Read an Excerpt
Falling for the Bad Girl
The Cutting Loose Series
By Nina Croft, Brenda Chin Entangled Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2017 Nina Croft
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63375-866-7
CHAPTER 1
What the hell am I doing?
If he had any sense — which he clearly didn't — he'd drive straight past this place.
Instead, Nate pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched off the engine. Sitting back, he ran a hand through his hair.
"Are you going to tell me why we're here?" Phil asked from the passenger seat.
Fuck if I know.
Maybe he just needed something to banish the image of his father lying in that hospital bed, so frail. He'd always been such a big man, but now he'd shrunk until there was almost nothing left. It hurt. His father had been a good person, a great detective. He'd followed all the rules, and look where it had gotten him — alone for most of his adult life. Now he was sixty-five and dying of cancer. And there was absolutely nothing Nate could do about it. He was powerless.
What was the fucking point?
He sensed Phil's gaze on him, and he kept his expression blank. Phil was his partner, and the question had been a legitimate one. All the same, he didn't feel like answering. Right now, they were supposed to be at a crime scene, but on the way over there, something had flicked in his brain and as if on autopilot, he'd switched directions and here they were. Outside Holloway prison.
Where I have no right or reason to be.
"You know you look like shit?" Phil said. "Like you slept in your clothes. Or you would, except you don't look like you slept."
Nate snorted. "You know, with observation skills like that, you'd make a great detective." He pressed a finger to his forehead. "My dad took a turn for the worse last night. They've admitted him to the hospital. I spent most of the night there."
"Sorry, man."
"It wasn't unexpected." All the same, it felt like the end. Hell, it likely was the end, and unexpected or not, that was hard.
Across the road, the gate remained firmly closed.
Shit, this was so fucked up. He wasn't thinking straight — or thinking at all. His hand went to the ignition, fully intending to switch on the car and get the hell out of there. Instead, he found himself pocketing the keys and climbing out.
Phil shrugged but got out as well. As always, his partner looked immaculate in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and navy tie. Detective Sergeant Phillip Schroder was ambitious and dressed to impress. Freshly shaved, hair short and neat. It irritated the hell out of Nate, usually making him feel like some homeless guy who'd wandered into the police station by accident. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and glanced down at his faded jeans and scuffed leather jacket.
He'd like to blame it on the sleepless night, but he'd never gone for the whole dress-to-impress thing. He hadn't worn a suit in years, and his hair had been due for a cut for the last six months. It just hadn't seemed important with everything else going on. Besides, if his bosses weren't impressed by his conviction record, which was the best in the department, he didn't give a shit.
Or maybe it was simply part of his general dissatisfaction with life. Lately, he seemed to question everything he did. He was always butting heads with his coworkers, fighting against the constrictions, the rules. And he hated the ass-kissing needed to get on in the job.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back, leaning against the wall out of the way. At eleven in the morning, the streets were relatively busy; they wouldn't be noticed.
"So," Phil said, coming to stand beside him, "I take it someone is being released." He nodded to the prison gate.
Nate gave a grunt but didn't answer. Phil would have a fit if he knew ... hell, when he knew.
But then the case had never really been closed. Her accomplice had never been apprehended, and the proceeds of the robbery never recovered. Somewhere, Regan Malloy had a fortune in cut diamonds stashed away.
Though that wasn't why he was here.
He didn't even really understand himself. But he'd never been able to get her out of his head.
At that moment, the gate opened, and Nate straightened, his heart thumping, as his gaze fixed on the woman who stepped out of the prison.
"Ah," Phil murmured from beside him. "Regan Malloy. That's why we're here." He shook his head. "This is not good, Nate."
Of course it wasn't good. Not professionally and not personally. But he couldn't bring himself to care.
He hadn't seen Regan Malloy for nearly three years. Not since she'd been in court for sentencing. She'd been dressed in a black suit and high heels, and she'd looked right through him as they'd led her away. Then at the door, she'd glanced back over her shoulder, their gazes had locked, and for a brief second, something had passed between them.
Or maybe he'd totally imagined it.
Today, she somehow looked smaller, younger, despite nearly three years having passed. Her jeans were baggy — she'd lost weight — and her black hair was longer. It was tied back in a ponytail, but he reckoned loose, it would reach halfway down her back. Even from this distance, her blue eyes were beautiful, her skin pale, her face free of makeup.
Maybe he'd come to prove that that look in the courtroom had meant nothing. That the woman he'd dreamed about, the woman he'd been jerking off to for the last three years, was just a figment of his imagination. It would allow him to stop thinking about her — to have control over one damn thing in his life.
But even if that look had happened — so what? There could never be anything between them. He'd been lead detective on the case. She no doubt blamed him for her time inside. Not only that, but she came from a family of habitual criminals. He'd spent his whole career going after people like her. So what the hell was he doing loitering outside Holloway prison on the morning of her release?
Yup, Phil was right — it wasn't good.
She was staring down the road, nibbling on her lower lip, and he couldn't drag his gaze away. Heat jolted through him.
Something drew her attention. She turned his way, and her gaze caught his, her brows drawing together, her mouth turning down. She took a step in his direction, but then a car pulled up, blocking her forward movement — a red sports car with two women, both blond. The one in the passenger seat jumped out and hugged Regan, grabbed her bag, and threw it in the back.
He'd expected her family to be here. The Malloys were close-knit, but he didn't recognize either of the women. He watched through narrowed eyes as Regan was hustled into the front passenger seat. The driver wrapped her in a big hug. Regan didn't look in his direction again as the other one climbed into the back and the car took off.
"Come on," he said to Phil. He didn't want to lose them.
He was in the driver's seat and pulling into the traffic as the red car took a left turn.
"You realize you're seriously deranged?" Phil said, fastening his seat belt.
"Oh, yeah."
* * *
Holy freaking moly.
Regan gritted her teeth and forced herself to not look back, but she couldn't resist a quick peek in the side mirror. A black sedan driven by Detective Sergeant Nathan Carter was on her tail.
Maybe she'd report the bastard for harassment, though she supposed he hadn't harassed her yet. But why was he here?
And why the hell did he have to be so goddamn gorgeous? All long and lean and sort of scruffy. Just the way she liked them. He didn't look like your average cop. She was sure that was the only reason she hadn't been able to forget him.
He'd come after her with a tenaciousness that hadn't eased up until she'd been locked away tight in her prison cell. And yet, through all the interviews, the questioning, there had been the attraction bubbling away beneath the surface. On her side, at least. He hadn't given any indication he felt anything at all for her except maybe contempt. Right up until that last day in the courtroom, when she'd looked back and caught him off guard.
And he'd been gazing at her like he wanted to devour her. Hot and hungry.
She hadn't been able to get that look out of her head. It had fueled her fantasies for nearly three years. How many nights had she woken in her narrow bunk, hot and wet, with his image burned in her brain?
Never going to happen.
They were fantasies, and they would stay that way. He wasn't only a cop; he was the cop who had put her away. And she would never forgive him. No doubt, he'd just been doing his job, but it had felt personal.
"Hey, are you okay?" Darcy glanced at her as they stopped at a red light.
She forced a smile. "Just a little overwhelmed."
"Yeah. It takes some getting used to. But don't worry. We're here to help you."
"I take it you haven't told your family yet?" Summer said from behind her.
Regan shook her head. She loved her family dearly, all of them, but they could be suffocating and smothering, and she'd needed some time alone before she allowed herself to be gathered back into the fold. "I will. Tomorrow."
"In the meantime, we've got a treat for you. Everything is on us today. We've been planning it since we got out." Darcy and Summer had been her cellmates for most of her stay in Holloway, but had both been released in the previous two weeks.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Wait and see."
Regan sat back in the leather seat and forced herself to relax.
From the beginning, Summer had been shy, Darcy standoffish, and back then, Regan would never have dreamed they would bond; they were all so different. But she had become closer to these women than anyone in her life before, sharing their fears and their dreams.
Now they were all free, the sun was shining, and she was never going back.
All the same, a little niggle of unease rode her. She could almost feel him behind her. But this time, he couldn't touch her. She hadn't done anything wrong. She'd paid for her crimes.
Five minutes later, the car pulled up outside the Ritz, and Darcy switched off the engine, jumped out, and handed the keys to the valet. Regan sat for a moment.
"Come on," Darcy said.
"Are you sure you can you afford this?"
"It's just for one night. But we thought it would be a treat. Your first night out in style. Start as you mean to go on."
She got out and waited while Summer grabbed some bags off the backseat. "And we've got you a few prezzies to help you along."
She came to an abrupt halt inside the glass doors, just staring around her. The contrast with where she had come from was too much for her brain to process. Darcy nudged her forward, across the marble reception area, with its cream-and-gold walls, huge flower arrangements, and chandeliers. They didn't go to the desk but straight for the elevator. Was everyone looking at her? The area was filled with well-dressed people. Could they all see that she didn't fit in here?
This felt unreal. So different from the last few years. Too different. She couldn't get her head around it. Her family wasn't poor, but this sort of place had never been part of her lifestyle.
Summer let them into the suite, and Regan stood inside the door, blinking back tears. It was a world away from the one she had woken to that morning. Darcy disappeared through a doorway and a few seconds later, she heard running water. Summer took her bag from her gently and placed it on the scarlet brocade sofa.
"Go have a nice long soak. Get the smell of that place off you. We'll be waiting."
As she stripped off her clothes, it was as though she was shedding the last few years. This was a new start. Naked, she shoved the clothes into the bin; she was never wearing them again.
She lay in the bath for an hour. Scrubbed herself with the complimentary bath gel. Washed her hair twice. Finally, she felt clean and fresh but still overwhelmed, shaky and disoriented. After wrapping her hair in a towel, she dressed in the fluffy white bathrobe hanging on the door. As she walked out, Summer was pouring champagne into three flutes. And there was a tray with sandwiches and snacks and cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes. They really had pulled out all the stops, and she loved them for it.
She took the proffered glass and raised it, clinked it against Darcy's, then Summer's.
"To never going back," Darcy said.
"To making a fresh start," Summer added.
"To going straight," Regan concluded, and downed the icy-cold liquid in one gulp. It was sharp and crisp and delicious.
Summer put down her glass and turned to her pile of bags. "Prezzie time," she said, handing Regan a Victoria's Secret bag. Regan delved inside and pulled out a delicate black lace bra and matching thong.
"They're beautiful."
The second bag contained a little black dress, and the third, a pair of four-inch black-and-red polka-dot stilettos.
The last bag contained a pink box with a ribbon and Bad Girl's survival kit printed on the top. Inside were condoms, strawberry-flavored lubricant, and the biggest vibrator she had ever seen. The Rampant Rabbit. "We named it Nate," Darcy said with a grin.
"Shut up." She'd told them about her inconvenient fantasies about her detective during one long sleepless night in their shared cell.
"Go get dressed."
The clothes fit perfectly, and she felt like a new woman. She rubbed her hair dry and tossed the towel aside. Her hair needed cutting. It was the longest it had ever been, but that would have to wait for another day.
As she came out of the bedroom, there was a knock on the door.
"Go on," Darcy urged with a grin. "I think it might be for you." There was a mischievous smile on her face. What had she done?
Regan opened the door to find a man standing there. He was tall, with dark blond hair and a leather jacket, and he was dangling a pair of handcuffs from one upraised hand.
For a moment, her mind went blank.
"Regan Malloy," he murmured, and there was a glint in his eyes.
She nodded.
"You're under arrest."
She backed into the room. He followed her, shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it to the floor as he entered. His hand moved to the top button of his shirt and suddenly, she realized what was going on. She glanced at Summer and Darcy, who were both laughing at her reaction.
"Oh my God. He's a strip-o-gram. You got me a strip-o-gram."
"A welcome out detective strip-o-gram. Because we all know how much you love detectives. Now sit down and enjoy the show."
So she did.
And found herself giggling uncontrollably. It released the tension she hadn't even realized was there.
He ended up lying with his head on her lap, naked, except for a shiny black thong.
"I do extras," he murmured.
"Thanks, but no thanks. I did enjoy the show, though."
He pouted but rose to his feet and collected his clothes from around the room. Darcy stepped forward and tucked a couple of twenties down his thong. "Thanks."
When he was gone, they finished the champagne, and then both Darcy and Summer put down their glasses and stood up. "We're going to leave you now," Darcy said. "Because, honey, we've been there, and I'm guessing you just want to be alone and have some space." She leaned over and kissed Regan on the cheek.
Summer gave her a hug. "We'll see you tomorrow after you've been home. Call if you need anything."
It was like Alcoholics Anonymous; they were going to keep an eye on one another, making sure they didn't stray from the straight and narrow.
"Thanks so much for all this." She waved a hand around the room, the empty champagne bottle, the vibrator.
"Our pleasure. Order what you like on room service — it's all covered."
A minute later, the door closed behind them, and she was alone.
She stood for a moment, feeling disoriented. Her movements had been controlled for so long, but now she could do anything she liked. A big flat-screen TV hung on the wall, and she picked up the remote and pressed the power on, then flicked through the channels. Sat down. Got up again, unable to settle.
Perching on the edge of the sofa, she nibbled the frosting off one of the cupcakes. But she wasn't hungry.
She could do anything she wanted. Only she had no idea what to do.
She got up and drifted across the room to stand by the window. It was early evening, and she watched the people passing. Something across the street caught her eye. A man stood in the shadows of a doorway, leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. No strip-o-gram — this was the real thing.
Her heart rate picked up.
She stared down at him for long minutes.
He ran a hand through his already-messy hair. It was a gesture he made often and one she remembered well. He'd done it while he interviewed her, sitting across from her, pulling her statement apart, doing his utmost to take away her freedom.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Falling for the Bad Girl by Nina Croft, Brenda Chin. Copyright © 2017 Nina Croft. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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