Authors: Avery Flynn

Brazen (B-Squad #1) (17 page)

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xoxo,

Avery

Bang: B-Squad 2 Sneak Peek!

I
saac Camacho shouldn't be noticing
how good Tamara smelled.

One, it was weird. He was, after all, hustling through the club's hectic kitchen with one super sexy, kinda bitchy blonde—his favorite kind—for parts unknown. He should be noticing her ass under that swishy green skirt, not something lame like the fact that she smelled like peach tea spiked with bourbon.

Two, they were dodging steaming pots and hot plates because ugly as roadkill bounty hunter Archie Wolczyk was hot on their heels. Even if his former life as a RECON Marine hadn't taught him the importance of survival, his stint in the county jail should have been more than enough to get an important lesson through even his thick skull: Being locked up in the pokey wasn't his style. So instead of getting distracted by her perfume, he needed to get them both out of here before he ended up separated from the love of his life—women, all of them—for whatever stretch of jail time the judge decided aiding and abetting a fugitive deserved.

"Left." He pressed his palm against the small of her back, noting that his hand spanned almost the entirety of her waist, and guided her past the walk-in fridge and toward the employee break room.

She followed direction but shot him a quick glare over her shoulder.

Prickly little ice queen, wasn't she?

As they hurried through the break room, he ignored the surprised faces of the staff members swapping out street shoes for clogs, but gave a quick wink to the sous chef who'd given him the after hours all-access kitchen tour a few weeks ago. Stephanie? Stacy? Selena? Sarah. That was it. Then almost as fast as he and Tamara rushed into the break room, they were out the reinforced steel door and into the fenced-in part of the parking lot. It stank of cooking grease and rotting food from the nearby pair of Dumpsters that had been broiling in the Texas heat for the past few days. He peeked over the privacy fence, scanning the lot for the bounty hunter's backup and spotted s a couple getting out of a sedan, a valet sneaking a smoke, and a one-warred stray cat slinking between cars.

Nothing of consequence stood between them and his truck was combat parked just outside the gate, ready as always for a quick getaway. He unlocked the doors with his key fob and opened the passenger door, then held out his hand to help Tamara up onto the running board. She was tall, but his oversized tires—perfect for off-roading—were no joke.

"No way." She took a step back, as if she could still escape.

It was cute.

"We don't have time for me to sweet-talk you, darlin’, so let me put it this way. You either get that cute ass of yours in the truck or I'll expend the itty bitty amount of energy it would take for me to pick you up and flop you down on in there."

The start of a snarl curled up one side of her mouth and she took another step back. "Look, I appreciate you giving me the heads up about the bounty hunter, but I don't know you and there's no way in hell I'm getting in your truck."

So, plan B it was.

"Okay." He held up his hands in surrender. "You've got an excellent point there."

The tension yanking her shoulders closer to her ears than they should be ebbed and they inched down a bit. That's when he scooped her up in his arms, pivoted and dumped her into the passenger seat all before she'd even gotten a chance to let out a yelp.

"Why you—"

"Heavy-handed asshole?" He grabbed the seatbelt and dragged it down across her chest. "Giant prick?" He clicked it into place, resisting the urge to let his fingers linger on the sliver of silky skin between the top of her skirt and the bottom of her shirt that had become exposed when she'd twisted in his arms. "Handsome devil?" He flashed his patent-pending, panty-melting grin. "Big, strapping stud who can protect you?"

She didn't even flutter her long lashes. "Jerk."

"It's more succinct, I'll give you that." He shut the door and circled the front of the truck, walking a little more bowlegged than normal.

This was wrong. He should not have a hard-on while being a Good Samaritan. Even for him, that was pretty low. She was Taz's ex-wife. She tried to extort a million dollars from him and nearly blew his relationship with Bianca straight to Timbuktu. She had Wolczyk on her ass and a teenager that she'd technically kidnapped hidden away somewhere. And on top of all that, she wasn't the least bit friendly or accommodating.

Fuck. His dick was just getting harder.

He opened the driver's side door and got in behind the wheel. Tamara faced straight ahead and had her arms crossed under her impressive rack. While he was questioning his ethics, his cock was questioning his sanity because normally he would be all over her. As it was, he grit his teeth, turned the key in the ignition and pulled into traffic.

A few months ago when Taz asked him to do some background on his ex-wife who was pretending to be his current wife, Isaac had figured it was an easy job. He'd been right and wrong. He'd turned up the arrest warrants, the information about her dead sister's ex-husband, Jarod Fane, and the well-armed militia-like cult he ran and Tamara's allegation that the bastard had been willing to sell his only child off to one of his followers to consolidate his power base. What he hadn't discovered was where she lived, where her money was or where she'd hidden her niece, Essie, after she'd grabbed the sixteen year old and hightailed it out of Idaho. That burned. He was a good investigator. Damn good. And she'd given him the slip. Shit. She still was and she was sitting right next to him. He wasn't giving up though.

"How's the security at your house?" he asked, slowing down for a yellow light.

"Ft. Knox."

Just that. Nothing else. He'd eaten Popsicles that had been warmer.

"That good?" Not likely. She had access to all of the B-Squad tech but that didn't mean she knew how to use it. According to Google her talent in the eight gazillion beauty competitions she'd done had been baton twirling not setting up security systems.

"You know who's after me?" she asked, not even a nervous wobble in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "Jarrod Fane. Age thirty-six. Second-generation leader of the Crest Society, with a two-hundred strong compound of armed followers and fellow nut jobs outside of Redfin, Idaho.”

Oh, the arrest warrants on her came from the county judge presiding over the nasty custody case involving Essie, but there were only a few people in that area not under Fane's thumb. He was Frat boy pretty, smooth and as dictatorial as any tyrant in a third world country.

If his recitation shook her, she didn't show it. Her breathing remained as steady as her hands, folded on her lap. "Then you know I wouldn't leave a damn thing to chance."

"How did Wolczyk find you at the party?"

"Who?"

"The bounty hunter. His name's Archie Wolczyk."

"How do you know him?"

"Ft. Worth isn't
that
big of a city. If the great state of Texas gives someone a security or investigative license and you're in the general area, I know who you are." The light turned and he merged into traffic. "So how did Wolczyk find you?"

Her cheeks turned pink. "I don't know."

So she could get ruffled. He tucked that bit of information away for later when he could think about what else got her all excited and bothered.

"Could he be at your house?" It's exactly where he'd be after flushing out his quarry into the open. He'd set up a watch and wait for the target to scurry back to home base before taking off for the great wide open.

"No." She shook her head—firm, decisive, back in control. "I'm working at B-Squad under my name, but neither my house or car has any link to me. Lash worked up the security system. He's the only one who knows where I live."

He breathed easier. He and Loud Mouth Lash had served together in the Marines. The man knew his shit. The house just might be Fort Knox worthy. However, there was always a way to find someone—a paper trail that would lead to the front door.

"Your name's not on the water bill? The cable? With your cellphone?"

"Nope."

So, somehow the guy had gotten the jump on her connection to B-Squad. It wouldn't have been a main player, but the Devil's Dip Gym on the main floor was still active. A trainer? Janitor? Guy who'd whacked off to a fantasy Tamara one too many times in the gym's cold showers? Maybe he followed her home one night. Maybe she let something slip to a neighbor. He didn't know, but he'd find out. And then that little loose lipped motherfucker would be out own his ass.

"I'll check the house out later."

Her blue eyes went wide. "
You'll
check it out?"

"As long as I'm watching out for you, you're not putting a dainty little toe inside the threshold before I give it my sign of approval."

She looked about ready to blow, but only for a second or two. Then, that icy curtain came back down and she looked out her window at traffic as they inched down one of Ft. Worth's always clogged main thoroughfares. She ignored him with so much determination he considered being worried. After a few minutes she turned in her seat to face him, the flash of what must have been her beauty queen winning smile nearly blinding him to oncoming traffic.

"Do we have a destination or am I too much of a weak little female to have the privilege of knowing that?" She served up that ice in a honeyed voice that was sweeter than his grandma's tea in August.

Nope. He wan't falling into that trap. His mama had not raised a moron.

"Darlin', you are all female but not in the least little bit weak."

If she was placated by his compliment, it didn't show. "So what's the answer?"

The Majesty Movie Theater loomed up ahead on the left. The marquee advertised a show time starting in ten minutes. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

He flipped on his turn signal. "Right here."

"We're going to the movies?"

"It's the last place Wolczyk will look." The lot was empty with a nice pair of open spots right by the door. He steered his truck around back anyway and reversed into a spot not visible from the road. "It's dark, no one interacts with anyone else and they serve food."

"And after?" she asked, a touch of weariness forming lines around her eyes

"We'll figure out what step to take next." He got out and circled around to her door so he could open it for her, making it in time to see her hop down, evading his help with ease.

The look she shot him was pure sass and triumph with more than a smidgen of fuck you mixed in for good measure. His cock twitched—another good reason for sitting in the dark for a while and watching some shit blow up on the screen. It would give his dick the much needed opportunity to return to its normal not-around-Tamara state.

ACK! I know, I’m such a hag for stopping there, but I promise Tamara and Isaac are worth the wait.

Subscribe to my
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and you’ll be the first to know when Bang: B-Squad 2 is available. Plus, you’ll get the latest book news, be able to enter monthly giveaways and more! Please stay in touch ([email protected]), I love hearing from readers. Don’t forget to check out my other books for more sexy, sassy romance!

xoxo,

Avery

About Avery Flynn

A
ward-winning romance
author Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

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