Breaking Bad

By Karin Tabke

"Tabke's edgy and delicious tales hold a top spot on my must-read list!" —Sylvia Day

"No one writes hot cops better than Karin Tabke!" ~ Bella Andre, New York Times bestselling author of The Sullivans series

Detective Stevie Cavanaugh is one tough cookie…with a sexy but vulnerable secret…

Law enforcement royalty, Stevie Cavanaugh’s fate was determined before she was born: follow her father’s lead, retiring only after becoming Sheriff. But as capable and strong as she is, one man dared to awaken her dark sensuality, only to leave her aching for more. Now he’s back, the baddest cop in the whole damn town, distracting her from the most important case of her career—capturing the Cain killer.

For Special Agent Jack Thornton, like Stevie, police work is in his blood. So is Stevie, the woman he left behind after just one perfect night. Now he’s forced to work with her to catch a killer. Only he wants more of Stevie, too.

According to Stevie, she’s not interested. But Jack knows her deepest darkest sexual secret—that while she’s a woman used to giving command, she also takes great pleasure in submitting—to him. Despite how things ended seven years prior, Jack is determined to take Stevie to the next level.

When the fire between them becomes an inferno, they’ll both savor the burn...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karin Tabke LLC
• Release date: Aug 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9780988187955

Karin Tabke

Karin Tabke is a bestselling author of historical and contemporary romance, the CEO of her own business, and wife of a veteran police officer. Her books include the first three novels in the Blood Sword Legacy series: Master of Surrender, Master of Torment, and Master of Craving; the contemporary romance Have Yourself a Naughty Little Santa; and three erotic novels, Good Girl Gone Bad, Skin, and Jaded. For more information visit her website at KarinTabke.com.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Read THE DARE (Book One in the Chronicles of Katrina)

Read an Excerpt from In a Bad Way

Read an Excerpt from The Hard Way

Read an Excerpt from The Chronicles of Katrina

Read an Excerpt from Dare Me Again

About the Author

Discover Other Titles by Karin Tabke

Copyright

AUTHOR’S NOTE

T hanks again to my fabulous team, Virna, Tina, Martha and Victoria!

To the best readers on the planet; you asked for more hot cops, so of course I delivered!

I’m so excited for you all to read BREAKING BAD, the first book in my Bad Boys of the Bay series.

BREAKING BAD is based on the characters Jack Thornton and Stevie Cavanaugh from Wanted! These two have some kind of tortured history, and they drove me crazy as I tried to get them back together. Jack has a way with Stevie that will curl your toes. Stevie has a way with Jack that will put a smile on your face, make you shake your head but cheer her on.

So, sit back and hang on for the wild, sexy ride as Stevie and Jack try breaking some bad.

Y ou’re really going to do this? Jack asked Simon for the tenth time since he’d announced his engagement last month. He still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his best friend was going to settle down. To go home to the same woman every night. For eternity. He shook his head. Jack could never give that much of himself to anyone.

His old friend nodded as he straightened his tie. Nothing and no one can stop me.

Jack grinned. I still can’t believe it, West. I remember all those years ago in boot. ‘No woman is going to come between me and all those other women.’ Sound familiar?

Simon smiled and shook his head. Yeah, well, I was young and foolish.

They’d both been. Fresh out of high school and property of the United States Army. They’d joined together and served their four together. They had a bond shared only by those who stared death in the face on a daily basis. After their second tour in Iraq they didn’t reenlist, though their career paths continued to run parallel. Simon went to work for the Sheriff’s Department in the South Bay close to his family and Jack headed to Oakland, where the action was. Only his time with Oakland PD hadn’t been enough of a brain stretch. He’d wanted more of a challenge and went to work for the feds.

Kat is a hell of a woman, Jack said. The minute she walked into the briefing room, I knew you were fucked. Jack threw his head back and laughed, then got serious. Fuck that up and I’ll be the first one to offer her a shoulder to cry on. He meant it, too. Dr. Katrina Winslow was one in a million. A genius, hot as hell, and she had balls. The chick trifecta.

Not going to give you the chance, man. Simon said, then looked at Jack and smirked. What about that long drink of water you were drowning in back in the day? That sheriff’s daughter? Ever look her up?

Jack’s face tightened. So did his groin. Stevie Cavanaugh. The one that got away. Or more like the one he’d run like hell from. He’d done her wrong. But it was for the best, he’d told himself these last seven years. He still believed it. She had wanted too much from him. He’d seen it in her eyes. The way she spoke, the way she . . . Fuck it all to hell. She was better off without him. Because of what he’d done—leaving her after she’d given him what every guy in the academy wanted from her—she could only think the worst of him, and that’s what he’d wanted. It was easier not to have to hurt her again. And he would. Eventually. Far worse.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t think of her. Because he did. Often. Too damn often.

Yeah, I’ve been keeping tabs on her through her captain. Russo was my FTO. He’s got his hands full with Stevie. She’s a pistol.

Simon slapped him on the back as he pulled on his suit jacket. Does she know her captain’s feeding you intel?

Hell no! If she caught wind of me being back in California, she’d hunt me down and saw my balls off with a spoon.

Simon slapped him on the back again. Look, man, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but you’re a fool if you stand on the sidelines. It’s been what? Seven years since you were with her? And she’s still under your skin? Jack swiped his hand across his chin and nodded. Go after her, man. Do whatever the hell it takes until she surrenders. Then slap a ring on her finger and make it legal.

Jack shook his head in amazement and whistled. I’m going to miss my old friend Simon, the beast.

Simon grinned. I’m not. Now, tell me, best man, do you have the ring?

Jack patted the small velvet box in his trouser pocket. I’ve got it. But there’s still time to run. Jack would, despite how amazing Dr. Katrina Winslow soon-to-be Katrina West was. Jack was not ready to settle down. He was bad to the bone and liked it that way. No woman, not even the one that got away, could break his bad.

Not on your fucking life, Simon said striding past him, a man on a mission. Suicide mission if you asked Jack. Women in general were forgettable. Except the one itch he hadn’t been able to scratch out of his system.

CHAPTER ONE

S teven James Cavanaugh the Third had been born with ovaries, but her father refused to see her as anything but the son he would never have. From her name to her namesake’s omnipotent position as the Alameda County Sheriff, she had understood, from the cradle, that despite her being female, she would follow in the illustrious footsteps of five generations of Cavanaugh men to excel in a law enforcement career. Nothing less than chief or sheriff at retirement was acceptable. It had been drilled into her that as a woman she would have to work twice as hard for half the respect a man earned just by having a dick.

There was no margin for error. It would shame the name.

Despite his death five years ago, Sherriff Cavanaugh’s deep authoritative voice still droned in her ears. Don’t be anyone’s gossip, Stevie. Never show weakness, Stevie. Never give anyone ammunition to use against you, Stevie. Identify your weaknesses and make them your strengths, Stevie. And the hard, fast rule? The one to never break: Never disgrace the badge, Stevie.

A slow cynical smile cracked her serious face. How disgraceful would her father think her behavior was as she sat here watching a suspected killer jerk off through a high-powered video camera?

The smile faded. Not at all, because the shame would not be that she was watching a naked man pleasure himself, but that she had not made an arrest in one of Northern California’s most notorious murder sprees.

The pressure to make an arrest infused every facet of her existence. It hung around her neck like a thousand-pound yoke. No one pressured her more than herself.

Nervous she would get caught gawking, she pulled away from the camera she had been looking through, glanced over her shoulder and let out a small sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to give anyone, especially the men she worked with, a reason to rib her. She’d earned the Iron Maiden moniker because everything about the term was true about her. She was hard, cold, and impenetrable. And if anyone got too close? They felt the sharp bite of her resolve.

She’d worked her ass off, graduating as high school valedictorian a year early. She’d earned her bachelor’s before she was twenty. On her twenty-first birthday, she entered the police academy. Of course the sheriff’s daughter graduated top of her class. Nothing less was acceptable. She’d accomplished so much by graduation that she felt like she was eighty, not almost two years out of her teens. God, she had been so serious then, and for all of her knowledge and accomplishments, so very naive when it came to men.

She was smarter now. The scar tissue entwined around her heart was a reminder of the consequence of trust. It was the kind of scar tissue that resulted from giving yourself over to a man who had shone his light on the darkest part of you. A part of you that you didn’t know existed until he revealed it. A part of you that, once tapped, changed everything. The way you saw the world. The way you lived. The way you trusted. Or would never trust again. He had shown her the light only to take it away.

Stevie settled back into the camera and watched her subject stroke himself. She’d been accused of being frigid because she didn’t date, much less flirt.

Stevie wasn’t frigid. Jack had shown her she was far from it. She wasn’t antisocial either. She was simply not interested in any type of relationship. Even the most casual. For a relationship to work, she would have to expose herself once more. That would give people power over her. She would never hand over her power. Not again.

She sure as hell liked to tempt fate in other ways, though. Stevie lived on the physical edge of the tightrope of life. She got her rocks off jumping out of planes, climbing mountains, and chasing bad guys through the mean streets of Oakland.

But she didn’t do emotional. Jack had made quick work of that. Had she adhered to the Cavanaugh Commandments, her heart would still be intact. Yet, years later, despite what she knew, she still felt the sting of longing for the man who’d known what she’d needed even when she hadn’t, then left her in the middle of the night, taking her need with him.

Nope, she made damn sure she wasn’t anyone’s water cooler hot topic. Since her promotion three years ago to detective, she didn’t have time for a relationship anyway. Her job served her personality well. She liked the structure, the physicality, and the brain stretch. The best part was justice for all. She was black and white when it came to right and wrong. Smiling, she focused back on her subject who was getting quite comfortable with his naked self. But she was not so black and white in her tactics. She was never above the law, but neither was she below bending the rules.

Her subject, Mario Vito Spoltori—or as he was known on the BDSM boards she haunted, The Edge, for his penchant for edge play—had turned to fully face her. The blinds had been pulled open over the large window of his bedroom so she had an excellent view of what God had so benevolently bestowed on the man. Spoltori portrayed himself as a quiet conservative stockbroker, but in reality he was a vicious misogynistic killer. This entire scenario playing out before her was a complete 180 from his regular I’m Mr. Normal behavior.

What are you up to, Mario? Why the show?

Spoltori’s known body count was three. All three women had been wives of prominent Oaklandites, the sitting mayor’s largest campaign donors. Each victim had been kidnapped exactly one week before the impending full moon. Each body was found the morning after the rise of the full moon, wrapped in Saran Wrap, mummy style, with only their genitalia exposed, and bloodless. It was the cut patterns that had caused the blood loss that had led her through the dark underbelly of extreme BDSM to The Edge.

In the underground dungeons where he slithered, the cut patterns were his signature. But there was no DNA linking him to any of the bodies and he had airtight alibis for each murder. It didn’t matter; Stevie always listened to her gut, and it was what made her such a good cop. Her gut screamed he was the killer, so she set her sights on him while her team worked the streets.

She’d been watching Spoltori like this, through a video camera, sitting in a stuffy ten-by-ten room from across the street, for nearly a month with nothing to show for it but the monotony of a normal working Joe’s life. He was good at acting like a Boy Scout though he was far from it. Today he proved it. After tedious hours and days of watching the paint dry, she was awarded a peek at the man’s assets.

Stevie wolf-whistled as he stroked his swelling penis to an impressive size; couldn’t really blame the women and the men who waited months for an hour of this notorious Master’s time. Spoltori was in excellent physical shape and not hard on the eyes. She suspected that to command such demand, he was very good at what he did.

Warmth pooled within her belly. But the build was not for Mario. It was for the only man she had ever slept with, the one who’d ignited the fire in her seven years ago. She would have followed him to the ends of the earth . . . but after the culmination of months of cat-and-mouse sexual tension so powerful it became painful, followed by one perfect night of surrender, he’d never called.

Prick, she seethed, still not over it. Mentally she berated herself for her foolishness, although she’d been doing that for years. Shame at losing her rigid control and being sucked in by him was hard to set down and walk away from. She’d managed to keep the one-night-stand from her father. She would have lost his hard-earned respect. His perfect daughter was not so perfect after all.

That would have made an already bad situation unbearable.

So, yeah, Jack Thornton had done her wrong and if she weren’t an officer of the law, she’d hunt him down, cut his balls off, stuff them down his throat, and watch him choke to death. But she was sworn to uphold the law, not hunt down Lotharios like Jack.

Shaking her head, Stevie leaned in closer and gave the self-entertaining Spoltori her full attention.

Apparently it didn’t matter that he was standing in front of a fully exposed window with an unobstructed view of Broadway, a busy Oakland boulevard, in the middle of the day.

He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and in long languid strokes he manipulated himself. Highly unusual behavior in light of what she knew about Spoltori’s public persona. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he knew he had an audience.

Impossible. While his windows were transparent, the small office she’d begun to loathe had reflective film with the exception of one small square cut out for her ever-watchful lens. The only way he could possibly know he was under surveillance was if he had gained access to this room, which he hadn’t. The security video feeds were reviewed daily. There had been no breach. Dismissing the thought, she continued to watch his show.

His long tan fingers squeezed his burgeoning erection. Stevie winced. He was enormous. She knew from the gossipy chatter among the subs that The Edge never penetrated his client/subs with his penis. Nor had he had intercourse with the victims, yet all three victims had been penetrated with something.

Slowly, provocatively, he began a slow grind. When he bit his bottom lip and splayed himself against the window, Stevie shook her head. Jesus, she breathed, unable to drag her eyes away. If she got caught . . . She glanced over her shoulder again, making sure no one had slipped in while she was so preoccupied. Exhaling a relieved breath, she leaned back into the lens for the denouement.

Spoltori pumped faster, his eyes riveted straight at her across the street. The lens was so powerful that she could see the beads of sweat dampening his brow. His eyes narrowed and she knew he was about to come. She held her breath.

Hello, Stevie, a very deep and very familiar voice said from behind her.

Time stopped. Her spine stiffened as her breath lodged in her lungs. Her heart slammed hard against her sternum, the velocity shaking her to her core. And God help her, that longing ache that the sound of his voice had stirred all those years ago, stirred in her now.

Hers had been, from the day he touched her in her first defensive tactics class, a spontaneous physical reaction to him. And as they had then, her breasts swelled as her nipples tightened painfully, triggering every body part south into carnal chaos.

When she slowly turned around, the blood drained from her face as her worst fears were confirmed.

Jack, she breathed.

CHAPTER TWO

S he had wanted to spit his name out as if she’d ingested poison, but it didn’t come out that way. Instead Stevie’s heart thumped high in her throat, strangling her words while she fought to control her visceral reaction to Jack. His hot gaze swept her in a long appreciative sweep, lingering a millisecond on her tightening nipples before continuing north. When his eyes finally caught and held hers, his nostrils flared. Intuitively she knew he was reliving their night together in his mind’s eye just as she had moments before.

What the hell was he doing here?

Jesus, she softly swore. This wasn’t happening.

He looked good. No, better than good. He seemed taller, more muscular. Mature. Still dominant. All male. There was nothing soft about Jack. There never had been. Time had etched a few lines around those piecing jade-colored eyes that had bored right through her shield to her secret need. They crinkled when he smiled his natural mischievous smile. His hair was shorter, but still jet-black and thick. She knew it was soft, too. Oh, how she had run her fingers through it that night. Their one night. Their only night. She’d been dying to touch him for months at the academy, but when she finally got the green light, she’d reveled in the soft silky feel of his hair against her cheek, along her bare belly, and, finally, between her thighs.

He stood staring at her, that flirty boyish smile that got her every time tugging at his full lips.

It’s been a long time, Stevie, he rasped, his breath warm and minty.

Visions of their sweaty, naked bodies writhing in passion amongst the twisted sheets in her academy hotel room shimmered through her mind. Shame rose in her cheeks. Not for losing control, but for allowing this man to tap into her heart and not being strong enough to shrug it off.

He bit his bottom lip and slowly let go of it as his gaze swept her heated face. Too damn long.

She slapped him. Hard. The white imprints of her fingers quickly turned an angry red against his tan cheek. His jaw tightened for just the barest of seconds before he grabbed her hand and yanked her roughly against his chest, forcing her breath from her lungs.

Was that because I didn’t call you or because I wouldn’t let you get on top? he growled.

She caught a groan as another vision sprang into her mind’s eye. Jack was dominant. In bed and out. She had wanted to get on top, but each time she had tried, he’d raised her hands above her head and held them there as she gladly allowed him to take what he wanted from her. His voracious appetite, once it had been sated, had left her as helpless as a limp noodle. Her breasts had been tender for days, her kiss-swollen lips taking nearly a week to stop tingling, and the way the core of her had throbbed, wanting him to fill her again and again, had never subsided. It was her heart that had taken the longest to recover, because once Jack Thornton had penetrated the trauma plate protecting her most vital of organs, her heart, then tapped into her dormant sexuality, she was lost to him forever. He’d made her feel strong and beautiful. Protected and spoiled. She’d been Wonder Woman in his arms. Like a fool she’d allowed herself to think she had a future with him. The dynamic duo fighting crime during the day and making mad crazy love every night. How perfectly high school was that? She’d been such a fool.

No, she breathed. That’s because you were, and still are, an egotistical bastard.

What’s so egotistical about making love to a beautiful woman?

It was more like seducing a virgin. She pushed away from him and yanked her jacket off the back of her chair, sliding it on as if it would protect her. You were the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. She made to move past him to show him the door, when he grabbed her upper arm, stopping her cold. Swallowing hard, she fought to control the heat spreading through her.

Jack pulled her closer. His natural spicy clean scent moved with him. It was the same as it had been all those years ago. Her pillow had smelled of him long after he left.

Lowering his lips to her ear, he asked softy, Do you remember the first time I touched you? In front of fifty recruits?

She shivered at the memory. You mean manhandled me?

It was the third week of defensive tactics class. I’d been watching you beat the shit out of every partner I paired you with. You were so eager to prove something to all of us. His lips brushed against her ear sending waves of pleasure racing through her body. I saw how you watched me, yearning for my approval. His long fingers caressed her hand. I wanted yours, too, Stevie, but not the way you wanted mine. His fingers tightened around hers. I called you out that morning, commanded you to drop to all fours on the mats. You dropped so fast, I think you shocked everyone in that room. Deeply, he inhaled her scent. Most of all me. I can still feel the way you heated and trembled when I covered your body with mine. The way your skin flushed pink like it’s flushing now. That’s when I knew your secret.

Stevie struggled against the truth. You don’t know a damn thing about me.

Does it scare you? What I know?

Turning away from him, she said, I’m not afraid of you.

Look at me, he commanded softly.

She shook her head. If she looked at him now he’d know she was lying.

When she refused his command, he notched her chin up with his forefinger. Digging deep for control, she looked right at him, forcing her lips not to tremble as his breath softly caressed them.

Stop being so caustic, Stevie. You know it was good between us.

It was mediocre at best.

Liar.

Regaining control she shrugged. I’ve had a dozen men since you and each one was better than that night with you.

Cocking a dark brow, he stepped back and released her.

Really?

Yeah, really. Now, please leave, I have a job to do.

He grinned and shook his head.

Stiffening she said, I don’t know why you’re here, but if it’s to rekindle something, let me be clear about where I stand: We had a one-night stand and you weren’t man enough to tell me that was all you wanted from me. So don’t think you can come walking back into my life all these years later and pick up where we left off. I’ve moved on. Translated that means I’m. Not. Interested.

I’m not here to rekindle our past relationship, Stevie, I’m here to build a new one. Jack smiled that Boy Scout smile, pulled back the right side of his tailored suit and said, Special Agent Jackson Thornton at your service, ma’am.

CHAPTER THREE

J ack watched the shock register in the deepest blue eyes he’d ever lost himself in. Deep blue eyes that morphed from shock to controlled fury .

Stevie looked good when she was angry. She looked better naked and out of breath. Despite her knack for downplaying her assets, she was a knockout. His reaction to her was as primal today as it had been when he first set eyes on her seven years ago. With that realization came another one: Manufacturing this meeting was a colossal mistake.

"I don’t need your service, Special Agent Thornton. Go fight your own crime and leave me to mine. Turning away from him, Stevie settled back into her chair and put her eye to the camera lens, dismissing him. When he made no move to exit, she said, I don’t hear you leaving."

Jack hadn’t thought for a minute that meeting this firecracker again would be anything less than explosive. She was proving to be quite volatile. What he hadn’t expected was his reaction to her. The physical reaction was a given. They’d had that inexplicable once-in-a-lifetime chemically charged sexual attraction to each other from their first meeting, but when she turned around and caught her breath, he was speechless. He’d felt as surprised as she. Like he’d been gut-punched. The emotional hit he took at seeing her again shook him to his foundation. He didn’t expect it and he sure as hell didn’t like it. Instantly he regretted his decision to head up the task force that had been formed to bring in Spoltori.

She was going to launch out of control when he told her why he was there. Maybe he should just bow out while he still could . . . but no, that would be easy and Jack never did easy. He did rough. He’d get what he came for