Privilege is here - it's hot, dangerous, and romantic...a real rollercoaster ride!
Series Blurb:
Corruption is everywhere—in the highest political offices, at every level of law enforcement, and in the sanctity of the Church. For Dimitri Valesky, head of one of the most powerful Russian mobs in America, everyone has a price and he’s infiltrated each facet of society to further his criminal goals.
Privilege Blurb:
She’ll destroy the mobsters who murdered her brother… unless they kill her first.
District cop Lia Blosky warned her twin brother not to get involved with the Valesky Crime Family. He didn’t listen. Now, he’s dead, tortured horribly before mobsters murdered him. Out for blood, she’ll do anything to see these monsters dead.
FBI Special Agent Adrian Kalin is connected to the Valesky Family in a way he loathes and doesn’t want. His stepfather rules the syndicate and is tired of Lia threatening to kill him and others responsible for her brother’s death. To shut her up for good, he orders Adrian to murder her. Who better than an FBI agent who has no connection to her and knows how to hide evidence?
Adrian resists, but if it comes down to saving Lia or his brothers and mother from Dimitri’s rage, he’ll have to choose family.
In a deadly game between each other and the mob, Lia and Adrian fight to survive… while also surrendering to their undeniable attraction to each other.
LIA
I drive to
a neighborhood gym. I doubt my so-called suspension will allow me to use police
facilities. Even if it did, putting myself into a demeaning situation—the
female cops ignoring me while the male ones make snide comments—isn’t at the
top of my to-do list. Better to keep far, far away from that.
Once
inside the place, I grab a locker then dress in my workout clothes, black
leggings and a matching sports bra. Deliberately bypassing the weights and
other equipment, I stop at a speed bag, also known as a punching bag. The kind
shown on TV and in movies where a fighter prepares for the championship bout.
Gloved up, I picture Crastano’s, Fratrazelli’s, Hickenstone’s, and my perp’s
revolting faces on the thing.
My first
slug is hard. My next way past that. I’m soon breathless but totally stoked.
Then I get
serious and imagine Dimitri’s putrid features on the thing. Next to him are the
Petrov Family assassins who destroyed Jash.
I’m
pounding so hard, my hair comes loose from the scrunchy, strands sticking to my
sweaty cheeks. It’s not enough, endless rage still burning within me. I go at
the bag with unending malice. It’s my only option at this point, and I want to
fucking annihilate it. To send the thing sailing across the—
“Damn.”
A guy my age stops next to me. “You’re on fire, babe.”
“Fuck.
Off.” Teeth gritted, I get in his space. “I am not your goddamn babe.”
He lifts
his hands, his eyes wide. “Sorry to have bothered…”
I don’t
hear the rest. I’m too busy taking out my fury on the bag.
The others
who pass me keep a wide berth. They must have seen me snarl at that other guy.
I should feel bad but don’t. Losing Jash in such a horrible way keeps draining
away my sympathy and humanity. Before long, I’ll be exactly like Dimitri.
I can’t
wait.
Winded, I
slow somewhat.
A young
woman makes eye contact. I refuse to look away. She does so quickly.
I’m so
worked up, I’m ready to challenge anyone here who regards me the wrong way,
says any-goddamn-thing, or gets too near my—
Standing
in the doorway is a man who doesn’t belong here, unless he’s wearing a business
suit because he’s a promoter or a sports agent.
Neither
seems likely given the lack of talent in this room.
Yet, he
keeps standing there, his gaze riveted to me.
I throw a
punch at the bag and miss.
He arches
one dark eyebrow, a smile tugging at his chiseled mouth.
To say
he’s handsome is understating the fact by a thousand percent. His all-American
good looks have a bad boy edge enhanced by his dark wavy hair kissing his
forehead, his lushly lashed eyes, and his impressive stubble. Five o’clock
shadow at two in the afternoon is quite a feat.
My nipples
peak. Something deep inside my pussy stirs.
I don’t
try to stop it. This is the first good feeling I’ve had in too long, even if I
don’t understand why he’s here and slowly perusing me from head to toe.
If he’s
not denying himself, why should I?
I stop at
the precious package between his legs, his spectacular erection pressing
against his pants.
Warmth
pours through me. Already weakened from my workout, I have trouble standing.
Who are
you?
If he’s a
promoter or agent, maybe I should consider boxing as a fallback career, should
my future in policing actually be over.
However…
If he’s
from the IAB—the Internal Affairs Bureau of the DPD—come to give me grief about
the Representative’s snotty kid, I want him fucking gone.
I smack
the bag one last time then cross the room to him, my strides certain and fast, demanding
he back up.
He
doesn’t, his stance saying he’s in charge, his eyes hooded.
My pussy
creams.
Shit.
Stop it. He’s not a date. He’s…
Fuck if I
know, but I intend to find out. “Who are you? If you have business here, do it.
If not, leave the premises. Quit leering at me.”
Rather
than obey, he drags his gaze down my length far slower than he did earlier.
My heart
races in a good way when it shouldn’t. Not one to back down or accept behavior
like his, I step closer.
His heat
and crisp woodsy scent surround me.
Unwelcome
desire surges within my sheath, a faint pulse beating there. Fighting it, I
tighten my shoulders. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Every
word, Ms. Blosky.”
He knows
my name? How? “Are you with IAB? If you are, I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then it’s
good I’m not with them.”
That
doesn’t make sense. There’s no other way he could know my name. No one has to
sign in here to use the equipment or be a member. You pay for your time up
front then go your own way. We’re all anonymous, which is how I like it. “Then
who are you with?”
He shifts
his attention from my mouth to my eyes.
His are
the deepest blue I’ve ever seen. A sapphire color with faint grey specks.
Simply breathtaking. My mouth dries.
“The FBI,”
he says.
I don’t
understand and shake my head. “What about the FBI?”
“I’m a
Special Agent with the Bureau.”
Yet he’s here
and ogling me? I don’t believe him for a second. “What’s your name? Where’s
your badge?”
“Adrian
Kalin,” he says then slips his hand inside his jacket.
The edge
falls back, revealing his weapon.
A Russian kingpin wants
her dead… the only one who can stop it is the man sent to murder her.
Toni Flores loved her
dream job working for a respected US senator until he raped her. She’s
determined to bring him to justice, no matter the cost.
For years, Dimitri
Valesky, head of a Russian crime family in America, has bought off those in government.
Just like the senator responsible for Toni’s assault. When she won’t keep quiet
about it and risks Dimitri’s business, he orders his stepson Michael to kill
her.
Michael’s a lobbyist not
a mafia enforcer. He refuses the insane demand, but Dimitri insists. The power
he holds over Michael and his brothers is absolute… or so he believes.
Rather than murder Toni,
Michael intends to romance her. Once he convinces her to keep quiet about the
Senator, she won’t be a target any longer and Dimitri will back off on the hit.
The plan falls apart and now they are dodging mafia enforcers, bullets, and
Dimitri’s outrage.
Michael and Toni fight to
stay alive and save those dearest to them as they also fall hopelessly in love.
This is book one in the
Valesky Crime Family series and has an HEA.
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