And she'd received the FBI Medal of Valor. The same medal they'd awarded Patty Kurtz.
“You know, you don't have to do this,” Don said, sidling up to the cleared-out desk. “No one knows what you did while you were undercover 'cept us, an' I certainly ain't blabbin' anytime soon.”
Carla smiled. “I know.”
“An' you kissin' Gio like that,” Don continued, “well, heck, it was damn strange, no doubt about it. But most folks'll just chalk it up to the heat of the moment.”
“Uh-huh,” Carla agreed.
Redness started to creep into Don's face as he kept going. “An' I mean, what with your medal an' all, everyone's sayin' the sky's the limit for you now. Shoot, the ways things're goin', I'll probably be workin' for you in less than a year.”
“Probably,” she said.
Don's voice softened. “An' he'll be fine without you, y'know. Them Witness Protection boys'll take good care of 'im an' make sure he stays outta trouble, so you can get on with your life.”
Carla put her hand on Don's shoulder and looked into his eyes tenderly. “I'll miss you too, Don. But this is what I want. If private consulting for law enforcement was good enough for Patty, it'll be good enough for me, too. Especially when I'm working with someone like Gio, who grew up inside a mob family. Who better to help me keep taking them down?”
Don smiled gently, leaned over, and kissed Carla on the forehead. “That Patty, she was a real hero, y'know? 'Cept she wasn't one-tenth the hero you are, darlin'. Never forget that.”
“I won't,” Carla promised. “Take care of yourself, Don.”
“You too, Carla,” Don answered.
Carla hefted her cardboard box and carried it to the parking garage of the FBI field office, where a silver 1978 Corvette and a lifetime of passion and adventure awaited her.
THE END
***
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[FREE BONUS BOOK #1] HARDCORE: Storm MC
By Zoey Parker
I’m a hardcore man in a hardcore world.
She’s a diamond in the rough.
But if she’s not careful, she’ll fall into the wrong hands…
Mine.
SIENNA
Working at the strip club wasn’t my first choice, but it paid, and I was good at it.
Things were going as well as they could, all things considered.
Until my sister made a fatal mistake.
Now, her bad choice haunts me, and all I want is revenge.
The only reason I’m still dancing is to get close to our sleazy boss, the bastard who sent my sister to her death.
The problem is, he’s surrounded himself with an army of muscle – a motorcycle club for hire. They’re all brawny, tattooed, and wouldn’t blink twice before ending my life.
But consequences be damned.
I’ve got a man to kill, and a plan to get my hands around his throat.
It would have worked, too.
If it weren’t for Dom.
***
DOM
“No one leaves the club.”
It was always just a saying, a slogan, a reminder that loyalty is everything.
Then our president accepted a deal with the devil.
Now, our whole club is at the beck and call of some slimy porn kingpin, and anyone who tries to break the contract gets killed.
I hate what I’ve become, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
I didn’t have a way out, either.
Until Sienna.
The fiery dancer tries to kill our mark, and I’m the one who stops her.
Now, her life is mine to do with as I please.
And I’ve got an important decision to make.
What do I do with her?
She’s got a body worth taming, worth claiming as my own.
Or even better – worth selling to the highest bidder.
Once I’ve gotten a fair price for her, I’ll be able to buy my own freedom and get the hell out of this nightmare.
She’s my golden ticket, my way out.
But nothing is ever as easy as it seems.
Sienna isn’t worth anything dead, but keeping her alive might cost me my life.
Chapter One
Sienna
The club was pulsing with the heavy beat, and my body moved to the music like it was born to it. The beat was perfect for sex. Heavy, steady, driving, hard.
The man beneath me was passive for the moment, allowing my body to control the contact between us, but it felt wrong. Dom was holding himself back, restraining himself, and I didn’t like it. I wanted his touch, I wanted his rough hands on me. Fuck, I wanted his mouth on me. I sat on his lap, my clit pressed against his monster hard-on, my wetness soaking my black G-string. I put my hands on my own breasts, kneading and squeezing them together, rolling my nipples, trying to duplicate my memory sense of his rougher touch. It didn’t work. I didn’t have much time left to get what I wanted, so I put my hands on his shoulders, digging in with my fingers, and said, “Touch me. I want your fucking hands. Fuck! Touch me.”