Blood Runs Cold
My life turned upside down when I uncovered my bosses’ criminal activities and needed protection. Instead of the type of safehouse I expected. I was sent to a historic townhouse to live with Dom, a scarred former assassin who rarely talks and wishes I wasn't there. The only upside, he’s a hot AF silver fox.
He’s also straight and old enough to be my father, but since I don’t have anything else to do while I wait to testify, I might as well see if I can melt the ice he’s encased himself in. I long to find out how much heat lies underneath.
Dom has no end of secrets. I soon learn the woman who is out to get me is after him as well. With our lives on the line, and Dom not so straight after all, we both give into our need for comfort. Is there any chance Dom will open up to more, or will his heart remain closed off even if his body is mine?
Excerpt
| My world turned upside down, because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It really couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried. I needed to consult with one of the senior partners in our law firm. His assistant was at lunch, and I didn’t realize he had a client in his office. I knocked, and I swear I heard him grunt, which was his way of communicating simple phrases like “come in”. I opened the door a crack and realized there was a tense discussion in progress. I should have backed away, but the phrases “affected drugs” and “get us all arrested” made me stay. We did contract law, not criminal.
What I overheard that day was pure evil, and now the people behind the criminal organization that involved our senior partners, wanted me dead. I was on a call with a man whose name I didn’t know. He’d sent guards to protect me, and he was supposedly working on getting me to a safe house. The senior FBI agent who was working the case told me I could trust him, but I was skeptical. I switched my phone to my other hand and wiped my sweaty palm on my pants as I paced my apartment. “I not going to be good on the witness stand. I’ll be too nervous to remember the right things to say.” “You can handle it,” the man said. “You have to. The case rests on your testimony, so we’re counting on you,” the man on the phone said. “Who’s we?” A moment passed before he answered. “The people who are keeping you safe.” “You still haven’t told me who you are.” “It’s best you don’t know too much about us.” Ever since O’Conner the lead investigator working the case handed me her phone and told me to make arrangements for my protection with the man on the line, I’d been trying to figure out exactly who he was and what the hell was happening. The guards he’d sent to my townhouse were intimidating as hell. I’d been afraid of them initially, but they were polite and efficient, and I was thankful to have them. “Won’t you have to show yourself at the trial?” I asked. “The FBI will handle the trial. We’re handling your security.” That was the type of non-answer I’d come to expect. “So you’re not with the FBI?” This hadn’t been clear to me, and no one had answered my questions. “No.” I usually trusted easily. That’s how I missed that the senior partners at my firm were deeply involved in selling illegal prescriptions drugs including ones cut with fentanyl. One of our new paralegals was an undercover FBI agent, but despite his presence, I’d been the one to get the evidence they needed. I prided myself on being optimistic and upbeat, but it was a little hard when a major criminal organization had me on their kill list and I had no idea who the people were who insisted on helping me. “Why can’t the FBI handle my protection?” “They could, but we’re better, and we have an interest in the case. Trust me.” How was I supposed to trust anyone anymore? “I don’t even know your name.” “You can call me X.” |
