Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Read online

  “Oh, babe,” he said, turning her to face him. “Go ahead and cry. You’ve done a great job of holding it together, but you don’t need to anymore.”

  As if his giving her permission was what she’d needed, she was soon sobbing, her face buried in his neck. He didn’t say a word, just held her and stroked along her back, allowing her to release the flood of tears she’d been keeping dammed inside ever since her house had exploded. She had no idea how long she cried but when her sobs turned into sniffles, he kissed her head and then rolled over to grab a tissue from the box on the nightstand.

  “Here, blow,” he instructed, holding the tissue to her nose. She flushed with embarrassment but when he repeated the order, she obeyed. “Good girl,” he said, tossing the tissue away. “You know, body heat is better transferred through skin to skin contact,” he said, slipping his hand beneath her shirt, cupping a breast, causing her nipple to instantly pucker.

  “Hmm, is that right?” she asked, her fingers stroking across his chest.

  “Would I lie to you?”

  “I don’t know, but if you did, would I get to spank you?”

  He chuckled and gave her nipple a tweak. “Not in this lifetime,” he said. “The only bottom in danger of getting smacked is yours.” He demonstrated by sliding his hand lower and slipping his fingers into her panties, giving her rear a swat.

  “Ow!” The slight sting sent a delicious bolt of pleasure through her. “Well, I am cold, so…” She sat up and pulled the t-shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before snuggling down in the covers again. Damian’s sweatpants followed and she lifted her hips, allowing him to slip her panties down and off. “I’m keeping the socks,” she informed him.

  “Fair enough,” he said, moving to lie over her, cupping her face between his palms. “Now, let’s see about warming you up, shall we?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said before his mouth against hers cut off any further conversation. She moaned as he deepened the kiss, her arms wrapping around him, her breasts pressing against his chest. By the time he slid into her, she was more than ready. He filled her completely, sliding his hands beneath her ass to lift her, allowing him to go deeper. “A very good plan,” she said softly, her body moving in rhythm with his as they made love slowly, gently, until she begged, “Harder, please… fuck me harder.”

  Damian did so, each thrust driving her towards climax, each kiss he dropped on her lips, her breasts, her neck, causing her to shudder with pleasure.

  “Come with me,” he ordered, his hips pistoning, his cock stretching her. It felt glorious and when she shattered, her cry was joined by his groan as he came with her. When he gathered her in his arms and rolled to his back, taking her with him, she not only felt warm, she felt boneless.

  “Are you always right?” she asked, giving another yawn.

  He chuckled. “I’d like to say yes, but no, I’m not.”

  “Well, you were definitely right about that body heat thingy.”

  “Go to sleep, babe. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise.”

  “I know,” she whispered. With her cheek pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, and the memory of his lovemaking, she realized she’d never felt safer in her life.

  Epilogue

  Damian reached out and placed his hand over hers. “Babe, we’re here.”

  His words brought Mia out of her thoughts and this time she didn’t have to ask where ‘here’ was. She recognized the courthouse.

  “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right there the entire time.”

  Mia knew he would be, just as he had been for the past three months. They’d shared far more than every day and night. She’d opened her heart and bared her soul. She lifted her head to look into his eyes. Eyes that had met hers hundreds of times, and when he brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing the ring he’d placed on her finger the night before, she smiled. Leaning close, she kissed him.

  “I’m ready.” Together they climbed the steps to the door, Damian’s palm splayed against the small of her back as he led her through the entrance and then to the elevator. Though they didn’t speak, they communicated through that simple touch. Once the doors opened, Mia had made the switch from a woman who’d spent the last few months falling in love to one determined to ensure she’d have the rest of her life to explore that love.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,” Randall Holden said, drawing her into his arms, hugging her tightly and then kissing her cheek. He reached out his hand to shake Damian’s. “I couldn’t believe it when you called… but now I see for myself that you’ve done an outstanding job, Agent Cooper. You not only kept our girl safe, you made her disappear completely. I never heard as much as a whisper that she hadn’t…” As if not wishing to think about what he and the others had believed about Mia’s death, he didn’t complete his sentence.

  It was another moment, another hug, before he returned to the professional district attorney he was, turning to speak to Mia. “I must warn you that others won’t be happy to see you. Expect Thorensen’s team to throw a fit. Daniel Bracker has taken over as head counsel and he’s good. I expect him to try to anything to discredit your testimony. I wish I could spare you, but—”

  “I’m ready,” Mia said.

  Randall gave her a long look and then nodded. “I believe you are.”

  A few minutes later, Mia and Damian quietly entered the courtroom, Mia’s eyes on the front of the room where the new judge was speaking.

  “Mr. Holden, please call your next witness.”

  Randall stood and turned slightly, not looking at Mia, but keeping his eyes on the defendant table as he said, “The state calls Ms. Miranda Fields to the stand.” With his words, reporters and onlookers’ heads whipped around to find Mia walking down the center aisle even as Thorensen surged to his feet.

  “What the fuck! You’re dead!”

  Mia bit back a smile when his attorney grabbed his arm, pulling him down into his seat. “Do something!” Thorensen snarled.

  Mia was aware of Bracker shushing him, reporters speaking into phones, people in the gallery whispering, and yet allowed none of it to affect her. She was the calm within the storm, walking down the aisle, past the tables and into the witness box. Only then did she turn to face the room to see that Bracker was on his feet.

  “Objection, Your Honor,” he said, his voice raised to be heard about the still bustling crowd, and yet clipped and calm.

  “Quiet,” Judge Yori said, tapping his gavel. “Quiet in the courtroom or I’ll clear it!”

  It seemed nobody wished to miss the show as the room instantly quieted. With a nod, the judge addressed Bracker. “On what grounds?”

  “We were not informed that Ms. Fields would be testifying—”

  “She’s on the witness list,” Holden said, holding up a sheet of paper. Mia watched Bracker’s lips thin as he shot the prosecutor a look that told him exactly where he’d like to shove that list.

  “It’s obvious that the prosecutor isn’t surprised to see Ms. Fields here today. And while I’m pleased to learn that the reports of her demise were obviously erroneous, we assumed she had passed away,” Bracker countered. “We’re not prepared…”

  “Hardly the state’s fault,” Holden said, shrugging and then adding, “You know what they say about assuming—”

  “You can’t expect—”

  “Overruled. Ms. Fields is on the list and you’ve had months to prepare your defense,” Judge Yori said, taking back control of his courtroom. “Swear the witness in.”

  Mia accepted the Bible from the court’s registrar and repeated the words promising that the evidence she’d be giving would be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. As she took her seat, she looked at Thorensen and prayed that the truth would be enough to put him away for the rest of his life. His eyes were wide, his hands clenched, and yet she no longer feared him. When Bracker sat, she didn’t bother to watch, instead turning her atten
tion to Randall who stepped around the table to begin his questioning.

  “Ms. Fields, what is your profession?”

  “I’m a freelance photographer.”

  “Will you please take us through the events that began on December 31, 2016, and ended on January 1, 2017?”

  Nodding, Mia settled back, her mind returning to the New Year’s Eve party. Though that had been months ago, she hadn’t forgotten a single detail. She looked out to see the people who were watching her leaning forward as if determined not to miss a single word of her testimony. The courtroom disappeared as a new setting took its place. Folding her hands in her lap, absently turning the ring on her finger, she told her story.

  “Welcome,” Thomas said, bending to kiss her cheek even as he drew her into the penthouse.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” Mia said, her heels clicking against the marble of the foyer. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in the apartment, but it was the first time she’d been included as both a guest and an employee. Previous experience told her that the rooms would soon be filled with guests, those lucky enough to fall within a few select categories: those with bank accounts that ensured a life of ease; those who could offer some sort of business advantage for any one of the Thorensens’ many endeavors; those who had family connections going back generations; and lastly, those who had been hand-picked by Thorensen as what she’d heard him refer to as ‘adornments’ for his party. The last group was, by far, the smallest, usually consisting of no more than one or two women. Mia had seen at least a dozen of these incredibly beautiful women pass through these doors over the past year or so since she’d first been approached to expand her photography from private sessions to shooting the city’s elite. She’d learned that having several zeroes following their bank balances wasn’t the only thing that mattered to these people. Having their faces looking out from the front page or plastered in spreads of magazines was something they each strived to achieve.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Thomas asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “You forget, you’re a guest as well,” he said with a grin.

  Mia felt her face heat but the weight on her shoulder allowed her to shift her attention. “I appreciate that, but I thought you might like me to get started before your other guests arrive.”

  Thomas chuckled and then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that would be better. You can set up in the master bedroom. Here, let me help.”

  She handed him the duffle bag containing additional equipment, but kept her camera bag. Following him across a living room that would easily contain her entire house, they entered a massive master bedroom suite.

  Floor to ceiling windows took up one wall with sliding glass doors in the center that opened onto a balcony. A king-sized bed stood facing it, thick round posts reaching for the ceiling on each corner. The huge mound of pillows piled against the headboard didn’t surprise her, but the blood-red duvet covering the surface did. It had been black the last time she’d been in the room. Her surprise must have shown on her face as Thomas chuckled.

  Placing the duffel on the bench at the foot of the bed, Thomas moved to stroke a finger across the duvet. “I thought the color would provide a rather dramatic background, but if you disagree, we can change it.”

  “It should be fine,” Mia said, knowing that to disagree with a client’s choice wasn’t exactly good business acumen. “It will take me about half an hour to set up the lights.”

  “That’s fine. It will give me time to settle the subject.” He turned and left before she could speak.

  Settle the subject? What exactly did that mean? It seemed a rather odd choice of words. Her experience in these rather intimate shoots was that the client might be a bit shy, but knew what to expect. Then again, did it really matter? She’d simply do her best to make the woman relax, assuring her that everything would be fine. Realizing that what she was thinking could be considered as helping the subject ‘settle,’ Mia shrugged off the concern. She worked to set up lights and various tripods, positioning them around the room, within easy reach and yet out of her way. It took several minutes to check all of her cameras, making sure new memory cards were in the digital cameras and loading her tried but true Nikon with film. Like Ansel Adams, she loved working in black and white media and though most clients wouldn’t consider it, often, once she’d shown them proofs, they fell in love with the photos. Light and shadow became far more important when color was taken out of the equation. If a subject was positioned correctly, the resulting photo came to life in a far more dramatic way, often seeming to leap out of the photo.

  When Thorensen hadn’t returned after a half-hour, Mia went to the windows and looked out. The view of the city was incredible and she knew that with nightfall, it would become breathtaking. Perhaps she’d shoot a few pictures on the balcony later, capturing the lights below. A noise had her turning and she knew that her photos would be outstanding. The woman on Thorensen’s arm was stunning. Long blonde hair hung to the middle of her back, streaks of gold and red gleaming in the mass of curls. There would be little need to touch up any photographs, the woman’s skin was flawless. She was wearing nothing but a black corset, the snug garment pushing what were already ample breasts into even more prominence, the globes pushed together, nipples barely concealed. A pair of very brief panties peeked out beneath the hem of the corset, legs that seemed to go for miles ending in a pair of ridiculously high stiletto heels.

  “This is Jennifer,” Thomas said by way of introduction.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mia said, moving to extend her hand. The woman’s palm seemed a bit damp but Mia wasn’t truly surprised. It was natural for her to be a little nervous. Mia’s professionalism took over. “Let’s start with a few simple shots, shall we? Perhaps of the two of you?”

  “No,” Thomas snapped, his tone causing Mia to turn to him. “I mean, tonight isn’t about me. Go ahead, sugar, climb up on the bed and let’s get started. Other guests will be arriving soon.”

  Mia spent the next hour snapping photo after photo, giving gently spoken instructions to move an arm or leg, to turn her head a bit, watching as the woman obeyed and yet seemed to be doing so by rote… not from enjoyment. The duvet did indeed provide a good background, the red vivid against the woman’s fair skin and blonde hair. As Mia loaded another roll of film, Thomas positioned his guest in a pose that drew some complaint from Jennifer.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Mia heard her mutter.

  “Don’t be silly,” Thomas said, stroking the woman’s hair back. “It’s just you and me, sugar.” When her eyes cut to Mia, he chuckled. “The photographer doesn’t count. She’s like a doctor… once you’ve seen one pair of tits, you’ve seen them all. Now, lie back.” When Jennifer still hesitated, Mia watched as Thorensen’s hand moved to encircle her throat, none too gently pushing her to her back. Mia specialized in boudoir photography and had photographed dozens of women in all states of dress and positions, but would not participate if the subject was being forced. Ready to intervene, regardless of his wishes, she was spared the need when Jennifer seemed to relax, allowing him to spread her limbs, wrapping her hands around the railing of the headboard and accepting cuffs at her wrists as well as her ankles.

  By the time the shoot was over, darkness had fallen. As Mia packed up her gear, Thomas stood by the side of the bed, his fingers running up and down Jennifer’s body. Mia’s own face heated, the bulge tenting the front of his trousers was unmistakable.

  “Go have that drink,” Thomas said. “We’ll be out later.”

  Mia left, a bit surprised to learn that several guests had already arrived while they’d been in the bedroom. Instead of accepting a glass of champagne, she asked for a bottle of water and was given one that fizzed and popped. She wasn’t a fan of sparkling water, but it would do to quench her thirst. She’d enjoy a more adult beverage later. For now, she took the opportunity to go around the room, taking photographs of coupl
es who were eager to pose throughout the gorgeous penthouse. By the time midnight arrived and additional corks popped from bottles, she saw Thomas, his arm around Jennifer’s waist and yet when he bent to kiss her, Mia could have sworn that the woman flinched before his mouth descended on hers.

  “And was that the last time you saw Ms. Watson?”

  Mia shook her head, almost wishing it had been. If so, she would not have witnessed what followed. “No.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” Randall asked.

  “A little after 2:30 am.”

  “But didn’t the party end at 2:00?”

  “Yes, but I returned.”

  “Why? Were you concerned about Ms. Watson’s safety?”

  “Objection! Leading the witness!” Bracker shouted, rising to his feet.

  “Sustained,” Judge Yori said.

  Randall didn’t seem fazed and simply nodded. “Why did you return to the penthouse?”

  “I realized I was missing a canister of film,” Mia said. “I remembered setting it on top of the dresser and went back to get it.”

  “And Mr. Thorensen welcomed you back?”

  “No, I mean, the elevator opens into the foyer of the penthouse. I simply went back up and when I called out, no one answered. I thought perhaps he was in one of the other bedrooms… or someplace else. The master bedroom door was open and I knew exactly where I’d left the film, so I went to get it. That’s when I saw Jennifer. She was on the balcony… outside the master bedroom.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “No, she was with a man.”

  “Is the man you saw in the courtroom today?”

  This time, Mia didn’t hesitate for an instant. Speaking clearly, she said, “Yes, he is seated right there,” and pointed to the table

  Randall nodded. “Let the record reflect, the witness has identified the defendant, Thomas Thorensen, as the man with Ms. Watson that night.” After a pause, he said, “Your witness.”