A Case of Love
Authors: Wendy Stone
Eternal Press
www.eternalpress.ca
Copyright ©2009 by Wendy Stone
First published in 2009, 2009
A Case of Love (C) 2009 by Wendy Stone
Available now from Eternal Press
Available now from Eternal Press
Available now from Eternal Press
Available now from Eternal Press
The streets were surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. Mackenzie Hunter yanked again on the skirt of the short dress she wore, cursing under her breath. It hadn't been her idea to be out here this late at night, especially not dressed the way she was. Damn Selena Jenkins and her stupid ideas to hell.
So yeah, truthfully, she could have said no. She could have gone about getting the story her own way and be doing it in her comfortable jeans and tennis shoes. She could have snuck through into the alley behind the huge warehouse, and climbed up on the dumpster like a good reporter should.
But no-o-o-o. She had to listen to the paper's big mouthed advice columnist. Yanking down her skirt once more and balancing precariously on the sky high skinny heels she wore on her tortured feet. She reached into the purse she carried, feeling the wires she'd pulled out of her car engine and then the tape recorder. Hitting the buttons, she set it to voice activation by feel and then reached out and knocked on the big door in the front of the warehouse.
Kenzie heard the sound of male voices inside, then footsteps heading toward the doorway. She shook her head quickly, making her short black curls dance around her heart shaped face. Her hand slid down past her waist, to rest on her hip, in a typical come hither type stance.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The streets were surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. Mackenzie Hunter yanked again on the skirt of the short dress she wore, cursing under her breath. It hadn't been her idea to be out here this late at night, especially not dressed the way she was. Damn Selena Jenkins the advice columnist and her stupid ideas to hell.
So yeah, truthfully, she could have said no. She could have gone about getting the story her own way and be doing it in her comfortable jeans and tennis shoes. She could have snuck back into the alley behind the huge warehouse, and climbed up on the dumpster like a good reporter should.
But no-o-o-o. She had to listen to the paper's big mouthed advice columnist. Yanking down her skirt once more and balancing precariously on the sky high skinny heels she wore on her tortured feet. She reached into the purse she carried, feeling the wires she'd pulled out of her car engine and then the tape recorder. Hitting the buttons, she set it to voice activation by feel and then reached out and knocked on the big door in the front of the warehouse.
Kenzie heard the sound of male voices inside, then footsteps heading toward the doorway. She shook her head quickly, making her short black curls dance around her heart shaped face. Her hand slid down past her waist, to rest on her hip, in a typical come hither type stance.
"What you want, girlie?” the deep, raw voice of the man boomed at her. He was tall, well built, but with a face that would send even the worst child to bed.
She jumped, startled by the sound of his voice after the quiet. “Uh...my car broke down,” she said finally, turning to indicate the stranded vehicle that was just down the street. “I saw your lights on and wanted to know if I could use your phone."
"Hey boss!” he shouted over his shoulder. “We got us a honey out here who's got car troubles. You want I should let her in?"
Kenzie couldn't hear what was said, but suddenly her arm was engulfed in a huge hand that easily wrapped around her bicep, pulling her through the door and into the front of the warehouse. She was dragged unceremoniously across stained and oily concrete. She groaned, as the hated shoes were scuffed and scraped as she tried to keep up with the tall man's large stride, knowing Selena was going to kill her. They were her shoes, borrowed when she'd been conned into the stupid undercover act.
"Well, well,” a new voice spoke up, forcing Kenzie to glance up from the hated shoes. “What have we got here?"
"M...my car broke down a little ways from here and yours were the only lights that I could see on. I...uh...need to borrow a phone to call my boyfriend and have him come and get me.” Her eyes roamed over everything she could see as she made her little speech, eyeing the three men sitting at a round table, a sheet thrown over its stacked contents, hiding them from her eyes.
"A busted car? This is a dead end street, honey. What were you doing on it this late at night?” The man rose from his seat and Kenzie could see a white, powdery substance smeared on the edge of one cuff of his shirt.
Cocaine she thought, excitement making her pulse beat wildly. She knew it had to be drugs, she'd just known it.
"I'm lost,” she giggled nervously, seeing the man's eyes roaming over her body, settling on her well defined breasts, in the tight red mini-dress that Selena had loaned her. “Then, when my car started sputtering, I turned onto this side street.” She shrugged, watching as his eyes followed the slight jiggle of her breasts.
Her eyes narrowed as sudden recognition struck her. Jimmy “the Dog” Tanelli, head of one of the more bold drug cartels here in Monroe City. He was well known for being bold as brass with his dealings and had acquired his nickname because of his love of the ladies. Kenzie felt a thrill of excitement tingle over her, sending goose flesh to tease her skin. If Jimmy Tanelli was here, this was bigger news than she'd thought.
"Why don't you let the sweet little girl go, Kenny,” Jimmy said to the big man still holding her arm. “Go on out and check on her car, maybe we can fix it for her and save her from having to make that call.” He reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him as his fingers trailed over the skin left bare by the halter topped dress.
"Whatever you say, boss.” Kenny grinned, knowing what Jimmy had in mind and also knowing he'd be given his share when he got back in.
"Here, come sit on my lap while we wait, er...what's your name?"
"Ma...ry, Mary,” she repeated, giving herself a mental shake.
"I'm Jimmy,” he said, pulling her down on his lap as soon as he was seated.
"Uh, no,” she said, trying to get back up. “If I could just..."
"Shut up,” Jimmy growled. He wrapped his arm around her waist, stopping her from moving. Her soft ass pressed hard against his cock, growing harder as she wiggled to get free. “Kenny's gonna go and fix your car for you, the least you can do is show your appreciation.” He chuckled, turning her slightly. “I know my friends over there would love to see you thanking me for being such a charitable guy."
"I...I think you've got the wrong impression,” she said, her voice shaking as she felt him move under her, pressing against her. She reached out her hand, looking for something that would help her move away from him and grabbed a handful of the sheet that covered the table. Yanking on it she pulled it free, leaving the contents of the top exposed.
Her eyes lit on the bricks of white powder encased in heavy clear plastic, wrapped in tape. A few lines of the stuff were next to it and a large stack of money, more than Kenzie had ever seen before was next to that. “Oh,” she gasped. “I...I'm sorry."
One of the other men rose quickly, grabbed the sheet and pulled it back over the table. In the process, his eyes met hers.
Kenzie gasped again, feeling the heat of his stare drill through her. He had brown eyes, the color of melted milk chocolate, beneath slashing black brows. His hair was shaggy as if three weeks past due for a haircut, touching the top of his collar. He wore a leather jacket and a soft gray tee shirt that clung to his chest, showing off a body that was hard and strong.
He stared at her as if he knew her, recognition shining in those brown eyes.
"Tanelli, we ain't got time for fooling around now, especially not with some bimbo out looking to get laid. We gonna do business here or not?"
"All things in due time, my friend,” Jimmy said, his eyes roaming over the squirming figure he held in his arms. “This is the finest piece to fall into my arms in a long time. I think she needs to be savored, not rushed."
"No! I...I'm sorry. I..."
"Shut up, bitch,” Jimmy said, drawing a knife from under the sheet on the table. He slid the back side of the blade across her cheek, pressing in enough to leave a welt. “You behave yourself and maybe I won't have to kill you when I'm through with you."
"I didn't come here to get involved in rape and murder,” the stranger with the brown eyes argued. “I came here to conclude a business deal. Drop the bitch and let's get down to it."
"I don't like your tone,” Jimmy growled, jumping up from his chair and knocking Kenzie to the ground. “Change it, Hawkins, or you'll be finding yourself six foot under."
"Whoa, Jimmy,” Hawkins said, his hands raised. “Don't have a coronary. Can't you just hold off on getting your jollies until we conclude business? I got other people I have to see yet tonight."
Kenzie watched as the men argued, slowly sliding across the stained floor as she tried to reach the door before they noticed her. She kept her eyes peeled on the two men, inching her way backwards until she reached the wall. Turning to look for the door, she found herself staring at two huge boot encased feet.
Her eyes lifted slowly, taking in the dirty jeans that hugged hard thighs and slim hips, over the wide chest and finally up to the face of the man who'd opened the door for her in the first place.
"Going somewhere?” he asked, swinging her press pass in front of her face. “Mackenzie Hunter,” he read aloud, catching Jimmy's attention. “Monroe City Press."
