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That was the beginning of the end of our thing.

—Anthony Casso

PROLOGUE

SIX MONTHS Agone

"Tequila and tonic number two," I say, setting the drink on tiptop of a MARTINA'S CASA napkin for the dark, expert-looking stranger who'd come up in asking for my blood brother.

He ignores the drinkable, his dark dark-brown eyes on me. "Thank you, Teresa."

"You know my name."

"I make it a indicate of knowing a pretty woman's name."

"You know my name because you know my blood brother."

He straightens and I am momentarily distracted past the fashion his lean, able-bodied torso flexes beneath the material of his white button-downward shirt. That is, until he murmurs, "Holy shit. You're Adrian's sweetheart sister?"

"Ah … aye. I guess yous didn't know."

"No. Y'all're fucking waiting tables." He holds up a paw. "Sorry. They say he beats the crap out of people that flirt with y'all."

Distressing for flirting, not cursing obviously. Sorry for daring to cross my blood brother. Sorry for ever talking to me, I suspect. Acrimony rolls through me, lighting up every nerve ending this stranger has hitting. I lean on the table and look him in the heart. "If that were the case I'd be a virgin, at present wouldn't I? Or peradventure I merely found a man braver than yous." I start to movement away and he grabs my hand.

"I'g sorry. I offended you lot."

"Apology number two," I say. He might be a stranger, merely he's managed to get under my skin in all kinds of incorrect ways. "Are you apologizing because you mean it? Or because you're afraid I'll tell my brother?" His lips tighten just he doesn't answer, and I suppose I should be sympathetic. My brother scares a lot of people, and with adept reason. "Now you're afraid of me."

Seeming to read my thoughts, he defends himself. "He's the leader of a drug dare. What do you look?"

"My father's the dominate."

"Your brother practically owns every official in Denver."

He'due south right. He does and he's nigh to ain this man likewise. "Let me give you some advice. You're obviously doing business with him, so what I expect is what he'll expect. That you abound some balls. Take that advice, or you'll be nothing but prey to him. His prey never survives."

"Teresa."

I suck in a breath at the sound of my blood brother's vox and whirl effectually, shoving my hands in my apron pockets. He stands in that location, alpine, broad, and tattooed, in jeans and a T-shirt with his long, night hair tied at his nape, his brown optics abrupt, difficult. He'd impale for me, and that kind of terrifies me at times. Like now. "Adrian," I manage.

"Leave united states. Ed and I have business to attend."

I nod and step effectually him, walking to the bar and rounding the counter to picket every bit Ed stands and joins my brother. They head to the corner offices and I have a really bad feeling about this. I watch them disappear and several of my brother's men follow them. I inhale for courage and realize I might accept just gotten that man hurt. I can't let that happen.

I circular the bar over again and rush across the eating house, downwards a long hallway toward my brother's role where the door is shut. I lean against the door, pressing my ear to the surface and for once, I'm happy they are hollow and thin. "Man, I'k deplorable," I hear the stranger say. "I didn't know she was your sis. I'm working for you. I got you into higher-level sports."

"And I got you a win on the football field, Coach. Thanks to my drug, your athletes perform better and test clean."

"I know."

"Yous don't know or you wouldn't be hitting on my sis. There are rules and 'not knowing' is not acceptable."

"How would I know?"

"What if yous offer the drug to the wrong person? You take to know who y'all are approaching. One error can land the states all in jail. You have to pay."

"Pay? How?"

"Strip him naked," my brother orders and I encompass my oral cavity to stifle my gasp. Oh God. What is he going to do?

"No," Ed says, and even through the door, I hear his fear, which is exactly what my brother wants. "No," he pleads. "No. I won't. Y'all aren't—" A thud hits the door and I jump back, my heart thundering in my chest and I determine information technology must be Ed trying to go abroad. A harder thud rattles the door, followed by my brother'southward phonation at shut range.

"I'm going to beat you," he says. "And if y'all shout, I will beat you more."

I look down and my hands are trembling. How tin can Adrian exist then loving to me and and so brutal to others? Why is this my life? Why? Ed grunts and I know he's existence beaten. I can't aid him, though. I tin can barely help myself. I rush downward the hallway and duck into a small office. Grabbing my bag, I pull the strap over my head and across my breast when my gaze catches on the prototype in the mirror, my long dark hair falling in waves at my shoulders, my brown eyes filled with torment. I detest how much I look like every other Martina. How so much of their blood is my blood.

I rush out of the office and downwards the hall, non stopping until I'thousand at the exit, pushing the door open. Once I'1000 outside, a cool evening wind gusts over me, the mountains offering sweetness relief from an abnormally warm October in Colorado. I start walking, no destination in mind, thankful the hustle and bustle of the downtown area during the midday is absent at ten o'clock on Mon night.

I need air. Space. Time to retrieve.

I've just turned a corner, headed toward a little twenty-four-60 minutes java store I know, when a blackness sedan stops next to me and the window rolls down. The minute I see him, adrenaline races through me. He's been gone for weeks, since I told him who my brother was. I thought he as well was scared away. He motions me to the machine and I don't even try to play coy. I race forward and the door opens, the window sliding upwards. In an instant, he's pulling me to his lap and I'm straddling him, shoving open up his accommodate jacket.

His fingers tangle in my pilus and he drags his mouth to mine.

"Miss me, sweetheart?"

"I thought you wanted out," I whisper.

"I had to get out boondocks, merely I'm here at present."

His oral cavity slants over mine and the rest of the earth disappears, every bit does the driver, leaving me alone with the only man who's always possessed me and made me like it.

There's no such thing as adept money or bad money. There'southward merely coin.

—Lucky Luciano

Chapter 1

SHANE

I park the silverish Bentley convertible, which my father gifted me last year for saving his donkey, into my reserved spot in the garage of the downtown Denver high-ascension building owned by our family unit conglomerate, Brandon Enterprises. Information technology'due south a machine he and I both know was far more near his endeavour to drag me to the dark side, and aligning me with his fashion of doing business, than the give thanks-yous for keeping his donkey out of jail. I'd have refused the damn thing if my female parent hadn't begged me to accept information technology, insisting I'd bruise him when he's already fragile and cancer-ridden. Like my begetter ever fucking

bruises and he damn sure isn't frail. And if he knew I'd coddled him, he'd well-nigh likely spit in my face up, and tell me I'k a disappointment.

Killing the engine, I exit the vehicle and stare at my older blood brother'south white Porsche 911, as well a gift from my begetter, ironically and virtually likely for getting united states into the very mess I'd returned to Denver to clean up. Jaw clenched, I shove my keys into the pocket of the gray ii-g-dollar accommodate I'd bought back in New York, a reward to myself for winning a loftier-profile instance for one of the most prestigious constabulary firms in the country. I wore it today to remind myself that I'm a few well-played cards from acquisition the challenge I took when I returned home: becoming the head of the family empire when my begetter retires and replacing all the dirty money running through half-dozen of the seven asset companies with proficient, clean cash. Namely, the revenue produced by Brandon Pharmaceuticals, or BP, the newest asset I'd forced into acquisition only three months ago.

I head toward the elevators, when my prison cell telephone buzzes with a text. Fishing it from my jacket pocket, I glance downwardly to read a message from my secretary, Jessica: Seth just called. Needs to speak to you urgently. I told him y'all had a meeting at the BP segmentation this morning and he hung up on me. Knowing Seth, he'll show up at your meeting. Seth Cage was the one person I brought to the company with me, and the only person other than Jessica who I trust now that I'm here.

I punch the telephone call button for the elevator, and punch Seth. "I'yard pulling into the BP parking lot now to see you," he says by style of greeting.

"I just pulled into the garage downtown."

"Son of a bowwow. I'm pulling a U-plow at the security gates. I have something y'all need to run across at present, non later, and I can't talk about it on the telephone. Is your blood brother in the building?"

I glance at the Porsche. "His automobile's hither so I assume he is as well. What the hell has Derek done at present?"

"Let's simply say I'chiliad not sure information technology'south a good thought that he's in close range when you find out. Let'south come across exterior the function."

"Fuck me," I growl.

"No," he apology. "More than like fuck us all."

"I don't even want to know what that means," I say, catching the lift door that's opened and already trying to close. "Meet me at the coffee store."

"That still puts y'all in the same building every bit him. I don't call up that'due south a good idea."

"Just hurry the hell up and get here," I order testily, catastrophe the call and stepping into the otherwise empty car where I punch the L button on the panel to my left. In the short trip to the lobby level, I manage to come upwardly with at least five means my brother could fuck over the plays I have in action, and I'm however counting.

Exiting into the gray marble corridor, I walk toward the huge oval anteroom of the building and so to the correct, where a coffee shop is nestled betwixt a eating place and a postal facility, both of which rent from Brandon Enterprises. I head to the counter when Karen, the possessor of the coffee shop—a robust forty-something adult female with crimson hair and a big attitude—appears, leaving me no escape from her habitual chitchat.

"Well, well, well," she says, leaning on the counter. "Now I know what I'm missing on the morning shift and I do declare that seeing Shane Brandon himself, instead of his secretarial assistant, is a better 'wake-me-up' than any java shot I sell. But and then, you lot Brandon boys came by those looks honestly. That father of yours is a looker."

And therein lies the reason she irritates the shit out of my mother and I happily treat Jessica to afternoon coffee to accept her bring me mine. Karen'southward not only a chatterbox and a flirt, she has it bad for my father.

"All right now," Karen says, grabbing a cup and pen, and preparing to write. "Big latte with a triple shot?"

"Just what the medico ordered," I confirm, though I have a feeling one time Seth arrives I'll exist wishing for a bottle of whiskey.

"Will do, honey," she says, giving me a wink before moving toward the espresso machine. "I'll add information technology to your tab."

I retreat to the end of the counter where the orders are delivered, resting my elbow on the ledge, retreating into my listen and chasing problems made worse by the division between Derek and me. He'south thirty-seven, 5 years my senior, and the rightful successor to our father. I'd happily stepped aside and started my own life, but damn it to hell, I know things now and I can't walk away.

My order appears and I straighten, intending to merits my coffee and find a seat, when a pretty twenty-something brunette races frontward in a puff of sweet, floral-scented perfume, and grabs it.

"Miss," I begin, "that's—"

She takes a sip and grimaces. "What is this?" She turns to the counter. "Excuse me," she calls out. "My drinkable is incorrect."

"Considering information technology's not your drink," Karen reprimands her, setting a new cup on the counter. "This is your drink." She reaches for my cup and turns it effectually, pointing to the proper noun scribbled on the side. "This i's for Shane." She glances at me. "I'll be correct dorsum to set this. I accept another customer."

I moving ridge my acknowledgment and she hurries away, while my floral-scented coffee thief faces me, her porcelain cheeks flushed, her full, really damn distracting mouth painted pink. "I'm so sorry," she offers rapidly. "I thought I was the only 1 without my java and I was in a bustle." She starts to hand me my coffee and and then rapidly sets it on the counter. "Y'all tin't have that. I drank out of it."

"I saw that," I say, picking it up. "Yous grimaced with disgust after trying it."

Her eyes, a pale blue that matches the brusk-sleeved silk blouse, become wide. "Oh. I mean no. Or I did, but non considering information technology's a bad cup of coffee. It'south just very potent."

"It's a triple-shot latte."

"A triple," she says, looking quite serious. "Did you know that in some third-world countries they bottle that stuff and sell it as a way to grow hair on your chest?" She lowers her vox and whispers, "That's not a proficient await for me."

"Fortunately," I say in the midst of a chuckle I would have claimed wasn't possible five minutes ago, "I don't share that dilemma." I lift my cup and add, "Thanks," before taking a drink, the heavy, rich season sliding over my tongue.

She pales, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, before repeating, "I drank from that loving cup."

"I know," I say, offering it back to her. "Try another drink."

She takes the cup and sets it on the counter. "I can't drink that. And y'all can't either." She points to the hole on summit, now smudged pinkish. "My lipstick is all over it and I actually hate to tell you lot this only it'due south all over you too and…" She laughs, a soft, sexy audio, her hands settling on her slender but curvy hips, accented by a fitted blackness skirt. "Sorry. I don't mean to laugh, simply it's not a good shade for you."

I express mirth at present too, officially and impossibly overjoyed by this woman in spite of being in the middle of what feels like World War 3. "Seems you know how to make a lasting impression."

"Thankfully information technology's non lasting," she says. "It'll wipe correct off. And thank you lot for existence such a skillful sport. I really am deplorable again for all of this."

"Repent by getting information technology off me."

Defoliation puckers her brow. "What?"

"You put it on me." I grab a napkin from the counter and offer information technology to her. "You get it off."

"I put it on the cup," she says, clearly recovering. "You put it on you."

"I assure you, that had I put information technology on me, nosotros both would have enjoyed it much more nosotros are at present." I glance at the napkin. "Are y'all going to assistance me?"

Her cheeks flush and she hugs herself, her sudden shyness an intriguing contrast to her confident barrack. "I'll let yous know if y'all don't get it all."

My plain lipstick-stained lips curve at her quick wit only I take the napkin and wipe my mouth, arching a questioning brow when I'thousand washed. She points to the corner of my mouth. "A little more on the left."

I hand her the napk

in. "You do it."

She inhales, as if for courage, but takes it. "Fine," she says, stepping closer, that wicked sweet aroma of hers teasing my nostrils. Wasting no fourth dimension, she reaches for my mouth, her body swaying in my direction while my hand itches to settle at her waist. I want this woman and I'm not letting her get away.

"There," she says, her arm lowering, and not about to let her escape, I capture her hand, holding it and the napkin betwixt u.s.a..

Those gorgeous pale blue eyes of hers dart to mine, wide with surprise, the connection sparking an unmistakable accuse betwixt u.s., which I feel with an unexpected, but non unwelcome, jolt. "Thank you," I say, softening the hard need in my tone that long ago became natural.

"I owed you lot," she says, her vocalism steady, but there's a hint of panic in her eyes that isn't what I look from this conspicuously confident, smart woman.

"What's your name?" I inquire.

"Emily," she replies, sounding just a hint breathless. I decide right and then that I like her incoherent merely I'd like her a whole lot more if she were naked and breathless. "And y'all're Shane."

"That'south correct," I say, already thinking of all the ways I could brand her say my name again. "I've never seen you here earlier."

"I've never been here earlier," she counters and I have this sense that nosotros are sparring, when we're not. Or are we?

My cell phone rings and I silently expletive the timing, some sixth sense telling me that the minute I let become of this woman, she'southward gone, just I also have to think most whatsoever explosion Seth is trying to contain. "Don't motility," I lodge, before releasing her to dig my telephone from my pocket. I glance down at the caller ID to find my mother's number, and just that fast, Emily darts around me.

I curse and plow, fully intending to pursue her, only to have Seth step in forepart of me. Considering the man equals my six anxiety ii inches, and is broader than I am broad, he stops me in my tracks. I grimace and he arches a blond brow that matches the thick waves of hair on his head. "Looking for me?"

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