EXCERPT 1:
There’s only so many times one could say they’d been shot by the

woman they loved.

Jake stared at Francesca’s shaking hands wrapped around the butt

of a SIG .229. She held the gun with as much confidence as one would

expect with someone who had little to no experience with such a

weapon. Like a toddler taking their first wobbling, unsteady steps. Or

a young child holding a chicken’s egg for the first time and being told

they could break it if they weren’t careful.

Under the full moon, silver tears trickled down her face. A moderate

wind teased at hair that had escaped the messy bun held low at the back

of her head. Russet tendrils brushed along her neck and cheeks like

phantom fingers. She ignored those things. But he saw it all, as if the

world moved in slow motion, tracking the shifting of her eyes and

hands from one person to another. Saw the way her finger tightened

ever so slightly over the trigger.

The safety was off, so if she applied a touch of pressure to that metal

hook, approximately ten pounds for the first shot to go off, the gun

would fire the bullet waiting within.

“Frankie,” he called in a soothing yet firm voice, using the

nickname he’d started saying a few nights ago. One he’d discovered

she liked when he whispered it in her ear as he sank slowly inside the

heat between her legs. Her attention shifted to him for only a fraction of a second before

she refocused on Dante, her father’s right-hand man. A man many did

not want to fuck with. One who’d killed his fair share of folks both in

and out of the city. A man who was known to be one of the most ruthless

enforcers around. Dante did things in the most violent way to set

examples or make a point. It was the only way he communicated. And

it was the way he got into the position he did, leading one of the most

ruthless organizations in New York City.

And lucky, lucky Jake was currently in a three-way face-off, like

something from the Wild Wild West, with a woman he loved and a man

he’d been hunting for years.

And as if his luck couldn’t get any worse, the two had a serious

history he hadn’t been able to wrap his mind completely around.

He quickly glanced around, wishing for that backup he’d called for

about ten minutes ago to show up. But with how deep they were in

Central Park, that wish would never come to fruition in time. The dull

light coming off the yellow haze of a streetlamp reflected dark shadows

of trees in the standing puddles leftover from the rainstorm earlier. The

only sound outside the passing cars on the streets lining the park and

Frankie’s harsh breathing was that of leaves hitting the ground, the

season of fall in full swing.

“Frankie, listen to me,” he tried again, his chest growing tight with

unease. “Put the gun down. Let’s talk about this.”

“I don’t want to be a woman you love,” she said, lips trembling.

Her arms shook with either fear or adrenaline, both equally dangerous

when holding a weapon.

Jake Gonzalez’s heart clenched at the words, but he pushed them

away. He had to stay focused, had to sort through this mess and prevent

any additional loss of life. As it was, there’d already been too much.

And if she pulled that trigger, there was nothing he could do. He

wouldn’t be able to protect her. As frustrating as it was, he had an oath

to uphold. Even against a woman he loved.

Francesca Conti looked broken, disheveled, and cornered. The first

two had him angry and concerned. The last…frightened.

 

EXCERPT 2:
The elevator opened, and they both stepped inside. He waited as a

young patrolman entered before selecting his floor and allowing the

doors to close.

“I guess that would be a hazard in your line of work…having people

wanting to avoid you. Not returning your calls,” she went on as if

reading a list. “Hiding when you knock on their door. Running down

dark alleyways just to get away.”

He let out a short laugh. “I do little running in dark alleys nowadays.

I leave that to the younger generation on the force.” The patrolman in

the elevator turned an arched look at them, but Jake didn’t meet his

eyes. Only saw him move from his peripheral.

“Though to be entirely honest,” Francesca went on, “I don’t think

I’d run from you in the dark alleyway either. And I’d probably text you

late into the night.” Holy shit, was she flirting with him?

He cleared his throat. He’d had suspects or subjects of his

investigations try to flirt their way out of getting into trouble. Hell, as

a patrolman he’d been offered sexual acts in favor of not getting tickets,

but he’d never followed through on those. Had never been tempted to.

Francesca made him feel that little kernel of temptation, though.

She made him want to poke around and push, just to see how far she’d

take it.

And in another corner of his mind, he tried to find a reason behind

her actions. Was she doing this because she was generally interested in

him, or to bluster the case up and take attention away from what she

had done?

Was she truly his suspect?

Her actions, this flirting, led him to believe the likely possibility.

He wouldn’t judge her or this situation just yet. He needed more

information. More facts.

“Not sure you’d do much running in those shoes,” he said with a

soft smile she matched.

She stunned him with a low chuckle, then moved slightly closer,

and leaned in as if telling him a secret. He couldn’t help but to bend

down to hear it.

“You’d be surprised at exactly what I can do in these shoes,

Detective.”

If that wasn’t an innuendo for sex, he’d hang up his badge right

now. She was flirting with him. He swallowed, and the motion was

harder than he thought it would be with a suddenly dry mouth. But she

stared up at him, her dazzling eyes moving between his and down to

his mouth, then back to his eyes again.

Seduction seemed to be like a second skin on her for he felt himself

slowly leaning toward her. The elevator dinged and the patrolman in

the corner cleared his throat loudly.

Holy shit. He shook his head and held out his arm, motioning for

her to step off the elevator before him, seeing as they’d reached his

floor. She stepped out with hips swaying and a smile. He met the

patrolman’s wide eyes and shook his head as he followed.