Lacy: A Bad Girl's Romance

By Cherie De Sues

Lacy Hennessey is the enforcer for the Boston Irish mob after the boss for the Italian mafia kills her father. After so many years of an informal truce between the two families, why has the Italian boss declared war on the Irish? She'll have the time to dwell on the future while on vacation with a new lover in Hawaii. Lacy is hopeful she'll find love for the first time in her life.

Dr. Josh Davenport has fallen for the beautiful, leggy blonde who isn't wired emotionally like other women he's known. As the clues to Lacy's occupation unfold, Josh struggles with his feelings of self-preservation when he learns he could be in the middle of a mob war. Josh is no saint and his past could get him killed if Lacy's boss gets wind of his shady associates.

Back in Boston, Lacy's world begins to crumble around her as secrets reveal a startling truth that could cost her everything she holds dear. In a bold move, Lacy will risk her life, love and legacy to bring about a new era for the Boston Irish mob, and for her and Josh.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cherie De Sues
• Release date: Sep 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301613434

Cherie De Sues

Chérie De Sues is a "critically acclaimed", "award winning" and "best selling" author of thrillers, paranormal and contemporary suspense romances. A member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), and RWA participant in both the RITA and Prism Awards. Chérie also writes under the pen name of Rose Embyrs for pagan non fiction books which have been in the top 20 bestselling books at Amazon. When Chérie takes a break from writing novels, you can find her at romance conventions, book signings, online, or traveling to research her next novel. She shares her beach cottage on Galveston Island, with her Irish terrier, Reilly.

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NEXT

By Chérie De Sues

Copyright © 2012 Chérie De Sues

Cover Art by Scott Wilson Copyright © 2012

All rights reserved.

Mass Market Copy From

Black Cat Press

Smashwords Edition

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all the women

who've taken control of their lives, loves and

liberties. Who have stood up to

challenges with eager focus and stamina.

I salute the working mothers, the single women in

search of their mate and the women who

grow old gracefully with purposeful giving

to their families, friends and loved ones.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Harley Davidson: H-D Michigan LLC Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi Inc. Seadoo: Bombardier Recreational Products Inc. Boston Red Sox: Boston Red Sox Club Limited Partnership Angels: Angel's Baseball LP James Bond: DANJAQ LLC Taser: TASER International Inc. Viagra: Pfizer Inc. Santana: Cadestansa, LLC / Santana Tesoro, LLC UCI: The Regents of the University of California state university Wyland Art Studio: Wyland Worldwide, LLC The White House: The White House Green Bay Packers: Green Bay Packers, LLC. Cyber Café: Laguna Hills, CA 92653 Zorro: Zorro Productions, Inc.

CHAPTER ONE

Agent Marcus Colby walked outside to the patio on the eighteenth floor, swept the empty area with his gaze then pressed the call back button on his cell phone. Agent Wochaski had followed a lead this morning and, with any luck, the last four hours had paid off.

Agent Wochaski.

Marcus frowned at the impatience in Jim's voice. It's Marcus—do you have any news?

I do—and you won't like it. Wochaski lowered his voice. That group of student archeologists from UCI found a woman's body at their dinosaur dig site in the Laguna Canyon this morning. Forensics just moved the body back to the Coroner's office in Santa Ana.

Marcus tensed, waiting to hear if the remains were from the last victim of a serial rapist they'd been tracking. Does the vic fit the profile?

Wochaski groaned. Yes, all the prelims say it's Alicia Bradford but forensics needs to do fingerprint and dental analysis before confirming.

Jim's Texas drawl was thick—he did that when he was stressed.

Tell me.

God. She had the same necklace around her neck as the other rape victims. Wochaski paused. This time the bastard choked Alicia with the chain.

Marcus ran his fingers through his hair and checked again to make sure he was alone on the patio. The man has graduated from sending flowers to his chosen rape victims to homicide. Damn, this is bad. Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fathom his next move.

I agree but we have to wait for confirmation from forensics.

A truck downshifted in the background. Jim was making the call from his car. Marcus, did Ms. Hernández receive anonymous flowers again today?

He squeezed his fingers around the railing and looked out toward the thin blue line of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. Yes, two dozen red roses from yet another florist in town who told me they were given instructions and cash under their door last night.

Jesus. We need to speak to her Marcus. Just go to her office, shut the door, and give it to her straight.

Hell no. Finding the latest rape victim dead after tracking the rapist's carnage of women for three weeks across state lines had changed everything.

I'll approach Ms. Hernández this evening.

Damn it.

He dreaded telling an old college flame that she'd caught the eye of a homicidal rapist. Bad enough if the woman had been a stranger to him but learning that it was Elysa was wicked karma.

I'll relieve you in about an hour, Marcus, so you can get some rest before your evening shift. Are you sure you don't want me to tell her?

His jaw tightened. No, I'll explain our position when she gets home from work.

Make sure you do. We're running out of time and she has a right to know. We need her for bait to lure this killer into a trap.

Marcus squeezed his eyes closed. Yeah, I'm on it. I'll talk to you later. He flipped the phone back and went inside the building. A headache throbbed at the base of his skull as he followed the tiled floor to the elevators then pushed the button to go up.

He needed a course of action. Elysa's birthday was on Halloween and that fell on Saturday. Hell, she'd probably have plans tonight too.

Marcus stepped into the elevator with four other people and pressed the twenty-seventh floor. The celebration of All Hallows Eve was evident in the occupants' attire and face makeup. He'd seen flyers advertising a masquerade party in the restaurant downstairs. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. His job was tough enough without adults wearing disguises all weekend.

Marcus leaned back for the ride to the top floor where the agency had arranged a small command center. When the other passengers stepped off, he slipped in his keycard to override the lift to the secure area. He passed the empty offices and finally reached the conference room. Inside, one of the cameras displayed light foot traffic in front of Elysa's office. The other camera he'd installed gave an excellent view of her working behind her desk.

He glanced at his watch.

Damn—he needed sleep. His usual twelve-hour shift to guard Elysa was fifteen hours and counting. Not that he found watching over her any kind of chore but he wanted to be sharp before he faced Elysa for the first time since college.

His jaw tightened. The vision of her hazel green eyes flashing with anger or tears at his abrupt return wrenched his gut. Would her eyes be brown with sorrow or green with anger?

Marcus took a mouthful of strong coffee as he watched her tapping the keys on her computer. He rolled his head to relieve the building stress in his neck, put the paper cup down, and settled into a comfortable chair. Wochaski would be back in an hour and he could get some downtime to figure out his approach to Elysa.

He leaned forward and traced his finger over the outline of her face on the screen. Even on the monitor she looked beautiful, yet nothing could compare to the full force of her charm in person.

He lifted the cover of his laptop and connected to his government email from the agency. When he finished his report, he'd walk Elysa's floor to see if any of the men matched the description given by the rape victims.

Chances were slim. Finding a man approximately six feet tall with black hair and medium skin tone could fit half the men in the building. So he'd look at their eyes for the predator lingering in the man. He'd learned that in battle. The eyes could tell him everything he wanted to know about a human being.

He'd been taught many things in the military. Not just how to survive but the very nature of people. When his last injury in Afghanistan left him recuperating in a hospital bed, he'd had time to think about what he wanted in life. Yeah, he'd thought a lot about Elysa too—her delicate features and willingness to please him.

With a long sigh, he glanced at the monitor and saw a woman, not the girl in her sophomore year of college. Elysa had become confident with an edginess he appreciated. The woman he'd known a few years ago wouldn't be a member of a Karate dojo or need a dating service to find a man. Time had changed them both and there was no telling what kind of reception he'd receive when they came face to face.

He'd wanted to find her.

The day he was honorably discharged from the military, he'd searched for Elysa and come up empty-handed. Some old friends they'd shared said that she'd moved but didn't know to where. Soon after his disappointing search he'd begun a career with the FBI, hoping for a fresh start. As time permitted, he'd dated women to fill the empty place in his heart. When all his attempts for a lasting relationship failed, he'd accepted the truth. No one could replace Elysa in his heart or his bed. Her hot Hispanic temperament and sexy moves had branded him six years ago.

Now that fate had thrown them together again he wouldn't walk away from her if given another chance. He needed to figure out his game plan because Elysa's heart wouldn't be as easy to capture as the last time.

* * * *

Elysa pulled the black leather case out of her drawer and packed up her laptop for home. She had very little time left to introduce a new medical product line to physicians before the rollout next week.

Her mahogany desk, neat and clean for the following week, had only a small pile of client files she would need over the weekend. She scooped them up and placed them in the side zipper pocket then glanced at her watch—7:45 pm.

Her friends would be getting a table ready downstairs for her surprise birthday celebration. There would be costumed and masked revelers enjoying anonymity as many cruised in search of a lover. She adored the mystery and possibilities that came with Halloween.

From her top drawer she pulled out a large makeup mirror and assessed the damage of a long day. She sighed at the sight of sunken cheeks from the last two stressful weeks. Using a fingertip she dabbed some cream around her eyes then put away the jar.

Douglas wasn't worth the inky rims under her eyes—not when his political future as the next D.A. couldn't include a woman with her deviant sexual appetites. The bastard had certainly enjoyed those appetites before he'd apparently had a change of heart.

Choose Your Kink dating service was usually so careful about the matches they'd made for her in the past. She'd paid the agency dearly for privacy and safe sexual partners who enjoyed her kind of kink. At the end, Douglas hadn't really shared her needs for sexual arousal. He'd lied and slanted the psychological profile to meet a woman like her.

Men could be such assholes.

Elysa coated her lashes with extra mascara and smoothed down the stray ends of her French twist. She smiled in the mirror, checking her teeth for lipstick smudges.

Her mailbox was always full of pre-qualified participants from the dating service. Each candidate took a profile exam and was medically screened quarterly for disease. The agency prided itself that each member could enjoy a host of sexual kinks safely and discreetly. What drew her to Choose Your Kink originally was the à la carte menu of kinky sexual partners. There was spanking, tickling, bondage, dominance and submission, sadomasochism, cuckoldry, and sexual fetishism. Some perversions were available but her tastes were fairly specific and she stayed away from many fetishes. She was very clear about her desires and tastes online and what she wanted from a partner—much of what the agency offered didn't appeal to her, but she wanted what she wanted, needed what she wanted.

Occasionally her partners lied—like Douglas.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Next time she'd choose a man from the agency more wisely. No more wannabe Romeos who claimed knowledge about exhibitionism, role-play, and light bondage when they couldn't go the distance. Her pleasure came from that type of risqué sex. So why was a man with those desires so difficult to find? Was she being punished?

She sighed and looked at her watch. Almost eight— time to go downstairs. As she slid her mirror back into place, she brushed against a black envelope tucked along the side of the drawer.

Strange.

No writing on the front. She flipped the envelope over. A gold foil seal in the shape of a coiled snake stared back at her.

Cool.

Using a letter opener, she sliced the side, careful not to disturb the seal. She reached in for the contents and pulled out a black letter with gold ink.

My Dearest Elysa, I hope you enjoyed the flowers I sent. I can't wait until tonight when I bind you to me forever. I'll be watching for you.

She blinked and read the message again. The sentiment didn't sound right. Something was off.

Not to worry, she'd canceled her date tonight through the agency. The flowers all week long were beautiful but too much. She'd had a bad vibe about the man and called twice to make sure a message was sent from the service to her date to cancel. She wouldn't want to explain if the man showed up wearing the Choose Your Kink pin on his lapel.

Elysa put the letter back in the envelope and found a picture inside. She pulled the photo out under her desk lamp. The picture was of her in the office earlier in the week. She'd worn a new green suit purchased the weekend before and there were two vases of flowers on her desk.

Damn.

What kind of man thought a disturbing letter and an unsettling picture could be sexy or naughty voyeurism? The man's actions weren't voyeurism—she ought to know. What kind of in-depth background check and psychological profile had the agency done on this man?

With a groan Elysa stuffed the envelope into the side pocket of her purse where she'd placed the birthday cards. She'd show the letter to Gwen, who was waiting for her downstairs.

She slipped into sexy black heels, grabbed her belongings, and started toward the elevator. Her friends would be in the only classy bar and grill downstairs—not that she was supposed to know that.

Elysa grinned as she walked down the deserted hallway. Gwen couldn't keep a secret and had blabbed. Her girlfriends wanted her to believe that Gwen would be alone to meet her for a drink tonight. Elysa knew better.

She pushed the down button, stepped in, and pushed G for the lobby. Elysa smoothed her black skirt and brushed lint from the ivory silk of her low-cut blouse. The elevator stopped again on the eighteenth floor.

Someone else has been working late tonight.

The door slid open, revealing a man in a gray suit, well-tailored for his six-foot plus, muscular build. She gazed up at his black mask, covering his eyes like a sexy super hero.

Unhurried, the man lingered between the elevator doors so they couldn't close. He gazed at her cleavage revealed by the sheer blouse and the wispy, short skirt that exposed her tanned legs then lifted his gaze. The vivid blue of his irises held her captive with their commanding stare— a stare so close to one she remembered from her past. This man was no stalker or a secret admirer. His blatant sexual presence made her body react instantly to their shared exchange.

With a hunger she hadn't experienced in years, Elysa took her own inventory of the stranger—brown hair with streaks of gold from the sun. She inhaled deeply of a blended aftershave of rain and spice. Her visual assessment lingered over his lips to his strong, chiseled jaw. The overall effect of the man was intoxicating.

Her gaze wandered to his bold, red-print tie and the white enameled ribbon attached to the lapel of his unbuttoned jacket. She approved of his choice of jewelry that stood for men against violence toward women.

With deliberate intent, she let her gaze roam lower and was pleased with the outline of his masculine bulge. When he grinned, she turned her sight to the side as a familiar tingling of blood flowed to her lips. Both sets.

The man pressed too many of the lift's buttons. She arched her brow. What game did he have in mind when the doors closed? He inched toward her and continued to assess her blatantly.

Elysa tried to ignore the heat generating between them. His behavior could easily be attributed to a few drinks and a frisky libido.

She heard the doors open and close. With all the buttons he'd pushed, this would be a long ride. What was it about Halloween and masks that gave people the courage to do things they wouldn't do ordinarily?

Elysa chewed on her lower lip. Maybe she wasn't being fair. Hadn't she just been admiring his broad chest and the well-defined package his expensive suit only enhanced?

He moved closer, stimulating her with a raw carnal gaze. Her skin tingled with anticipation of what he'd do next as the doors opened and closed. She adjusted her purse and briefcase over her shoulder while the sizzling energy from his body seeped into every nook and cranny of her right side.

The man could obviously control the potency of his body and used those charms to his advantage.

She approved. Had a good look? She couldn't muster a serious scowl and barely suppressed a smile.

He leaned into her and inhaled deeply. Not by a long shot.

His seductive voice was deep yet barely audible in such close quarters. Elysa's breath caught, her nipples hardened, and her panties moistened with desire. She tilted her head up and gazed into the fathoms of his smoldering blue eyes. His pupils expanded with lust as his full lips curved into a smile.

The elevator door opened and then closed.

Unhurried, as though he'd planned each moment, he leaned his head down close to her cheek. His sweet breath fanned her face when the elevator reached the ground floor.

His body eclipsed her view of the doors but the lit panel on top was still visible.

While keeping his gaze locked with hers, the man pressed a button and the elevator began to rise.

He shifted back slightly to gaze openly at her neck. She knew her pulse would betray her heightened senses to him. The man's scent reached her nostrils as he slowly raised his stare to her eyes and lower to her lips. Her body ached for his touch and she found herself inching imperceptibly toward him. How could he command her so?

He smiled smugly at her movement.

She wouldn't show fear or act indignant at his blatant sexual manner—not when she welcomed his confident sexuality and wanted him in her bed. More importantly, she sensed he could read her desire as the tension