When a mission comes back to haunt Lark, will Bryce be able to protect her?
When a previous mission comes back to haunt Lark, the sole woman on the Wind Warriors team, she scurries to identify a mole while staying one step ahead of the drug cartel who have a bounty on her head.
Bryce, aka Sky, an undercover cop, infiltrates a drug gang in search of a high-ranking traitor. Kissing her on a dare, he quickly develops a protective streak for the pretty and spirited Lark. Leaving her warning notes works fine until her identity is breached, sending them both on the run.
Can they learn to trust one another as bad guys rain down upon them? Will Lark finally discover the man of her dreams buried underneath Bryce’s deceptive role?
Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and re-edited for release with Totally Bound Publishing.
General Release Date: 23rd January 2015
Why am I doing this? Again?
Lark muttered under her breath, chastising herself for accepting this job, once more playing a blonde bimbo with no more on her mind than finding a sugar daddy and latching on to him.
A month before, she’d gone from full-time DEA employee to contract-only. She opted for the opportunities the Wind Warriors had to offer. The small group, made up of former special ops military personnel, worked in the private sector with contracts to take out the mean and nasties of the world, targets that normal police or even government agencies couldn’t touch. Most made their riches in the illegal drug industry and possessed too much money, power and pull for the authorities to tackle.
That’s where the Wind Warriors, who were able to circumvent many legal barriers, came in. They had permission to take care of business in any way they saw fit. Their toy boxes held the latest and greatest gadgets and gizmos, all high-class, military grade, necessary and handy for many of their missions. Once one drug kingpin ceased to exist, their entire operation had to be blown to smithereens or another bully would rise to the top, seize control over the already established empire, and never miss a single beat.
Flexibility, excitement, respect and the ability to make her own decisions—all those qualities had drawn her to the small group. The fact that she rode along and participated in a mission while still employed by the DEA and had a chance to learn the personalities and dynamics had sealed the deal. A raise, freedom to do her job as she wanted, getting to play with brand new weapons only the top ranks of the military owned, and one-tenth of the paperwork—what more could a girl want?
Not to be standing in four-inch stiletto heels with a miniskirt that barely covers the crotch of my panties with the temperature outside hovering around freezing.
She’d hoped by joining the action-packed Wind Warriors, she had traded in her slinky ‘screw me’ undercover persona for wearing camouflage, combat boots, and sliding around in the dirt while in stealth mode. Unfortunately, the worst part of her former job returned with a vengeance, landing her in an outfit that set her teeth to grinding and her feet to hurting. She was forced to tolerate wolf whistles, jeers, and more pats on her barely covered rear. Each time, she clamped down on her waning patience, reminding herself if she disconnected the offending hand from its male chauvinist owner, her cover and the mission would be blown. Times were tough and she needed an income, thus she plastered a smile on her face, put a wiggle in her walk, and strode toward the roulette table, her miniscule blouse hanging low enough to give just about anyone a free viewing of her braless cleavage.
“Hey, doll.” A robust, sandy-haired man cupped her butt, and gave it a squeeze. “Come to my room. We can see what kind of blow job you can manage.”
She growled low, clenching her hands to keep from throttling the guy.
“Lark. The mission. Picking a fight will only drive Santora back into hiding.” Night’s voice of reason carried through the tiny receiver neatly doubling as an earring.
Glaring at her offender, she altered her route rather than giving in to the temptation to knee the guy’s balls into his body cavity.
“This job sucks,” she grumbled between clenched teeth.
“Just a bit longer, then you can whale into any other man you want,” Night, her boss and leader of the Wind Warriors, said.
“How would you like it if a man grabbed your ass while making lewd sounds and suggestions?”
“He would wake up in the hospital wondering what truck ran his ass over.” Loco snorted through the communication link. The lone Marine in the group tagged along for backup, or in her opinion, to annoy the crap out of her.
“If you squeezed my ass like it was a ripe melon, that would give me a hard-on,” Spoon said in his lighter tone.
She huffed, barely resisting the urge to beat her head against a nearby slot machine. “I better be getting hazard pay for this.”
“Get Santora out of there and alone. Then we’ll discuss it,” Night ordered, essentially dismissing her until she worked her wiles on the drug tycoon target.
Lark released a long breath in an attempt to push out all the frustration and distractions that came with her undercover position. Once refocused, she plastered a ‘come get me, I’m yours’ smile on her face and sauntered up to the table, squeezing in at an angle from where Santora stood with one person between them.
The slim Hispanic man with a short mustache perfectly matched the picture and description given to her earlier in the evening. His dark suit and the large rings on several fingers spoke of his wealth. While he wasn’t much to look at with his acne-scarred face and slight build, he possessed enough money and power to control an entire region with a simple command.
He pushed chips into a small square outlined on the green cloth, called out his number, then waited for the small marble to find a momentary home.
The roulette dealer set the ball in motion and a moment later called out a match for Santora’s selection. A couple other gamblers grumbled, their faces screwed up in disgust as they took their remaining chips and left.
Lark edged closer. “Wow. Handsome and lucky.” She purposely dropped her tone to a sultry purr, using every asset she possessed to catch her target’s interest. She trailed the fingers of one hand across her upper chest, drawing attention to the overly exposed cleavage as Santora glanced her way.
His gaze followed her caress and lowered before lifting finally to meet her eyes. “Pretty.” His accented English carried easily.
Tucking her chin in, she batted her long mascara-covered eyelashes at him, playing the coy beauty primed for the taking. All the information she’d read on her target indicated he liked total control with no questions and women who knew how to please without crossing a certain line. Hookers weren’t his style. From what intelligence had gathered, he shunned women who dressed, acted like, or asked for money in exchange for sex, preferring a loose lady in the market for a sugar daddy. If she happened to be dumb as fruitcake, all the better.
He reached out to caress her backside, rubbing and squeezing as if testing out the goods before he bought.
Growing up in the Midwest, I began reading romance novels in high school, immediately falling in love with the genre, to the point where I decided to write professionally for a career. However, that dream splattered against a brick wall, resulting in a quick death in my first writing class in college when my professor told me bluntly that I wasn't any good at it. I shifted gears quickly, and left my writing dreams behind, eventually settling on becoming a nurse.
A few years back, I stumbled across a fan-fiction writing site on a favorite author's webpage. I began to read stories others wrote, not only making some wonderful close friends from the experience, but also, really learning to write for the very first time. Here I was able to share short stories, practice my writing skills, and truly develop into a writer. More than that, the experience allowed me to revitalize my dream, as I rediscovered joy in writing. Now, I spend my days off with my alpha male characters, quick witted heroines, and see how much trouble everyone can get into.
When I'm not working or writing, I enjoy working in the garden, canning, and seeing my backyard as a living canvas for my whimsical landscaping, and, of course, reading romance novels.
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