"What do you mean, you guess? They were total hotties."
"I don't have time for boys; they're too much trouble."
"Oh, Becca, I have so much to teach you," she said.
Combative
©2015 Jay McLean
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Prologue
I flex my fingers, watching the dried blood shift around my knuckles. I should be at home icing the shit out of them. But I'm not. Instead, I'm in a tiny room with nothing but a table and two chairs. I don't know how the fuck I got into this mess. Actually, I do, but the asshole was talking shit and I had no choice.
That's a lie.
There was a choice.
I made mine and I ended up here.
The door swings open, and a suit walks in; his back to me-talking heatedly with someone on the other side of the door. "I'll handle it, Pulver," he says, before shutting the door and then...nothing. He just stands there staring at the closed door. His shoulders heave once, his head moving from side to side. And then slowly, he turns.
The corners of my lips lift, but drop when I see him jerk his head. The action's so slight that if I weren't focused on him, I would've missed it. His gaze shifts to the camera in the corner of the room. It's a split second movement, but one I understand. He rolls up the sleeves on his crisp, white shirt and takes the only seat available on the other side of the table. Resting on his forearms, he leans forward. "Parker."
I smirk. "Officer."
"Detective," he corrects.
"Who'd have thought," I mumble.
His features falter for a second, but only a second before his mask is back in place. He looks down at the open folder in front of him, his eyes scanning the page from side to side, and then he lifts his gaze. "Kyler Parker?" he asks, but he already knows who I am.
I nod once.
His eyes fix on the cuffs digging into my wrists. Letting out a breath with a huff, he leans to one side and shoves his hand in his pocket, revealing a set of keys.
The second he removes the cuffs; there's a banging on the door.
His eye roll makes me chuckle.
Another suit, a fatter one, stands at the door with his eyes narrowed. "Davis," is all he says.
"I said I'd handle it!" He stands up and walks to the door, then proceeds to forcefully shut it in fat-suit's face.
Once he's settled back in his seat, he resumes his stance from earlier. "You're in a bit of a mess," he states.
I nod again.
He pulls a picture from the folder, now settled in the middle of the table, and pushes it under my nose. "You recognize him?"
Another nod.
"You broke his jaw, his nose, busted a rib, and punctured his lung. You also did some heavy damage to his right eye. They don't know if it will have full functionality again." He raises an eyebrow. "Was it worth it?"
I clear my throat and lean forward, matching his position.
Amusement fills his eyes. Then, just like that, it's wiped. "Are you mute?"
I bite my lip to stop from smiling. The taste of my blood hits my tongue.
He hides his smile. "Does it taste like victory?"
I drop my chin to my chest and do my best to keep it together.
The scraping of his chair grabs my attention. He's on his feet now, working his way over. Stopping next to me, he takes a seat on the edge of the table.
"Ky," he starts, then pauses for what I assume is dramatic effect. "I can call you Ky, right?" He doesn't give me a chance to answer before adding, "Here's the thing. Witnesses say that you had to be pulled off of him, and even then you kept throwing blow after blow. The damage you did-there's too much of it. Obviously he's pressing charges, so is the owner of the bar you just trashed because you couldn't control your temper."
"Fuck you."
He raises his eyebrows. Then, clearing his throat, he slowly crosses his arms.
"I could just leave you here. You could go to court-do the whole trial thing. I bet you think your chances of being let off are high-ex-combat vet suffering PTSD...all that shit. But the truth? The truth is it might have worked if we were talking assault, but we're not. We're talking attempted murder, Parker."
I lean back in my chair and look up at him.
"I'm here to make a deal-one that you should take." He sighs and drops his head, then pushes off the table. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs, the same ones I was wearing when he walked in. He circles them around my wrists-looser than they were before. "You have one night." He places his business card in my hand. "An officer will tail you. I suggest you get a drink and think about taking the deal."
"Fuck your deal."
He smiles. "Fuck your life."
Identity Crisis
© 2015 Rochelle Paige Popovic
All rights reserved.
Edited by Monica Black
Cover designed by Sara Eirew
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing."
Chapter 1
Blaine
Sweeping my gaze across the glitzy casino, I absently ran my finger under the collar of my shirt. Damn bow tie felt like it was strangling me. I couldn't help but wonder how the hell I'd managed to find myself here, living in the lap of luxury with such a cushy job. Even though this had been my life for the past year, it was so far removed from my childhood, I felt like I would never belong. When my phone buzzed, I yanked it out of my pocket - relieved by the distraction and hoping like hell it would help me pull my head out of my ass.
When I glanced down at the notification, I was surprised to see a text from Serena Taylor. Talk about a blast from the past. The last time I saw her was before my first deployment overseas. We'd met for dinner at my hotel when I went to Atlanta to see her and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been hoping for more than just dinner. Training and the pre-deployment workup that followed were grueling and the idea of hooking back up with the girl next door, one who'd fueled most of my high school fantasies, was more appealing than hitting a bar and picking up some random chick wanting to bang a SEAL. It didn't take long for me to feel like I'd been there and done that.
I was surprised when things didn't work out as planned. We had a nice dinner and Serena caught me up on all the news from back home, but the spark wasn't there anymore. She wasn't the same girl I'd known growing up, and it wasn't just the move to a big city far from home. Gone was the girl who had been soft and vulnerable, in her place was a sleek and sophisticated stranger. I'd been looking for a piece of home to hold onto while I was overseas and it didn't take long to realize Serena wasn't it.
I wasn't an idiot, though. I still would have banged her, except, it turned out, she had a boyfriend. When she talked about the new man in her life, the reason for the change became immediately clear. She'd hooked up with some rich guy who wanted her as his arm candy. I was disappointed to realize the girl I'd cared for had turned into a woman who wanted nice things more than she wanted a good man in her life.
But it didn't stop me from worrying about her. She was still the girl I grew up with, the first one I'd ever kissed. Hell, she let me pop her cherry when we were sophomores.
Before she left, I made sure she had my contact information and I told her she better use it if she ever needed anything. Time had passed and I hadn't heard from her again-until now.
Serena: I'm in trouble. Need help.
Me: What kind of trouble?
Serena: The kind where I'm on the run and looking for a place to hide out.
Me: Still in Atlanta?
Serena: Yes
The only time I'd ever been there was my quick trip to see her, so I didn't have any contacts available to help with something like this. But I knew someone who could find some quickly.
Me: Hold on.
With the nine-hour time difference, odds were high Brody was sound asleep. He'd become a night owl ever since we made it home. I pulled up his name in my contacts and listened as the call rolled to voicemail, redialing two more times before he finally picked up.
"You better be calling me to bail your asses out of jail," he rasped in a low tone.
"Like your brother wouldn't be able to get his hands on as much cash as we needed at the drop of a hat," I reminded him.
His snort of laughter made it clear he was just yanking my chain. "Then why the fuck are you calling me this early in the morning?"
"Do you know anyone in Atlanta who can help someone lay low for a couple days?"
"Someone?"
"Serena," I sighed, knowing an interrogation would soon follow. Not only did Brody know me better than any other person alive, including my past with Serena, he was the reason my life had changed so much in the last year.