INFERNO (JAZZ SESSIONS #2) BY MAYA ALDEN – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Maya Alden
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 6.7 MB
- Price: Free
Blaze
“Do you have a death wish?” Nick hissed when I pushed her against a
wall outside the police station.
In response, I put my hand between her legs and lifted her off her
feet, cupping her and holding her against the wall. Fear ran in her eyes.
Good. I wanted the bitch scared. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing
mixin’ up with my family, Spice?”
She put her hands on my shoulders. “First, my name is Nick. Don’t call
me Spice.”
“Why?” Because I did when I tasted you? Fuck. I had to just think about
her warm pussy, and I had a hard-on.
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She took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “Blaze, you need to set me
down before a cop arrests you for assaulting a police officer.”
“You think they’ll arrest a Doucet in N’awlins, dawlin’?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and I wanted…fuck, I wanted to taste
her. The one time I had with her had been…had been why Seth killed
himself, I reminded myself. The pain of his death, finding him and reading
his suicide note, seared inside, and raw anger flashed through me.
“You’re going to back off this case and have them put someone else on it.
Don’t fuckin’ make me talk to Hines.”
Garrett Hines was the Chief of Police. My grandpère, Lucien Doucet, had
helped him become chief; he owed the Doucets more favors than I could
ever cash.
“Blaze?” I heard my brother call out. I waited a moment and jerked my
hand away from between her legs, and she caught herself before she fell,
those long legs supporting her.
She wasn’t short. Nah, Detective Nichola Renault was what, five-ten,
five-eleven? Looked like a fucking supermodel with those never-ending
legs and a face that the Almighty had put together by picking the best genes
from her French father and Creole mother. Her eyes were velvet brown, and
I knew they changed color got darker, like good chocolate, when she was
aroused.
I hadn’t seen her in nearly a decade, and she was still delicious—not a girl
of eighteen anymore, but a woman. Her body was tougher, leaner. As I’d
held her up, I’d felt her thigh muscles. I wanted to feel them around my
flanks. I wanted inside her.
“Right here, Z,” I called out to my brother. He peeked around the wall
and shook his head.
“Seriously? They arrested me for murder, and you’re doing…actually, I
don’t want to know what the fuck you’re doing.”
I walked over to Zephyr and waited for Nick to find her way to us, into
the light, in front of the Orleans Paris Criminal District Court on Tulane
Avenue.
She’d arrested Zephyr on suspicion of killing our cousin, Yves Doucet
Noel. I’d pulled my law license so fast it made her head spin, and before
they could put him behind bars, I had him out on bail.
Dale Portnoy, the Night Court Judge, didn’t want to fuck with a Doucet,
no matter that I had very little to do with Bayou Belle Holdings, the family
business. I was a Doucet, and that was enough to make or break political
careers and fortunes in Louisiana.
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