Deceived At Every Turn Read online

  Deceived At Every Turn

  by Jennifer Cole

  Back Cover Copy

  How can Agent Spence collect evidence when he can’t keep his hands off his informant?

  The Mission: FBI Special Agent Riley Spence must collect incriminating evidence against a high ranking law enforcement official--at any cost.

  The Challenge: The evidence is in the possession of feisty exotic dancer Harper Rainier, and she’s suspicious of anyone with a badge. To seduce her will be hard; to earn her trust, even harder. But Agent Spence just might be hard enough.

  Content Warning: This title contains graphic language and explicit sex.

  Highlight

  “Summer Rain?”

  The timbre of his voice sent a ripple of sexual awareness to trip along each vertebra of her spine. Her nipples hardened into tight, painful peaks. The man before her was a stunning specimen of male perfection. Well-worn, faded blue jeans hugged his lower half in all the right places. A snug-fitting black t-shirt under his open leather jacket caressed a well-defined chest. He stood six five easily, with broad, powerful shoulders. His dark wavy hair was short and untamed. A slight five o’clock shadow shading his cheeks and chin gave him a dangerously sexy look.

  Very bad combination, Summer thought.

  His face showed no emotion. “I’m Officer Spence. Are you ready to go?”

  Her cheeks warmed when she realized she’d been leering at him as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into. His piercing gaze locked with hers.

  Deceived At Every Turn

  9781616503000

  Copyright © 2011, Jennifer Cole

  Edited by Pamela Tyner

  Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.

  Cover Art by Renee Rocco

  First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: August, 2011

  First Lyrical Press, Inc. print publication: May, 2011

  Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  17 Ludlow Street

  Staten Island, New York 10312

  http://www.lyricalpress.com

  eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  PUBLISHER'S NOTE:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  Dedication

  To my editor, Pamela Tyner.

  Chapter 1

  There wasn’t an empty seat to be found. Even after one in the morning the club was still packed.

  Some would think after dancing four nights a week for months, a girl would be used to the stripping scene, but Summer’s skin still crawled each and every time she stepped on stage to perform. She had never imagined that she would ever consider turning to this sort of job to survive, but when one found themselves in dire straits, one would do whatever necessary to put food on the table and keep a roof over their head.

  Unfortunately, she had found herself in just that situation.

  A job at an upscale establishment such as Pleasures was not easy to come by. In fact, you had to offer something extra special to even be granted an audition. The club boasted a prestigious clientele where the tips flowed and many of the regulars were politicians, lawyers, doctors and the few celebrities living in the area. Laymen were more than welcome to patronize the club, but a rather hefty cover charge was in effect to keep the general riffraff to a minimum.

  Several spotlights illuminated center stage and beads of perspiration trickled down Summer’s skin. Her feet were killing her. She’d never get used to the stilettos. Although the lights prevented her from seeing the audience, she felt their stares taking in every inch of her naked body, but knowing they couldn’t touch made the experience tolerable. When she’d stepped onto the stage minutes before, it had been clear. Now, it was so littered with money, and, she suspected, phone numbers, the lacquered wooden surface had nearly disappeared.

  The overpowering odor of men’s cologne and testosterone filled the club. The smell wasn’t repugnant, but it wasn’t all that pleasant either. Far too many different scents; the threat of a headache loomed. The smells were a constant reminder she was on a stage showing off her body for money. All the women in the club had their reasons for stripping, and nine out of ten openly admitted it was solely for the cash.

  Summer couldn’t complain, really. Pleasures’s management had strict rules they expected their clients to follow. Offenders weren’t given warnings, because the expectations were made very clear before a patron even set foot through the door. The club was the only fully nude establishment in the city, and a ‘no touch’ policy was stringently enforced at all times. There was a designated area at the front of the stage where clients could toss tips for the dancers, to avoid interfering with the performers. Even in the back rooms where the ladies danced privately for paying clients, or when their companionship was requested to share a beverage with a customer, it was ‘hands off.’

  Pleasures wasn’t run like other strip clubs. The ladies were well paid. A specific standard of dance was expected to be maintained, and for such they received a healthy salary. If a girl didn’t pull her weight she was let go. At the end of a shift, all tips were divided evenly amongst the dancers.

  As Summer finished her dance, the throb of the bass echoed from the walls even after the song faded from the impressive sound system. The final song of her third set ended; thankfully, the last for the night.

  Bending to scoop up her discarded clothing with a wave to the crowd, she disappeared through the curtains at the rear of the stage.

  A tiny, bare breasted, thong-clad redhead stuck her head in the dressing room door a few moments later. “Good haul tonight, Summer. You really pack the house.”

  “Thanks, Tina.” Summer smiled over at her.

  Alone once again, she took a few minutes to study her reflection in the mirror and thought about taking a shower before leaving, but was too tired to do so. She attempted to tame the mass of curls atop her head, fixed her makeup, toweled off the sweat glistening on her flushed skin, and glanced at herself once more. No amount of primping was going to make her look any better than she felt. Sighing, she reminded herself she wouldn’t strip forever, but the money was just too good to walk away from right now. She had too many responsibilities.

  Summer became an overnight success when she’d taken this job five months ago. Standing at average height, she was far from toothpick thin. Her voluptuous, feminine curves and natural sex appeal were a welcome addition at Pleasures Gentlemen’s Club. When she was a featured dancer, she packed the house each and every night.

  After pulling on a tight black leather miniskirt and low-cut red lace cami, she slipped into a pair of five-inch, come-fuck-me pumps. From the panel of lockers along the side wall of the dressing room, she collected a small duffel bag and her purse to head home for the night.

  “Someone’s requesting your company tonight, Summer.”

  The sound of the club’s head of securit
y broke through her thoughts.

  She sighed. “Can’t you get rid of him, Tiny? I really want to go home. I’m beat.”

  “Sorry, kid, he’s a cop.”

  Every hair on her body stood on end, and a chill of uneasiness ran the length of her spine. Most exotic dancers had no use for the law, for obvious reasons, and she was no exception. But her reasons for despising and not trusting the police were completely different than most.

  They were personal, very personal.

  “Are you sure he’s a cop?” The suspicion in her voice caused Tiny’s otherwise tightlipped expression to crack into a slight smile.

  “He showed me his badge, kid. And just to be sure, I called the station and he’s definitely on the Metro PD roster. Come on, I’ll stay with you while you talk to him.”

  Summer uttered a groan of irritation. Raising her chin high and squaring her shoulders, she let Tiny lead her out through the crowded bar area. Several regulars cast a glance her way, but knew better than to approach with security escorting her to the door.

  Tiny was a massive man. Standing six eight, weighing three hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle, without an ounce of fat anywhere on his ebony frame. His head was clean shaven and dark sunglasses always hid his brown eyes, even in the darkness of the club. His incredible size and deep voice were the only intimidating things about him. The man was a marshmallow with a big soft spot for his girls. He was their protector and big brother. Tiny kept an especially close eye on Summer.

  The patrons of Pleasures never gave the girls a hard time in or out of the club, because rumor had it, if you harassed one of Tiny’s girls, you’d never be heard from again. Fortunately, he’d never had to confirm or deny the rumor, and the girls very much appreciated his efforts to keep them safe.

  Reluctant, Summer strolled through the bar toward the lobby, where her unexpected, and unwanted, guest waited. As she walked through the door, she stopped cold. Her breath caught. She swallowed hard.

  “Summer Rain?” Eyes the color of dark blue sapphires glanced past her shoulder looking to Tiny for confirmation.

  The timbre of his voice sent a ripple of sexual awareness to trip along each vertebra of her spine. Her nipples hardened into tight, painful peaks. The man before her was a stunning specimen of male perfection. Well-worn, faded blue jeans hugged his lower half in all the right places. A bulge in the front of those jeans was accentuated, causing a flood of moisture to pool at the apex of her thighs. A snug-fitting black t-shirt under his open leather jacket caressed a well-defined chest. He stood six five easily, with broad, powerful shoulders. His dark wavy hair was short and untamed. A slight five o’clock shadow shading his cheeks and chin gave him a dangerously sexy look.

  Very bad combination, Summer thought.

  His face showed no emotion as he then spoke to her. “I’m Officer Spence. Are you ready to go?”

  Her cheeks warmed when she realized she’d been leering at him as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into. His piercing gaze locked with hers and never ventured lower than her face. That was new. Everyone she met, man or woman, was always drawn to her ample double D breasts before her face…but not this guy.

  Must be gay, she decided.

  “Where’s your uniform, cop?” Summer asked sharply.

  His body tensed, and she delighted in the slight tick that suddenly played along his jaw.

  Struck a nerve! Sweet!

  “I’m on special assignment and not required to wear my uniform.” His voice carried arrogance as he glared down at her.

  “Special assignment,” Summer repeated. “How may I help you?”

  “The station received a call you’re in danger, and--”

  “From who?”

  He appeared caught off guard by her question, hesitating a moment before asking, “Pardon?”

  “Who called the police department threatening me?”

  “An anonymous call came into the station. The chief assigned a team to watch you around the clock,” he explained.

  Summer’s body went rigid, and her face began to heat. “The chief?” she growled through gritted teeth. Unbelievable.

  “Listen, I’ve been assigned to maintain surveillance, and I’m going to escort you home, Miss Rain.”

  “I’m a big girl, I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” Summer snapped.

  “I’d say that’s not very nice language coming from a lady, but...” Officer Spence’s voice trailed off as he glanced around the lobby of the club.

  “How dare you.” She swung an open hand at his face.

  Without flinching, the son of a bitch caught her wrist in mid-air, inches from connecting with his cheek. Although his instant reaction told her he’d anticipated her move, he almost wasn’t fast enough in stopping her hand.

  “Are you ready to go?” he asked again.

  Electricity surged through her where his strong hand wrapped around her wrist. She twisted in his grasp, glaring at him.

  “How do I know you’re really a cop?” Summer snarled, yanking her wrist free.

  “Your guard dog there checked me out.” Spence nodded toward Tiny.

  Tiny growled low in his throat through a curled lip, and took a step forward.

  The cop stood his ground.

  Spence grabbed Summer firmly around the top of her bare left arm. “Let’s go, I’m not playing games with you all night.”

  As their eyes met a look of supreme irritation crossed his face.

  Summer gasped, and stumbling forward, she looked wide-eyed over her shoulder at Tiny as she was pulled through the open door.

  “Hey! Get your hands off me!” She struggled to break free of his grasp. “I want my lawyer!”

  “You don’t need a lawyer, you’re not under arrest,” he replied coolly. “We’re calling this protective custody.”

  “Well, I call it police brutality!”

  The man holding her blew out a breath. His body language gave away his growing frustration.

  “I’ll look into it, kid,” Tiny called out as the door closed behind her.

  Chapter 2

  Outside, the cop walked Summer to her run-down car.

  “Stay right here while I get my car. I’ll pull up behind you, flash my lights, and then I’ll follow you home.” He closed the door with more force than was necessary after she’d climbed inside.

  “The hell you will,” Summer mumbled to herself.

  When he turned his back, she shifted her car into first gear and gunned the engine. A puff of thick black smoke spewed from the exhaust pipe and the tires gave a weak chirp as she sped away from the curb. She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw him turn, watching her drive off, before sprinting to a car parked nearby.

  Satisfied she’d pissed off Officer Spence, she pulled into the driveway of her home. After moving in, she’d had several additional lights installed on the outside of the house itself and around the perimeter of the property, situated in a poor neighborhood within the city limits. The extra illumination worked well to deter malicious thugs who roamed the streets. Having grown up two blocks away, Summer knew all too well the shady element lurking in the darkness of the neighborhood. This being her old stomping ground, she had street smarts, and felt safe.

  To calm her nerves she sat in her car studying the exterior of her home. Two gardens along the front of the porch were her pride and joy, filled with flowers of sentimental regard. She worked diligently to keep the beds up, and awed neighbors praised her efforts. Summer noted the badly peeling, faded blue paint of the old wooden siding, mentally adding it to the growing list of repairs needed. A new roof was first on the list, since it couldn’t possibly sustain the weight of another snowfall. Hell, she was surprised--thankful, but surprised--it didn’t leak already during a good downpour. The wooden porch, which her father had helped build for the previous owner nearly twenty years earlier, was barely holding up.

  She was ripped from her thoughts as a shiny newer model bl
ack BMW Sedan with dark tinted windows screeched to a stop along the curb. Spence flew out of the car and raced up the drive.

  How in the hell could he afford that?

  After slamming his hands atop the roof, he glared at her through the car window. A shudder of terror alarmed her as she stared back at him. Hastily, she reached over, locking the car door. It was completely useless since the door locks hadn’t worked when she bought the damn thing, but Officer Spence didn’t know that.

  Long moments passed before Spence’s shoulders relaxed, and he rolled his head from side to side. She watched him inhale deeply, then exhale, very, very slowly.

  “Please open your door, Miss Rain.” He attempted to soften his voice.

  She shook her head. There was no way she was opening the door for him.

  “Please. I need to go in to conduct a walkthrough of your house. Open the door.”

  Again, she shook her head, but this time the corners of her mouth curled up as she watched him force himself to remain calm.

  “Listen, lady, we don’t have time for this. Open the damn door,” he demanded through gritted teeth as he reached for the handle. He nearly ripped the door off its single rusty hinge with the force he used.

  Shit!

  Officer Spence looked at her with amusement. “The fucking lock doesn’t work?”

  She assessed him before grabbing her bags and exiting the car. “I’d say that’s not very nice language coming from a gentleman, but...” As she pushed the door closed and turned her back to him, she smiled smugly. Oh, that felt good. Then she caught herself thinking, if only he wasn’t a cop.

  Spence followed her onto the rickety porch and reached for her keys as he put himself between her body and the steel door.

  “Allow me, please,” he said firmly, but she pulled the keys out of his reach. Gritting his teeth, he inhaled what she assumed was intended to be a calming breath. “I need to have a look through your house.” He reached for the keys again.