Timms Lexy - Perfect For Me -

Perfect For Me By Lexy Timms Undercover Series Copyright 2015

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All rights reserved. Copyright 2015 by Lexy Timms

Undercover Series Perfect For Me Book 1 US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/ UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/ Book 2 Coming December/Jan 2015/16

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Description: They say love comes in all forms. The city of Pittsburgh keeps its streets safe, partly thanks to Lt. Grady Rivers. The police officer is fiercely intelligent who specializes in undercover operations. It is this set of skills that are sought by New York’s finest. Grady is thrown from his hometown onto the New York City underworld in order to stop one of the largest drug rings in the northeast. The NYPD task him with uncovering the identity of the organization’s mysterious leader, Dean. It will take all of his cunning to stop this deadly drug lord.

Danger lurks around every corner and comes in many shapes. While undercover, he meets a beauty named Lara. An equally intelligent woman and twice as fearless, she works for a local drug dealer who has ties to the organization. Their sorted pasts have these two become close, and soon they develop feelings for one another. But this is not a “Romeo and Juliet” love story, as the star-crossed lovers fight to survive the deadly streets. Grady treads the thin line between the love he feels for her, and his duties as an officer. Will he get in too deep?

Contents Undercover Series Description: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

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Chapter 1 “Thank you, Pittsburgh!” a longhaired rocker screams through the speaker. His voice strains and cracks from his bellowing. “We are Former Legion!” The cry is answered by a roar of a hundred people jumping up and down for him and the rest of the band. Behind the lead singer, a drummer is elevated on a platform so the crowd can see him. He throws his hands up in the air, crossing his drumsticks in an “X” formation. On either side of the singer, the guitarist and bass guitarist simply bow their heads. Once the crowd returns to silence, the

drummer smacks his sticks together, creating a steady beat for his bandmates to play to. He slams down on the pedal to thrum the base drum. Then, he starts smacking the others in the offbeat. The bass player joins in, followed by the guitarist with a chord. Once the music starts, the singer joins in with the words, but his voice is raspy from screaming. The crowd answers with applause and more earsplitting cheers, recognizing the song as a favorite. The weather is perfect for this afternoon day at the park. Hanging in the sky is the burning July sun. Luckily, a breeze carries mist from the merging three rivers, cooling the crowd along with others spending their day in the

park. A grassy field stretches across a peninsula-like land that has rivers on either side, flowing into the third. Far from the concert are regular goers of the park. Some toss a Frisbee while others have brought their dogs for a bit of running, and then there are a few who are lying on beach towels to soak up the rays. Meanwhile, the crowd for the concert hugs the fountain at the edge of the peninsula, spraying cool mist. At the base of the fountain, a large group has gathered more than to keep cool. While most of them are there for the concert, there are a few that have their attention away from the screaming band up on the stage. One man sits on the ledge of the fountain, completely

ignoring the music. He looks to be a college student, judging from his age. Yet, he dresses as if he were homeless. His blue jeans are tattered around the ankles from years of being used. Despite the high temperatures, he wears a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to give him some relief. A knit cap sits atop a mop of greasy black hair. Sitting on his crooked nose is a pair of thick-framed black glasses. He is scrawny in stature with a thin face. The only thick part of him is the messy beard. While he looks to be unkempt, he is quite popular in the crowd. People come up to him, chatting for a few minutes before walking away and letting the next person approach. After a young blond strolls

away, he is approached by another man a few years older than him. Unlike the toothpick physique of the flannel man, he’s lean with thick arms and legs. The flannel-wearing hipster stands up, but is a foot shorter than his new friend, and probably fifty pounds lighter. The muscled man wears an official shirt of Former Legion with the band logo splattered on the chest with a mix of dark colors. The short sleeves reveal a plethora of tattoos wrapping his left arm that stop at the wrist. Similar to the hipster, he has a wild mop of hair. “Can I help you?” the short man in flannel asks, looking at the man with great disgust. “You Andy?” the tall man asks.

“Maybe, who wants to know?” “The name’s Grady,” he answers. “I’ve a friend who says you know where I can find some good Italian.” He stares Andy up and down. “What do you say?” The hipster, Andy, looks up at this man with a suspiciously raised brow, but he lets his backpack slip off his shoulder. “Yeah, I got what you’re looking for.” He unzips the pack. Grady looks inside to find it filled with small plastic bags. Each of the sandwich-size bags is stuffed with brown mushrooms that look as thin and scrawny as the hipster that has them. They are long stemmed with a brown cap and some look to be dried

out. The guy with the rocker shirt reaches for one, but Andy smacks his hand away. “You got to pay first, dude,” Andy scoffs, pushing the glasses back up his nose. “How much is a bag?” Grady asks. “Small bag is twenty, big bag is fifty.” “Small bag then.” Grady goes into the back of his cargo shorts for his wallet. Without opening it up, he slips out a crisp Andrew Jackson and slaps it in the hipster’s hand. After putting the twenty in his pocket, Andy looks to his customer. “I didn’t quite catch the name of your

friend who told you about me.” Grady smiles. “My buddy Mario.” “Oh, you know Mario,” Andy gives a smile back, “hold on, this stuff you don’t want. Anybody that Mario recommends gets the good stuff.” Zipping up the bag of mushrooms, Andy opens a pocket on the side of his backpack. Grady waits patiently with his arms folded while the hipster fumbles through the pack. A scream on stage catches his attention, turning to see the lead singer down on his knees, howling into the microphone. When he looks back to the hipster, he is met with an unpleasant surprise. Two silver prongs bury in his stomach as

Andy presses the button on the Taser. It sends fifty thousand volts of electricity through him, turning Grady into a ragdoll. He falls to his hands and knees as the jolt seizes his muscles. He tries to fight the numbing effect, but the constant current has him sprawling on the ground a few seconds later, twitching slightly. As he lays there stunned, his ocean blue eyes turn to Andy, who crouches beside him. He feels something on the back of his head, a hand no doubt. Andy is petting him like a dog. The hipster gives a snarky smile. “Tell Mario his princess is in another castle, you fucking nark.” Pretending that nothing happened, the drug dealer, Andy, walks

off. His backpack is closed and flung back over his shoulder. With the concert still blasting music, everyone around them is deaf to Grady’s groans. The numbing effects of the stun gun start to wear off, letting him twitch a bit more. Shakily he regains control over his arms. He pulls himself up on the seat of the fountain as he gets a tingling in his legs. Forcing his body to stand only causes him to stumble backwards and nearly fall in the fountain. Thankfully he gets enough motor skills back to catch himself from making a big splash. He tries again and this time is able to stand upright. He tries to take a step, but it’s wobbly. Like a newborn, he staggersteps his way after the drug dealer. Andy

is oblivious to the pursuit, the footsteps drowned out by a guitar solo. Taking a few more steps has Grady gaining better control over his legs. From wobbly-leg to walking to a light jog. As he gets closer, his large stature casts a shadow over the unsuspecting drug dealer. Andy notices and turns around. “Shit!” Andy curses under his breath when he sees the cop after him. The hipster turns around and takes off running. Grady forces his slightly numbed muscles to go after him. Every step strengthens the control over his legs, allowing him to power through the tingling sensation in both legs. His longer stride helps close the gap between them. Andy looks back to see

that the policeman is gaining on him. Both men leave the peninsula, heading toward downtown Pittsburgh. Separating them from the rest of the city is an underpass with a waterway and a small bridge crossing over it. Andy runs toward the bridge, but grabs on the railing as he gets to the end. Using his momentum, he vaults himself ten feet through the air, landing in the grass on the other side of the underpass. From there he goes into a dead sprint toward the rising skyscrapers. Behind him, Grady makes use of his longer legs to keep pace, but not tire himself out. Only open space separates the pursuit, giving Grady a small window before the fugitive is lost in a jungle of cars and tall

buildings. The hipster is able to stay out of reach long enough to make it to the street. He expertly weaves in between the moving traffic. A car slams on its brakes as the driver spies the flannelwearing man running carelessly through the moving cars. Andy does not break stride, but he leaps over the hood of the car as if he were a frog. By the time Grady even reaches the edge of the road, the drug dealer has landed on the other side and is sprinting down the sidewalk. “Fucking parkour hipsters,” Grady complains as he runs headlong into traffic. Although he’s fast, he does not have the same finesse as the man he is

pursuing. He runs around the slower cars, but the faster vehicles impede his path. He makes an attempt to push through, but it only causes tires to screech and horns to blare. Grady reaches into his pocket, grabbing his wallet again. Thrusting it into the air, he shows the angry driver the golden shield of the Pittsburgh Police Department. Immediately the honking ceases. It allows him to navigate through traffic a touch easier. By the time he emerges on the other side of the street, the image of Andy is shrinking. He’s about fifty yards away. Sighing to himself, Grady runs after the hipster again. Once more, the longer legs give him an edge. The

undercover cop is able to close the gap to about twenty feet before the hipster tries to duck behind a building. A large gap separates the two skyscrapers, which has been transformed into a pleasant park-like area. While it is appealing to the sight, it gives the drug dealer no coverage. Andy realizes he cannot hope to hide so he runs again. Grady charges like an angry bull while the hipster does an unnecessary no-handed flip over a park bench. Ignoring the fire in his lungs, the cop gives one final push and throws himself around the ankles of his target. Both men fall to the ground, but Andy does not throw his hands up to take the impact of

the fall. He hits the gravel face first. Blood stains the rocks as his nose and bottom lip bleed. Grady gets to his knees and puts his knee on Andy’s back. “You are—” An unexpected elbow to the throat has Grady falling on the ground and Andy back on his feet. He runs out the other end of the park, seeing a flow of people on the streets. Bruised and bloodied, he screams, “Help, help, somebody help me!” Once the blood is seen, a crowd forms around the drug dealer. One man wearing a baseball jersey approaches, “Are you all right, what happened?” Playing innocent, Andy points an accusing finger. “That man did it.

He’s crazy, you got to help me.” The crowd suddenly is forced open, as Grady pushes through the people after the hipster. Andy screams again. All of a sudden, Grady feels his arms being pulled behind his back. Two men have snatched him and are pulling him away from the hipster. He tries to shout at them, but his words are muffled by a sudden punch to his jaw. Some cheer for the heroic bystanders. Everyone is caught up in the action that they fail to see a flannel-wearing drug dealer slip away. Meanwhile, Grady struggles to break free of the three men that are trying to hold him down. He is forced to kick one to wrench his arm free. Grabbing the other man, he throws

him over his shoulder. The guy falls harmlessly into the bushes. Before the third guy tackles him, Grady pulls out his badge. “I’m a cop,” he pants, showing his shield to everyone in the angry mob. When he notices Andy is not among them, he asks, “Did anyone see where that guy in the knit cap went?” “The one in the flannel?” an old lady walking on the street overhears him. “Yeah, I saw him heading toward Clemente Bridge.” “Thank you,” he says. Just before he runs, he turns back to the two men that are still on the ground groaning. “Sorry for being rough.” The crowd parts like the sea for

Grady to pass through. He runs at top speed for the Allegheny River. It does not take him long to spot the unmistakable flannel shirt and wool cap of the hipster, Andy. He runs harder. Behind him, he hears the deep drone of a bus horn as it swerves from hitting him. A taxi makes a sudden stop in the middle of his path, forcing Grady to hop and slide across the hood of the car. The cabby pops his head out of the driver side to shout, but the cop is too far away to hear. Both men weave in and out of the remaining traffic as the bridge comes up on them. The yellow bridge arcs over the river, with dozens of people walking across it to get to the baseball stadium

on the other side. Grady pushes his way through the crowds only to find Andy standing at the center of the bridge. The drug dealer is near the edge with his backpack in his hand. He looks to the river below. With a firm grip on the handle of his pack, he starts to swing it over the railing. “Freeze,” Grady barks. The command startles the hipster, making him hesitate. He looks over his shoulder. Grady is about twenty feet away with his gun drawn. The crowds of people walking toward PNC Park turn the other way and run for the roads. The bridge empties out as the two men standoff. “What’re you going to do, shoot

me?” Andy laughs. “Just give me the backpack and I won’t be tempted to. You’ve pissed me off enough today.” Pushing on his thick-framed glasses, Andy laughs, “This is the only thing you got to incriminate me on. Once I drop this, your whole case against me goes bye-bye.” Grady watches the backpack hang over the side of the bridge, but a smile comes to his face. “Once I bring you in on drug charges, it won’t be hard to get a warrant from a judge. When we search your house, I bet there’ll be tons of those little spores, won’t there?” The smug smile fades from Andy as he pulls the backpack onto the

bridge. Grady steps closer, lowering his gun as he takes a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket. When he gets close, Andy surprises him by throwing the pack in his face. In the confusion, the drug dealer grabs the gun. Grady is left with the pack in his hands while the hipster has the weapon. The snarky smile returns to his lips as he points the barrel directly at Grady’s chest. Instead of panicking, Grady taunts him, “You aren’t going to shoot me. You’re just another two-bit drug dealer. You’re not going to become a cop-killer now.” “Shut up,” Andy loses his cool. The hand that holds the gun trembles. “You don’t know me, you stupid cop.”

Andy proves him wrong by squeezing the trigger. It does not budge. The safety had been on the entire time. Grady rushes him. With no more options available, Andy thinks of the only means of escape. Reaching for the ledge, he throws himself over the railing of Clemente Bridge. “No, don’t,” Grady shouts as he lunges for the hipsters’ blue jeans. Unexpectedly, the weight of the drug dealer is enough to pull Grady over the railing along with him. Before both men go into the river, he grabs the steel edge, feeling Andy’s weight in the other hand. The hipster is dangling by his jeans over the water. He starts to panic, flailing as if it will pull him back to

safety. The sudden jerking motions loosen the poor grip Grady has already. He feels them slip an inch closer to the river. “Stop it, or I’ll lose...” It is too late to warn Andy any further, as he loses his grip and both men go falling toward the river. Grady thinks fast and keeps his body rigid and straight on his way down. He stays surprisingly calm as the water comes quickly up to greet him. The hipster on the other hand is still in a blind frenzy of fear. He flails his arms wildly half-expecting to sprout wings and fly. All the way down, he screams at the top of his lungs. Grady is the first to hit the water, slicing through it like a knife. His body plunges a

hundred feet below the surface. Darkness swallows him up along with the water. Luckily he keeps himself from losing orientation. With only a lungful of air, he starts his ascent back to the surface. The black still has him in its grasp after a couple seconds of swimming, but soon a small flicker of light from the surface peeks through the veil. Higher he climbs, ignoring the aching feeling in his chest. He does not stop. The light seems to stay far away, but it gets brighter. Air in his lungs is all used up and his body begs for more. His head becomes hazy. It shrinks his thoughts. Only swim faster runs through his mind. Muscles start to scream at him,

aching for oxygen. His lungs are heavy, hurting, burning. Unable to keep holding it any longer, he exhales ten feet below. Now airless, he struggles to swim faster. He tries not to inhale again, though his body strains for him to take a breath. Higher he swims, five feet to go. Every inch seems torturous, mocking him. The surface gets closer, but the pain grows. Unable to stop himself, he takes a deep breath. Fresh air fills his lungs and the rest of his body. The haze around his head lifts as he survives. He takes another breath, and then another, sucking in air like it is a shot of his favorite whiskey. Relief comes over him as he bobs steadily up and down along the waves of the Allegheny River. But then,

he feels something solid bump against the back of his head. Turning around, he finds a body floating next to him in the water. Andy lays face-first in the water. Blood seeps into the blue, his body shattered upon impact. Unlike Grady, the hipster hit the water sprawled out, unable to punch through the surface. It was the same as if he hit concrete. Grady curses under his breath, but then he pushes the body into the water. “You’re a complete asshole, you know that. Rot in hell!” The corpse sinks into the depths as it fills with water. Unable to do much else, Grady is forced to swim back to shore. With his strength nearly drained,

he is dragged along with the current. It takes quite a bit of effort to get close enough to shore. He finds himself along the bank, and pulls himself out of the water. The first thing he does is kiss the concrete like a long lost lover, ignoring the temperature singeing his lips. Ignoring the clothes clinging to his back, he rolls over and lies on the shore for a moment. He never felt so happy to be back on dry land. Even as the muscles in his arms and legs throb in pain, he smiles. The heat coming from the sun starts to hurt, forcing him to get up. Every joint in his body aches when he moves, but he tries his best to ignore the pain. Stepping onto the grass buys him

some relief. As he is walking, he spots a man standing by the now emptied stage holding a silver square. On a closer look, he recognizes it as a flask. “What do you have there?” Grady asks, showing the man his badge. “Uh, I,” the man slurs. The stench of alcohol seems to ooze from his pores. “I-It’s nothing.” “I’m not going to arrest you,” Grady sighs, “just tell me what it is.” The man looks a bit confused at the soaking wet police officer. Still, he answers, “Jack, officer.” “Good.” Grady snatches the flask out of the man’s hands. He tilts his head back and drinks deep until there is nothing left. The burning sensation

running down his chest brings a small numbing sensation to his body. It will help him deal with the pain for now. Pushing the flask back into the drunkard’s hands, Grady waves him off. “Thanks for the drink.”

Chapter 2 In the heart of downtown Pittsburgh, Grady steps out of a taxicab, still dripping water from his river plunge. The cabby is none too pleased with him, but doesn’t complain when Grady hands the guy an extra twenty dollars for the fare. The taxi drives away, heading in the direction of the setting sun. Grady walks through the front door of his precinct, each footstep sloshing. He leaves a trail of shoe-sized puddles behind him. When he steps onto the tiled floor, a tennis shoe lets out a shrill squeak. The receptionist hears the cry

and looks up from her computer. She sees a sopping wet police officer standing on the other side of her desk. Water drips off the tips of his bangs. It slithers to the bridge of his nose then to the tip of his chin. He looks at her with a smile, but it causes her to shrink away. She can sense the foul mood that he is in. “Lieutenant Rivers, literally.” She looks him up and down. “Rough day?” “You’ve no idea, Lenore.” Grady sighs. “I’m bloody soaked, sore, and wiped. I just want to fill out the paperwork for the case, get out of these wet clothes, and then probably pass out in my car.” He goes to the door and stops. After fumbling through his pockets he turns to her. “Could you let me

through?” “Don’t you have your ID?” She raises her eyebrows and frowns. This isn’t the first time. “Probably at the bottom of the river by now.” He shoots her a look. “Or it could be in the belly of some fish, swimming back up the Monongahela. Can you please let me go through?” he says through gritted teeth. Lenore rises from her desk. The little receptionist waddles over to the door and slips a keycard through the slot. The light on the electronic lock changes color from red to green. Grady pulls the door open and walks into the precinct. His shoes seem to squeak louder than they did at the entrance.

Slightly annoyed by the sound, he pulls his wet shoes off and decides to walk the rest of the way in his soaked socks. He makes his way around a corner, which leads to a long hallway. Walking at double speed, he bursts through the double doors at the end of the corridor. On the other side is a room filled with desks. They are spaced out evenly, creating a grid of four by four in the room. The gap between them is enough for one person to squeeze through at any time. Grady walks three desks in and two deep. A small plaque has the name “Lt. Grady Rivers” etched in fine gold upon a black surface. The wet lieutenant reaches into his second drawer. He pulls

it open almost until it comes off the track. Pushing aside a few papers and oddities, he tosses a grey t-shirt that has the Pittsburgh Police Department insignia inked on the back. Against his cold and pruned fingers the cloth seems warm to the touch. “Did you take a dip today, lieutenant?” He hears someone laughing at him. Grady turns to see that he has an audience. In the back of the room, three officers gather around a desk. Two of the policemen stand on either side of the third who sits in his chair with his legs propped up on the top of his desk. The man in the chair is the one who threw the joke, while the two men laugh like

obedient lackeys. Grady looks at the jokester, finding him sneering like he usually does. It shows off his crooked teeth, yellowed from smoking for fifteen years. His expression always looks as if it is scrunched, with a long nose and a whisker-like mustache sitting on his upper lip. A “weasel face” is the best description Grady ever had for the man. Of course, he never said it to the guy’s face. Even in his sour mood, Grady cannot help but imagine seeing an actual weasel in a uniform. He resists the temptation to laugh as he turns back to his desk. Slamming the drawer shut, Grady tries to ignore their laughing as he

pulls off the soaked shirt. Wringing it out sends river water cascading to the ground in a torrent. A puddle already forming, sloshes at his feet. In disgust, he tosses the shirt to the floor. It makes a sloppy suction sound as it hits the tile. He reaches for the dry shirt when he hears catcalling and whistling coming from the three idiots behind him. Of course, it’s all to mock him. Ignoring them to the best of his ability, he gets dressed. “Aww, no sneak peek at the panties, Grady?” the weasel-faced man laughs. “Are you saving yourself for Mario when you see him next?” Dry shirt on, Grady looks at the man with wide eyes. “Rick, what did

you just say?” The guy sneers, “I just happened to hear that Mario was in the neighborhood and needed some mushrooms.” When he sees the fury in Grady’s eyes, Rick laughs harder. “Holy shit, you actually said it. You actually said the informant was Mario. Hah, you got to be some special kind of moron to believe me. What happened? What did —?” Rick does not get the chance to finish his sentence as something flies at his head. He does not have time to dodge, as a black box smashes against his face. It knocks him off his chair, sending him flat on his back. Crawling to his feet, Rick knocks the smashed pieces

of the telephone off his chest. One of his lackey officers helps him get to his feet. “What the hell?” Rick demands. Grady has climbed over his own desk and leaps for Rick. The weaselfaced officer tries to stop him, but he’s weaker than Grady. Both men are sent to the ground, with Rick pinned to the floor. He screams as a strong hand wraps itself around his scrawny throat. A fist collides with his face, and then another. Grady continues his onslaught, punching him relentlessly. Even as his knuckles start to break and bleed, he does not stop. “You son of a bitch,” Grady seethes. Rick cries, “Get him off of me.” One of the lackeys comes up

beside Grady and punches him in the temple. It knocks him off Rick, who scurries away, black and blue and smothered in blood. Cowering behind his desk, he watches Grady fight off both of his men. The young lieutenant is able to overpower the two, sending one flying into a chair. One of the lackeys gets up and throws a coffee mug at Grady, but it misses wide right. Instead, it hits the head of another officer who had chosen to stay out of the fight. The glass shatters against the man’s temple, cold coffee spilling down the side of his head along with a bit of blood. He turns to the culprit, looking more enraged than harmed. Standing up, the officer is by far the biggest man in the precinct.

He trudges over to the lackey who threw the mug and heaves a punch. Unfortunately, it misses and strikes another officer. It creates a domino effect. Chaos spreads across the entire precinct, as it erupts into a brawl. Brothers in blue fight one another to make them black and blue. Fists are flying in every direction. Even Grady gets hit by a few wild fists. He decides to return them, knocking the policemen flat on their backs. In the midst of the scrap, he notices Rick trying to crawl his way out of the fight. Leaping over a desk, Grady throws all his weight onto the weasel-faced man. Both on the ground, Grady continues to pummel, but Rick gets in a few good hits this time.

He lands one on an already bruised cheek, causing Grady to wince. Yet rather than back off it only makes him madder. Wrapping his hands together, he brings both fists down on Rick like a hammer. The blow hits him in the temple. Somehow over the uproar of the fighting, a door opens with a low screech. All at once the fighting dies. The combaters stop, turning their eyes to a man stepping out of an adjacent room. He’s a tall, but slender figure with wireframed glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of an almost perfectly round nose. Under the white florescent lights his bald cranium glints with an oiled sheen as if it were freshly polished. Nothing

about the lanky man seems foreboding, but his ice blue eyes make the men freeze. Like frightened children, the officers of the precinct scramble to get back to their desks and sit still as if nothing had happened. Every one of them sits perfectly still, like a group of sentry statues. “What the hell’s going on?” he demands, looking about the precinct for someone to speak up. No one does. Then he finds Grady still pinning Rick to the ground. They are the only two that have not returned to their desks. “Richard! Grady!” When they hear their names called, both men jump to attention. “Yes sir!”

“Just what the hell are you two doing?” he shouts. Rick wipes the blood trickling off his lower lip before pointing a finger. “Grady started it.” “I’m sorry to say, but it’s true,” Grady answers. “I let my anger get the better of me when Officer Mather gave me false information on my case. It jeopardized the undercover sting.” “Don’t be so dramatic, Rivers,” Rick sneers. “It was just a joke.” Grady shoots him a seething glare. “Well, your joke blew my cover. The drug dealer’s dead, because of it.” “It’s not my problem you’re such a shitty cop.” “You son of a bitch.” Grady

turns to throw another punch. “Both of you, in my office,” the chief barks loud enough to make both men flinch. “Now!” Like a pair of students being called down to the principal’s office, Rick and Grady walk single file to his office. The Chief of Police is the last to enter, slamming the door shut behind him. His two officers stand on one side of the desk while he takes a seat on the other. On the front is a plaque similar to Grady’s, but it reads “Chief Robert McArthur”. Robert sits there for a moment, letting the bitter rage simmer from him. A vein on his bald head throbs as he allows the two policemen to stew in

fear. “Now, let me get this straight,” his eyes send a chill down their spines as he talks in a deep baritone, “you gave him false information on an undercover sting…as a joke?” Grady can see sweat starting to roll down the side of Rick’s face. “Well, yeah, but I told him the mushroom dealer was named Mario. Like the video game character. Come on, Grady, how did you not get that I was joking?” “Because I trusted you,” Grady snarls. “You said it was direct word from the chief. Thanks to you and your dumb-ass joke, I was nearly killed!” “You’re being dramatic again.” “The drug dealer pulled a gun

on me! I wrestled it off of him, but then he made an attempt to jump off Clemente Bridge. When I tried to grab him, I went over too. We both fell. I lived, he didn’t.” Grady turns to the chief, “You might want to get ready about the media, because there were a lot of bystanders.” The chief turns to Rick. His face has turned a shade of red and the vein has bulged out of his temple. “Rick, I put you on desk duty hoping it would stop you from screwing around while on the job. It seems to me that it only gave you enough time to come up with something really stupid. So, you want to crack jokes while wearing the badge? Then go and find another department. You’re out of mine.”

“Fired?” Rick says, stunned. “Did I stutter?” McArthur says with a tongue as sharp as a knife. “Get your personal belongings out of your desk by the end of your shift. Now, get out of my sight.” Rick angrily looks over at Grady as he steps out of the office. Grady turns to follow. “Not you, Grady, we are not done talking,” McArthur spits out. Too tired to fight back, he submits to the command, closing the door behind Rick. Not one ounce of remorse in his body for the dickhead who just lost his job. “Sir, I understand I messed up today by letting the perp get the upper hand. I’ll accept any punishment you have in store.” He

straightens his arms and flexes them, trying to warm his chilled body. He expects the worst. McArthur isn’t a guy to let anyone get away with anything. Instead, the chief takes off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He sighs and asks, “Grady, how long have you worked at this department?” Grady has to think for a moment. “About eight years. I joined the academy right as I finished college. You were the one who suggested that, remember?” He grimaces. McArthur doesn’t need to be reminded of things. The guy knows everything. “Yes, yes, I remember.” McArthur leans back in his cushioned seat, making the springs creak. “You

graduated top of your class at the academy, an energetic cadet full of vim and vigor. In eight years you have jumped up to lieutenant. You’re a good cop, Grady, a damn good cop.” “Thank you sir,” he says with a hint of pride in the smile he cannot hide. “If I had five of you I would never have to hire another jackass like Rick again,” he shouts, loud enough so the entire precinct can hear him. Then he drops his voice to almost a whisper, “Incidentally, there are other parts of the country that are in need of men like you.” “Wait, am I being transferred?” The color drains from his face. “All due respect, sir, but I’d rather stay in Pittsburgh. I’ve put eight years of my life

into protecting this city. Hell, I grew up here. I can’t just leave a place I’ve put so much time and energy into.” “Relax, kid, no need for the dramatic speech.” The chief grins. “No, you’re not being transferred. I’m just loaning you to the boys up north.” “How far north?” He raises an eyebrow, still not impressed. Chief McArthur crosses his arms as he smiles. “It’s the big leagues for you, kid. It’s New York-fucking-New York. That’s how far north. A city so nice they named it twice.” Grady rolls his eyes to the ceiling before quickly making his face unreadable. “Why would they need a guy like me?” He had an idea. He didn’t

mind taking risks. His buddies in high school always called him fearless. Crazy-stupid more than fearless, but still... He knew he had smarts and courage. He should have been a Navy SEAL, but protecting the home front at home seemed more important to him. “They need an unfamiliar face for an undercover operation, that’s why.” The chief grabs a manila envelope on his desk and opens it. He spills its contents out. Grady watches as the chief sorts through the papers. He separates them into three neat piles. The stack on the left side of his desk has some files, from what Grady can see. It’s information about a rampant spree of drug dealings

occurring throughout the Big Apple. The lieutenant looks to the middle pile, finding information about a case relating to the drug dealings connecting to a specific dealer. On the right is a picture instead of documents. It’s an image of an older gentleman judging from the wrinkles on the side of his face. Otherwise, it’s too blurry and the man is covered in shadows to make out anything else distinct. “The NYPD has been trying to take down one of the biggest drug rings in the city for years. They’ve had little success,” the chief explains as he looks over the papers. “The organization has seen some arrests, but they’ve all been the lowest men on the totem pole, if you

catch my drift. The NYPD has tried to hit the syndicate at every angle in hopes to stop them, but nothing sticks. Somehow the group stays one step ahead. Now they want to try and wriggle a guy into the group and take it down from the inside. ” “And you want me, even after my blunder?” Grady hears the words slip out from his mouth before he can stop them. The NYPD must’ve tried going undercover before, just either not had success or lost a cop. “I can overlook that,” Chief McArthur says. “You won’t be working with any amateurs on this undercover sting. They want to bring this group down.”

“Got it.” “Good. I already sent your information up to NYPD. They took a look at your file and agree you’ll be perfect for the undercover op. Given the way you look and your tattoos, you’ll blend right in with the scum of New York.” Grady shoots his chief a harsh look, ready to chew the man out. Instead, he just chews on the corner of his lower lip. “Yeah, good thing I look like a criminal.” “I mean no offense, Grady.” The chief senses the rage brewing in the bowels of his lieutenant. “Besides your outward appearance, the fact that you have no living relatives will make it

hard for the drug ring to find out who you really are. Plus, you’ve been working drugs here for two years. You know your stuff. Truth be told, you’re the best man for this kind of job. They hand selected you.” “Got it,” Grady says as he looks down at the papers. “What do they want me to do while I am undercover?” He knew NYPD would fill him in there, but they’d have set something up prior to fill McArthur in. “They already have an informant to get you inside,” Robert explains. “He can get you in contact with a drug dealer who often works with the syndicate. It’ll be up to you to work your way in, of course. Once you get in with the

syndicate, you’ll have to gather as much information about them so the NYPD has a case against ‘em. That means you can’t let your cover get blown until the case wraps up.” Grady got it. The group would get too cautious to allow a foul up like a mole happen twice. Dead once. Call me stupid. And dead. “How long will I be gone?” “That’ll be up to you, kid.” The chief grins. “Get in and out quick and you’ll be home to enjoy some of my wife’s turkey. Or maybe the next turkey dinner. It’s all a matter of how well it works out. You know.” Grady did. “When do I leave?” “Here are the tickets for the

plane to get you there. It leaves at seven on Thursday. Gives you enough time to pack. Rest up before you go, kid. And come back.” He handed Grady the tickets and stuffs the papers back in the envelope before handing that to him as well. He leaves the photo. “I’d come to see you off, but I’m going to have my hands full being down two officers.” “Yeah, I got it. Thanks for the sentiment anyways.” Grady starts for the door, when his attention turns back to the shady picture on the desk. “Chief, you never said anything about the guy in the picture.” Robert McArthur looks at the picture for a moment. He rubs his grizzled chin, squinting his eyes as he

tries to remember. “Oh yeah, NYPD believe he’s the head of the drug op. It’s the best picture they have. As you can see it’s of poor quality. Not much is known about the frontrunner, except he goes by the name Dean.” Grady stares at the picture curiously. “Why’s this picture the only one we could get?” “It’s the only pic that Dean has ever sent to the department,” Chief McArthur says, his tone darkening as he hands Grady the photo. “It came in a package sent directly to the NYPD. Along with the picture was the head of the man who took it.”

Chapter 3 Twilight settles in the downtown area of Pittsburgh with the stars beginning to take their shapes in the blackened sky. Grady gazes out the window of his apartment, watching the moon rise over the horizon. Retreating from the glass, he finds comfort in the one bedroom living quarters. The décor is set to the classic lifestyle of a typical bachelor. In the sink dishes are piled high in an unorthodox fashion. One wrong move and the tower will end up collapsing. Some of them still have traces of dinner from three days ago. In the living room and bedroom,

clothes lay strewn across the carpet. Most of the beige rug is hidden under laundry. Stepping over them, he takes a seat at the kitchen table, which he has converted into a desk. Beside the placemat is a stack of old case files. Tapping his finger against the wood, he thinks for a moment, only to rise again and head into the bathroom, which is probably the cleanest place in his apartment. A white sheen glosses the tiled floor. Grady steps over to the sink, and is greeted by a reflective version of him in the mirror. Ocean blue eyes stare back at him, a man with shaggy blond hair and a scruffy beard. “No more rugged ass road look.” He laughs at himself, as he

reaches for a spot on the sink. Beside his toothbrush is his electric razor. It’s already plugged into the outlet beside the sink, so he hits the button. The razor makes a slight humming sound, vibrating gingerly in his hand. Carefully, he takes the jagged edge up to his head and runs it across the mop. Strands of hair fall into the sink. The razor mows a perfect line down the middle of his head, leaving either side high. Grady chuckles at the bizarre haircut before continuing. Each pass over his scalp removes more from his head. All of it floats into the sink until it looks like a furry creature sleeping in his bathroom sink. A few trims here and there, he shuts the razor off and rubs his

head. The crew cut feels stiff to the touch, but it’s much cooler than the long locks he had moments ago. He brushes away a few loose strands still clinging to the top of his head and shoulders. Once he’s satisfied, he turns the razor to give himself a closer shave. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he thinks aloud. Taking the hair in the sink, he scoops it out of the bowl and tosses it into the waste bin sitting on the floor. He jumps in the shower, washes hair and dirt off his body, carefully rubbing over the bruises from the episode earlier. They might not be showing on his skin yet, but he can feel the soreness already pushing through. Turning the water off, he grabs a towel and rubs his face and

head to remove any follicles still hiding, along with the excess water. Exiting the bathroom, he hears a familiar tune coming from the kitchen. Picking up his pace, he finds his cellphone singing the song Bad Boys by a stack of papers. Before the ringing ends, he grabs the phone and places it up to his ear. “Hello?” “Is this Lt. Grady Rivers?” a gravelly voice asks. “Who’s calling?” Grady asks suspiciously. While he sounds pleasant on the phone, he walks into the living room to grab his gun. “This is Commissioner Baxton, NYPD,” the man answers. “I understand you’re the man who’ll be working with

us.” “I am,” Grady says. Stepping to the window, he peeks from around the corner. Outside of his apartment there’s a black vehicle parked along the street. “Why’re you calling me now?” “Well, the day of your assignment’s been moved,” the commissioner says. “We need you in New York ASAP. I’ve sent a car. It’s outside waiting for you.” Bull shit. “Oh, that’s kind of you,” Grady says, taking the safety off of his gun. “And how do I know you are who you say you are?” “Cautious man, I like that,” Baxton says with a guffaw. “The car may not be an official NYPD vehicle, but the

man driving it is.” As if on cue, the driver side door opens. A tall, yet slightly stout man steps out onto the curb. Even from the second floor, Grady sees the large silvery mustache crawling across his upper lip. He’s also able to see the cellphone placed up to the man’s ear. The commissioner hangs up the phone and waves to Grady up in his apartment. Deciding to play along, the lieutenant slips away from the window and goes to the front door. He tucks the gun in the back of his pants, pulling his shirt over top of it. Going out of his apartment, he takes the grimy steps, his footsteps echoing against the metal stairs. At the bottom he stands in the foyer, only to see

the mustachioed man is still standing there. Grady steps out of the building to meet with the so-called commissioner. “You’re probably wondering why the commissioner of the NYPD is meeting with you personally.” “Yeah the thought crossed my mind.” Grady holds his hands behind his back, his fingers itching to touch the steel behind him. The man gives an earnest smile. “Well, this case is very important to me. It may sound a bit cliché, but you’re my last hope to catch Dean.” “Pretty words, but like you said over the phone, I’m a cautious man,” Grady says, taking a step closer. “How do I know you are who you say?”

“I guess I could make a quick call to clear this up,” the man says, as he dials a few numbers on his phone. He places it to his ear and waits. After a minute, the commissioner turns his back and listens carefully to the other person. Grady grabs the gun tucked under his shirt, but does not draw it. He listens carefully to the conversation. “Yes, how are you this evening? Yes, I’m good too, thanks for asking. Anyways, I’m in your neck of the woods. Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you. Our undercover operation took a bit of an unexpected turn so we’ll need him sooner. I know. I know. I’m standing here with Grady, but the boy refuses to move. He’s a cautious one, just like you said. Do you think you could speak with

him? Okay, thanks.” The supposed commissioner hands Grady the phone. Taking it carefully, he brings it up to his ear with one hand while the other stays with the gun. “Who is this?” “A tired man,” he hears the voice of Chief McArthur on the other end. “The man you’re talking to is indeed Commissioner James Baxton. You can trust him.” “Understood, sir.” Grady is about to hang up. “Wait, Grady,” the chief stops him. “Yes sir?” “Good luck.” “Thanks.” Grady ends the call

and tosses the phone back to the commissioner. “Well, I guess I’m your man.” A smile creeps under the silver mustache. “All right then, lieutenant. Grab your stuff and let’s go.” “Yes sir.” Grady runs upstairs, empties his garbage and already nearempty fridge. He stuffs a bag full of clothes and toiletries, and locks his apartment. Wrapping his door with a final knock, he chews the inside of his cheek. I’m coming back, he assures the door. Grady steps outside and climbs in on the passenger side of the black car. Before he can even fasten his seatbelt, the engine roars and the tires spin

wildly. The black Mercedes speeds off into the night. A few short turns has them across a bridge heading toward the highway. With the window down, Grady can see the moon casting its eerie white glow onto the water. The waters of the Monongahela ripple, distorting the lights. It looks like white ghosts glancing upon the river. “You’re thinking this may be the last time you’ll see it,” Baxton says aloud. “What? No I wasn’t—” “Don’t try to deny it, kid. It’s plain to see you have deep roots in this city.” Grady takes one more look out the window. The city’s illuminated with

hundreds of lights coming from the towering skyscrapers. Seeing it in all of its beauty brings a smile to his face. “It may be the last time, you never know.” “Listen, kid,” the commissioner speaks frankly, “I’ve no intention of shipping you back here in a pinewood box. You have my word you’ll see your city again.” “Wow, thank you.” Grady is somewhat touched by his words, but also tries not to sound sarcastic. He’s about to go undercover to catch a drug king nobody can touch. Undercover. Holy shit. What the hell is he doing? “Yeah, well, enough of this sentimental talk.” The commissioner’s face turns serious. “We have six hours

before we get to New York. That’ll give us time to go over your assignment and your identity while undercover.” Grady takes one last look as the city shrinks in the distance. Baxton clears his throat and plays with the thermostat of the car. “Now, how much did Robert tell you about the case?” Grady slumps in his seat in order to get comfortable for the long ride ahead. “The chief gave me the basic rundown. I’m going undercover to work for an average run-of-the-mill drug dealer in order to work my way into the good graces of the syndicate, which is the real target.” “Partially true,” the

commissioner says, hitting the accelerator as they travel through tunnels. “Your real target is Dean. He’s the brains to this whole thing. Bring him down and the rest will crumble.” The lights of the tunnel cast them in an orange glow. The Mercedes drives up behind a tractor-trailer truck, only to pass it once they emerge on the other side. “I’m sure your chief told you, but we have an informant to get you in with the drug dealer. After that it’ll be up to you to get close to Dean.” The car accelerates again once they are on the highway. “Look under your chair. There’s an envelope that contains your new identity.” While the black sports car

weaves in between slower cars, Grady feels for the envelope under his seat. It takes a few tries, but he eventually finds the manila envelope. Breaking the adhesive seal, he spills the papers into his hand. A driver’s license is paper clipped to the top of the documents. Taking it in his hand, he studies it closely. The picture they used to make the fake identification is one from his actual driver’s license. Like now, his hair in the picture is trimmed with a crew cut, although it has a more militaristic styling to it. Similarly, all of his physical features are identical to his actual driver’s license. That is when he realizes it is a Pennsylvanian license. The only difference is that it says he is

from Philadelphia instead of Pittsburgh. “Wait, shouldn’t I be from New York?” Grady flips the card over and sees it’s a perfect fake. “The fact you’re from Pennsylvania instead of New York makes little difference,” Baxton says, as they pull up to a toll booth. “Our informant goes by the name Tony Miller. You’ll be playing the role as his cousin who has come to New York to find work in order to pay off your gambling debt.” “Got it.” He looks back at the license. “So I’m going by the name Grady Miller. I’m Tony’s cousin from Philly who needs to make some quick cash to get loan sharks off my back.” “Yes,” the commissioner says.

“You also will be suffering from a gambling addiction. That’s what got you in this predicament. You’ll be meeting with a sponsor of Gambler’s Anonymous in New York. That’s how you’ll keep in connection with us.” “Clever,” he admits. Baxton turns to him. “Now, I suggest you rest up before we arrive in New York City.” Grady shrugs. “Sir, I don’t mind staying awake.” “You don’t understand, Grady. Our informant has told us the drug dealer is expecting you tonight at three. That’s the reason why I came to get you early.” Grady feels a slight tingle running along the length of his spine. He

ignores the sensation. This is his job. He’ll do whatever he needs to keep people safe. As nerve-wracking as the undercover work sounds, he manages to shut his eyes and fall into a light sleep. While he has his eyes closed, he can feel every twist and turn the car makes. An unexpected swerve jars him awake for a few seconds, but he falls back asleep shortly after. While he lies there sound asleep, he cannot help but remember the trips he used to take with his father. He would often sleep in the car while his dad drove. The nostalgic notion makes him uncomfortable. Sitting up in the car, he forces himself awake. His head is swimming from the

abrupt way he woke up. He doesn’t want to think about his father. Or anything family related. As if on cue Baxton says, “We’re here.” Looking out the window, Grady sees they’ve come to a stop by a street corner. Under the street lamp is a young man who appears to be around the same age as Grady. He’s wearing a baseball cap with the brim tilted to cast a shadow over his face. Despite it being hot and dry, he wears a black long sleeved shirt. The cargo shorts and backpack completes the typical apparel Grady sees on criminals roaming the streets this time of night. Grady gets out of the car, but not before tossing his gun in the

passenger seat. The commissioner only nods before driving off into the city. The undercover officer is left alone in the foreign city with a mysterious man in black. Walking up to the guy, Grady asks, “You Tony?” The shadowy figure steps forward and wraps his arms around Grady. “Hey, Cuz! How you doing? Good to see you, man! How’s Aunt Shelly been?” Grady’s confused at first before realizing Tony’s already playing the part, so he plays along too. “She’s been good. Not too happy about me playing the ponies, but you know.” He shrugs, trying to remember how much cash he’s got in

his wallet and that he left his bag in Baxton’s car. “I hear yah,” Tony says. “Come on, I want you to meet the guy.” The two of them start walking down the block, reminiscing about a childhood that does not exist. Both of them laugh, taking to the role almost instantly. Tony makes a sudden right at the end of the street, forcing Grady to trail behind him. The informant strolls down another block, and then makes a left. Grady follows. Another half a block, Tony stops outside an Italian restaurant. Grady takes a look at it. The place looks like a dive. A neon sign that spells out “ITALIA RISTORANTE” in cursive hangs overhead. Some of the

letters are missing while others are just blacked out. Grady follows Tony inside, taking a mental note of the bullet holes through the front door. Much like the cover of a book, Grady was too quick to judge. The inside of the restaurant is lavish. Its space is large enough to fit well over fifty people comfortably. Round dining tables are covered in white linen. Each has a candelabrum sitting in the center. Well past closing, the candles are out for the night, except for one. In the corner there is a single customer taking in a late night snack. A man sits in one of the three booths against the wall. Three candles are lit so he can see what he is

eating. On his plate is enough spaghetti to fill the stomachs of four people. Yet the guy does not seem to slow down, as his fork stabs at a meatball the size of Grady’s fist. He watches as this portly man shovels the entire thing in his mouth. The customer is an older guy with a balding head covered by a greasy comb over. Sweat causes the glow of the flames to glisten on his face. His cheeks are round and puffy like a baby’s. Double chins are somewhat concealed behind a long goatee, which is also caked in tomato sauce. Grady and Tony approach him as he slurps up a spaghetti noodle. He looks up from his plate as sauce

splatters on the bib tucked into his jacket. Two brown eyes shift from one guest to the other. They stop at Grady. “Who’s this guy?” he asks, he points at the unfamiliar Grady with his fork. “This is my cousin Grady,” Tony, the informant answers, smacking his cousin firmly on the back. “He came here all the way from Philly for work. Needs some help paying off some gambling debts.” “That true?” the greasy man asks, taking another forkful of noodles into his mouth. Grady lies, “Yeah, I play the ponies. Don’t have any luck, as of late.” “Fair enough,” he turns his fork from Grady to Tony, “I want you to take

your cousin out and pick up a package for me. It’s an easy job. If he can pull it off, I’ll consider him.” He stares down his nose at Grady. “You may look like a tough guy, but that don’t mean shit in this line of business. You got to have the balls for this work. Let’s see if you got ‘em.” He slides a slip of paper across the table. Grady picks it up and reads it. Written on it in sloppy handwriting is an address. Committing it to memory, he crumples the piece of paper and tosses it back on the table. Giving the stout man a nod, he and Tony walk out of the restaurant. Once they are out in the open air, he turns to the informant. “We passed the address on our way here.” Grady

turns down the street they came on and starts walking. Tony runs ahead of him to block his path. “Wait a minute, Cuz, how do you know this is the right way?” “I recognized the street name from our little stroll.” Grady points down the road to a green street sign hanging from a traffic light. “The address is 147 Mott Street. That sign over there says Mott Street.” “Impressive. I always took you for an idiot,” Tony says and laughs. “Now come on, this is going to be an easy job.” Together they walk down the street to the intersection. Even in the dead of night, the traffic lights operate as they do in the day. Across the street is a

glowing orange hand, but Grady ignores it. Halfway across the street, he looks back, waiting for Tony to cross. The informant runs after him, “So, what do you—” “Quiet down,” Grady wraps his arm around the guy and pulls him close, “we’re being followed.” Tony and Grady hold their collective breaths, listening. It’s faint, but a steady stream of wheezing comes about twenty yards back towards the restaurant. Managing to stay inconspicuous, Grady takes another glance over his shoulder. A plump and round shadow stops. It clumsily dives into an alleyway, waddling as fast as the pair of stubby legs can.

“My guess, that’s the dealer keeping an eye on us.” Grady nods in the sneak’s direction. Tony agrees, “Yeah, Miles likes to keep a careful watch over the new recruits.” “Miles,” Grady snickers. “The guy looks like he hasn’t walked a mile his entire life.” “Ha, good one man!” Tony chuckles. “Just don’t let the boss hear it. Oh yeah, Miles likes to be addressed as ‘boss’, so keep that in mind too.” “Will do,” Grady answers, making more mental notes. He looks up at each of the stoops that they pass along the street. Each of the residential mailboxes has their house numbers

plastered on the steel in white lettering. The houses seem nearly identical, with minute changes made by the homeowners to make them somewhat unique. His ocean blue eyes read the numbers one by one. On the fourth house, they find it. Tony’s the one who hops up to the door, pounding his fist. From the other side of the door, they hear a woman shout in a raspy voice, “It’s in the mailbox!” Tony checks the mailbox. His hand reappears with a square package the size of a CD case. Brown deli paper wraps the contents to keep them safe. The informant waves to Grady with the package in hand and bounces to the street. As his feet touch the pavement,

red and blue lights start flashing. They grow brighter as a vehicle draws closer. Grady’s body tenses when he sees the familiar glow flash against the face of the house. “No, no, not now,” Grady growls under his breath. When he turns around, he sees a patrol car parked a few feet away with two policemen stepping out. Their guns are drawn. Across the street, Grady is able to catch the swollen sight of Miles trying to hide behind a shrub. The red and blue lights flash across his swollen face. He seems to be studying Grady, watching to see what he’ll do. With little to no option, the undercover cop does the only thing he can think of. “Book it,” he

shouts to his cousin. He takes off running down the street with Tony trailing behind him. The officers chase after the pair of criminals. Being in better shape, Grady gets farther ahead, creating space between him and the cops. When he hears the footsteps growing fainter in his ear, he glances back over his shoulder. Tony is trying to keep up, but he’s red in the face, gasping for air. Similarly, the cops also appear to be tiring. He decides to use it as an opportunity. Once an alley comes up on his right, he runs to it and ducks behind the brick wall. There, he waits. Footsteps grow louder as someone approaches, but he knows they belong to Tony. When the informant

comes into view, he grabs the guy by the collar and drags him into the alleyway. “When the cops come, I’ll tackle the one and you can get the other. Knock him out as quickly as you can.” “No wait,” Tony objects to the plan. “These guys are in on this, it’s all staged. We wanted to make a good first impression so Miles would trust you.” “What?” Grady shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I thought you knew,” Tony says while he rests against the wall. He’s still struggling to catch his breath. Grady turns his attention back to the street just as the two police officers come panting into the alley. One is doubled over, holding his knees while he

gasps for air. The other presses his back against the wall, using the brick for support. “Holy shit,” the older looking of the two says between breaths. “Are all you Pittsburgh cops that fast?” “Yeah, every single one of them,” Grady lies. “You’re nuts,” the younger one remarks. “Thanks, and thanks for the help.” Grady wants to knock the two guys out. Who has time for chit-chat? “Anything to catch Dean,” the older cop says. “By the way, I’m Dan and the rookie over there is Casey. If you ever need help in the big city, we can help you out.”

“Okay.” Grady looks at both their faces, hoping their images will stick to memory. Dan glanced back to the streets. “I don’t see Miles, but you two better hide so it looks like we lost you.” Suddenly, Grady gets an idea. “That fat lard’ll take a while to catch up to us, unless he’s got someone else working with him. Let’s make it a bit more believable.” “What do you mean?” Tony asks. Grady points to the rookie. “Casey, punch me.” “What?” “Punch me,” he repeats himself. “Hit me in the eye. It’ll make things

more believable.” “But…I never hit anyone before.” “It’s true,” Dan chimes in. “The poor rookie has yet to see any action in the field.” Grady smiles. “Come on, rookie, give me your best shot.” Stupid dumb-ass. The rookie walks up to Grady, who stands easily six inches taller. The young officer trembles, his arms look like straws when compared to the muscular, seasoned officer. Still, Casey obeys and curls his right hand into a fist. Still trembling, he winds back. He tries to focus on Grady’s right eye. The rookie swings, but closes his eyes at the last

second. Knuckles connect though not where Grady had hoped. The fist strikes. “Ow, you mother fucker,” Grady curses, his hands reaching for his nose. He bites back a cry of pain. His fingers feel his entire nose is bent toward the right side of his face. Blood pours out of his distorted nostrils like a red waterfall. It stains his face and hits the ground, creating a crimson puddle at his feet. Overcome with pain and rage, Grady merely reacts. He throws a punch of his own. Unlike the rookie, he hits Casey square in the eye. The blow sends the rookie flying off his feet. He comes down with a loud thud, crashing hard on his back. He does not move, he does not get back up.

Grady looks over when he hears a grunt coming off to the side. Tony’s standing over the other officer. The older cop is lying flat on his stomach, knocked out cold like the rookie. Grady’s about to speak when he catches the sound of heavy wheezing coming from the street. Whirling around, he sees Miles standing a few feet away. Sweat’s falling from his face in a torrent, staining the collar of his shirt and underarms. He’s huffing and puffing like a fairy tale wolf. It takes him a moment to gain his composure. “That… was…amazing,” he says between his panting. “You’re so strong, man, so fierce…it’s fantastic! You’re a good man, Grady, a very good man. Perfect

and fearless. Much better than you,” he points to Tony. “He’s exactly what I need in my group. Strong. Fast. Not stupid. And you can stay out of trouble.” Miles continues to pant. He wipes his forehead with the bib still around his neck. “Thank you sir—I mean, boss.” Grady makes the slip, but Miles does not notice. He holds his hand up and then readjusts his broken nose. It hurts like hell, but it’s happened before so Grady braces for the pain, and then the release of pressure. “Yes, come back to the restaurant,” he says, managing to stand upright. “I have a place upstairs. We need to celebrate.” The three conscious men leave

the alleyway, making their way back to the restaurant. Miles leads them through the kitchen to a flight of stairs in the back. At the top there is another door. He opens it, allowing Grady and Tony to enter his apartment. It is just as large as Grady’s back in Pittsburgh, but not quite as luxurious. The couch in the corner appears to be as old as New York City itself. Grady can see a few springs poking through the cushions. Beneath their feet the carpet is old and decrepit with some patches of rug missing. Wallpaper is peeling. Still, it is a roof over their heads. “You boys can stay the night if you like,” Miles says as he tosses Grady a towel. “What do you drink?”

“Anything. I need one,” Grady says, still feeling the throbbing pain in his nose. Tony just nods. “Good, good.” Miles waddles to the arch leading into the kitchen. “Lara, baby. Get three beers in here. Now!” Grady steps out of the way to allow Lara entrance into the living room. The woman walks in with three cold ones in her hands. She stands a head over Miles without heels on. Her hair is long blond locks that hang down to her shoulders in waves. She has skin the color of cream and as smooth looking as silk. She’s beyond gorgeous. Not rough, fat or ugly like Miles. She’s wearing a friggin’ tight black dress that shows

every curve and muscle on her sexy body. Dang, she didn’t belong here! Deep pools of hazel stare only at Grady. He meets her gaze and cannot help but gape back, unable to tear his eyes away.

Chapter 4 “’Allo.” Grady forces the word out and tries to sound cool, like her beauty didn’t throw him. “Nice to meet you.” Lara stares hard at him, probably used to guys gawking at her. She gives him a small smile. “Nice to meet you too.” “Grady,” he blurts out. “The name’s Grady.” Tony snorts, as if trying to warn him to smarten up. Or shut the fuck up, Grady can’t be sure. She laughs at his nervousness. “Nice name. I’m Lara.” Her voice has a

husky touch to it, slightly low and incredibly sexy. He can’t stop ogling her. Oblivious to the two of them staring at each other, Miles snatches a beer out of her hand. “Lara, babe, I’m thirsty here.” She’s dating that dickhead? Grady presses his lips tight together to stop himself from making a comment and fucking the whole undercover thing up. “Right, sorry.” She rolls her eyes as she hands Tony and Grady a bottle. Her fingers linger when she gives Grady his drink. She looks up at him with her lovely eyes. Keeping his composure, Grady opens the top and smiles. “Thanks, Lara.” He likes the way her name sounds

on his lips. He wants to say it again to test it once more but manages to stop himself. Behind them, Miles forces the bottle cap off with a thick palm. Beer suds spray from the mouth, soaking him in foam. “You stupid bitch! You did that on purpose!” He grabs her by the hair and drags her back into the kitchen. “Get me a towel before I knock your front teeth out.” Grady gnaws at his inner cheek so he can restrain himself from decking the drug dealer. He watches as Lara shoots the portly Italian a look behind his back before she walks into the kitchen. Ignoring the burning rage in Grady’s eyes, Miles plays off his

brutality. “Grady, you got a place to live?” “I found one uptown,” he says, taking a long gulp of beer to douse his anger. “I get the keys tomorrow.” The fine NYPD gave him keys and the address already in the file. He doesn’t need to let Miles know that. Waddling over to the old couch, the plump drug dealer sits on it and tosses the towel Lara had thrown at him on the floor. Somehow he avoids the spring poking out through the cushion as he sits. “You can sleep here for the night if you want. A one off. There’s a guest room just through that door.” He points to a closed door opposite the kitchen. “There are a couple girls in there, feel

free to use ‘em.” He laughs. “We’ll take it outta yer pay.” Grady resists the urge to roll his eyes. Lara hasn’t come back out of the kitchen. He figures she’s not going to again tonight. “I’ll take you up on the offer for a night’s rest,” Grady says, feeling fatigue creeping up on him. Tony sets his empty beer bottle on the table. “I’m outta here now then.” He yawns. “See ya tomorrow, Grady. Good to have you in town.” Grady nods and stands a moment after Tony leaves, unsure of what to do. He guzzles his beer and picks up Tony’s bottle. “I’ll put these in the kitchen.” Miles waves his hand. “Don’t

bother. Lara can do it later.” Later? It’s like three or four in the morning! He carries the bottles to the empty kitchen and sets them on the counter. She’s not in the kitchen and he has no idea where she’s gone. He yawns, too tired and sore to care right at the moment. He walks past Miles and nods as he heads to the bedroom offered to him. He should be checking the place out for bugs and what drugs are in the house but it’ll have to wait a couple hours. He just needs a bit of sleep. He reaches to open the door, but the brass knob falls off as soon as he touches it. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he finds the room even worse than the previous one.

The carpet and walls are the same color of faded beige. Cracks dance across the ceiling with pieces of plaster missing just above the bed. Through the hole Grady can see a network of copper pipes and wiring for the electric and water. Along with a queen-sized bed, there is a couch. This one appears to be in better condition than the one in the living room, except stuffing is falling out of one of the cushions, like a row of bullets ripped the material covering it. Grady walks over to the bed and pulls off the pile of sheets. Underneath are two naked women. With their bodies sprawled out over top of one another they look to be more unconscious than asleep. One looks up at the ceiling with

her eyes open, but rolled into the back of her head with only the whites visible. Grady can see the remnants of white powder around their nostrils and above their lips. A half-finished row lays carelessly on the glass-top end table beside the bed. Just the thought of what they had been doing makes his nose itch. When he goes to scratch, he is met with a shot of pain from touching the broken cartilage. He shouts an obscenity, but neither girl stirs. Stepping around the bed, he heads for the other door in the room. The knob manages to hold in his grasp. He turns it like normal, but it pops off when he tries to pull the door open. “Bull

shit,” he grumbles under his breath, and tosses the brass to the floor. It bounces loudly and rolls underneath the bed. His only option is to stick his finger through the open door hole. The door creaks open as he pulls on it. Splinters dig into the space between his index finger and thumb, making him curse again. Gnashing his teeth, he forces the door open. He’d rather leave but that would be too suspicious. He flicks on the light, and watches as a few cockroaches scatter into the dark corners of the bathroom. Ignoring the insects, he walks over to the sink. Around the mouth of the sink are traces of the same white powder under the nose of the two girls passed out on

the bed. He wipes it away and looks at himself in the mirror. A crack running down the glass distorts the image somewhat, but he can still see the damage done by the rookie. He fixed his nose earlier but it’s still swollen and crooked. Beneath it is a mustache of dried blood. He pulls his shirt off and hangs it on the hook by the mirror. Taking a thumb to either side of the broken nose, he applies pressure and tries to reset the cartilage. Pain rushes across his face like a flood, causing him to shout and curse. Trying his best to ignore it, he pushes further. As the nose bends back into place, the pain intensifies. It becomes too much for him, forcing him

to stop. The broken nose slides right back into the original spot, making his efforts for naught. Another thrust of pain hits him, throbbing as if he has a headache. To combat it, he punches the sink and swears. “What the hell are you doing?” he hears a woman say. Thinking it’s one of the girls passed out, he looks to the bedroom. He sees Lara standing at the door by the living room. She’s leaning on the wall of the bathroom, with her arms folded. He watches her glance at the pair of naked girls passed out on the bed and shakes her head. Then she turns her attention back on him. “I’m trying to fix my nose,” he

answers. “Well, you’re keeping me awake.” She forces back a yawn. “It kind of hurts.” “You’re such a big baby.” A smirk comes to her face as she steps to the bathroom. “Do you want me to help you, big guy?” Grady meets her just outside the bathroom. Using the same approach he had before, Lara places one thumb on either side of the damaged cartilage. The throbbing intensifies, as if a hammer is repeatedly beating at his face. Still, he fights through it as she starts to twist. Grady groans as the stabbing pain returns, but she ignores his cries of agony. She only pushes harder, trying to

reset the nose. He has to clench his teeth and pound on the wall just to endure it. Lara gives one final push and they hear the sound of something cracking. Grady falls to his knees from the jolt of pain, but it is followed by a slight sensation of relief. Blood hits the carpet. He takes a few breaths in and out of his nose. Only pressure remains as he gets back to his feet and walks over to the mirror. Aside from a break in the skin across the bridge, it hardly looks like his nose had ever been broken. He turns to Lara. “How does it look?” Lara takes a moment before answering. Her eyes run across every inch of his face and body, drinking him

in. A smile curls up on her full lips. “Not bad looking. You’re much cuter with a straight nose.” “Thanks,” he says. On the rack by the sink is an old towel. He wets it with some water and uses it to wipe the dry blood off of his face. She moves close beside him and his breath hitches. She shouldn’t be there, her warm breath teasing his neck, her curves touching him. She’s not his girl. He could get shot for this. “You’re welcome, Grady.” He watches her in the mirror and knows if he turns around he’s going to kiss her. He’ll do more than kiss. She shouldn’t be in here. He swallows. She moves against him, pressing

her breasts, tight abs and her rotated hips on his skin as she faces him and slips between him and the sink. She sits down on the edge of it. Worried the old sink’s going to break from the pressure of her weight, he slides his hands along her outer thighs and rests them on the curve of her ass. “Careful, sweetie.” She tilts her head as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. He doesn’t resist. “Careful?” she teases before she presses her lips against his, immediately slipping her tongue into his mouth. He shouldn’t kiss her back but he does. He should be exhausted, except her simple seductive touch has made him

hard. She’s a real good kisser. Grady finds one of his hands trailing the hem of her dress along to the top of her thighs. She moans against his mouth when his finger touches her inner thigh. Encouraged, he daringly lets his one hand squeeze her ass as the other slips under her dress. Fuck! She’s not wearing any panties. He presses his finger against her folds and touches her wetness. Her hips rotate toward his finger and gently he slides it in. Her cunt is deliciously soft and soaking wet. Lara bites his lip and his eyes flip open from the shock of the pain. She’s staring at him, daring him to react. He stares back at her,

wondering what the hell he’s doing, but not letting his fingers stop their magic of sliding in and out of her pussy. Her eyes close slightly as her upper teeth press against her lower lip. Fuck! She’s sexy. Grady kisses her neck, inhaling her perfume of something like flowers and petals. He wants to taste her and moves his lips over her breasts. The black material of her dress stops him from collecting one of her perky nipples into his mouth. He drops to his knees, no longer caring if the sink breaks or not. He shoves her dress up over her hips and senses her lean back so her head can rest against the mirror. He puts his hands on

the inside of her knees and forces her legs apart. She obliges and gives him full access. He licks her as he slides his finger back inside of her. Sliding slowly in and out as his tongue tastes her incredible juices. He can feel her body tighten against him just before she comes. Her hands press into his hair, trying to pull his face closer to her. She moans and cries out as her body shudders against his tongue. When she finally quiets, he stands and pulls her tight against his erection. More than anything he wants to feel it inside her but knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be in there. He pulls her dress down to

cover her beautiful, soft ass. He slaps it lightly and drops a quick kiss on her mouth. “You’re welcome, Lara.” She blinks, as if in a daze, but steps away from him back toward the bathroom door. “Have a good night with the girls.” “Oh no, I would never—” “I know,” she muses. “You’re a good boy, right?” Giving him a wink, Lara walks gracefully out of the bedroom. He’s about to follow her, but stops himself by the bed. As inviting as the soft-looking mattress is, he is repulsed by the two women passed out on it. Instead, he grabs his shirt from the bathroom and puts it back on. He walks

over to the couch and takes a seat. Sinking into the cushion, he finds it a lot more comfortable than it looks. That of course does not mean too much as it feels like a slab of concrete on his back. Luckily nothing is jabbing him through the material. As uncomfortable as the couch is, he manages to shut his eyes long enough to drift off into a sleep deep enough to knock out the shitty surroundings. The sun poking through the window wakes him a few hours later. With the light comes soreness across his face. He lets out a groan as he opens his eyes. The world is brought to him in a bit of a haze. Getting up off the couch, he is greeted with a sharp jolt of pain down

his spine, as if someone had stabbed him in the back. He stretches and bends backwards. The spinal cord pops as he twists, sounding like firecrackers. After that, the world starts to clear up as the groggy blur dissipates from his eyes. Looking over to the bed, he finds that the two girls are gone, along with the sheets. A knot ties itself in his stomach when he imagines their fates. Sadly, he knows there was nothing he could have done for them. Rather than regret, he walks into the bathroom. Enough sunlight allows him to see his reflection in the mirror. Some bruising can be seen across his nose and under either eye, but it’s already yellowing. He splashes cold water on his face to wake

him up and washes it with the hotel-size bar of soap. After drying off, he walks into the living room. Miles is sitting on the couch with Tony standing by him. He didn’t hear Tony come back in and wonders what else he missed. Great job undercover, dickhead. The greasy Italian drug dealer is talking to Tony while sipping on a cup of coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, Grady sees Lara in the kitchen reading the newspaper with a cup of orange juice in her hand. She picks her head up from the print and gives him a smile. He smiles back at her. “Grady, my man, I got another job for you,” Miles says with a hint of warning on his voice, like he wants

Grady to stay away from Lara. “You finally awake enough to do some work?” He shrugs and looks to the informant, Tony. “Fine with me. You ready to go, Tony?” “Oh no, this is a job just for you.” The little man rises from his seat on the couch and waddles over to Grady. He holds his hand out. “I need to make sure you really do have some balls. This is dirty work here. You have the balls for it?” Grady nods, half expecting Miles to reach over and grab his balls. He takes a step back as he takes another look through the kitchen. Lara looks back at him, as if she is watching him, studying him carefully. Finally, he says,

“What do I have to do?” “No one cheats me out of my own money.” Miles glares at Grady. He shrugs, not sure where this is going exactly. “You pay me, I won’t need to cheat.” Miles frowns, obviously not liking his remark. “You being a smartass?” “No. I’m just telling you I don’t take what isn’t mine.” Miles’ eyes move to Lara before turning back to Grady. “Fine.” He waves his hand. “Here’s my problem; I got some kid helping me get with a younger crowd,” the drug dealer explains. “It was all good until last week. He didn’t show up with the money he owes me. I

know where the kid is now. I need you to go out and find him. Teach him what happens when people get on my bad side. Rough him up, but don’t go killing him.” Looking uneasy about the idea, Grady gives a weary nod before hiding anything readable on his face. “Fine. What’s he look like?” “Lara, baby,” Miles calls into the kitchen, “get that picture off of my dresser.” “Go get it yourself,” Lara shouts back as she turns the page of the New York Times. The yellow-toothed smile on Miles’ face vanishes. “Bitch, did you just talk back to me? Do I have to come

in there?” For a fat little guy, he suddenly moves fast. Lara looks up in time to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His greasy face has turned a shade of red, starting to purple. Folding the paper and tossing it on the kitchen table, she gets up. It takes everything in Grady not to step in. Tony shoots him a warning look. Lara shoots Miles a harsh look as she stomps past him, which only makes him angrier. He swipes at her but she must have anticipated his action because she ducks and all he hits is air. She disappears into another room that Grady has yet to go into. A minute later,

she reemerges with a photograph, tossing it at him. She goes back into the kitchen, but not before Miles decides to grab her by the hair again. “Don’t you ever disrespect me in front of my men again, bitch.” Spittle showers her face as he pushes her back toward the kitchen. Grady controls his temper when he sees Lara pretend to stab Miles while his back is turned. He smiles and quickly looks down at the picture, not wanting Miles to see his amusement and get Lara into any more trouble. In his hand a teenager is smiling at him from a school photograph. No more than fifteen years old. The sight of a kid being drawn into this business makes Grady’s stomach

churn. The kid is thin-faced with a shaggy mop of dark hair. Amber eyes are touched with sadness. Despite the despair, he is smiling. His teeth appear to be either severely crooked or broken all together. “What’s the kid’s name?” Grady manages to say as he puts the photo in his back pocket. “The little shit’s name is Bradley,” Miles sputters. “He usually does his work at Central Park. You know how to get there, right?” He doesn’t wait for Grady to answer. “Find him. I want the grand the little prick owes me. Don’t come back without it. All of it.” Grady looks away, trying to hide the guilty expression. “Yeah, got it… boss.” He salutes before he heads to the

door, slamming it shut behind him. A few hops down the steps have him heading out of the back door to the restaurant. Out in the open, the sun is heating up the day. The sky is blue with a cool breeze running its way along the streets. From the alleyway in the back of the restaurant, he emerges onto the streets of a daytime New York City. The sidewalks are much livelier. Of course that doesn’t mean much in the city that never sleeps. There’s a sea of people flowing across the pavement. More like a river than the ocean, it seems like he could get swept up just by reaching a hand out into the crowd. Taking out his phone, he checks the directions to the park. Once he has a

map, he dives into the river of people. Rather than fight it, he goes with the flow. Occasionally, he glances down at the map on his phone to see if he’s going the right way. Times he is not, he jumps into another river-crowd. After a few miles of swimming through the people, he eventually is dumped out at the only wooded area he has seen in the city. Looking down at his map, Grady’s sure that it is indeed Central Park. He didn’t need to doublecheck. He’s been to New York before, but it seems like forever ago. A short stroll along the hedged path confirms his suspicions when a large sign naming the park comes into view. Walking through the twisting

foliage, he is given a moment to admire the lush green beauty of the flowers and shrubbery that decorates the park. Children are playing near the fountain at the center of the park. Benches are filled with all sorts of people. Businessmen in fancy suits look at their watches while their lunch sits on their lap. Women congregate in a horde as they talk to one another as their newborns are fast asleep in the stroller. Grady even spies a homeless man taking a nap at the feet of a statue. On the other side of the fountain, he spots his target. Bradley sits on the stone edge with his hands in his pockets. The deep pools that are his eyes dart in every direction, like a hawk searching

for its next prey. Grady sees a twisted smile lap over his lips. Suddenly, Bradley gets up from his seat and walks over to a group of kids that are most likely seniors in high school. This group all dress as if they had just crawled out of a dumpster. Their clothing is torn and tattered. Of course, this is the style nowadays. Bradley approaches them, and all three of the kids stop talking. They listen to the boy, who is a good foot smaller than them, before they start conversing. When they are done talking, Bradley walks away with a stack of cash gripped in his hands. Returning to the fountain, he perches on the ledge, stuffs the bills in his coat and looks for his next target.

While the kid hunts, Grady approaches. When the boy finally notices him moving toward him, he hops from the fountain and starts running. It’s not much of a chase. Grady’s able to jog after the kid running full sprint. His longer legs give him an unfair advantage. It takes only a few seconds before he catches up. Bradley tries to run faster, but Grady puts an end to his lame escapee by grabbing him by the back of his shirt. He picks the kid off the ground while Bradley kicks his legs around wildly. While the kid tries to break free Grady tells him calmly, “Where’s Miles’ money?” “Lemme go!”

“Not until I get the money.” Grady loosens the grip on his shirt but doesn’t set him down. “I don’t have it all,” the kid squeaks, panic fills his words. “Please don’t hit me.” Shit! “What’d you spend it on?” “Food,” he mumbles. Grady takes a look at the boy squirming in his grip. Like the seniors, his clothes look like they belong in a trash heap. But judging from the smell, it is more likely that Bradley actually fished them out of a dumpster. Dirt on his fingers and a pungent odor of body sweat tells Grady that the food was not a luxury. “Where do you live? Where’s your home?” He knows the kid’s not

going to tell him. “I don’t have one.” Bradley starts to cry and tries to hide it. “Can you please put me down? I’ll get the money. I promise.” The kid really stinks… like he just peed himself. Grady wants to let him go but knows he can’t. He tries another option. “Where are your parents?” “Dead.” The kid’s either a great liar or actually has this shit life for real. “I see.” Grady sets the boy back on the ground, but does not let go of his shirt. “You tellin’ me the truth or just shittin’ me?” The kid gets a hard look in his eyes. “You think I wanna live on the

streets? I got no one and nowhere to go.” Grady knows he’s telling the truth. At least the kid’s trying to go to school and figure things out. “How much do you have?” “About eight fifty.” Bradley cowers, covering his head with his skinny arms. “You owe Miles a grand.” “I know.” The kid’s trembling and his nose is running. Grady lets out a long sigh. Cops don’t play this way. He didn’t play this way. “Just give me five hundred. I’ll try to work something out with Miles for you.” “What?” Bradley’s eyes grow big. “You shittin’ me?”

Grady lets go of the kid and laughs. He played him with his own line. “I’m not shittin’ you.” “Really?” Bradley looks at him with disbelief on his face. No one’s ever given this kid a break. “Yeah.” Grady crosses his arms over his chest. “But you’re going to have to do something for me.” “What?” The kid looks ready to run. Grady puts a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him like he would if he were wearing his badge. “I need you to get out of this town. Go somewhere, anywhere you can. Trust me on this.” “Huh?”

“This is not the life for you. You’re a kid. You can become whatever you want to be, but this…” He motions to Bradley’s pocket where the drugs are. “This won’t help you get there.” Bradley just stares at him for a moment. “You’re not going to kick the shit outta me?” Grady shakes his head. “Not if you leave town. Go to Philadelphia or something. You got family anywhere?” He waves his hand. “Don’t tell me. Just go.” The kid turns to leave. “Gimme the money and what you got left, kid.” Grady taps him on the shoulder. “Oh, yeah. Here ya go.” He

hands Grady half the money he owes the drug dealer and three little baggies. Then he takes off running, disappearing from sight. Grady pockets the money and drugs and then pulls out his cellphone. Taking a look around to make sure no one is eavesdropping this time, he dials. The phone rings and he waits. “Hello, New York Police,” the operator speaks. “State the purpose of your call.” “Yes, I would like to report seeing a homeless child in Central Park, goes by the name of Bradley.” “What did he do?” “Nothing,” Grady lies. “I gave him some money, but the kid needs more help than that. I wanted to take him to the

precinct, but the kid freaked out and ran. The kid just needs a home.” “I understand,” the operator says. “Thank you for your call, sir.” Hanging up the phone, he makes another call. “Tony, I got the money. Yeah, no problem at all. Look, I’m not going back to the restaurant tonight. You can tell Miles that if he wants the money, he can come pick it up at my place. Yeah, I’ll send you the address. All right man, thanks. Okay, bye.” Pulling the map back up on his cellphone, he looks up the address that was given to him by the commissioner. Following the directions, he leaves the park to get swept up in the people again. While going with the flow, he looks

around at the street signs, carefully. Along the way, he catches sight of an ATM machine. Fighting his way through the people, he gets to the machine. Taking out his wallet, he slides his debit card and punches in the pin number. He makes a withdrawal of five hundred dollars to make up for the money the boy still owed. Putting all the money in his wallet, he takes the transaction receipt and heads home. Dark clouds start to gather overhead by the time he gets to his place uptown. The winds are picking up, creating strong gusts that knock even him off balance. He steps up to the stoop and is surprised to see a curvy figure standing there. Lara is pressed against

the doorframe, using it for cover against the gales. “What the hell took you so long?” She’s forced to shout to be heard over the howling wind. “I got lost,” he yells back. “What’re you doing here?” “Miles sent me to get the money!” “Okay,” he says, still hollering. “How about we go inside?” Grady unlocks the door and opens it for Lara, feeling the wind trying to push it shut. The two of them go into his house for the first time. He’s surprised to see that his apartment is actually a townhouse just for him. Walking out of the foyer, he takes her to

the living room. He notices that the style and layout is similar to his apartment back home, only it’s a lot cleaner. Lara looks around, clearly impressed. While he is also impressed with it, he catches himself staring at her. That is, until she turns around and looks at him. Clearly caught, he plays it off by reaching into his pocket for the money. “Oh yeah, here’s the cash,” he says, placing the stack in her hand. “How come Miles doesn’t come to get his money? Why’d he send you?” “I really don’t feel like talking about it,” she says abruptly, turning her eyes to the floor. Knowing something’s amiss, all Grady can say is, “Oh.” He’s trying not

to think about last night and suddenly hopes to hell that’s not why she’s in trouble. “Yeah, anyways… Nice place by the way.” She shrugs uncomfortably and looks around one more time. “Anyways, I have to get going.” She tries to head for the door, but Grady grabs her by the arm. “Wait! It’s about to piss-storm out there. There’s no way I’m letting you go—out there, I mean. It’s too dangerous.” He nearly scoffs at himself, like walking through a storm is worse than living with Miles. “Grady,” she whispers as she looks back to the door and then to him. “I’m not so sure—”

“I’m not letting you go out in this weather,” he repeats, cutting her off. On cue thunder roars like an angry beast, making them both jump. “You see?” He laughs at the look on her face, like she’s wondering if he actually set the thunder to rumble above them. “If it’ll make you feel better, I can call Miles.” “No! Don’t do that!” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay.” He runs his fingers through his hair and glances around. “A co-cousin of mine got me this place. It’s pretty sweet, ‘eh?” Lara slowly does a three-sixty. “It’s nice.” She walks up to him, placing her hands on his chest. The feel of her soft hands on him makes his heart

quicken. She smiles. “You’re not like other men. You’re actually sweet.” Really? ‘Cause last night he wasn’t thinking about sweet. Or maybe he was. He’s not sure. He swallows hard. “Why don’t you make yourself something to eat?” He sees his bag down the hall and knows there’re a few things in there he doesn’t want her to see. “I’ve no idea if my cousin left me any food, but you can check. I’m going to take a shower.” He would love to ask her to join him but clamps his mouth shut. He stinks and needs a shower. He doesn’t wait for her to reply, he heads down the hall and grabs his bag, taking it with him to the bathroom. After showering and dressing,

he goes through the bag and finds his gun. He hides it in a cupboard in the bathroom, under a stack of towels. Throwing on some aftershave he wipes the fog off the mirror and stares at himself. “Don’t do anything stupid. Keep your head down and do your job.” His reflection in the mirror looks at him like he’s crazy. He’s not even a day into the undercover and he’s already causing shit. Lara’s not in the kitchen or living room when he goes to check. Thinking she may have left, he heads up the wooden staircase and his heart starts hammering. He knows that if she’s waiting for him in the bedroom he’s screwed. He won’t be able to say no.

Quietly he opens the door. She’s there on the bed, but fast asleep. She probably hasn’t slept on a decent bed in months. He could go and lie down beside her except duty reminds him this is a job, not a pleasure trip. He closes the door and returns to the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Unlike the couch he slept on the night before, this one is a million times softer. He flips on the television and puts the volume on low. He finds himself lying down, falling asleep, too exhausted to do anything else, and for the first time in forever, he actually relaxes.

Chapter 5 “Good morning,” Lara whispers gingerly in his ear. When he opens his eyes and rolls over, he comes face to face with something white and silky. It takes him less than a moment to realize they are a pair of panties. Seriously sexy panties. His eyes widen, looking up to see that his guest has taken it upon herself to wear one of his dress shirts. The buttons are undone, exposing skin from the collarbone all the way down to her naval. Luckily, the cloth covers her breasts, but one wrong move will have them exposed.

Grady groans, immediately closing his eyes. “What’re you doing?” he demands. “Put some clothes on.” Wait, did she just say morning? He groans again. Miles is going to kill both of them. “I didn’t have any pajamas,” she says nonchalantly. “So I had to borrow this.” “I’ve plenty of t-shirts.” He figures if his dress shirts are in the closet, his t-shirts are probably in drawers. “You could’ve worn one of them.” “It was too hot to wear something like that,” she murmurs sweetly. “This breathes better.” Grady struggles to sit up with

his hand covering his eyes. “All right fine. Just, just get dressed.” She says nothing. He knows she’s staring at him, but he refuses to look up. She’s probably wondering why he had no problem the other night in the bathroom and now he’s playing all innocent. She sighs finally. “Okay, by the way, you can have your shirt back.” He feels cloth hit him in the head. Instinctively he pulls it off of his face. He manages to catch a glimpse of her bare back that trails down to a firm ass, half hidden under lace and silk. There’s one hell of a sexy tattoo detailing down her back and ending somewhere in her panties. There’s another one on her arm. She disappears

up the steps to the bedroom before he can finish staring at her sexy legs or check for more tattoos. He’s got a hardon just watching her walk up the stairs. Grady takes off the shirt he slept in and puts on the one she was wearing. He catches her scent on the collar as he pulls his arm through the sleeve. It has a pleasant, fruity aroma to it. He makes sure to have the shirt buttoned up, except for the top three, which he leaves undone. It reveals the top of his chest. As he is making sure his breath smells pleasant, Lara comes bouncing down the steps. She jumps the last four and lands with a rumbling thud. “If you ain’t playin’, I ain’t stayin’.” She winks at him.

Grady shakes his head and tries unsuccessfully not to smile. He walks with her to the foyer, and like a gentleman, opens the door for her. Lara smiles as she walks out first. Outside they find the sun shining brightly after the storm died hours ago. Steam is rising from the dampened streets. Remains of the high winds are scattered about the streets. Broken branches lie across the sidewalk while someone’s mailbox is left out in the middle of the road. Grady looks to make sure it’s not his. Luckily, it’s not. He goes and collects it anyway and leans it against a telephone pole. Better than someone running over it and causing an accident.

“How about we get some breakfast?” he suggests. “There’s a great diner in this part of town,” Lara says. “My father and I used to go there all the time back when I was younger.” She had a father? Somehow he imagines her fatherless as a kid. More like an orphan or a foster kid. “Sounds good, you lead,” he says. “I’m still new to the area.” He also didn’t picture her growing up in this end of town. It seems too… too… classy. He shakes his head at himself. He doesn’t know her so he shouldn’t judge. Taking him by the hand, she makes a right, heading north. Grady is pulled through the people who are

scouring on the streets. He notices that there are not as many as the day before. More likely than not the storm has kept some inside. Although the sun is shining, Grady looks up to see dark clouds still lingering in the sky. Perhaps another storm is on its way. They walk in silence, comfortable without feeling the need to talk. Lara takes him a few more blocks before making another right. “How long have you lived in New York?” he asks finally, too curious to hold it in any longer. “All my life,” she answers, not looking back when she speaks. “How do you like the big city so far?” “It’s going to take a bit of

adjusting,” he confesses. “I live in the city too, and I thought it was big. This makes my hometown look tiny.” “Oh, where are you from?” “Pitts—,” Grady catches himself slip up, but it’s too late to fix the damage. “I was born and raised in Pittsburgh, but I moved to Philly after I graduated high school.” “Oh wow, you graduated high school?” “Well yeah…” He stares at her graceful neck, swallowing the urge to want to press his lips and tongue against her skin. He swallows hard again. “Why do you seem so surprised?” “Most guys in this line of work aren’t that smart.” She shrugs, laughing

softly to herself. “I doubt Miles has ever seen the inside of a classroom.” Grady cannot help but laugh too. “What about you?” “Of course I graduated from high school,” she says. “I’m pretty sure my father would’ve killed me if I didn’t.” Grady is about to ask something else, but she pulls him out of the travelling throng of people to the diner. The building is a small, box-shaped structure covered in silver. It looks like it once was a train car. Hanging over the door is a neon sign with the name of the establishment, but the lights have been switched off for the day. Grady tries to open the door for her again, but Lara

beats him to it. A bell rings as they enter. From behind the counter a woman wearing a pin apron pops her head up. Lara gives the woman a smile as she leads Grady over to the booth closest to the door. Just as they sit down, the woman trots over with a pen and paper in hand. “Good morning,” the waitress says pleasantly. “What can I get for you two lovebirds?” “Oh we…” he stutters and flushes. “We aren’t…uh…” “I’ll have the special,” Lara interrupts, placing her order without looking at the menu. “Excellent choice, sugar,” the waitress says, jotting it down on her

notepad. She looks to Grady, “And you there, handsome?” Grady tries to look over the menu, but gives up in the end, “Just give me the special too. Please.” “All right then, dearies, I’ll be back out shortly.” They watch as their waitress moseys behind the counter and disappears into the kitchen with their order. The diner is completely empty this morning, except for the two of them. Overhead, the vents spew cold air directly on top of them. Lara shivers. The skin on Grady’s arms sprout goosebumps. He rubs the raised skin to warm himself up, but it does little to help. They get up and move to the next

booth where the temperature is a bit more bearable. Lara stares intently at him. “There’s something different about you.” “What’s that mean?” He plays with a napkin, not sure he wants to have this conversation now. He should’ve played stupid or told her to go home yesterday. Why the hell did he have to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and wake up with her still in the house? He’d probably just fucked everything up and blown his cover. Shit, he hadn’t even checked his phone yet. “You’re not like the other guys, especially Miles. You’re too smart, too nice for this line of work.” “Well, I actually wanted to

become a detective,” he tells her in earnest, but quickly switches to a false story. Shit! Why not just come out and tell her he’s an undercover cop? He clears his throat. “When I went to college, I developed a bit of a gambling problem. I bet on everything I could; football, horse races, you name it. Didn’t take long to blow through my entire tuition. So I dropped out.” “Really?” She actually seems kind of impressed he went to college. “It’s not going to stop me, though.” She laughs, as if believing you can accomplish something outside of your neighborhood can really happen. “Here’s the situation,” he says

and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I ended up owing some bad people a lot of money. My cousin offered me a job working for Miles until I pay off the loan sharks. I intend to save up enough money to leave this business and get back to school.” Hearing the high hopes he has weakens her smile. “Grady, there’s no way out…” Grady stares at her, troubled by her statement. “Why not? What about you? You seem way too smart to be with that idiot Miles.” “Let’s just say it’s complicated,” she answers, but refuses to meet his gaze. Instead, she looks out the window.

“Is it Miles?” he asks, but she just shakes her head. “Then what?” He gets no more information out of her when the waitress returns with two plates. Eggs and bacon cover the porcelain, rearranged in a smiling face. Grady wants to push for more answers, but his stomach growls from the smell of bacon. He’s too hungry to ignore the meal sitting in front of him. So instead he and Lara eat. After they finish, he pays and they leave the diner. The metropolis is now bustling as midday approaches. The sun has gone from hot to fiery. Sweat finds its way around his brow, forcing him to wipe it away in his sleeve. Lara takes Grady by the hand again, as they

are swept up in the flow of the crowd. It’s several blocks before she pulls him out. They stand outside the restaurant that Miles uses as a front for his drug operation. “Does Miles have another job for me?” Grady asks. He hopes he’s not going to get her in trouble for hanging with him. No guy’s going to believe he let a girl like Lara spend the night and not sleep with her. Lara shakes her head. “Follow me. There’s something I want to show you.” She takes him by the hand again. Instead of walking through the front door, she leads him around to the alleyway. In the back, the smell of the

dumpster baking in the summer heat wafts through the air. The stench alone makes Grady gag. Lara laughs at him, but then grimaces when she catches wind of the pungent odor. Holding her breath, she moves quickly away from the dumpster to the fire escape. She starts to climb. Once she’s up on the steel platform, she motions for Grady to follow. Driven by curiosity, he follows. The two of them climb, the foul smell shrinking away as they get higher up. Grady gets to the platform, but Lara is already climbing up to the next level. He’s forced to play catch up, racing up the metal steps. When he looks up again, she has disappeared completely. A few more levels have him

at the top of the fire escape, looking out onto the rooftop. He sees Lara standing on the middle of the flat roof. Four stone ledges surround it while an access door is on the right side. Climbing over the ledge, he joins her on the roof. Twenty feet above the city streets, the winds blow fiercely across their faces. The air is still hot so the gust is not at all pleasant. Across the sky, the black clouds march their way into the city. Approaching her, he asks above the wind, “Why’d you bring me up here?” He’s cautious. If she pulls a gun, he’s not sure how fast he can get out of bullets’ way or if the access door is even open. Lara casually strolls over to the

ledge and takes a seat. A little mischievous smile crosses her pretty red lips. She holds her hand out, showing Grady a slip of paper clenched between her fingers. It’s difficult to see the writing as it flaps in the wind, but even at a distance he recognizes the bank emblem plastered at the top. He checks his pocket, finding the receipt for yesterday’s withdrawal has gone missing. Shit. Pretending to look at the receipt, he asks, “Where’d you get that?” “I found it lying on the floor this morning,” she says, looking over the paper. “I wonder why you took out so much money the same day you took it from that kid, Bradley.”

“That’s none of your business.” Fuck! He’s going to blow his cover. He reaches out to take it. “Just give it back.” Lara gives him a sly wink. Instead of getting off the ledge, she climbs up on top of it. Her hands sprawl outwards to give her balance as she walks between the rooftop and the street twenty feet below. The sight makes Grady stiffen. Before he can say anything to her, she jumps. Grady rushes to the edge, but is helpless to stop her from disappearing. Looking over the side, his stomach is in knots at what he expects to see. Except Lara is not a splattered mess on the concrete.

She is perfectly fine the next building over. The receipt is still between her fingers as she smiles coyly. “You want it back?” she teases him. “You got to come catch me.” Once those words are spoken, Lara’s running across the rooftop, leaping to another building. Grady lets out a sigh of relief that she’s not dead. Taking a few steps back from the ledge, he starts stretching, making sure he is limber enough to make the jump. Psyching himself up, he goes into a dead sprint for the ledge. He ignores his conscience screaming at him to stop, planting his foot on the edge of the building. Pushing off, he is airborne. In that moment, he feels as though he’s

flying. His legs flail underneath him as if he were running on air. That feeling ends when his feet touch the uneven surface of the rooftop. He tries to stop, but ends up falling and tumbles. Picking his head up, he sees Lara three buildings ahead of him. Except she’s not running, she’s chosen to stop and watch him. Grinning, he gets back on his feet and heads toward the next roof. He leaps off again, this time landing more gracefully than before. Even with the advantage of a longer stride, he cannot catch up to Lara, who has started running again. She moves across the roofs with such grace it almost looks like she is floating. Still, he does not give up as he

runs faster than before. He looks up when a shadow casts itself over him. Clouds have rolled in, the winds becoming fiercer than before. Ahead of him, Lara makes one more leap, tucking and rolling onto another rooftop. She stops to catch her breath, but is then surprised to hear Grady landing on the same roof as her. He gets up and dusts off his shirt, which has come completely unbuttoned, and grins. Like her, he’s dripping with sweat. He approaches, and before she can look for another building to jump, he seizes her. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he yells. “You could’ve been

killed.” She shrugs and laughs. “I’m not scared of death.” He shakes his head. “Wild girl,” he mutters. She walks up to him and slaps the receipt in his hand. The deep pools of her eyes look into the ocean blue of his. “I know you used the money to help out the kid yesterday. What I want to know is why?” Grady shoves the slip of paper back in his pocket. “He was just a kid with a lot of years to turn his life around for the better. He won’t have that if he’s stuck in this line of business.” She stares at him, studying him intensely. “That was…nice of you.” Her

eyebrows raise on her pretty face. From the heavens a boom of thunder screams across the sky. Swollen grey clouds have gathered above their heads. Fat droplets of water fall, the beginning to a downpour that is soon to follow. Grady looks at Lara, who is wiping raindrops from under her eye. “We need to get off the roof.” “We’ll head inside.” She grins wickedly. “This is your townhouse, after all.” She leaves him for the fire escape. Grady runs to the edge of the roof and looks over. To his surprise, he recognizes the street below. However,

there isn’t time to be impressed as the sky opens up to allow the rain to come cascading down. He jogs over to the fire escape, but is drenched by the time he plants his feet onto the metal. The steel is slick, making the descent slower. He’s soaked. At the first window, he climbs inside. He finds Lara already stripping out of her wet clothes. A bolt of lightning hits somewhere off in the distance, its light brightens up the sky. He shuts the window behind him before stripping off his shirt. It makes a squished thump on the carpet, soaking water into the fibers. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lara says as she stands there in her black bra and silk panties. “Do they

have any special meaning?” She’s referring to his tattoos. Grady looks down his arm, finding ink coiling around his flesh like a colorful serpent. The artwork has blended together, creating a mural. Some of his older tattoos have warped slighting ever since his muscles bulked up, but the majority still retain their original shape. While they are heavily concentrated around his arm, one remains broken from the group. It is three stars running down the center. It is a simple black and white piece of artwork. Wrapping around the trio of stars is a banner with the words: “Integrity”, “Love”, and “Trust”. When he looks at the ink, he smiles. Turning back to Lara, he is

unsure what to say, so he shrugs. The gesture makes her scoff. “What are they to you?” she demands. Grady places his hand on the bicep covered in ink. They’ve always been personal to him. “They’re memories. Some people like to keep pictures in a scrapbook to remember. I keep my memories on my sleeve…” He exhales slowly. “So I’ll never forget.” Lara leans in close to his arm and slowly moves his hand. She looks over them before pointing to one. “What memory is that one linked to?” Seeing it makes Grady smile. “That was when my old man took me to my first baseball game. A foul ball came our way. My dad fought off three guys to

get it for me.” Suddenly, he feels his eyes burn. He rubs them before Lara can see. “So, uh, what about you? Do yours have meaning?” She looks at the large clock covering her arm. The black and white clock face keeps its hands steady, never moving forward in the passage of time. “I got this one when I got sucked up into this life. The keys are meant for later. I told myself that my life, my real life, would be put on hold until I can get out. Of course, that was five years ago. I guess I shouldn’t have added the keys. I don’t think my clock’ll ever start moving again.” “I don’t think that’s true,” Grady objects to that notion. “It’s not too late.

It’s never too late. You know you’re too good for this life, Lara. You’re too smart, too beautiful to let your life stop here. There’s so much more you can do.” She just stares at him, peering into his eyes. “Your eyes,” she whispers. “They’re like pools of the ocean. I can see myself being swept up in them, drowning in them.” He reaches for her cheek and gently brushes his finger along her skin. He refuses to let himself think. He just wants to feel this moment. His hand moves to the back of her neck. His fingers part her blond locks. Neither stops the other as they move closer. Their lips are magnetically drawn towards each other’s and soon graze.

The touch sends both of them crashing into the other’s arms. Grady can’t think. All he wants is to melt into her, to lose himself in her touch. She tastes beyond delicious. His tongue goes to force its way into her mouth but she opens hers wider and pushes hers in before he can react. He groans against her mouth, his hands touching her soft, wet skin. They are lost in one another. It’s not until Grady breaks free from the veil of lust that Lara also comes to her senses too. A smile graces her kissed lips. “You know, I have other tattoos,” she says coyly. “Three roses.” Grady glances over her arm and hungrily skims over the thin black

material covering her breasts. “I only count one.” Not answering right away, she walks from the bedroom toward the bathroom. “I only let people I really like see the other two. Let me show you them.” She removes her top, exposing her back. Grady can see the second rose. Its petals float over her left shoulder blade, the stem curving along with the curves of her body. He never noticed it this morning, how could he have missed it? He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. Covering herself, she glances back with a smile. Then she walks into the bathroom, but purposefully leaves

the door wide open for him. He hears the faucet squeak and water fall. He imagines the warm wetness showering down upon her. Oh shit. He’s screwed. “Do you want to see the third?” she calls. Guided by some primal force within him, Grady follows her. He undoes his belt and lets the rest of his clothes fall at his feet. Inside the bathroom, he sees her being embraced by the steam inside the glass shower. He opens the shower door, exposing her to his eyes. She simply smiles and pulls him into the shower with her. He pushes her up against the glass, kissing the nape of her neck. It makes her shiver. He kisses again,

causing her back to arch. The steam rises as the hot water beats against his back. It creates a mist that coils around them. Grady picks her up off her feet. A soft coo slips from her lips as it is drowned by the pounding water that falls upon them. A fog covers the bathroom, floating gently around the floor, steaming the glass. Yet even the water cannot drown the sounds of pleasure. Lara’s hand presses against the glass as she lets out a moan. It pulls away but the handprint still remains. Soon her back presses up against the same spot, her cries of pleasure getting louder. Grady doesn’t remember ever wanting a woman this bad. It feels

primal. His fingers find the sweet spot between her legs and her hips arch instantly toward him, as if he controls her. It only makes him harder. She’s beyond beautiful. He knows she’s ready for him and the look in her eyes begs him to bring her to release. His hands cup her wet ass as he lifts her again against the glass and rotates her hips so she is ready for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, it’s only going to lead to trouble. He ignores the warning as he enters her, no longer caring about anything except finding release. Her fingernails scrape along his back as she lifts her hips so he slides in

and out of her. “Fuck,” he hisses against her neck as his mouth claims whatever part of her he can reach. “Lara!” he cries out. “Slow down, woman.” She ignores him, lost in her own pleasure as her breath and hips move faster and harder. Her back arches suddenly and the back of her head presses against the glass, giving him full view and access of her breasts. His tongue flicks out and licks her nipple. Instantly it hardens to his touch. He nabs it with his teeth and sucks it between his lips, catching the taste of water and sweat. Her muscles tighten around his cock as she cries out and trembles around him.

It’s too much. Grady has lost all control. He manages to pull out just before he comes. Her feet drop to the shower floor and instantly her hand reaches for him, stroking and finishing what he didn’t let her cunt finish. Soon after, the water is shut off and the steam dissipates as the two of them leave the shower together. Still dripping wet, they make their way to the bed and climb beneath the covers. Grady kisses her, and before long the two of them continue what they had been doing while in the shower. Hours later, Lara is exhausted and asleep on Grady’s chest. The storm has subsided and the moon has poked its way between the clouds. Its glow casts a

white spotlight onto the bed. As serene as the night is, Grady remains wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. A thought prevents him from sleep: What the hell am I doing?

Chapter 6 The following morning hits Grady like a hammer pounding on an anvil. He lifts his head from the pillow, only to have it feel like it’s full of water. The painful smashing in his skull makes him dizzy, so he drops it back down on the plush cushion. Peering down along his chest, he finds Lara still fast asleep lying on top of him. Her hand rests just over his heart. He can see the inked words of his tattoo between her fingers. Her head rises gently with his breathing, but she herself does not stir. At first, Grady does not believe what he sees is actually true, thinking it

might be a dream. He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the sleep from them. When he opens them again, he still finds a naked sleeping beauty in his bed. The memory of last night returns¸ making him smile and grow hard. With the memories comes a bit of pain. Grady winces as he feels something like a stinger shoot him in the arm. Looking at it, he finds the flesh torn and bloodied. Bits of the rooftop gravel were able to cling to his skin, even after he showered. Luckily, the damages are minor, just scratches at best. The hits his body took while jumping from roof to roof have left a nice set of bruises on his shoulder and along his side. He touches the black and blue one along the side of

his rib cage, flinching from the soreness. Pulling his uninjured arm from under the bedsheets, he reaches over and places a hand on her bare back. She is warm to the touch, skin as smooth as silk. He runs his fingers through her hair before falling back to the pillow. As soon as he shuts his eyes, Grady hears the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand. Trying his best not to wake the sexy beauty, he stretches for the phone. A few of his fingers manage to touch the screen. Using his nails he drags it closer to the edge. The cellphone teeters on the edge of the nightstand. Getting his thumb underneath, he scoops it off before it falls to the floor. Reeling it into him, he looks at the number. With

Tony being the only contact he has in this phone, he does not recognize it. Nonetheless, he puts it up to his ear. “Hullo?” he whispers into the phone, but loud enough so that the recipient can hear him. “Grady, we need to talk,” a gravelly and somewhat familiar voice speaks on the other line. “Sure.” Grady sighs, still a bit groggy. Is it possible to be hungover from too much sex? “Who is this again?” “Baxton,” the commissioner snaps, sounding none-to-pleased. “We need to talk. Go to the café three blocks south of your townhouse. I’ll meet you there.”

Realizing he’s speaking with the head of the NYPD, a rush of adrenaline pumps into Grady. He shoots upright in bed. “Gotchya.” The sudden jerk sends Lara rolling off of him, causing her to fall off the bed. She hits the floor with a muffled thud thanks to the comforter being wrapped round her. Yet, she still manages to curse. He watches her poke her head up from the carpet and shoot him a hard look. “What the hell?” He tries to sound apologetic, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” “You knocked me off the bed!” He gives a weak smile and sets the phone down. He’s sitting naked on the bed. His hard-on in plain sight.

“Who was that on the phone?” she asks him suspiciously. “It,” Grady pauses, realizing he had forgotten his backstory. His blue eyes flicker as his brain searches for the answer that he needs. Finally it hits him. “It was my sponsor.” So much for the hard-on. “You have a sponsor?” She looks at him oddly. “For what?” “For my gambling addiction,” he says, the charade coming easier now. “I told you that I plan on getting out of this life once I’ve enough money.” Lara stares at him in disbelief. Sadness reaches her eyes. She sighs. “Grady, I told you that—” “I know what you said,” he cuts

her off as he climbs out of bed and grabs his jeans lying on the floor next to it. Zipping them up he turns to Lara, who is standing but now wrapped in the thin bedsheet. Fuck, she’s sexy. “I intend to prove you wrong. I’m getting out.” “You’ll just get pulled right back in,” she insists. He grabs a clean shirt from his closet. “And if I don’t,” he wonders, walking to the door, “if I can get out of this life, you can do the same.” They’re daring words. He barely knows her, has no idea what her life is or where she’s from. But five years is too long to be stuck here. He spins around and scoops her up, kissing the soft flesh of her breasts

peering out of the top of the sheet. A sexy growl escapes her lips and he has to convince himself to not get tangled in the sheets with her instead of meeting the commissioner. He lays her on the bed and whispers in her ear, nipping at the lobe at the same time, “Sleep, I’ll be back in a bit.” He steps out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. They left a trail of water on the floor last night. He tosses a towel on the floor before flushing the toilet and brushing his teeth. He’s already running late. Jumping down the stairs, he hurries across the living room to the front door. He opens it and walks out into New York. The air conditioner in

his townhouse provided much-needed cool to combat the bitter heat outside. The air is thick with humidity. Steam rises from the streets from the aftermath of the storm that lasted until the early hours of the morning. Breathing seems to be nearly impossible, as Grady chokes on the first few breaths. Sweat droplets start to form on his brow as he walks down the stoop to the sidewalk. As he glides into the crowds, he notices that a lot of people are cradling water jugs the size of newborn babes. Some have handheld fans blasting warm air on their faces. It does little to keep cool. Pushing through the crowds, Grady hastens his pace to the café, secretly praying they have air conditioning.

A hot trip later has him standing outside the café, or more accurately a coffee shop. It is packed with people trying to squeeze into the building to get out of the unbearable heat wave. Grady becomes sandwiched between a businessman and a tourist. The three of them are shoved through the door and are swept up in the cool air. Vents overhead send streams of frigid air onto them. The feeling is ecstasy. Grady basks in the wonderful feeling, unable to move from under the vent. It blows along his hair, almost freezing the sweat on his face. It is only when he is shoved away that he returns to doing what he came for. Taking a look around the café, he has a hard time finding the commissioner.

Obviously, the man is in some sort of disguise. Whatever it is, he’s fooling Grady, because he cannot find Baxton in the crowd. “Excuse me, are you Mr. Miller?” the familiar voice of the commissioner rings in his ear, but the tone is completely different. Grady looks over his shoulder to find a man that looks somewhat like Commissioner Baxton. However, this guy looks like he belongs more at a summer camp instead of a police station. While they share the same silvery mustache on their upper lips, this Baxton has a pair of oversized sunglasses added to his face. Something sits atop the commissioners’ head. Whether it is an

attempt of a comb over or a poorly made wig, Grady is not sure. He is dressed in a bright and colorful Hawaiian shirt. It’s buttoned up, leaving the top two undone. A tuft of chest hair pokes through the shirt. The only thing that does not look quite as bizarre is the cargo shorts. Seeing the head of the NYPD dressed like this causes Grady great internal pain. He’s forced to bite the inside of his lip to hold back his laughter. “Yup, that’s me. You must be my sponsor,” he says, shaking the commissioners’ hand. As odd as the man looks, he still keeps the firm handshake he would expect of a man of his stature. “I want to first thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

“Oh, any time. As long as I get to help you.” Baxton gives an uncomfortably cheery smile. It makes Grady want to cringe. “My name is Brandon, by the way. How about we find a nice place to sit and talk?” “That sounds great.” The two men walk side by side to a small table in the corner of the café. Taking a seat across from one another, they take a look around the coffee shop, making sure that no one is going to eavesdrop on their conversation. Once both men agree that all is safe, Baxton drops the creepy fake smile. Grady cannot help but grin at the foolish disguise the commissioner has

decided to wear. “So, tell me, how do you like the New York life so far?” Commissioner Baxton speaks with his usual rough dialect. “It’s a bit busier than back home, I’ll give you that.” “So how’s the new line of work going?” “All right, I suppose.” Grady shrugs. “Working on fitting in… making a few friends.” “Any leads on Dean?” “Nothing concrete. I’ve barely started.” Grady thinks of Lara lying in his bed. He shifts in his seat. “Well, I was hoping to hear more than this.”

Grady looks at him skeptically. “You can’t expect me to just waltz in and be Miles’ best buddy in a few days.” He forces himself to lower his voice. “Trying to rush it is the best way to get myself killed. No, I think I’ll take it slow.” “I know you’re right, kid,” Baxton says. “Just frustrating knowing that bastard is out there.” He looks around, taking stock of the crowd. Satisfied there’s nothing to worry about, he continues. “Is there anything else transpiring you want to report?” Grady bites his tongue as his thoughts turn to Lara. He averts his eyes down and to the left as he tries to think of anything. She appears again, naked,

legs spread. He has to physically shake the thought out of his head. “No, nothing more to report, sir.” “All right,” Baxton says, as he grabs something out of his pocket. “You know we can’t continue making these meetings. They’re too risky for this kind of case.” “I figured as much.” “That’s why I am giving you this.” Baxton slides a piece of plastic across the table. Picking it up, Grady sees that it’s a plastic disk no bigger than a checker piece. Protruding from the center is another cylinder, though this one is red. Setting it back down, he hears the commissioner explain, “That is a GPS tracker that’ll allow us to keep an

eye on you wherever you go. We’ll be able to monitor your movement. And if you ever get into a predicament that requires help, press the red button. A SWAT team will be at your location in a matter of minutes.” Grady puts the tracker in his pocket. No more words are needed from him, so he decides to take his leave. He nods at his sponsor and exits the café. Again, he finds the heat brutal without the comfort of cool air pouring down on him. While it’s only a few blocks away, he’s drenched in sweat by the time he returns to the townhouse. He jumps up onto the stoop before bursting through the front door. In the living room, Lara is

sitting comfortably on the couch with her cellphone in hand. She looks at him, clearly disgusted. However, this hate is not directed at Grady, but whoever’s on the phone. “What’s up?” he asks, feeling the tension. “Miles has another job for you. He says to get down to the pier as fast as you can. It’s a big job.” A part of Grady wants to groan, knowing that he has to walk back out into the heat. “Fuck. Okay. Where?” She shows him the address. Despite his unwillingness to do so, he begrudgingly walks back out the door. It seems that the sun has somehow gotten hotter. Grabbing

his cellphone, he looks up the address that Lara had shown him. He groans when the map shows it is five miles away from his location. The journey feels like he’s walking on the surface of the earth. After twenty minutes of walking, a cool breeze blows across his face. There’s a strong smell of salt in the air. Overhead he hears the song of seagulls. He’s not far from the water. A tugboat is pulling a barge past him as he walks down to the pier. Going past a few fishing boats, he manages to find Miles standing next to one such ship with a pickup truck parked right next to it. Two dark-skinned men are standing on the boat while Miles is upon the shore.

Before Grady can see the men clearly, they are already at the controls and speeding away. “Ah, Grady my new, clever boy!” The greasy little drug dealer waddles over with a big yellow grin on his face. “You came just in time. The guys were kind enough to load the stuff on the truck.” “What is it?” Grady tries to peer in the truck without looking obvious. Miles laughs, walking over to the tailgate. He shows Grady the back is filled with white blocks that are about the size of a sack of flour. Like flour, there is a white substance heavily wrapped in thick plastic. These bricks are stacked five high and cover the

length of the bed, five deep. “That, my friend, is pure Colombian,” the fat man says and continues to grin. “I need a big strong guy to unload it for me. Get in.” In broad daylight? Fuck, Miles is either shitless or stupid. Climbing into the truck is an easy task for him, but much harder for the man who issued the command. Miles flails himself into the driver’s seat. Once he closes the door, he turns the key. The truck growls to life as it manages to move despite the grinding sound Grady hears. Once they are away from the pier, the truck slows to a snail’s pace due to the traffic. Thankfully, the little Italian man hates the heat too, and has the air on

full blast. Grady sits there compliantly until he catches a smell coming from Miles. It’s a strong, musky smell. Grady crinkles his nose and tries his best to ignore it. Miles is completely ignorant to Grady grimacing next to him. Turning to the undercover cop, he grins. “Grady, my man, I envy you, you know that right? You don’t have any women trouble.” Grady turns, only able to nod, trying to breathe through his mouth, not his nose. “Yeah, I got some advice for you: Don’t go and fuck someone who works for you. It’s bullshit! Can you believe that bitch broke up with me?

After all the shit I gave her.” He shakes his head, sweat hitting the passenger’s arm. Grady can, but does not say it aloud. “Yeah, I bet that no-good slut was going around banging a bunch of other guys around my back anyways. You can’t trust a blond-haired whore. Probably a good thing I never stuck it in her, my dick might’ve melted off.” Grady nods, but turns to stare out the window. Next to his leg, his hand has balled into a fist. “You don’t talk much, do you Grady?” “I keep mostly to myself. Keeps me outta trouble.”

“I like that about you, my man,” Miles carries on. “Not like that fucking bitch. She just fuckin’ talked, never shut up. Then she was back-talking to me about some shit. The only time I ever got her to shut up for more than a minute was when I broke her jaw.” He shakes his fist and pretends to swipe the air. “I got to tell you, man, that was a peaceful month. Never get a strong-willed bitch. I should’ve known she was trouble when her father showed up.” “What do you mean?” Grady asks, finally interested in the conversation. “Fuckin’ big shot.” Miles scoffs and then clears his throat. “Well, I never actually met the guy, but shit… I just

know he’s a big shot. Except she’s too fucking stupid to just mooch off her old man. A stupid whore like that isn’t good for nothing, am I right?” “Right,” Grady responds, but can taste blood in his mouth after biting the inside of his cheek. “You said she dumped you?” Miles stares at him with a long hard look. “No. I said I broke up with her.” “Oh,” Grady says, taking a small enjoyment out of Miles’ realization. “I thought you said she dumped you.” Miles continues to complain about Lara. Grady has to block him out before he loses his patience and punches

the fat grease-ball. The truck makes a few more twists and turns, picking up speed. They go through a red light, horns beeping behind them as the intersection shrinks away. Grady glances over his shoulder, somewhat hoping a police car would have spotted them. Only an irate taxi driver witnessed the breaking of the law. The middle-eastern man pokes his head out the window, shaking his fist behind them. For a while, Grady sits there in the truck, but then goes into his pocket. He feels the tracker still in his cargo shorts. His thumb circles the red button. Miles has the truck make a sudden turn behind a small warehouse.

The vehicle grinds to a stop before stalling out. A cloud of noxious smoke oozes from the tailpipe and filters into the cab. Grady swears out loud as he feels the tracker slip out of his shorts. It falls somewhere behind him but he can’t turn around and look for it, Miles will see. He’ll have to figure a way to get it later. Coughing, Miles steps out of the truck and Grady follows him. Standing at the door of the warehouse is a man, probably the same age as Grady. He’s suave looking, dressed in a white suit and matching white fedora. A feather from some sort of large bird is tucked under the pink band of his hat.

The man strolls over, a pair of circular sunglasses block out the intense rays. Despite the heat, he does not seem to sweat. “It’s good to see you, Dean!” Miles walks over with his flabby arms outstretched to hug. The suave man sidesteps out of the way and approaches the truck. He obviously has his eyes on the merchandise, and the guy standing beside it. Grady can hardly believe this guy is Dean. He’s the one the cops are after? This is a huge opportunity. If he plays his cards right, he can catch him red handed and have the dickhead locked away longer than guys on death row. He presses his mouth tight, making

sure not to blurt anything that will blow his cover. Playing the part of the faithful henchmen, he follows Dean to the truck and opens the tailgate. The man in white inspects the product. Sliding out of his coat sleeve is a switchblade, which he uses to jab one of the bags. Bringing the blade out of the bag, he licks the steel. “This is good stuff.” He tosses a brick to Miles. The fat man fumbles the pass, but manages to keep it from hitting the ground. Dean twirls a finger in the air. “Go ahead. Unload it.” Grady and Miles do as the man says. They take turns grabbing blocks off of the truck, carrying it into the open warehouse. Being the stronger of the

two, Grady carries three bricks at a time. It takes several minutes of walking back and forth to empty the drugs into the building. When they walk outside, Dean is waiting for them with a suitcase in hand. Miles is almost drooling over the sight of the silver briefcase. The drug lord kindly opens it for the little man. Inside there are stacks of hundred dollar bills. Obviously it is payment for the drugs. Grady pretends to look away. It’s not that hard. Miles is a lap dog. A big, stinkin’ fat one. “Grady,” Miles calls to him. “I need you to deliver this money to Lara. That fuckin’ bitch was supposed to be

here by now.” Grady looks at him, perplexed. He’s not sure he should bring this up in front of Dean. The guy’s going to question Miles’, and his, ability to move drugs. He thinks of Lara naked in his bed and the words tumble out before he can stop them. He doesn’t want her here. Not with this kind of shit. “I thought you said you didn’t trust her.” “Eh, I did, but the bitch is good with money.” He shrugs and looks at Dean and rolls his eyes, like Grady’s the idiot. “Just go and do it!” Miles barks at Grady. Grady takes the briefcase from Dean and briskly walks away. How the hell is he supposed to get to Lara? Miles

doesn’t know she’s in his bed. She still has the thousand he gave her yesterday also. He nods to himself. She’s good with money. If she told Miles she had the cash, he wasn’t going to push her to bring it to him. Miles hates Lara, but he trusts her not to run or snitch or cause problems. The drug dealer and drug lord stay behind to talk some more. Taking a walk down the block, Grady tries to look inconspicuous, but the case has him stand out. While businessmen on the street carry similar cases, he looks out of place with his attire. A block later, he turns a corner. Someone grabs him by the shoulder. He’s about to turn and nail the person

with the briefcase, but stops just before following through. It’s Lara. She’s dressed in tiny shorts and a turquoise blue tank top. A backpack is slung over her left shoulder. “What’re you doing here?” he hisses, glancing back to make sure Miles or Dean aren’t following him. Miles is an idiot. Why would he give Grady, a guy barely working for him, this much cash… unless it’s some kind of test. Grady hesitates. How well does he know Lara? The cop part of him wants him to double-check the facts. The other part of him sees something in her that tells him she doesn’t belong here, in this mess.

“I’m here to transfer the money.” She holds out the empty pack. “Fine,” he looks around. Maybe Miles and Dean were both testing him. “Let’s find somewhere to do it first.” She looks at him slyly a moment. He realizes what he just said. “That’s not what I meant.” Though the image in his mind is not that all unpleasant. She rolls her eyes. “Here’s fine.” “What? Are you crazy?” “No. Come on, Grady. Just do it. Nobody around here gives a shit.” Grady looks to either side of them to make sure no one will notice.

Naturally, the streets are flooded with people. He’d been too caught up in seeing her to notice anyone else. He sighs and opens up the briefcase and then starts shoveling the stack of cash into her backpack. He does it quickly to avoid suspicion. Which seems nearly impossible. When the briefcase is empty, he tosses it into a nearby trash can. Lara takes him by the hand and starts walking. Staying side by side, Grady notices she left the pack open. He reaches over with his free hand for the zipper, but she smacks his hands away. “I’m just trying to close your bag!” “Don’t!” she snaps. “Huh? What’re you doing?”

“Giving the cash some air,” she answers with a grin, her face still looking forward. “So what if we have some onlookers.” Indeed they do. People on either side of them make double and even triple takes, no one believing their eyes when they see a backpack full of cash. It’s beyond obvious and yet no one is doing anything. Not even trying to jump them. It’s crazy. Grady doesn’t get it. “Are you an exhibitionist or something?” With her body, she could be. “No, just fearless.” Something about the way she makes a face reminds him of something, or someone. He just can’t tag it.

The heat seems to get only more intense, and Grady can see it’s getting to Lara. Sweat soaks through her clothes. Her cream-colored flesh turns a shade of white and she starts to shiver despite the heat. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” Lara waves her hand and the bag falls off her shoulder. Grady grabs it and slips it over his shoulder. He zips it up, not comfortable with carrying that amount of cash but feeling better with it over his shoulder, not Lara’s. Lara doesn’t argue. For once, she lets him lead her. “Do you need to take this, uh, stuff anywhere in particular?”

She shakes her head. “Miles’ place, but it’s no rush.” He slips his hand in hers and takes her to his townhouse, which is closer than Miles’ apartment. They hurry up the steps, knowing the air conditioning will give them the relief their bodies are begging for. He sits Lara on the couch and walks over to the thermostat, cranking the temperature to the high sixties. He grabs two water bottles from the fridge and exhales as the air conditioning kicks it up a notch. Cool air blows from the vents. He sits beside Lara on the couch and pushes the bag of money off the coffee table. Grabbing the remote, he decides to see what is on the television.

The screen lightens to breaking news coverage. The camera follows a familiar portly man as he is being led by police officers into the back of their car. Lara recognizes Miles the same time Grady does and sits up in her seat. The scene shows dozens of SWAT team members standing outside the warehouse that Grady was just at. Both Miles and Dean are in handcuffs and are being helped into separate police cars. Members of the NYPD are walking out of the warehouse with the large blocks of cocaine. Oh shit! Grady mutes the volume, making it impossible to hear the reporter talking. Nevertheless, the message is clear.

“Shit!” Lara shakes her head. “That could be you. Or me.” Grady stares at the television, with no idea what to say. He must’ve pushed the red button on the tracker when it fell out of his pocket. That’s why SWAT was there. Lara takes his silence as shock. She moves closer to him and runs a finger down his neck. “It’s okay, baby. We’re okay.” It’s over, he thinks to himself. Miles is in jail. Dean’s caught now too. Just like that. He slowly turns his neck and smiles at Lara. “We’re freakin’ lucky.” Now Lara can finally get out of this forsaken business. It’s over… Just like that.

Chapter 7 The sun rises, poking a ray of light into Grady’s eyes. Along with the morning is a familiar buzz of his cellphone sitting on the nightstand. Without opening his eyes, he reaches for the phone and brings it up to his ear. He doesn’t bother saying a word, he’s too tired to speak. Instead, he lets whoever is on the other line talk first. While he waits, he glances to the spot next to him to find Lara still sleeping. Cradled in her arms is one of his pillows. She nuzzles her face into it as if it were a teddy bear. “Grady, Grady, are you there?” the commissioner calls out in his usual

gravelly voice. “Yeah, I’m here,” he whispers so he won’t disturb Lara. “What’s going on?” “Well first, I want to say it was ballsy using the tracker to make that drug bust.” He laughs. “Thanks to you, we were able to stop $200 million worth of cocaine from being sold on the streets of New York.” “Anytime, sir,” he smiles. “Without getting caught.” He glances at Lara and decides even though she’s still sleeping, he should have this conversation in another room. He slides out of the bed naked and heads out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. He needs water.

“That’s a key part to this phone call.” Really? Why would not getting caught matter? “We got Dean. My job’s done, isn’t it? Took me less than a week to finish what you guys have been digging at for how long?” He can’t help but brag. He caught the bad guy, and got the girl. “As impressive as that was,” Grady hears the commissioner’s tone shift, “the man we arrested along with Miles was NOT Dean.” Grady freezes, his hand mid-air to the fridge door. “What? That’s not possible. Miles said the man was Dean.” “Sorry, Grady, but his prints don’t match.”

“What prints?” Grady nearly shouts. He drops his voice as he glances at the empty staircase. “You never mentioned anything about fingerprints.” “A set of prints came with the package, along with Dean’s shitty picture,” Baxton says. “The prints don’t match anyone in the database, so we believe those are Dean’s.” “It may not be and the man you have in custody is the Dean you’re looking for.” Grady sighs, knowing he’s wrong. It was too good to be true. He never caught the bad guy that fast. Why had he wanted to believe it so bad? Lara. He wanted Lara out of this shittrap. “Sadly that’s not the case.” The

commissioner sounds disheartened. “We ran this Dean-guy in custody’s prints. He’s a drug dealer we dealt with before. Goes by the name Dean, but he’s actually Antonio James. The guy’s probably one of the real Dean’s henchmen. We won’t know though. He’s lawyered up and isn’t going to spill anything to us. No matter what deal with offer him.” The commissioner mutters the last part under his breath. Fuck! Grady jerks his hand over his short hair. “So, where do we go from here? What’s my next move?” “There is no move for you, kid.” The commissioner sighs. “The real Dean’s going to be more cautious now that one of his shipments has been taken.

Miles was your only means of getting close to the man, and he’s now behind bars. I’m afraid we’re going to have to pull the plug on this undercover operation.” “I think we can find Dean. I just need more time.” Grady thinks for a moment. He’s got an idea, he’s just not sure he actually likes it. “Give me one more day. I think I have another way in.” His eyes roll up towards the ceiling above him. It’s not going to end pretty. Lara’s probably going to hate him when it’s all said and done, but he’s here working undercover, not for personal reasons. The commissioner is silent for a moment, until Grady can hear him mutter,

“What the hell!” He clears his throat. “All right kid, you’ve got one day. Show me I’m not wasting anyone’s time here.” “Got it, I’ll do that, sir.” He’s about to hang up. “And thanks, sir.” Hanging up the phone, Grady groans to himself and leans his head against the stainless steel fridge door. He’s going to use Lara to get himself back into the group and closer to finding Dean. She’ll never forgive him when she finds out. He goes and grabs a pair of athletic shorts from his room and then, rather than returning to the bed where Lara lays beautifully naked on her stomach, he goes to the living room. The guilt of using her to find Dean weighs

heavy. It shouldn’t, she should just be part of the job, nothing more. Beside the coffee table, he eyes the backpack laying on the ground. Curious, he picks up the pack and dumps the contents on his kitchen table. Taking a seat, he starts to count the money. The stacks of cash are held by a green band. Taking one in hand, he breaks the band with his nail and starts counting the money. After the hundredth bill is laid on the table, he looks to the other packs. Instead of undoing their seals and counting, he just counts the stacks. Fortynine stacks sit on the table along with the one he had undone. A part of him wants to smile after counting, but he groans. He looks at the money in disbelief.

“What’s the matter?” Lara’s coming down the stairs in just a white vneck shirt of his. He stares, unable to stop. She’s sexy and all feminine at the same time. Grady runs his fingers through his buzzed locks. “Miles is such an idiot. He sold $200 million worth of drugs for only $500 thousand.” “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Lara folds her arms. “He’s going to jail.” “True.” The thought of that Italian grease-ball behind bars brings a smile to his face. “So, what are we going to do with this money? We can finally get out of this line of work.” He knows she’ll say no, but suddenly he’s

worried he worked too hard to convince her and she might actually want to. She smiles, but shakes her head. “When Miles comes out, he’s going to be looking for the money. The cops have no idea where to look. They don’t know about either of us.” Grady claps his hands and rubs them together. “We’re so fuckin’ lucky!” He smiles at her. “So, what’s the plan? Are we going to spend some of it?” He knows this is material money, but telling her that would give away his cover. “We should spend all of it.” She grins mischievously. “This is chump change.” “Really?” Grady scratches his head. “It’d pay a good chunk of my debt

off.” He knows she won’t give it to him but, in the slight chance she did, he would hide it until the time was right and give it to the cops. It would keep her out of trouble, or maybe out of jail. Lara laughs and Grady finds himself liking the sound. He’d like her to laugh more often. Lara grabs a stack of the hundreds. “We’ll work on the debt of yours, but not today.” She twirls in front of him and his eyes drop to her curvy hips. “The first thing we’re going to do is get you a new suit.” “A suit?” He blinks. So much for the fun of pretending they’re one dollar bills and she’s a stripper. He swallows, trying to push the image out of his head. He slowly brings his eyes to

hers and raises a brow. “Why the hell do I need a new suit? Another job?” “For tonight,” she says with a smile. “My dad called me earlier. He’s got some gala honoring him with an award.” “I didn’t know you still talked to your folks.” “Of course I do.” She cocks her head to the side and puts her hand on her hip. “What did Miles tell you?” Busted. Grady shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. He’s in jail now.” He smiles. Lara doesn’t let him go that easy. “What did he say?” “Nothing really. Just that your dad’s some big-wig and you prefer

standing on your own feet, without his help.” She stares at him, her face unreadable. “I have a hard time believing those are Miles’ exact words.” Grady laughs. “Maybe not his exact words…” “And that’s all he said?” “Pretty much.” He isn’t going to add that Miles complained about not sticking his dick in her. Grady preferred to keep that to himself. “I do prefer doing things without Daddy’s money.” She shakes the stack of hundreds. “I can make my own.” She reaches for his hand and pulls him off the coach. “I told him I’m bringing you tonight, so we need to get you a new suit.

An expensive one.” “Wait, you’re going to introduce me to your dad?” Grady isn’t sure how he feels about that. He’s undercover and as much as he’s attracted to her, this isn’t what he signed up for. “I’ve told him all about you. He really wants to meet you.” What had she told her dad? He was a drug dealer? A gambler? He’s pretty sure Lara’s dad isn’t too keen on meeting him. A horn beeps outside before Grady has a chance to say no. “Now come on, the taxi’s waiting outside already.” She magically finds a pair of shorts on the floor and slips them on. How did he not notice

them lying there earlier? Then she ties his shirt in a knot at the side and it’s damn sexy. It distracts him from listening to what she’s saying. “Wait, what?” Lara leads him by the hand and grabs another stack of cash as they move around the coffee table. She pulls him through the front door, laughing and joking about buying him an Elvis suit if he doesn’t hurry. “I have an app on my phone. I ordered it when you were in the kitchen.” Grady sees sitting outside is an idle taxicab with a driver whose skin looks bronze. As Lara drags him down the stoop, the driver turns and gives a sly smile when he sees a beauty walking up

to him. He shows off the three gold teeth in his mouth. Lara literally shoves Grady into the taxi before climbing in after him. “Where do you want to go, miss?” “Times Square,” she says, handing the man a Benjamin. “And if you get there as quick as you can, I have another one waiting for you.” The driver’s eyes widen as he takes ahold of the crisp new bill. He raises it to the windshield, an old way of checking its authenticity. Finding it to be legit, he slams his foot on the pedal. Lara and Grady are tossed around in the back of the cab as the taxi swerves in between traffic. No seatbelts are available, so they must hold onto

each other to keep from slamming into everything. Grady blushes when he feels Lara’s fingers moving up his thigh with a specific purpose. She rubs her hand against his cock and it grows hard. He stares out the window, pretending not to notice, and thankful for the AC in the cab. She leans into him as the cab swerves around another car and her soft breasts rub against his bare arm. He turns to her with a hungry look in his eye. “Later,” she whispers coyly and moves just out of his reach. “Tease,” he mouths back and smiles despite himself. It’s a twenty-minute ride to

Times Square. The cab slams on its brakes as it pulls off of the road. Grady has to throw an arm in front of Lara and hold out his other hand to prevent the two of them from slamming into the front seats. Despite the wild ride, Lara gives the man the extra hundred she promised. The cabby thanks her with a goldtoothed smile before driving off somewhere else in the city. Taking him by the hand again, Lara leads him down the street. Grady allows her to so he can look up at the large billboards. The lights, the noises, the sights, the smells; all of them leave him in awe. Lara watches his head snap back and forth, trying to take as much in

as possible. “First time here?” she asks with a laugh. “Sorta. I just never really took the time to walk around and look at the scenery,” he says with a small grin. “It’s so different than what they show on TV.” They walk a bit and then all of a sudden, she’s dragging him into a store he’s not familiar with. Looking at the sign, he’s unsure if he can even pronounce it. The inside of the store makes him feel completely out of his element and severely underdressed. He tries to back out the door, but Lara prevents him. She pulls him over to an employee who happens to be looking at a suit jacket being worn by a mannequin. The man turns around. An air of

superiority flows over him. A long, beak-like nose stares down on the two of them and anyone else he may talk to. He wears one of the suits belonging to this store, with a bright pink vest. “Is there something that you want?” the employee asks, his beak thrust upwards. “I need a new suit,” Grady answers blatantly. He never did well with snobby people. “Do you have an appointment, sir?” Grady gives him a puzzled look. “No, I don’t. Can’t I just by one of the suits off the shelf?” Hearing these words makes the employee scoff. “Sir, this is not some

sort of shopping mall. These suits are custom fit. If you would be so kind, I’ll ask for you to vacate the premises.” He stares down at Grady’s clothes and then his eyes widen at Lara’s short shorts and tank top. Lara steps forward, getting between an annoyed Grady and the arrogant employee. She coyly slips a few hundred dollars into the man’s breast pocket. “I’m sorry. My husband didn’t know I made the reservations. It’ll be under Benjamin.” Seeing the generous tip changes the tone of the employee. He pretends to scroll through his phone. “Oh yes, I see that you do. Well, Mr. Franklin, if you would be so kind as to follow me. We

need to take a few measurements.” The employee takes Grady by the arm, dragging him to the back with Lara following close behind. She’s giggling. Grady can hear her and shakes his head. At the back of the store is a pedestal where another employee is standing. He turns, showing his face clean-shaven and rosy. His hair is styled flat and off to the side. The bangs are touched with purple. Seeing Grady, this new employee waltzes over, seemingly quivering with delight. “My, my, hello there goodlooking,” he says with a flirty smile. “My name is Mitchel, and I’ll be getting some numbers off you, honey.” “Yeah, I don’t think so,” Grady

objects. “Oh, are you playing hard to get,” Mitchel jokes. “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t bite. There is no need to be so shy.” “You’re fine, Grady,” Lara reassures him. Clearly outnumbered, Grady is forced up on the pedestal. The flamboyant Mitchel trots over and wraps the measuring tape around his waist. Grady tries his best to ignore the playful comments the man makes. He turns to Lara. “So, who exactly is your father? Should I be nervous?” “Well,” Lara’s voice trails off as she looks away. “He’s a university professor.”

Grady looks confused. “So why is it that—” All of a sudden, he feels Mitchel sliding his hand up the inside of his leg. “Hey, you’re way too close!” “Oops! My fingers slipped,” he giggles. “Don’t worry, honey, I got everything I need. I’ll be out shortly with your suit. You’ll be the toast of the ball.” Mitchel hops away like an eager bunny. A second later, he hops back and takes Grady with him, much to his objections. Grady just does as the bunny asks and puts on everything. Lara waits patiently in the other room until Grady emerges. He’s dressed in a suit made of fine silk. It feels like he is being wrapped in clouds. The shoes are

freshly polished, showing his reflection on the toe. A black vest and white tie makes him look every bit as debonair as the beaked man sitting by the door. Grady cannot help but smile when he sees himself stand before the mirror by the pedestal. A part of him feels like a secret agent. He playfully fixes his tie while keeping his brow cocked. “Well, honey, what do you think?” Mitchel asks sweetly. “Not bad, not bad at all,” Grady smiles. “Uh, darling, I meant her.” Lara laughs while Grady flushes. “He cleans up nicely.” “Splendid, let me get you a little gift box,” the man says as he gives

Grady a sly smile and a wink before he goes fluttering over to the cash register. Paying in cash, the two of them step out of the store with the suit tucked under Grady’s arm. The box is decorated in fine gold letters giving the company logo. Lara hails another taxicab. Thankfully, it is not the same man as before, so the drive is slower, but more relaxing. Lara lays her head on his shoulder all the way back to the townhouse. “I’ll head to my place and get ready.” Lara stays in the cab as Grady slides out and collects the box. A pang of guilt hits him. “We can go get you a dress.” It sounds lame and he knows it.

“I’ve got lots.” Lara blows him a kiss as the cab pulls away from the curb. “I promise I’ll pick you up at sunset,” she calls out the window.

Dusk arrives while Grady is pacing at the front door, dressed in his suit. Some beads of sweat have appeared across his forehead. He waits for Lara with a pounding heart. He slugs a beer back to help him relax. At quarter to eight, he hears a horn honking outside. Opening the door, he sees her poking her head out of a silver Mercedes Benz. He cannot see her dress. He does see her all dolled up, making his jaw drop. She looks even more

enchanting than the day they met. When he gets in the passenger side, she smiles and kisses him on the cheek. He flushes and she steps on the gas. She’s wearing a black dress with a shawl that hides the tattoo on her arm. He looks forward and grins. It totally feels like he’s James Bond and she’s his sidekick tonight. When the sun has almost set, the two of them pull up to the Plaza Hotel. Awaiting them is a valet that takes the keys off Lara, promising to take good care of their car. The two enter side by side, Lara reaching for his arm as they enter the hotel. The other guests gathered in the foyer are dressed similarly to them. Now that lights are upon them,

Grady can take a better look at her dress. It’s a dazzling black gown, obsidian in color. Stones cover the cloth, making her look like the night sky. The dress hugs at her hips and bodice, with only one strap wrapping around her right shoulder. She’s let the shawl fall around her elbows, her tattoo sexy against the color of her skin and darkness of the gown. Grady realizes she belongs in these clothes. This is her. She knows how to carry herself and smile politely and act high class. He can’t figure out why she would rather be with someone like Miles and live that kind of life. He stares at her, confused and mesmerized by her. People they pass seem to

recognize her, and compliment her on the success of her father. She merely nods, acknowledging them and their words. She glances up at Grady at one point. He sees her beautiful brown doe eyes, making his heart thrum in his chest. She smiles, her lips full and ruby red. All of a sudden, a portly woman approaches. Her voice is high and tight. “Dr. Lexington’s daughter! Lara, is it?” “Yup, that’s me,” she says, taking the hand of the lady. Guess you can take the girl out of the street, but you can’t take the street out of the girl. “I used to work with your father,” the older lady says with a glint of pride in her smile. “He’s a great man.” Her eyes coast up and down Lara,

obviously thinking different about Lara. “I’m glad the world can recognize his greatness.” “Thank you for your kind words.” Lara lets the woman walk away. Once she is out of earshot, Lara turns to Grady. “I never liked that bitch.” Yup, can’t take the street out of the girl. Grady smiles as he finds this side of her confusing and interesting at the same time. She’s just totally confused him, blown him away. She leads them inside the banquet hall. It is stuffed with hundreds of people, making it difficult to navigate. Lara manages to force their way up to the front where a table has a lone gentleman sitting with a neat glass of

golden liquid. A head of silvery hair is combed to perfection while his grey beard has been trimmed with precision. The man sets down his glass when he sees Lara approaching. He has a pair of steely eyes that stab into Grady, eyes full of suspicion. However, they seem to soften when Lara stands in the way. “Hi, Daddy.” “I’m so glad that you were able to come,” he says, clearly delighted. He stands up and hugs her, pulling her shawl up at the same time to cover her tattoo. He then looks to Grady and some of his happiness sours. “And I see you brought a friend.” Lara ignores his reaction and introduces them. “Grady, this is my

father, Dr. Charles Lexington. Daddy, this is my new boyfriend, Grady Miller.” “Miles’ gone?” “Yeah,” she says and giggles. “I kinda put him away.” Grady blinks in surprise. Did she just tell her dad she somehow sent her ex-boyfriend to jail? Did her father know Miles and he was okay with his daughter dating him? This was one crazy, fucked-up family. As if Dr. Lexington reads his thoughts, he says, “I never met the guy. Lara wouldn’t bring him around. However, here she barely tells me about you and now here you are.” Grady stares at the features of the doctor’s face. Something about his

eyes seems to trigger a memory. He shrugs it off, figuring they are similar to Lara’s. Except Dr. Lexington has steel grey-blue eye color and Lara’s are brown. Snapping out of his trance, he sees that Dr. Lexington has already extended his hand. Grady does the same, making sure to match grip strength. Neither averts their stare. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Lexington.” “The pleasure is all mine,” he says with a feigned smile. “Lara, if you would be so kind as to leave me with your new boyfriend. I would like to speak with him, man to man…” “Daddy,” she growls under her breath.

“No, it’s okay, Lara,” Grady reassures her with a smile. Whatever this guy wants, Grady wants to hear it. He takes the seat across the table from her father, who has already sat down. Lara puts a hand on his shoulder and leans down. “Whatever you do, don’t lie,” she whispers before disappearing back into the crowd. Both men stare at her retreating figure and then at one another for some time, neither saying a thing. They seem to be trying to read the other’s face. Grady decides he needs to make the first move. “I thought I had heard your name from somewhere before. Would you happen to be the same Dr.

Lexington who wrote, What Makes a Criminal?” This seems to take the old man by surprise. “Why, yes I am. Forgive me for being blunt, but I never expected one of my daughter’s boyfriends to have read any of my works. Truth be told, I never expected them to ever have read a thing in their lives.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Grady smirks. He motions to a waitress carrying a red bottle of wine and she fills a glass for him. He sips it, finding it bitter to the taste, but does not show it. “So you’re an educated man?” “I am. I was attending Drexel University last spring. I had hoped to be attending Harvard this fall for law.”

“Ah, a lawyer,” Charles says with a satisfactory nod. “Then what brings you to New York?” Grady fakes an expression of embarrassment. “It’s not exactly something to be proud of.” He pretends to hesitate over his explanation. “I ran into some financial trouble and had to postpone my continuing education. I have a cousin in New York who owns an auto-body shop. He gave me a job so I could save up enough money to pay tuition.” “I see, sorry to hear that.” The professor frowns as he thinks for a moment. “And you met my daughter.” “And I met your daughter,” Grady repeats and then realizes what the

man’s implying. “No, no, sir. I met your daughter through Miles. I didn’t meet your daughter because…” He lets his words trail off, realizing he’s only digging himself into a deeper hole. He takes another sip of wine, a longer one. Dr. Lexington taps his thumb against the top of his glass. “Since you’re going into law, let me ask you a question. Which is harder; being the prosecution or the defense?” Grady swallows, mulling the question over in his head. “I suppose it seems easier to convince twelve people that the man appearing in court is guilty rather than to change their mind.” Dr. Lexington’s eyebrows raise. “That’s true, but why?”

“Well…” Grady is actually enjoying the conversation with the doctor. “I suppose it’s due to the fact that criminals are often, and forgive my bluntness, stupid. They don’t cover their tracks all that well.” Personal experience proves that one for me. “I agree,” he nods in approval, “but what happens when you have an educated man delve into a life of crime?” Grady pauses, sensing something venomous hiding in those words. “Well, I suppose that an educated man would have a better chance of getting away with it, especially if they know the way law enforcement works. That’s why—I mean, probably why—it’s

harder to convict a white collar crime than a blue collar one.” He watches the doctor smile, his steel eyes unreadable. “I couldn’t agree with you more. Now back to you being here, you said you worked for your cousin and you know Miles?” “Yeah, I met him as well,” Grady sprinkles in the truth, trying to figure out where Lara’s father is taking this. “Oh, is that so?” He raises an eyebrow. “I met the man on my first day here in New York. I saw on the news today that he was arrested for possession of cocaine with the intent to sell. The guy seemed like scum, so I’m

glad that he is off the streets. And not dating your daughter anymore.” He adds the last part with a hint of disgust. “That we both can drink to.” The old man raises his glass in a toast. “However, I do find it quite odd that the police were able to find him. I tend to keep a catalogue on the scum in this city, and Miles was a first time offender. How do you think they were able to catch him?” Grady puts down his glass. “The man was carrying $200 million worth of cocaine, driving it in a pickup truck that was reported stolen earlier that day. Clearly the plan was not thought out. The man was just a two-bit drug dealer who tried to play in the big leagues of the

drug world. It’s obvious that a police officer spotted the stolen vehicle.” “Hmm, that might be true.” He averts his eyes from Grady, seeing Lara returning to them. “Lara! Your timing’s impeccable.” He swallows the rest of his glass and stands up. “Would the two of you please come with me?” “What about your award?” Lara asks. She’s holding a glass of champagne. “I’ll have them mail it to me.” He smiles. “I’ve never been fond of meaningless trinkets anyways.” Grady and Charles get up from their seats. Both men walk on either side of Lara as they make their way out of the banquet hall. Dr. Lexington is stopped by

some people who congratulate him. He acts polite and precise, shaking their hands before he departs from them. “What’s the award for?” Grady asks Lara as he touches her elbow. “He’s the Dean of Criminology at Cornell.” Lara shrugs. “He’s always winning some kind of award.” Grady grips her elbow suddenly and Lara tries to pull back in surprise.

Chapter 8 “What did you say?” Grady can’t let go of her arm. He’s clinging to her like she’s a lifeboat. Lara stares down at his hand and then back up at his face. “He’s always winning some kind of award.” “He-He’s at Cornell?” Grady lets go of her arm and shifts his weight from the front of his expensive shoes to the back. “He’s the dean?” It’s just a coincidence. Grady knows he’s fishing, but if there was the chance… a slight possibility, shouldn’t he jump on it? “How often is your dad in New York?”

Lara laughs. “He lives in the state.” “Sorry, I meant in the city.” He glances at the doctor, who’s still being congratulated by people and unable to get away. She looks at him weird. “He’s at Cornell. That’s in Ithaca. We’ve got a house just outside the city. Why?” Shaking his head, Grady smiles. “Nothing. I was just curious.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He realizes he’s jumped to a conclusion too fast. “What does your dad do?” Lara bursts out laughing. “He’s the dean. At Cornell. Of Criminology. Do you have a man-crush on my dad?” “Excuse me?” He straightens.

“You want to be a lawyer and my dad’s like the king pin.” She giggles. “You’re man crushin’ on him.” She leans forward, her lips brushing his ear and he likes the feeling of her warm breath teasing his neck and earlobe. “And sleeping with his daughter. Keeping it all in the family?” Grady straightens when he sees Dr. Lexington break free of the group and start walking toward them. “Your dad’s coming,” he whispers quickly. “Let’s go.” Dr. Lexington moves to the exit doors. Once outside, he grabs the valet and asks for his vehicle. Lara is about to do the same when he stops her. Pulling up is a vehicle large enough to fit all

three in the back seat. He climbs in the front while the two of them go into the back. He speeds off before they have the chance to buckle in. The drive is fast, yet drowned in silence. They drive away from the city, into the suburban area. In this area there are no streetlamps to light their way, only the high beams of the vehicle. It pulls up a hill as another light comes into view. Grady pokes his head out the window to see an enormous mansion sitting atop a hill. High walls surround the perimeter of the estate, with lights shining on the border to reveal any potential lurkers. Once they pull up to the entrance there is a thick iron gate blocking any intruders from entering the

grounds. Dr. Lexington pulls up beside the gate where a device sits next to the mailbox. He places his thumb on top of a panel. It flashes green. The gates open, allowing him to pass into the estate. Once he parks in front of the large garage, he steps out and escorts them inside the mansion. The interior of the large house is dimly lit, decorated in cool colors. White furniture fills the living room. Grady sees a large fish tank stretch across the far wall. It is filled with a colorful assortment of tropical fish. “Grady, have a seat.” He takes a chair and points to the couch. “Lara, why don’t you go fix us a drink?” It’s not a request.

“Sure, Dad.” There are bottles and glasses near the far wall but Lara leaves to the kitchen or wherever else there are more drinks. “You are a smart man, Grady,” the doctor says as he crosses a leg over his lap when Lara’s left. “Why are you with my daughter?” “Pardon?” Grady moves forward on his seat. “I know who my daughter is and what she does. Why the hell are you with her?” Grady doesn’t know what to say. He’s shocked by the comments. “I barely know your daughter—” “But you’re sleeping with her.” He opens his mouth but has no

comment to say back. What is he supposed to say? “I had a hunch. Now you just confirmed my suspicions,” the doctor says, his face unreadable, except his steel grey eyes are hard. “I’m watching you, Grady. There’s something about you I don’t like.” Lara walks in, saving Grady. “You don’t like him?” she snaps at her father. “You don’t know him.” “Neither do you.” Grady stands, unsure of what to do or say. “Why don’t I let you two talk. I’m—” “No, I’m going with you. I’ve nothing to say.” Lara slips her arm through Grady’s and purposely ignores

her father, who hasn’t gotten up from his chair. Without saying another word, she leads Grady out the front door of the large house. Her car is parked in the driveway right at the end of the walk. Someone must have driven it here for her. She climbs in the vehicle and as soon as Grady is clicked in, she pulls out of the driveway and drives away. She says nothing along the way home nor does she speak when she drops him off. Grady’s beyond confused. He should have known better than to go to this dinner tonight. It’s like it was some sort of test and he failed. For a fraction of a second he thought he had found the

man they were after. Instead, he found a controlling father and a daughter who would do anything to tick her father off. With Miles arrested, he’s got no in and no leads. “I’m sorry,” he tells Lara as he gets out of the car. “For what?” She stares at him from the driver’s seat. She obviously has no intention of getting out of the car tonight. “I’m not sure for what.” He scratches his head. A sarcastic scoff escapes Lara. “Listen, I’ve got some stuff to do tonight. You still interested in making money to pay your debts off?” He nods. “Good.” She revs the engine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Grady watches her drive away. He can hardly believe this was the same girl in Miles’ apartment a few nights ago. What if she’s the king pin? The one they’re trying to catch? He shakes his head. It’s impossible. The grainy photo the commissioner showed him was definitely a man. A smart one who knows how to use people like pawns to confuse them. He’s about to go into the house when he catches something out of the corner of his eye. Parked across the street is a black sedan that he never noticed before. As he looks, the vehicle drives off into the night, but he knows it’s going to be back. He walks into the

house and closes the door behind him.

Chapter 9 Around two AM, Grady goes back to the window to peek outside. Parked across the street is the same black sedan. It has been hours since it stopped there and no one stepped out since. No doubt someone is keeping tabs on him. The most likely culprit is Lara’s father. After a moment, he steps away from the glass and checks around his bedroom. Scouring the walls and under the bed, he finds nothing out of the ordinary. He checks every drawer and even the shower. Still there is nothing that would rouse suspicion. Once he has gone around the room, he returns to the

window and takes a peek through the curtains. The vehicle has yet to move even after the twentieth time he has checked. Pacing back and forth, Grady thinks to himself, I can go out with my badge or gun, my cover’ll be blown. This is some kind of test. Lara is in deeper than she’ll admit. Shit, she left the bag of money here and didn’t even consider picking it up. He hid it in a part of the wall that had a secret compartment. Pretty good idea if he said so himself. Lara was his ticket in. He knew that now. She was the one who would lead him to Dean. I have to get in contact with the commissioner. Should I

call him? No, they might have bugged my phone too. I can’t take that risk either. I haven’t found any cameras so I doubt they have total surveillance. There has to be some way I can slip out unnoticed. Walking back to the bed, he looks down to see that Lara had left her underwear by his bed. Remembering her and that night brings a smile to his face, allowing him to put the current troubles aside, if only for a second. Thinking of that day, he remembers their rooftop romp from the restaurant to his house. Wait! That’s it! Heading to the window, he opens it and looks out onto the fire escape. Nothing looks to be keeping tabs

on him from this side of the building. He climbs up to the rooftop the same way he and Lara had done that day. The metal structure makes some creaking noise as he climbs it, but nothing loud enough to be heard across the street. Once he reaches the ledge, he pulls himself up on the roof. Even in the depths of darkness, the sight is still breathtaking. The city that never sleeps provides him with all the light he needs to see to the next building. After some much needed stretching he takes a runner’s pose before bolting across his rooftop. When the sole of his foot hits the ledge, he vaults over to the next rooftop. Similar to that day, he leaps gracefully from roof to roof like a

gazelle across the savannah. He keeps running, never breaking stride as he hops three more buildings. When he lands on the fourth roof, he stops and looks to the streets. For half a heartbeat, he looks for the black sedan, fearing that it has followed him. While the street is filled with an assortment of cars, none appear to be the vehicle he dreads to see. Taking another deep breath, he runs to the next rooftop, and then the one after that. He keeps running until he lands on the roof of the restaurant. Climbing over the edge, he hops down to the fire escape. He makes his way down and at the bottom, just about ten feet above the pavement, he has to slide down the last ladder. The morning dew makes the bars

slick. Just as he is on the last wring, his foot slips out from underneath him and he bangs his head on the metal ladder before falling to the ground. It leaves his head pounding, but otherwise all right. Stumbling to his feet, he steps out of the alley. Once he gets to the road, he looks around and comes to a horrible conclusion. He has no idea how to get to the police station. A part of him is tempted to use his phone, but still fears it’s been bugged. So he must rely on another means to get there. As he contemplates his next move, he sees a taxicab slowly driving along the road. He hails the cab and it stops instantly. Climbing into the vehicle, he is greeted by the man from the day before. The

cabby gives a big, toothy grin. In his mind he is going to be paid handsomely again. “Get me to the police station,” Grady says. A plan is forming in his mind. He’s going to get Lara to get him to the king pin and save her at the same time. “Yes, sir, right away, sir,” the cabby says happily. The taxicab travels in the same manner as it did the day before. It speeds in between cars. A few of the other drivers honk their horns at this reckless driver, but the cabby only laughs it off. He seems to find the notion of death amusing as they are almost run off the road by a truck. Grady is tossed around

the back of the cab all the way to the police station. The cab finally screeches to a halt outside the New York Police Department. Grady hops out of the taxi before the cabby is able to give him a charge. Running up the steps to the precinct, he can hear the driver screaming at him from his car, “Hey you cheapskate, you owe me money!” Grady turns around. “I gave you two hundred dollars yesterday, use that.” The man scoffs and drives off. Ignoring the cabby, Grady turns back up the steps. He enters the police station and runs past the front desk. The man stationed there shouts something, but Grady ignores him. He pushes through

the door and enters the precinct. Seeing someone dressed like a civilian burst into their department puts the officers on edge. One even reaches for his gun, but does not draw it. Grady stops to take a few deep breaths. The exhaustion of running a few miles has finally caught up to him. After steadying his breathing, he looks around the department. “I need to speak with Commissioner Baxton immediately,” he says. “This is urgent, it can’t wait.” One of the officers walks a bit closer. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what you want with the commissioner and we will get in touch with him when he is available.” “I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose

the information,” he answers. “This information is for his ears only.” A few of the policemen look at one another skeptically. The officer speaks again, “Okay there, buddy, how about we go wait outside and we’ll wait for him together.” Grady hears a few of the boys in blue laugh at him. They think he’s crazy, he knows it. The officer takes him by the arm. He instinctively wrenches free, which angers the police officer. Tension is nearly at a breaking point when he hears someone say, “Let him go!” Looking over his shoulder, Grady is surprised to see Dan and Casey walking into the precinct. The rookie cop smiles. He is still sporting the black

eye that Grady had given him on his first night in the big city. Dan steps up to the other officer and pushes the guy out of the way. The other men in the precinct look to one another with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. They murmur among themselves. “We know the guy, he is on the up and up,” Dan says. “If he says he needs to see the commissioner, he has a good reason for it.” The other officer steps away. “Okay, sorry about that. The commissioner is in his office.” Grady turns to Dan. “Thanks, I owe you one.” “You owe me two,” the older cop says. “My head is still pounding

from the other day.” He nods and then turns to the rookie and his shiner, “Hey, I am sorry about that. I just sort of…reacted.” “It’s okay,” Casey manages to smile, “I see that you were able to fix your nose.” “Yeah,” he looks to both men, “when this is all over, I will make sure to make it up to you.” The senior officer leads him through the precinct. Some of the officers still look at him oddly. In most cases, someone who looks like him, with the tattoos covering his arms, would have a pair of handcuffs slapped around his wrists walking through these halls. Dan waits outside the office as he lets

Grady walk inside. When he goes through the door, Baxton rises from his seat, hanging up on whoever he was talking to on the phone. He looks perplexed to see the undercover cop. “Grady, what’re you doing here?” he asks, taking a glance at his watch. “I think I’ve found a way in, sir,” Grady says. “I’m still going to be able to find Dean; the real Dean.” “The man we arrested before was thought to be Dean too,” the commissioner says skeptically. “The guy yesterday never said he was Dean. Miles said he was, so I thought he was. The guy came close to the description too. He looked like what

bit of information you have. I swear the real Dean behind all this is playing with us… like he knows what we’re going to do. Except I don’t think he knows we have a mole in his crew.” “Maybe he does know.” “How? It’s been barely a week. No one has called cop on me.” He thinks about Lara. If anyone would have called him on it, she would have. “I don’t know…” Frustrated, Grady slams his hand down on the desk, startling the commissioner. “Leave me undercover.” Baxton stares at him for a long time. Finally he sighs. He knows he has no other option. “You’re sure about this?”

“I am.” Grady crosses his arms over his chest. “Except I have one condition.” “Here it comes.” Baxton shakes his head. Grady grits his teeth. “Hear me out.” “You can’t be serious. You’re the one trying to convince me to keep you in and now you want to give me an ultimatum?” Grady’s treading on thin ice here. “I’m putting my life on the line for your case. All I want is the girl, Lara, to walk. She’s not in this by choice.” He’s not so sure, but he’s following his gut. “I can’t do that.” “Then send me home.” Grady

shrugs. He’s not going anywhere. “But you know I’m the only one who stands a chance at finding this guy.” “I’ll have your badge,” Baxton threatens, “if you’re playing me.” “Go ahead and try.” Grady meets the threat. “Just remember, when all this is done, I was able to get you closer to Dean in four days than your entire precinct has in four years.” The commissioner glares at Grady, but finally submits, “All right fine, Grady, you get your way.” “I’ll get you what you need. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll contact you when I can.” Grady does not say another word as he exits the office, slamming the door behind him.

Head down, he heads out of the precinct. Once outside, the undercover officer is forced to back track the path the taxicab took. While the walk is a lot slower, he’s able to enjoy it without hearing honking horns or the thrill of near-death. By the time he makes it back to the restaurant, the sun has already poked out over the horizon and is steadily climbing. He makes his way up the fire escape, making sure not to slip this time. The heat almost rains down upon him. Almost instantaneously, he feels his flesh starting to sizzle as if he were standing on a skillet. Since he does not wish to cook, Grady races across the rooftops again, running as fast as he can.

This time feels the easiest, almost like he has done this all of his life. He makes it back in record time. Slipping back into his townhouse, he has the sun high in the sky, searing his back. Outside, the city has fully woken up, drowning the metal clanging of the fire escape outside. Inside his bedroom, he sneaks over to the window and peeks out through the curtain. Still sitting there is the black sedan, none the wiser to his little visit. He walks over to the mirror and stares at himself. It’s only been four, or nearly five days since he was in Pittsburg, but it feels like longer. He looks down at his tattoos and wonders if it’s time to add another. The doorbell rings, distracting him from his thoughts.

He grabs a buttoned shirt and puts it on. Buttoning it up, save for the top two buttons, he walks downstairs. He goes for the door, but hesitates. Fearing that it is whoever was in the black sedan, Grady checks through the peephole. To his surprise, he sees Lara standing there. The black sedan is gone. When he unlocks the door, she barges in and stomps into the living room. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she shouts at him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Me?” He looks at her, confused. “Yes, you,” she hollers. “What did I do?” “What’s with you trying to be all

heroic?” She shakes her head. Grady tries to figure out where she’s coming from. Did she follow him to the precinct?

Chapter 10 “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about?” “My father invites you into his home and you think you’re the one to save me from myself?” She glares at him, clearly pissed. Grady’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead. “I’m… I…” He sighs. “I have no fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about.” He drops his shoulders and raises his hands. She stomps up to him. “If my father threatens you, be careful. He’s not a nice man. People think he’s this great guy and they have no clue. Don’t think

he’s your key to freedom. He’s not going to help you, Grady.” “I’m not asking him for help.” He straightens. “I put myself into this mess, I’ll get out on my own, thank you very much.” He realizes she thinks her father was mad last night because Grady was asking him for money or help. “I don’t want anything from your dad.” “Not even me?” “Your father doesn’t own you.” Her head jerks at his comment. She smiles, the hardness in her eyes dimming a bit. “You’re right. He doesn’t. Neither do you.” “I never said I did.” Women are crazy. Now he remembers why he’s stayed single for so long. Lara isn’t used

to kindness. She’s used to fast living, money, everything and everyone being dispensable. He needs to try and talk to her the way he’s used to. “Look, I’m not from here. This place isn’t mine. I’ve got nothing. Everything I have is either borrowed, or someone bought it for me. I want something of my own, but it’s not you. I’m not interested in owning anyone. I want my life. I want you to have your life. If we happen to fuck and are very good at it, I’m not going to complain.” He crosses his arms over his chest and tries to look tough, except the corners of his lips arch upwards. Lara catches his smile. “You like fucking me?” The way she says it, he can feel

himself growing hard. He nods once. “And you like me fucking you.” She laughs suddenly and moves against him, her hips pressing firmly against him. “We haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of that statement.” She runs a hand down his chest and kisses his neck. Grady reacts instantly. His hands slide over her breasts and then down her sides and around to her ass. He pulls her tighter against him and growls when she bites his neck. She leans back, her hips rotating and he can feel the heat of her cunt against his erection. “I hate to do this to you…” She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. “But we’ve got an

appointment.” His hands haven’t moved off her ass. If he reached down he could have her skirt up and his pants down in less than ten seconds. “I think we’ve got time.” She laughs and pushes gently on his chest. “We don’t.” He groans and drops his head between her breasts, inhaling her musky floral scent. His tongue darts out on the soft mounds of flesh peering from her shirt. “You sure?” Lara pushes harder against him and he releases her. “We don’t, but if you do this right, we will after.” She winks at him and heads for the door. “Oh, don’t forget the money from

yesterday.” He has no choice but to follow her, like a puppy dog. Keeping Lara close, Grady walks outside after grabbing the bag of money from yesterday. He locks the door and notices a black limousine parked along the curb. Grady stares in disbelief. Yeah, that’s not going to stand out. He follows Lara into the limo and sits across from her. He stares at her, but she keeps her line of sight straight ahead. It never wavers, even as the vehicle lurches forward, pulling onto the main road. On the other side of the aisle, Grady spreads his arm over the back of the seat and crosses his leg over the other. Looking around the limo,

Grady cannot help but ask Lara, “Don’t you think a limousine is going to make us stand out too much?” “On the contrary,” Lara chuckles and finally turns to him, “it’s the imaginations of Hollywood that have the ‘bad guys’ actually using limousines. In the real world, it’s a much different story. The police will be clueless that this vehicle is transporting a shitload of drugs. We’ll be right under their noses. Since it is a Saturday, any onlookers will think that the passengers inside are just a happy bride and groom on their way to some sort of cathedral. We’ll reach our destination without a second thought.” Grady can’t argue. Despite the

romanticizing movies about organized crime, most of these drug lords do not drive around in high-end cars or dine with the high class of society. Most try to stay modest to avoid being caught. “Where did you learn all this?” Lara laughs. “It’s not that hard to figure out.” “I never thought of it.” She looks at him, surprised. “Why would you?” Good point. He had been speaking as a cop, as if she knew he was one. “So where are we going?” He needs to change the subject and not have her realize his mistake. “Big ass drug lord.” She winks. Dean? He’s dying to ask her but

knows he can’t. “Really?” “Seriously. He’s interested in working with me and I need someone I can trust. Someone with a brain. Back with Miles, I once considered Tony, but he’s a dumbass with no aspiration to move higher up the food chain.” Poor Tony. He smelled worse than a cop. Grady grins. “I’m in.” “Okay. Now listen closely. This guy is big. Huge. No bullshit. He’ll pull a gun and pop you in the head if he even thinks he doesn’t like you.” It has to be Dean. If he plays this right, he could freakin’ have the case solved in five days! What would Baxton think of that? “Don’t look him in the eye, got it.”

“There are going to be a lot of men there. Don’t get nervous. Carlos has had each of his men get a specific tattoo somewhere on their bodies. While the tattoos may be different in one way or another, they all surround the same theme of something from a deck of cards. A queen, a heart, an ace. Just look for them. Keep an eye on them if you see them. They’re all packing.” She turns to stare out the window. Grady joins her staring out the window. He reads each street sign that they pass, committing each name to memory. The car suddenly rises as it crosses over a bridge. Out in the distance, he sees the minute image of a cruise ship sailing off into the sea.

Grady thinks back to what little geographical knowledge he has on New York. From that he deduces that they are heading toward Staten Island. Just as they cross over the bridge onto the island, the limousine makes a sharp right turn. The limo pulls to a stop outside a large warehouse along the pier. The structure is a composition of weathered wood and steel supports. It looks to have been abandoned, judging by the barnacles crawling up along the one side by the water. When the two of them exit the vehicle, Grady catches a strong smell of salt in the air. Along with that comes a pungent odor, something like rotting fish.

He watches Lara get out of the car and wrinkle her nose, catching the same smell. “Let’s hurry,” Lara says calmly. “This man is not a patient one. He’s most likely already inside waiting for us.” They quickly walk across the wooden planks leading up to the warehouse. At the entrance is a pair of metal doors. Too heavy for Lara to pull, so Grady puts some muscle into it and it finally opens with a rusted screech. Lara enters ahead of him, even though Grady prefers to go ahead of her. He wishes he’d grabbed his gun when they left before. All he has is a stupid bag of money slung over his shoulder. He follows her in, but purposely leaves the

door open. The open space lets enough sunlight pour in so that they can see much clearer. Only a few light bulbs hang from the ceiling to illuminate the entire warehouse. Most of the insides are left to darkness, but most of it is empty. The light provides just enough brightness to show where the other drug lord is, along with a dozen of his henchmen. The fellow drug lord is a middle-aged man, probably ten years older than Grady. He wears a white suit that looks to have been woven from spider silk. A thick head of black hair and bronze flesh has him blend with the shadows that consume the walls of the

warehouse. On his upper lip is a wispy mustache that curls upwards at the tips, like a pair of devil horns. As they get closer, Grady cannot help but notice the slight quiver in the man’s upper lip. He can also see quite clearly the remnants of a certain white powder under his nose and staining his mustache. No doubt he is a man who likes the product he sells. It is something rare in successful drug dealers. “Ah, you must be the famous Lara I’ve heard so much about,” the drug lord says, his voice heavy with a Spanish accent. “Hello Carlos,” Lara says, her voice even. “Grady, this is Carlo Juarez. Carlos, this is Grady, my partner.”

Grady steps up to the fellow drug lord, holding his hand out. The men behind Juarez step forward to stop him from getting any closer, but their boss pushes them out of the way. Carlos joins Grady and gives him a strong hug. Grady tenses, but does not resist. “Lara, I did not expect to see you again,” he says with a twitch of his lip. “You know one another?” Grady asks, stepping in the middle of the two of them. “Yes, you can say I know her quite well,” Carlos says with a sickening smile. “Tell me, how is it that a man such as yourself came across such

a lovely creature?” “She found me.” The drug lord winces when he hears that. “I can’t blame her.” He turns to Lara. “Come, walk with me.” Carlos pulls Lara in close. “You, boy, stay here.” The two of them walk away and talk, well, in actuality Lara talks while her counterpart is lecherously looking at her. Grady has to resist running up and punching Juarez, knowing it’ll just get him killed. Casually walking up to the dozen henchmen, he notices that most of them have been lulled, bored with listening to the drug lord prattle on. As he gets closer, he looks them over. The overall majority of these henchmen are large and heavily muscled.

Each of them blatantly carries some sort of illegal firearm, mostly for intimidation. Grady is not so easily intimidated, as he innocently walks up to one of the nearest men in the group. Taking a glance at the man, he tries to start up a conversation. “I hear the Rangers are kicking ass this season.” He smiles. The man does not share in the smiling. In fact, every one of the dozen henchmen glares spears into him, but he does not shy away from their menacing stares. He looks over to another one to see a scorpion rise into the air as the man offers his hand to shake. Taking the hand, his is swallowed up by the flesh of the other man. The larger guy

purposefully attempts to crush the bones in his hand. Grady matches his strength. In the end it is the other man that pulls away, holding onto his sore hand. Without saying a word, he turns abruptly and walks back toward Lara. When he is halfway between the henchmen and the drug lord with Lara, he sees someone standing in the entrance to the warehouse. It is a lone man, drenched in shadows so all they can see is his silhouette. He steps inside with authority, leaving the darkness behind him. Grady’s horrified to see a police officer approaching them. No…no, no, no, he wants to scream. Not yet. Get out of here you

idiot, you are gonna get us all killed!” “What’s the meaning of this?” Lara shouts, stepping away from Carlos. “This is the surprise I mentioned to you before, my dear.” Carlos smiles, putting his arm on Lara’s shoulder. “It’s a bit of insurance. This man actually works for me. He’ll make sure that you and I never get caught.” The police officer steps under the lightbulbs swinging from chains in the ceiling. His uniform is prim and pressed, colored a navy blue of a brother of the NYPD. Pinned to his chest is the golden shield of his rank, sparkling with fresh polish. Holding onto the butt of the gun at his hip, this policeman struts around with a smug

smile, as if he were the real boss around here. The weasel-faced man struts up to Carlos and Lara, while Grady is horrified. The drug lord kindly gives the introductions, “This is Officer Rick Werner. Rick, this is our guest, the precious Lara.” “Pleasure to meet you, Lara.” Rick extends a hand. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m an easy guy to work with. Give me my cut and all will be right as rain.” Lara frowns at the sleazy cop, but shakes his hand nonetheless. Meanwhile, Grady is gritting his teeth. Of all the policemen in this city to be dirty, it had to be him. Of all the new

places that joking idiot could get a new job, it had to be here. Fate is cruel. Grady tries to slink into the shadows before he’s caught. Unfortunately, Rick happens to see him moving. Their eyes meet. Grady shakes his head, but a smug smile comes across the dirty cops’ weasel lips. “I don’t fucking believe it!” he swears, reaching for the gun on his belt. “Wait a moment, what’re you doing?” Lara demands. She grabs Rick’s wrist before he can get to his weapon. “You fucking screwed yourself, bitch!” he sneers. “That guy is a cop!” “What?” Lara looks to Grady, her eyes big and unbelieving.

“Grab the bastard!” Rick shouts. Grady tries to run away, but one of the men closest to him grabs him by the arms, pinning them behind his back. “No,” Juarez screams. He clutches his head as if in agony. “I make a deal with you and you mess my entire operation up with this shit? Lara, you’re a dead bitch! Boys, kill that cop and then do what you want with the slut, and then kill her.” Lara reacts instantly. “No, kill this idiot, the cop, and the traitor. Leave none of them alive!” Grady realizes the men with tattoos that had something related to a deck of cards are actually Lara’s men. She had only said they were Carlos’ to

fool him. In the confusion, the henchmen draw their guns and start firing wildly around the warehouse. Gunshots echo in the empty warehouse, only to be drowned out by Lara screaming.

Chapter 11 Bullet casings scatter upon the ground, along with the dead. The gunfire has ceased, because no one is left to shoot. The henchmen have all but killed one another in the shootout. Only one is left alive, but the torrent of blood seeping from the wound to his neck will ensure he joins the others soon enough. Grady dives behind a skid piled high with drywall, fortunate enough to avoid the barrage of bullets, coming out of it without harm to him. Lara is on her knees, her face a ghastly shade and is only getting whiter. There’s blood running down her arm.

Grady can’t tell if it’s a bullet, a graze or a through and through. He doesn’t have time to look closer because a threat looms nearby. A standing lone gunman turns his weapon at Lara’s head. “Sorry, bitch,” Rick sneers. “Can’t have any witnesses.” “Don’t do it!” Grady shouts as he gets to his feet. “Or what?” Rick keeps his eyes on Lara, the gun close to her head. “Are you going to stop me, super cop?” “You can get out of here, we won’t say a thing. It’s your last chance making it out with your life intact.” “Oh yeah, like I’m going to believe you,” Rick shouts, looking at Grady now. “You ratted me out over a

fucking prank. Like hell you’ll ignore the fact that I’m involved in this shit. No, I’ll kill you right after I’m done killing this bitch.” He looks back down, but Lara is no longer on all fours. She’s rising to her feet, a knee coming up quickly, landing between Rick’s legs. The hit drops Rick like a sack full of bricks. He falls to the floor, holding himself while his gun scatters. As he squeals in pain, Lara picks up the weapon and claims it for her own. The weasel cop looks up as the tables are turned. She stands over him, a fury blazes in her eyes. He tries to plead for his life, but a bullet into his temple stops him short.

Grady jumps, shocked by her actions. He sees the shot in her arm is only a graze. A couple of stitches and she’ll be fine. He starts toward her. “Lara.” She looks at him, tears running down her cheeks. As he steps over the dead drug lord, Juarez, she turns the gun on him. It stops Grady dead in his tracks. “Lara,” he says, “what’re you doing?” “This is your fault,” she says through gritted teeth. “You did this.” Grady backs away slightly. “Lara, I understand you’re upset. But, I can get you out of this.” He shakes his

head. “This life is going to kill you.” “This life, this life, this life,” she mocks, waving the gun in his direction. “You keep saying that this life is horrible, that there’s something better. But you know what, Grady? I like this life.” “Lara, you’re not thinking clearly,” he tries to plead with her. “Put down the gun, and come with me.” “Are you really one of New York’s finest?” Her head tilts to the side, uncertainty in her eyes. “No!” “Baby, don’t lie to me.” “I’m not.” Grady lets out a breath as Lara lowers the gun. “Fuck, girl. You scared the shit out of me.”

Lara raises the gun again and squeezes the trigger. The warehouse makes the sound of the gunshot echo. Grady is falling, a sharp pain running from his shoulder down his right arm. Another bang tears into his side. He hits the ground, blood seeping from the two bullet holes. He can barely focus, let alone stay conscious. “Sorry, Grady,” Lara says as she walks over to him. “This is the only way to find out if you really are a cop.” He sees her walk away just before everything goes black.

THE END Book Two Coming Dec/January

Free Excerpt of THE BOSS by Lexy Timms

The BoSS Book 1 Managing the Bosses Series

By Lexy Timms Copyright 2015 by Lexy Timms

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

All rights reserved. Copyright 2015 by Lexy Timms

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Description: From Best Selling Author, Lexy Timms, comes a billionaire romance that'll make you swoon and fall in love all over again. Jamie Connors has given up on men. Despite being smart, pretty, and just slightly overweight, she's a magnet for the kind of guys that don't stay around. Her sister's wedding is at the foreground of the family's attention. Jamie would be find with it if her sister wasn't pressuring her to lose weight so she'll fit in the maid of honor dress, her mother

would get off her case and her exboyfriend wasn't about to become her brother-in-law. Determined to step out on her own, she accepts a PA position from billionaire Alex Reid. The job includes an apartment on his property and gets her out of living in her parent's basement.

Jamie has to balance her life and somehow figure out how to manage her billionaire boss, without falling in love with him. ** The Boss is book 1 in the Managing the Bosses series. All your questions

won't be answered in the first book. It may end on a cliff hanger. For mature audiences only. There are adult situations, but this is a love story, NOT erotica.

Chapter 1 One more hour and then you can leave. Just one more stupid hour. Jamie resisted the urge to look at her phone for the fifth time in twenty minutes. She didn’t know what she was expecting to see on it. It wasn’t like time would move any faster. She turned her attention back to her sister’s engagement party, which she supposedly should be enjoying – in theory. However, it felt next to impossible with her fucking ex sitting right across from her with his arm around her sister. Stephen caught Jamie staring and flashed a fake grin at her. Jamie

looked away, down at the ice water she had opted for instead of the beer she really wanted. She might as well try to make an effort to show the family she wanted to lose weight. “Have you chosen the venue yet, Christine?” Jamie’s mother asked. Her bony elbow jabbed Jamie in the side as she reached for her water glass. Jamie made an effort to straighten from her slouched position, only to slide her shoulders forward a moment later. “Not yet.” Christine smiled at her fiancé. “We were thinking about that cute little church a few blocks away from Stephen’s apartment.” My apartment! At least it had

been until Stephen refused to move out. With her savings dwindling, it had just ended up being easier letting him have it and tell the landlord to start charging him rent instead of her. She had not argued when the landlord also insisted Jamie keep her name on the lease when he added Stephen’s. She kept quiet even when it meant she had to move into her parent’s basement. Temporarily at least… I hope. “Oh, that church’s so cute! You should definitely check it out. It is Methodist, right?” Her mother’s tone grated Jamie’s nerves. She knew her mother didn’t mean anything about the cuteness of the church, she only wanted confirmation of her question. That was

exactly how her mother always worked. “Of course,” Stephen said. “We wouldn’t consider any church that wasn’t Methodist.” Her father grunted and checked his watch. He was the only one in the family who seemed to remember the fact that Stephen hadn’t bothered oozing charm when he had met them as Jamie’s boyfriend. Or, more likely, he simply didn’t think anyone was worthy of his precious little angel, Christine. Jamie couldn’t tell. She was never able to get her father’s attention long enough to ask him. Just then their food arrived and Jamie’s mouth watered from the smell. She couldn’t take her eyes off the

oversized burgers and chicken tenders with French fries served at the pub. The waiter balanced huge plates of delicious junk food on the tray. He smiled at everyone as he set the burger and fried chicken down in front of Christine and Stephen, the chicken alfredo and crab cakes in front of her parents and then flashed her an almost sympathetic smile before putting a small, bland looking salad in front of Jamie, who vaguely realized it was only a side portion size. “I took the liberty of ordering for you since you were late in coming,” Christine said over her heaping plate of fried food. “I know how much you want to lose weight, Jamie. After all, the maid of honor dress is very form fitting.” She

glanced over at Stephen. “There’s no way I’m going to even make a dent into this pile.” Jamie bit back her anger and forced a small smile at her little sister. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” For a rabbit. She reached for the croutons as Christine nodded and took a bite out of a large fry. “Darling, are you sure you want the croutons?” Her mother reached over and slid them out of her grasp. “Your sister went to the trouble of ordering a very healthy meal for you and you’re about to undo all the benefits.” “I don’t think croutons will keep me at a size twelve.” Jamie tried to keep her face unreadable. The Chinese food I’m ordering when I’m out of here

might, though. She poured the entire packet of croutons onto the salad, ignoring the glance Stephen and Christine exchanged. That’s right. Plan your backup maid of honor all you want. I’m eating the fucking croutons! She wasn’t large, she knew it, but her family made her feel like she was massive compared to her size two sister. Her dear sister had probably said no dressing or hardly any. She took a bite and really wished the salad came automatically with dressing on the side. And maybe garlic bread. Cheesy garlic bread. “What about your honeymoon?” her mother asked Christine. “Have you picked a location?”

“Not yet.” Christine beamed as she turned to gaze at the man beside her. “Stephen said he wanted to surprise me. All I ask is that it’s somewhere warm.” She dabbed a tiny ketchup spot from his lip. “Jamie said she would come with me bathing suit shopping, didn’t you, Jamie?” Jamie nodded, unable to respond while chewing the near tasteless iceberg lettuce. “I do wish you took smaller bites.” Her mother shook her head. “You’ll feel full a lot faster if you do. Maybe then you wouldn’t need all those croutons you used.” Get off my bloody case, Ma! I’m not sixteen years old anymore. “Of

course, Mom.” Jamie smiled and took a sip of water. Damn, why didn’t I order a beer? Or a six-pack? “Anyway, I was hoping for somewhere in the Mediterranean or the Caribbean.” Christine sighed dramatically. “Just a quiet, intimate little resort in paradise.” She turned to Stephen and kissed him on the cheek. “Won’t that be fun, honey?” “It’d be heaven.” He rubbed his nose against hers. Jamie felt like throwing up the lousy salad in her stomach. She stood. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She didn’t wait for her mother’s disapproving glance or some off-thewall comment from one of them. She

turned and walked toward the bathroom, her eyes cast on the floor just in front of her. She glanced up to make sure she went into the correct gendered washroom. As soon as she shut the stall door, she sighed. “Forty-five minutes, girl,” she muttered. “Then you can leave.” But the entrance is so close! All she had to do was slip out and never see any of them ever again… until after the damn wedding. If only she didn’t live in her parents’ basement. If only she had enough saved up to skip town. If only… Then she truly could disappear. She forced herself to calm down, knowing she wouldn’t go anywhere. She had the smarts, the

common sense, the hard work ethic and even a friendly demeanor when her family wasn’t around. She just lacked the belief she could do it. Enough! She went to the bathroom mirror to touch up her makeup. It was bad enough Stephen had left her for her younger, hotter sister, she didn’t need to look like the rejected one. It hadn’t been meant to be. She and Stephen would never have lasted. She knew that, but it didn’t lessen the hurt and humiliation. To procrastinate more, she practiced her smile in the mirror, trying to make it look more sincere and confident. “That’s right, Stephen, son of Ass Hole,” she told her reflection and

giggled. “I don’t need you. You can just kiss my derriere, you shallow son of a bitch.” She froze when she heard Stephen’s voice clearly through the door. The bathroom wasn’t even close to being soundproof. “Alex! How the hell are you doing?” Oh, shit! “It’s good to see you, Stephen.” There was the slapping sound that always followed when guys hugged. “How’s the life of the newly engaged?” “Nearly fantastic! How’s the life of the eternal bachelor?” “Even better.” “I’m sure it is.” Stephen

laughed, which only caused Jamie to roll her eyes inside the bathroom. “You’re looking a little gray around the edges. Has work gotten to you yet?” There was a sigh and Jamie imagined a tall, dark and handsome dude running his fingers through his hair. The stranger would be gorgeous, of course. Stephen only hung out with insanely, beautiful people. Obviously a workaholic. Probably early thirties. “I keep telling you to hire a personal assistant,” Stephen said. “One of these days you’re going to find yourself swimming way above your head in shark-infested waters.” “I know.” Alex sighed again. “Actually, I’m looking for one. Do you

know any?” He chuckled. “Really?” Stephen laughed. “Actually, I know the perfect girl for you. She’s got secretary experience.” His laugh turned into a snicker. “And she’s looking for a job.” Jamie rolled her eyes. She could just imagine the kind of secretary Stephen wanted to suggest. Barbie. Or some perfect ten, size-four model. “Hold on, Stephen.” Alex chuckled, a delicious sound escaping his lips, which left Jamie dying to know what he actually looked like. “I’m sure you have the best intentions, but I don’t need distractions in the workplace. You might be all right with that, but I’ve got a lot more riding on my company.” Alex

must have given Stephen a playful punch to the shoulder or something. “You’ll like this one,” Stephen persisted. “If she’s as pretty as your fiancé, then it would never work. I need someone efficient that can get the job done. Not a beautiful distraction.” Stephen hooted. “As beautiful as Christine? That’s funny. No, she’s hardly attractive. Actually, she’s Christine’s slightly older sister, Jamie.” Jamie flushed. Stephen wasn’t saying she was ‘hardly beautiful’ when he was begging her to have sex with him. “I bet she’s gorgeous.” Alex paused, probably shaking his head or arching his neck to see where Christine

was sitting in an attempt to get a glimpse of the ‘older sister’. “Is she here with you guys?” “Yeah,” Stephen said. “But she’s in the bathroom right now. Are you serious about not wanting someone hot?” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. Jamie imagined he shrugged when Alex nodded. “Hey! Why don’t you join us for dinner? When she comes out, I’ll introduce you.” Jamie’s mouth went instantly dry. The last thing Jamie needed was Stephen’s gorgeous friend looking at her all through dinner to judge if she was ugly enough not to be a distraction for him. She glared at herself in the mirror before smoothing her clothes. Taking a

deep breath, she sucked in her belly and tried to appear calm as she opened the door from the bathroom, surprising both Stephen and Alex. She smiled coolly at her ex. “SStephen!” She nearly stuttered when she noticed the man beside her soon-to-be brother-in-law. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been a loud stomping sound from her jaw hitting the floor. The most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on stood in front of her. His eyes were a smoky blue that made her feel hot all over. They seemed to glow against his tan, which looked too good to be fake. Despite Stephen’s comment about him getting gray around the edges, there wasn’t a hint of it in his

dark brown hair or goatee. And he’s judging other people about being distractions in the workplace? “Jamie, we were just talking about you.” Stephen hesitated. “I know,” Jamie said, cutting him off. “The bathroom walls here are lousy. I could hear everything.” Stephen had the decency to look embarrassed before quickly recovering and making his face unreadable. “Good! Then you know what Alex is looking for.” He gestured to mister tall, dark and handsome. “This is a friend of mine, Alex Reid. Alex, this is Jamie, Christine’s sister. Alex is looking for a personal assistant. I was just telling him how perfect you are because of your

secretary experience.” “Among other things.” Jamie wished she could call him out on what he’d said. Except she needed this job. It meant she could move out in a month or two. She turned to Alex and smiled at him, sticking her hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you.” She hoped her hand wasn’t sweaty. “I’d be happy to submit my resume. I’m sure Stephen can give me your contact information.” His hand pressed against hers, sending a jolt of something new running through her veins. Probably the taste of freedom. “If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to my sister’s engagement party.” Before Alex could even say a word, Jamie spun on her heel and headed to their table,

blinking back tears, and feeling this had to be the top on her list of most humiliating nights of her life – ever.

Chapter 2 “I can’t believe you just did that,” Alex hissed. Jamie could still hear him as she walked away. “I’m not sure who’s more embarrassed; me, or the girl.” “How was I supposed to know she could hear me?” Stephen cleared his throat. “Besides, it shouldn’t come as any surprise to her. She already knows she needs to lose weight.” “Stephen,” Alex warned. “Your lack of subtlety and shame is downright vulgar. Besides, the girl’s not even ugly. She has pretty light blue eyes, and a nice

smile.” He paused and Jamie thought she’d stepped out of earshot until she heard him say, “When did you become such an asshole, Stephen?” Stephen clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’ve always been an asshole, Alex. You’re just too busy to see it.” “Apparently.” Jamie pretended to drop something so she could hear the rest of their conversation. “Anyway,” Stephen said. “Come join us for dinner? Christine’s parents are paying.” “I’m just on my way out,” Alex replied. “Have a nice night. Make sure Jamie gets my contact information.”

Jamie looked up when he said her name. “Will do,” Stephen called as Alex turned and walked out of the pub. He grabbed Jamie’s elbow a few tables before theirs, out of earshot. “I went out on a limb for you.” “Pardon?” Jamie pulled her elbow free but didn’t move. Stephen shrugged and quickly glanced toward their table before looking back at her. “You introduced me to Christine, now I’m returning the favor.” “I don’t need your favors.” She shivered, hating his touch. “You do right now. Alex rarely considers anyone his friend. He hardly

sees anyone anymore, probably because he doesn’t trust anyone. He can’t slow down if he wants to stay ahead of the game. The world of Wall Street waits for no one. Not even for multibillionaires.” Alex, a multi-billionaire? Jamie blinked. What might she be getting herself into? She headed to the table and collected her purse. “Where do you think you are going?” Christine stood. “We have things we need to discuss. You’re my maid of honor.” “You’ll be fine without me.” Jamie sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. You know I will.” She hurried out before anyone

could convince her to stay. She had a feeling Stephen would fill them in, making sure to explain his big part about how he was trying to get her a job. She took a different route home than her parents so they wouldn’t know she stopped at a Chinese takeout place for some fried rice and crab Rangoon. Alone in the parking lot with an empty carton of food beside her that had tasted delicious but probably added another five pounds to her hips, she leaned her head against the steering wheel and cried. How had things gotten this lousy? She knew she wasn’t obese, but her family had the habit of making her feel like the elephant in the room.

She needed to lose some weight, yeah she got that. She’d put the freshman fifteen on back in university and never lost it, and then a little bit more crept on each year. She didn’t need it rubbed in her face. Jamie blew her nose on a lousy thin napkin. More stupid tears fell. It didn’t help that her boyfriend—exboyfriend—who was supposed to love her unconditionally, also saw it and promptly dumped her because she was “looking a little thick around the hips”. He would never be a jerk like that to Christine because she was so perfect in all of her bony glory. Now Alex was going to think she was pathetic… if she even got the job. He probably would be a crappy

boss to work for anyway. She snorted and almost laughed. At least her ugliness had some benefits. There was no way she would ever be so hot that she’d drive him mad with desire when he was supposed to work. She needed this job. It meant getting out of her parents’ basement and she had to restart somewhere. Jamie squeezed some hand sanitizer on a fresh napkin and wiped her face and hands before stashing the empty takeout boxes under her seat and pulling out of the parking lot. “Jamie,” she told her rear-view mirror self. “All men are pigs. You don’t have to be saddled with one like Christine does. You’re done. You’ve got nothing left.”

She took a deep breath. “Go find yourself.”

Chapter 3 Jamie got the call from Alex two days later. “First of all, I’d like to apologize for how we met,” he said after pleasantries were exchanged. “It was not my intention to disrespect you, or anyone else, in any way. I’m sorry for Stephen’s behavior.” Jamie sat up and set her laptop aside. “You don’t need to apologize.” She wanted this job, but she would not act like the weak, insecure person Alex probably thought she was. “You’re not responsible for Stephen’s behavior. He’s, well… Stephen.” “He’s an asshole,” Alex said

bluntly. “I hope we can move forward and you won’t be insulted when I offer you an interview for tomorrow at two. The interview has nothing to do with Stephen. Your resume’s impressive and ideal for this position.” That’s not the only thing ideal for this position. You need someone unpretty. Jamie grimaced and thought about the money she would make. You can move out of the basement. “All right,” she said, trying to sound professional and unbothered. “Tomorrow should work. Where would you like to meet?” “At my office. I’m emailing you the address and directions right now,” Alex said. “Thank you, Ms. Connors. I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at two.” She hung up just as email pinged, telling her she had a new message from Alex. She smiled at his promptness and then opened the email. With the directions and address was also the job description and benefits. She grinned when she saw the top benefit: a two-bedroom apartment only three blocks from Alex’s office and a salary double what she had earned at her last job. There was no way she was letting this job slip through her fingers. The following afternoon, Jamie made sure to be at Alex’s office fifteen minutes early. She wore a brand new suit that didn’t look fantastic, but it

didn’t look half bad in her opinion. She had set her blonde curls wound tight in a conservative bun. She couldn’t resist putting a little bit of makeup on to hide the dark circles under her eyes and a touch of color on her lips. Not enough to make it obvious, but enough to make her look somewhat presentable. After barely sleeping the night before, she had looked like hell when she got up that morning. Only some artificial fixes would cover up the bulk of the damage. She wasn’t too worried. Alex Reid didn’t need a pretty girl, he needed someone efficient. Jamie could do that. “Mr. Reid will see you in a moment,” a skinny secretary told her. Jamie sat down in a chair in the

waiting area and looked around the immaculate office building. It was far grander than the one she had worked in before. The floors and ceilings were made with white and black marble with beautiful paintings both classical and modern adding splashes of color to the wall. All of it had to cost a fortune. Did Alex own all of this? She had already guessed that he was well off, but this was positively extravagant. Her mouth went dry as she realized she had no idea what Alex exactly did or what his position was in the company. She should have done her homework. Idiot! Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. She jumped at the sound and grabbed it out of her purse.

“Christine, not now,” she hissed. “I’ll make this quick,” her sister said. “Did you send out the invitations yet?” “Not yet, the envelopes haven’t even arrived. I thought you said you haven’t finalized the guest list yet.” “Jamie,” she whined. “You were supposed to help me with that last week, remember? You have no idea how stressful all of this wedding stuff is. I need to—” Alex appeared in the doorway of his office, one dark eyebrow arched in a way that could cause fear and swooning at the same time. He leaned against the doorframe, his expensive business suit pulled up by his arms as he

crossed them, showing of a gold pair of cufflinks. Jamie had no idea how long he had been standing there. “Christine, I have to go.” Jamie jabbed at the end button, trying to get the sound of her sister’s angry complaining voice to stop echoing off the waiting room windows. She hit the speaker button instead of end. Christine’s voice rang out clearly, “You’re so freakin’ incompetent! Now I’m just going to have to take care of–” Jamie managed to hit end before her sister had a chance to finish. Face burning, Jamie shoved her phone back into her purse and brought her head up to look at Alex. She didn’t have the courage to let her eyes meet his.

“Sorry, Mr. Reid,” she mumbled. “My sister’s having a mid-day crisis.” “Apparently not that severe if you can hang up on her for the sake of an interview.” Jamie flushed a deeper shade of red and struggled to keep her expression neutral. “It was resolved quickly,” she said. She wanted to smile but pressed her lips tight to prevent the corners of her mouth from curling up. “Thank you for making the time to see me today.” He inclined his head and then gestured her into the office. “Like I said on the phone yesterday, your resume was impressive.” Jamie went in and sat down stiffly in the chair in front of the giant,

but neatly organized, mahogany desk. So this was how it was going to be from now on. Aside from their informal meeting and talk on the phone, it was clear that Alex preferred his business relations strictly formal. That was fine by Jamie. She preferred to keep her distance. “Shall we get to it then?” Alex sat down behind his massive desk in a chair that was unnecessarily big, even for his significant frame. He folded his hands over a leather binder. “Why should I hire you?” Because I don’t want to live in my parents’ basement? “I have an outstanding work ethic,” Jamie said. “I’m not afraid of hard work, I’m

efficient, overtime doesn’t scare me, and I’m overqualified for your job.” Was he smiling? She blinked and focused on what her qualifications were. “I’m beyond efficient with multitasking and time management – both yours and my own.” “Most time management courses say that multitasking makes you inefficient with low quality work that takes too long.” He didn’t bat an eye. Neither did she. “Those people are doing it wrong.” He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say.” He shifted and undid the button on his suit jacket. “Why do you say that?” “The trick is not to do two

things simultaneously,” Jamie said, her mind imagining what she wanted to explain to him. “It is to do one while waiting for the other. For instance, if my computer is doing updates, I can be answering the phone, or organizing my materials to suit my schedule that day. For this to work, you need to switch all of your focus completely from one task to the other immediately.” “What if the phone rings first?” “Pardon?” “What if you’re waiting for the phone to ring and while you are waiting you decided to update your computer?” She stared at him. “You answer it. The computer can update by itself. All you have to do is click ‘ok’ when it’s

done.” Was this some sort of trick question? “Interesting,” Alex said, his face and body language giving away nothing. “Tell me, Ms. Connors, what was the crisis your sister was having?” And now she would lose her chance at this job. Jamie sighed. “She needed to know about the invitations for the wedding.” “What about them?” “Whether or not they were sent out.” “Were they?” She shook her head. “Your fault or hers?” “Neither. Both, I guess. The guest list isn’t finalized and the

stationary envelopes hadn’t arrived with the invitations. We’re still—” “How did you find my secretary’s hospitality?” He nodded, leaving her completely baffled as to why he had even asked her the question. “She was very courteous and professional,” Jamie replied without missing a beat. “What was that about the stationary envelopes?” “They haven’t arrived.” “There’s an important file that is too big to be attached in an email, but I need it in an hour. How are you going to get it to me?” “Bike messenger.” “You’re going to bike?” He

blinked as if surprised at his own comment. “Why not fax?” “Because you don’t have a fax machine.” There! Take that! Kapow! Jamie caught a trace of a smile on his face and returned with a small one of her own. “You do know how to switch focus easily.” Alex leaned back against his chair. “At least in conversation. Your former bosses have done nothing but sing praises of your work ethic. Why did you leave your last job?” Jamie pressed her lips together. She had left because Stephen was her former boss’s son. Except that would mean Alex Reid would have to know that Stephen was her ex, and dating the

boss’s son was definitely a professional no-no, not to mention it would make her look that much more pathetic. “There was a personal conflict between me and another employee. It’s been resolved, and I don’t intend to repeat it.” Alex rested his arms on his chair, the trace of the smile gone. “Let me make myself clear, Ms. Connors. I value complete honesty from my employees more than anything else and if you think vague half-truths will make yourself look flawless, and will get you the job, then think again. I won’t ask you why again.” Jamie took a deep breath. “Fine. I left because I had gotten into a relationship with my boss’s son. It didn’t

feel right working at that company after that happened.” Alex nodded. “How do I know that something like that would not happen again?” “It didn’t end well. I’ll never make that mistake again.” “What happened?” “He got engaged to my sister.” Alex’s eyes widened slightly and Jamie waited for the look of pity. She expected him to hurry her out of his office so he would never have to see or speak to her again. Instead his usual cool and enigmatic expression slid into place. He smiled and stood up. “I believe I have all the information I need,” he said. Jamie stood as well and shook

his hand. “Thank you, Ms. Connors. Have a nice day.” “Have a nice day, sir,” she said, her heart sinking. He walked her to the door of his office and opened it for her. Jamie was halfway to the elevator when he called out, “Ms. Connors?” She turned. “Yes, Mr. Reid?” “Be here tomorrow at six o’clock sharp. You don’t want to be late for your first day of work.” He shut the door, leaving Jamie in the lobby, her mouth hanging open in a very unprofessional manner. ~ End of Excerpt ~

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