunity to dash inside. It would be nice to be gone before she did wind up with a ticket, but something about the way the cop sped off, she couldn't help but watch him. He was faster than he looked, moving his muscular frame over the ground at near professional-athlete speed. Yet he still managed to weave between pedestrians and took the precious seconds to help up a little girl who had fallen when he blew by. But then she noticed the other men running toward him.

Though she couldn't hear his words, she could imagine the cop's deep voice yelling, "Freeze!" as he pulled out his gun. When the suspects veered to the left, he took off again, then leaped, tackling the two grown men to the ground.

The move was impressive. Between that and the way he'd assisted the kid, maybe she'd been a little hasty in judging him.

She believed it until he stood and punched one perp while he was still lying on the ground and kicked the other as he tried to stand. Jodi took a step back. What the hell? When the cop pulled his arm back again, she turned around and stomped into the building.

There was attractive and dominant ... and then there was alpha-hole. Obviously sexy cop didn't believe in middle ground and fell directly into the latter category. At least she'd be heading back to Naperville soon enough. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And bonus ... no way would he have time to give her a ticket.

* * *

Finneas Danby was three steps from the sidewalk when he dropped the box from his arms and stormed back toward the precinct. Then he clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it on the rail instead. He wasn't about to go back in there and beg. Fuck the Chicago PD. They didn't know what they were doing.

If they did, they wouldn't have thrown him out on his ass.

Excessive force?

Failure to follow directives?

Not a team player?

Translation: not an ass kisser.

Apparently it didn't matter if he got the job done. All he did was knock a couple guys' heads together before Mirandizing them. Then everyone got their damn undies so far up their asses they might as well have been going commando. It wasn't like he'd shot the perps. It could have gone much worse—cops and innocent bystanders could have died—but no one saw that besides Finn.

He didn't need the force.

He was damn good at what he did and, if they didn't want his skills, he would find someone who did. Private security maybe. Those guys tended to prefer asking questions after assailants were subdued.

Nope. He'd be just fine and dandy without his badge.

He stomped back down the steps and swooped to grab his box when a car pulled to the curb and stopped. Late model Taurus. Silver. Common enough, yet not so dull as to really stand out. Finn narrowed his eyes as the passenger window slid open.

"Mr. Danby, I'd like to speak to you. Please get in the car."

The glass wasn't heavily tinted, but the guy in the driver's seat was shadowed, and Finn couldn't make out any distinguishing features from where he stood. Especially not with the sunlight glaring in his eyes. "Who's asking?" His hand moved toward his waist for the holster that was no longer there.

Damn it.

The driver's door opened, and a man exited and stood next to the car. He was a touch under six feet, his dark hair graying at the temples. He swept off a pair of shades, and the skin crinkled around his eyes as he smiled. Until that expression, he was nearly as nondescript as the car.

"If I'd come here to kill you, I wouldn't have bothered with small talk. Besides, I don't think you were on the force long enough to make the kind of enemies who would attack you in broad daylight." He put the glasses back in place and slid behind the wheel again, calling, "Now, unless you aren't interested in a new job, get your ass in the damn car."

Finn bristled at the tone in the man's voice—last time he'd blindly obeyed an order people had died. Fuck that shit. Guy wanted to play? He'd play Finn's way.

Even walking to the curb made him twitchy. He wanted to tell the guy to take his orders and shove them, but instead he set the box down on the sidewalk and leaned on the window opening. "I said, who's asking?"

"You just don't get it, do you? That's the attitude that got you canned from the PD." How did the guy even know? Finn had only been fired a couple hours ago. "Being an alpha male's great. This? Not so much. You want answers, you get your stubborn ass in the car." The jerk sat there and actually buffed his nails against his suit jacket. "Offer expires in sixty seconds. There are a lot of other people in this country looking for work."

Maybe, but Finn wasn't about to pretend this shit was okay. "Look, I don't know who you are or what the job is. I'm not stupid enough to blindly get in."

"Glove box."

Frowning, Finn pulled the lever, and the door dropped open. A file poked out, and when he tore it free, a wallet fell onto the seat, flipping wide long enough to reveal a badge and ID. The guy snapped it shut too quickly for Finn to get a good look—but what he saw screamed Fed.

The file, on the other hand, he didn't need to examine very far. It was on him. Everything on him, right back to disciplinary records from fucking elementary school. He slapped it on the window. "How the hell did you get this?"

"Your time's up. You can either accept that I have legal connections or assume everyone in your past hates you enough to spill to whomever asks. Choice is yours — in or out." He threw the car into gear. "If you're going for the latter, drop the file and take your arm off my window." When Finn didn't move, the guy shrugged. "Your choice. Happy job hunting."

The Taurus pulled away from the curb, the door banging Finn's elbow and sending pain lancing up to his shoulder. Shit. The guy was really going to leave. "Wait." The car stopped, idling a foot away, but he knew it wouldn't stay there. Something told him the man behind the wheel wasn't the kind to make threats and not follow through.

Damn it.

Finn snatched up his box of personal items, yanked open the passenger door, and climbed in. "Start talking."

"Good to know that if given incentive you can actually follow orders. My name is Josh Marron and, as far as you're concerned right now, I'm a ghost. Do you get my meaning?"

"Yeah." If he walked away, this meeting never happened. Though between his time in the army and on the force in Chicago, he'd never heard of anyone named Marron. Where had he come from? Definitely the no-nonsense type, but he didn't seem like a ballbuster. The only tension in the vehicle came from Finn himself, which eased as he realized that likely meant this was exactly what Marron said—a job offer. As much as Finn hadn't liked Marron's initial approach, maybe there'd be enough leeway in his attitude that they could manage to work together. "And the job?"

Marron pulled into traffic, weaving through cars like he'd started life as a Hollywood stunt driver. "That depends on how deep your disdain for playing nice goes. My organization barely exists outside of a row of checks and balances in a politician's ledger, which means we have our own set of rules. But we all still answer to someone. If I bring you in, we won't tolerate your issues with authority. Specifically, I won't tolerate it. The best agents on my roster are the ones who understand the value of compromise."

Right. Compromise. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Agent" had a nice ring to it, though—the sound that would make the assholes on the force shut the hell up. Finn scrubbed at his face and glanced at the file again. "And this?"

"Let's just say we have the best of the best on our team, and they have access to almost everything stored online. My top recruiter heard about you after you had a minor run-in with one of my agents. She gathered that file on you in twenty-four hours; you've left such a consistent trail, you're not exactly difficult to follow." Marron cranked the wheel into a hard left turn, and then they were sliding right back into the parking spot they'd left a moment before.

The file disappeared from Finn's grip as Marron took it. "Here's the deal. If you come in, you come as a new recruit. The stripes you earned before you met me mean nothing. You start over, but that also means your record"—Marron tossed the file on the backseat—"doesn't really matter."

Finn sat there for a few more seconds before he realized the information was a dismissal. Not exactly promising. "All right. I'll consider it."

As Finn climbed out of the Taurus, Marron handed him a card with an address and time printed on it—nothing else. "If you're interested, show up tomorrow. I need more men like you. The kind who are willing to make the tough calls and make them smart, but only if you can be part of the team because you won't be going into field work solo."

"I don't like partners." Partners made things messy and unnecessarily complicated.

"Then it was nice meeting you, Danby, because that agent you met last week? That'd be your new partner."

He didn't remember any altercation. Who the hell had it been? One of the guys he'd gotten canned for knocking around? Had they been undercover?

The Taurus pulled away and disappeared into traffic before he had time to ask. Just like a ghost.

* * *

Jodi Israel swept back her hair, wishing for once it would stay in the elastic where she'd put it. What the heck had Trevor done to this car? There was nothing blatantly obvious with the underbody or beneath the hood.

Diagnostics all came back solid, but something wasn't right. The thing was designed to have the get-up-and-go of a nitroused street racer, and it was barely cracking the one hundred miles per hour mark. It was like a microcosm of her life, but she was done with moving fast and going nowhere. Staying here in the garage by choice worked a lot better.

"Did you figure it out yet?"

The sound of Marron's voice made her jerk upward, whacking her head on the raised hood. Wincing, Jodi rubbed at the spot. That was going to leave a mark. "Not yet, sir. It's only a matter of time before I tease it out of her, though."

"Good to know, but you're officially on a schedule." Marron leaned against the side of the car—all casual-like.

She wasn't fooled. Not one bit. Marron hanging around in the garage never meant anything but trouble. And a schedule either meant something big was coming in, or the man was here to deliver bad news. "Because ...?"

"New recruits. I've assigned you to one of them. Greta gets the other."

"What?" She slammed the hood, nearly catching part of his rear end in the process. Would have served him right, too. He knew she was perfectly happy playing Q to everyone else's Bond. Until this moment she'd thought he was equally satisfied with the arrangement. Obviously not.

Marron eyeballed the convertible and then shifted his gaze to her. "I'm going to pretend that wasn't intentional."

"How about you pretend it was and put me on disciplinary leave until this new recruit thing gets worked out? That sounds like a much better plan." She grabbed a rag from the rolling tool bench and started wiping grease and grime from her fingers.

The growl that came from deep in Marron's chest would have made her nervous, but he'd already threatened her with about the worst punishment possible. A little noise wasn't very scary after that. "I gave you a year, Jodi. And, yes, you do incredible work keeping this place running, but you're too good a field agent to be relegated to gadget girl."

There was something he wasn't saying. "I haven't been relegated. I chose this position because it's the best fit for my talents. I know it; you know it." Marron busied himself examining a piece of lint on his jacket. "What's the deal?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I already said it, you're too good to be stuck here." Giving a pained sigh, he pulled a pill bottle from his jacket pocket, shook two out, and took them dry. It gave him a long minute before he continued talking. Jodi would have asked about the meds, but quite frankly, she wasn't going to let him deflect her question that easily. Finally, he said, "There's been trouble; someone got into our system. No one exists alone here anymore. Like it or not, you're getting a new partner. It's not a request. My office, thirteen hundred. I'll brief you and Greta together."

The computers—someone had broken in. No wonder Marron was spooked. Who knew what kind of information the hacker had? Shit. The danger was real, which meant there was nothing she could say, no argument she could make, that would change his mind. And she would have been the worst kind of idiot to try.

As if he'd figured out that he'd cowed her, Marron walked off. He did it nonchalantly, like he hadn't just torn her world apart. Like it was just another day at TRAIT.

It wasn't. Not for her. And he'd been wrong; it hadn't been a year.

Thirteen months, one week, and two days. Before then, she'd had a partner. Older, cocky, misogynist ...

Lot of good that had done him.

Thirteen months plus, and she still couldn't help but wonder if she could have done something different, something more. In her heart, she knew it wouldn't have changed a darn thing, but it didn't matter. It still haunted her every stinking day.

They'd been on a mission. It was supposed to be simple surveillance. Once they had intel, then they were supposed to call the team in. They'd watched the building. Jodi had it wired for sound and movement. But where Nolan insisted there were only two people inside, Jodi's computer showed more—a lot more.

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Excerpted from Fighting For Keeps by Seleste Delaney, Karen Grove. Copyright © 2015 Seleste deLaney. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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