“Dark, gritty, seductive, and action-packed…” ~ Tattooed Book Review
There’s no escape for me. I’m tied to some of the scariest men in Chicago. Bound so tight I’ll never get free.
Sin and pleasure. Crime and power. They give as much as they take. They mark me as one of their own.
I’ll do anything to survive, except bring Luke down with me. I won’t taint him. I won’t ruin the one good man I’ve ever met. I won’t turn him into a dirty cop.
Except he refuses to let me go.
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Excerpt from Dirty
Luke flashed a small enigmatic smile. “I ought to drag you out of here myself.”
“But since you don’t trust me, you’d probably make a scene. Then we’d both be screwed.” His lips flattened. “Which is why you felt safe enough to show up here. You pretend you don’t trust me, but you come here, wriggle under my thumb, knowing I could trap you so easily.”
Apparently done waiting, Chase opened the door, blinding us both. I leaned against the wall, unembarrassed by my breathless state, and felt Luke’s hands straighten my shirt. He buttoned my jeans. I had been undressed by many men, but it was a novel experience to be dressed by one. Everything with him felt that way. I looked up. A wash of orange light fell over Luke’s face, revealing his small, knowing smile.
“What?” I asked.
“Now,” Chase murmured. “She needs to go now.”
“What is that, some kind of psychobabble? I trust you, but I don’t want to trust you?”
“You said it, not me.” A glint entered his eyes. “I’d tell you to make up your mind, but I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter. One of these days, I’m going to take you. And then I’m going to keep you.”
In a blur of black-suited coat and sandy-brown hair, he disappeared from the room as quickly as he’d come. I stared after him, a little shell-shocked. I had expected him to push me for sex. Do the right thing, Shelly. Trust me, Shelly. Be a good girl so I can fuck you without feeling like an abuser, Shelly.
But what did he mean by keeping me? Like some sort of concubine. Crazy.
I straightened my jeans and smoothed my hair. Hadn’t I worn a cap? I glanced around but didn’t find it. Dim light pooled through the open door, revealing a dusty concrete floor and rows of brown boxes. Well, this worked too. I would take a different exit from the one in front, in case anyone tried to track me through security footage later. They wouldn’t, but paranoia was the constant churn that kept me above water.
The Chicago Underground Series