Mine To Hold Wicked Lovers, Book 6 Publisher: Berkley HEAT ISBN-13: 978-0425245514 Release Date: June 5, 2012 Genre: Erotic Romance Pre-Order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Amazon UK Pre-Order eBook: Kindle | Nook A friend’s duty. Tyler Murphy was an LAPD detective, single and happy—until a near-fatal tragedy crippled his friend, fellow detective Eric Catalano. While he supported Eric, he also became a shoulder for Eric’s wife, Delaney, to lean on. But with one naughty suggestion from Eric, a drunken night with Delaney spilled into erotic abandon. Before it was over Tyler saw his best friend’s wife as a woman and yearned for more. When Eric struggled to deal with the aftermath, Delaney begged Tyler to leave. Crushed, he fled to Louisiana, hoping to escape his longing for the one woman he could never have again…and unaware of what he’d left behind.  A lover’s desire. After two years of living with regret, Tyler finds Delaney on his doorstep, her husband having abandoned her long ago. She’s protecting a shocking secret and desperately needs refuge from a killer determined to see her dead. As they fight to stay alive and catch the stalker, they struggle to resolve the guilt of their past pleasures. But they can’t deny that what was once a spark is now a flame burning out of control. To possess Delaney—body and soul—Tyler must heal her pain and thwart the evil that’s a mere breath behind her… Read Reviews | Read Excerpt

4.5 stars "Black does an amazing job adding passion and intensity to every page. The storyline is part mystery and part erotica and will leave readers yearning for more." ~ RT Book Reviews

Chapter 1

“Tyler, are you aware that all the girls at Sexy Sirens have nicknamed you Cockzilla?”

He laughed. That rich, deep sound Delaney Catalano hadn’t heard for two long years sang in the humid May air, making her heart clench. After all the trials and miles—and lately, the bullets—she never believed she’d hear Tyler Murphy’s familiar voice again. Certainly, she’d never imagined hearing it in BFE, Louisiana, as she hid in the shadows of his back patio like some sad stalker. She wasn’t at all surprised that a group of girls had given him a moniker about his sexual prowess. Women had always crawled all over him, and perpetually single Tyler liked it that way.

Once upon a time, his antics had made her laugh—until Delaney had experienced him for herself. To this day, she remembered exactly how good he’d been. She pushed the thought aside.

Peeking around the corner, she saw Tyler’s broad shoulders and upper back encased in a charcoal gray T-shirt. His blond hair had been cut brutally short, exposing the strong column of his sun-kissed neck. He lounged in a chair, his forearms looking bronzed, heavily veined, and vital under the patio lights. Around a table, he was surrounded by a virtual harem: two redheads, a platinum blonde, a Latina brunette, and an auburn-haired model type—each totally gorgeous.

Some things never change. Not that it should matter to her. He’d been her friend first and foremost. And he’d never been hers to lose.

“And that’s a bad nickname why?” Tyler returned to the stunning blonde beside him, lifting his bottle of beer to his mouth and taking a long swallow.

As the other women laughed, Delaney glanced over her shoulder, hoping like hell that she hadn’t been followed. She breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared that she was alone. How nice would it be if her most pressing problem were others’ opinions? How nice would it be if someone didn’t want her dead?

“Ladies . . .” the blonde’s voice warned. “This is not funny. Remember the plan?”

“Alyssa is right,” said the brunette with sinful curves. “We’re worried about you.”

“That’s very sweet, Kata, but acting like you care isn’t going to persuade me to watch another crappy Twilight movie with you.”

“You liked it,” Kata accused.

Tyler snorted. “You wish.”

He probably had liked it more than he wanted to admit. Tyler liked high-testosterone thrillers, but he’d admitted under the influence of Señor Cuervo that he kinda liked chick flicks, too. Once upon a time, he’d been Delaney’s buddy of choice to curl up on the couch with and rent movies, she remembered with a wistful smile. Then reality crashed back in.

“Focus.” Alyssa snapped. “This is an intervention. The girls and I all agree that you need help.”

“C’mon. I’m not a drug addict or an alcoholic. I’m no danger to myself or others.”

“Wrong. You’re dangerous to womankind,” the auburn-haired beauty cut in. “Can you make it a whole day without getting in some stripper’s thong? Our guess is no.”

Delaney grimaced. Yep, same old Tyler. He’d always liked women easy and flashy. One reason—among many—she’d never taken his flirting seriously. Then again, it wasn’t his flirting that had been her downfall.

“Ouch, Kimber. You wound me.” Tyler slapped a hand dramatically over his chest.

“Cut the crap,” she demanded. “You can’t make it a whole day, can you?”

“Sure, I could. But why torture myself? I have to do something to stave off the loneliness.”

“I don’t need any more catfights on stage about who’s getting Cockzilla tonight,” Alyssa chimed in again.

“No catfights at a strip club? You’re kidding me? Your patrons loved the action. Better than Jell-O wrestling. Got a rise out of me.”

The women in Tyler’s life were staging an intervention, and he wasn’t taking it seriously. Delaney wasn’t really surprised. He would always be Mr. Good-Time. What did surprise her, however, was that none of the women seemed to be fighting over him. Yet, anyway.

“Wait. Are you her to tell me that you’re suddenly available and want me all to yourself?” he challenged the gorgeous blonde. “You know I’m all over that.”

“We all know.” Another woman scoffed and waved her hand. “I haven’t known you that long, but seriously, a stiff wind could get a rise out of you.”

The lovely redhead with the sultry brown eyes wore a wedding ring. Then again, bands of gold had never stopped Tyler before. She ought to know.

“You noticed, Tara? I’m touched.”

“Don’t give me that,” Tara scolded. “Alyssa is being really serious. We all are.”

“Really? It’s not a joke?” With a sigh, Tyler turned back to the blonde. “Okay. What’s up, boss lady?”

“I can’t have girls fighting and quitting because you’re too busy playing musical beds,” Alyssa said. “Someone is going to lose every time, and it’s creating a fucking mess that I don’t have time to clean up. I hired Jessi to replace Krystal, who left because she didn’t like being last on your booty-call list. Tyler, Jessi has been with me for three days. Three! I found out this afternoon that you’ve already tapped that, more than once.”

He fidgeted in his seat. “After her first shift, she asked for an escort to her car. The parking lot was dark and empty. I helped her out.”

“By nailing her in the backseat?”

“There’s more room in a Civic than you’d think.”

“Tyler, I know you like to keep things light, but please be serious for a minute.” Alyssa’s voice rang with frustration. “Jessi came crying to me when she found you and Skylar in the dressing room last night after closing. Do I need to enact a strict no-anal-sex policy at the club?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Jessi’s feelings. I thought she knew the score. I’ll talk to her.” He frowned. “I’m confused about one thing. I’ve bounced there for almost two years. What I do with the girls has never bothered you before. What is this really about?”

There was a long pause, and Delaney watched a few of the women lift glasses of wine and sip nervously.

The other redhead, the one with the baby bump, clutched a water bottle and shifted in the seat. “We think it’s time you settled down.”

“Morgan . . .” he warned. “Don’t try spreading your matrimonial joy on me. Just because you’re all blissful with your monogamy doesn’t mean I’m in any hurry to get there.”

So the redhead’s baby bump wasn’t his doing? Never mind. It’s irrelevant. Focus.

“You’re going to have to grow up,” Morgan pointed out.

Alyssa wagged a finger in his face. “Skylar just turned twenty-two. You’re, what, a decade older?”

Actually, Tyler was thirty-four. Delaney remembered his thirtieth birthday party, during happier times, back when she and Eric—

She shut down that thought and listened to the conversation.

“I didn’t know she was that young. Sorry.” Tyler shrugged. “We weren’t exactly exchanging vital statistics.”

“No,” Alyssa jumped in. “Just bodily fluids.”

“Hey, I always wear a condom.”

Tara grimaced as several others groaned. “Eww. I don’t want details.”

“I’m just saying . . . Let’s not get technical,” he defended. “So I’m older than she is. I’m not the first guy to date a younger woman.”

“Fucking in the back of the club isn’t dating.” Kimber sighed.

“Clean up your man-whore act.” Alyssa looked dead serious. “Or in ten years, you’re going to be a walking stereotype, a middle-aged Lothario hitting on young chicks with your snazzy sports car.”

“I don’t have a sports car, and even if I did, with a name like Cockzilla, everyone would know that I’m not overcompensating for anything I might be lacking.”

Alyssa smacked her hand on the table. “Damn it, are you listening to us at all?”

Tyler sighed. “Yes. Joking aside, I will curb some of my . . . activity at the club. I appreciate your concern. But seriously, I’m not looking for any kind of happily ever after.”

“Too bad,” Kata cut in. “We’re going to find you one.”

He stiffened. “Oh, I get it. You have someone in mind.”

“Well, I thought it would be nice if you’d talk to my cousin, London,” Alyssa suggested as if walking on eggshells. “She just moved here. She’s very sweet and could use a friend.”

“Hell no.”

Kata stood, putting her hands on her very curvaceous hips. “Are you refusing because she’s not a size two?”

Tyler shook his head. “I’ve got nothing against girls with a little extra cushion. But that one has purity written all over her. No fucking way. Alyssa, you don’t like the way I treat your dancers, but you want to unleash me on your little virgin relative?”

“So what if she’s a virgin?” Alyssa argued. “You have a really kind, loyal side that would be good for her.”

The gorgeous blonde had gotten that part right. He’d once proven that he’d do anything for a friend.

“He does,” Kata agreed. “I might not be here if that weren’t true.”

“If you can just keep your pants zipped long enough, she’ll see it. And you’ll get to know her, too, and—”

“Nope.” Tyler finished the last of his beer and slammed the bottle on the table. “I’m done here. If you ladies want to stay and finish your wine, you’re more than welcome, but there’s no way you’re pairing me up with anyone.”

“Where are you going?” Tara, closest to the sliding glass doors, moved her chair to block his path.

He scooted her out of the way with a nudge of his powerful thigh. “Anywhere else. Bye.”

When he disappeared inside the house, Delaney panicked. It had taken her forever to track him down. She was at the end of her cash reserves and the end of her rope. Time had run out. No way could she wait until he felt like coming home again to confront him. There was too much at stake.

Dragging everything she loved and owned behind her, Delaney clung to the shadows, watching for anything suspicious, and ran for his front door.

#

The doorbell rang before Tyler could escape the house. Damn it, if this was another meddling female trying to tell him how to run his life, he was going to shove a bottle of wine in her hands and send her out back with the rest of them. He had better things to do, like slap some sense into his buddies. What the hell had possessed all of them to marry such interfering women?

Clenching the knob with almost as much gusto as he gnashed his teeth, Tyler yanked the door open with a curse on the tip of his tongue. It died abruptly.

Oh. My. God.

He drank in the sight of the familiar, petite brunette. He knew those wary blue eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, and that sweet oval face. Her stubborn chin. That wide bow of a mouth. His heart pounded. He found himself unable to take a breath. “Delaney?”

The sight of her hit him like a fucking two-by-four in the solar plexus. Was it even possible that she stood at his door? Or was he hallucinating after two silent years of wondering what the fuck had happened?

“Hi, Tyler.”

She shifted nervously, looking too damn tired and rumpled. Her dark hair hung in an unraveling braid. She wore no makeup, a faded T-shirt, and had dark circles under her eyes. By her side sat a black duffel bag on wheels. Something else squatted near her, around the corner. He couldn’t see more than a blue, waist-high plastic handle stretching vertically for about two feet.

What the hell? She refused to have anything to do with him for two years, then came to his door unannounced, bringing everything she owned?

“You’re a tough man to track down,” she murmured, then glanced over her shoulder at the empty street bathed in twilight. “Your alias threw me.”

Scowling, he crossed his arms over his chest. Yeah, he should invite her in, but last time he checked, she’d thrown him out of her life.

Of course, she wouldn’t show up now with luggage unless she was desperate . . .

“I was under the impression you’d rather I get and stay lost,” he drawled.

She shook her head, her dark braid swaying in the valley between her soft breasts, the ones with the pretty berry red nipples he’d never forgotten, no matter how many fake tits he’d fondled in the last two years. Tyler ignored the stirring of his cock and swallowed back the memory.

“I’m sorry for the way things ended.” She bit her lip. “I know this is awkward—”

“As hell. Yeah. Where’s Eric?” He glanced down at her left hand, clutching the rolling duffel bag. Her ring finger was bare.

“We’re divorced.”

Fuck. And there came the two-by-four to his gut again. Tyler didn’t ask why; he knew the answer.

“I’m sorry as hell, Del.”

And he was. But there was a selfish side of him having a full-on, get-down party at the news that Del was single again.

Self-consciously, she rubbed her thumb under her naked ring finger. “Thanks. It was final sixteen months ago. I haven’t seen much of him since.” She pursed her lips together, glanced behind her at the quiet street again. “We don’t talk a lot.”

Son of a bitch, he’d bet the split was ugly. And why did she keep glancing behind her?

“Delaney . . .” Tyler didn’t know what the hell to say. It wasn’t all his fault. But a good deal of the blame rested on his shoulders. The need to know why she was here now also kept circling his brain.

“It’s okay. I know you have company and that this is uncomfortable. I know I handled everything between us badly in the past. I’m sorry. I regret it like hell.”

Delaney’s blue eyes filled up with tears. As she fought them back, Tyler resisted the urge to comfort her as he had when they’d been friends . . . then more.

“Can I come in? There’s something we really need to talk about—and we shouldn’t do it on your porch.”

Everything inside Tyler seized up. The last time they’d talked, she’d asked him to leave, then cut him out of her life. Whatever was on her mind, it would be heavy. She hadn’t come all the way to Lafayette from Los Angeles to shoot the shit.

Despite everything, how the hell could he say no? He’d ruined her life, and deep down, he’d been pretty damn sure that would be the outcome the second the deed was done. He owed her. Besides, he’d never been in love . . . but he’d come perilously close with Delaney.

“Sure.” He swallowed, grabbed her duffel, and stepped back. “Come in. How did you know I had company?”

Delaney glanced at the object with the tall plastic handle beside her, the rest hidden by the exterior wall of the porch. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I rang the doorbell a bit ago, and no one answered. So I popped around to the side of the house and . . . saw that you weren’t alone.”

“They’re my buddies’ wives.” He’d meant the words as an explanation, a defense. Then he winced. God, Delaney probably already imagined—with good reason—that he was fucking each and every one of them.

“It’s none of my business.” She glanced at the hidden object beside her again, then the empty street behind her. “I came because I need your help. Really badly and right now.”

“You look tired, Del. And too thin. Come in and tell me what you need.”

She drew in a deep breath, then bent to the hidden item just beside her. A trunk? A dolly? Did she mean to move in?

A moment later, she straightened up, clutching a child. A little boy. He was deadweight in her arms, half asleep, his face against her shoulder, thick blond hair askew. Tyler’s heart skidded to a stop.

The kid’s meaty hands and feet peeked out beyond the arms and legs of his Spider-Man pajamas that were just a bit too small. He hooked one arm around Delaney’s neck, then began rubbing an eye with his little fist. Then the kid turned. That little face possessed the Murphy nose. His own green eyes, uncertain and watchful, stared back at him.

Tyler’s entire body went cold. His jaw dropped as his mind came to a screeching halt. Oh God. Oh fucking God . . .

“Tyler, meet your son, Seth.”

His son. Tyler had known this kid was his at a glance. A thousand emotions pelted him at once. Shock blazed through his system first. Wonder crashed in next.

He had a son. He and Delaney had created life together that beautiful May night when he’d finally stopped seeing her as a friend and had little choice but to touch her as a woman.

But she’d never bothered to tell him. Had she even tried to find him or just decided that he was irrelevant and had the child on her own?

Fury swept over him, relentless. One scathing accusation after another perched on the edge of his tongue. Gritting his teeth, he pushed it down for the boy’s sake.

“Hi, Seth,” he spoke in soft tones, then speared Delaney with a glare that dared her to defy him. “I want to hold him now.”

Suddenly, Tyler ached to. This was his son. His . . . with her.

Regret made Delaney’s mouth tremble as she nodded. She kissed the little boy’s head, then whispered, “It’s okay, little man.”

Seth frowned and watched him suspiciously, but went into his arms without a fight. Then Tyler was holding his son for the first time, wrapping him as tightly in his arms as he dared.

He tried to swallow, but his throat felt too tight. His jaw ached. His heart beat fast, like a fucking racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. Something warm flooded his chest. Tyler had never fallen instantly in love with anything or anyone, but Seth seized his heart in a single moment. He kissed the little boy’s forehead, and the feeling swelled tenfold.

“Why am I just now finding out about him?” Tyler tried to keep his voice calm and even. But his eyes accused her. What he really wanted to know was how the fuck she could have robbed him of the first fifteen months of his own son’s life.

She glanced at the street behind her again apprehensively and shimmied out of the porch’s light. “You have every right to be angry. Things were complicated, and you became impossible to find once you moved out of state. And I know those seem like poor excuses. At the end of the day, I didn’t know what to tell you or if you’d even care. You can take it out of my hide later. I’m sure I deserve it. But right now, I need your help. I need you to protect Seth.” She swallowed, her red-rimmed eyes looking stark and afraid. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

#

Tyler’s face changed immediately, closing up, tensing. Cop mode; she recognized it. He might not be an LAPD Vice detective anymore, but some instincts never changed.

He dragged her into the house, then rolled her duffel and their son’s stroller into the little foyer. Shoulders taut, he slammed the door, then locked it behind him.

When he turned to her again, his green eyes were laser sharp and focused. “Tell me everything.”

Delaney licked her lips, her legs about to wobble out from under her. She was starving and exhausted. All of her cash had gone toward feeding Seth and buying gas. She hadn’t dared to use her credit cards.

Her thoughts were racing, and her son stirred restlessly. He’d been cooped up for days. Now that he was awake, he would want to roam around. As a mother who knew the bastard after her didn’t care if Seth was collateral damage, she was terrified to let the little boy out of her sight.

Sensing her problem, Tyler gently rocked him. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Seth frowned. Delaney handed the little boy the last of his apple juice from his sippy cup and a few animal crackers in the colorful but dented box.

Once he settled down, she risked a glance at Tyler. The man was waiting for an explanation—and not patiently. Where to begin?

“You remember Martin Carlson?”

“One of L.A.’s upcoming assistant district attorneys, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Slimy bastard.”

“That one, yes.” She sighed. “You know how Eric always teased me about reporting on fluff pieces, like society baby showers and dog shows, when I first started writing for the Times?”

He shrugged. “Of course.”

“So I pushed and pushed my editor, Preston, for meatier stories. On New Year’s Eve, he assigned me to cover a party that Martin Carlson and his wife were giving. During the party, I sneaked away to call the babysitter and check on Seth. I overheard Carlson on the phone, talking. He threatened that he’d better see the money show up in his Cayman account or the police would be banging on the door the next day. Then I heard Carlson specifically call Double T by name and tell the guy not to fuck him over or he was going to find his ass in prison and his operation shut down.”

Thunder rolled across Tyler’s face. “The gangster Double T of the Eighteenth Street gang?”

“Precisely,” Delaney said grimly. “Everyone who knows anything about the drug scene near the Pico-Union district knows that he rules his turf with an iron fist. Carlson didn’t see me, thank God. It was a short conversation, two minutes max. But after that, I started digging. I wanted to write a story that would blow Preston away.”

“Oh, fuck. Double T isn’t the person to get all tenacious and crusading about.”

“Preston said the same thing. He wanted me to call the feds.”

“Clearly, you didn’t listen.” And Tyler looked more than pissed about that fact. “So Double T is trying to kill you because you know some of his crap?”

“I think it’s Carlson, actually. I got my hands on a copy of one of the evidence logs down at your old precinct, Rampart. I’m pretty sure it was tampered with. A whole bunch of guns and bags of white powder, supposedly with Double T’s prints, suddenly turned up missing. I took a picture of the original log. Carlson and some beat cop went in the evidence room. But when I looked again, it only listed the beat cop’s name. I hunted that rookie down and found out he’d supposedly died during a drive by.”

The frown that crossed Tyler’s face wasn’t comforting. “Gangsters don’t usually shoot cops without provocation. It brings too much shit raining down on their head, which is bad for business.”

“Exactly. No one else died in the incident, either. One shooter, one bullet, which seemed even more fishy. So I kept investigating. I found one of Double T’s lieutenants, Lobato Loco, who wanted to make a power play, so he was willing to talk off the record. He didn’t like his boss giving the ADA a cut of the money and figured that he could eliminate the problem and Double T at once by snitching anonymously to a reporter. He said he’d sign an affidavit to that effect.

“Armed with information, I went to Carlson’s office and asked him about his dealings with Double T on the record. Of course he denied everything, but after that, shit started happening fast. I went to the police, but none of Eric’s buddies wanted to lift a finger to help the bitch who’d cheated on him, least of all that creep, Becker the Pecker. So I had to fend for myself, especially since I didn’t have any tangible proof of Carlson’s guilt.”

“Motherfucker,” Tyler muttered. “Did you tell Eric this? You might be divorced, but he wouldn’t want you dead.”

“I left messages. He didn’t call back.” She pressed her lips together, watching as Tyler got angry all over again.

In some ways, Tyler had always been more protective than Eric. Her ex-husband had always said that she was strong and capable. He’d never seen her as needing a champion. Tyler had his affable moments, but underneath, he was pure caveman. He’d threatened to bust up just about any asshole at Rampart who’d dared to ogle her or acted a bit too friendly.

“Wait!” She pushed a hand against Tyler’s chest when he looked ready to charge forward and find someone to beat the crap out of.

But her fingers encountered hard muscle, bulges, sinew—all male. Delaney gulped and withdrew her hand from the burning heat of Tyler’s skin. Too often, she’d mentally replayed their night together and remembered the utter masculine perfection of his body. The way his lips had lingered on her neck, his rough fingertips had scraped every inch of her flesh, his sex-roughened growl had talked her through each one of the five orgasms he’d given her in that sublime hour.

Those thoughts wouldn’t help her now. Lives were on the line.

“What the fuck am I supposed to wait for? I’m going to tear Eric a new one. And Carlson was always a fucking prick, more concerned with his own ambition than justice. If he’s threatening you, I’m going to put a stop to it.”

“You can’t.” She shook her head. His urge to help her was sweet . . . but misguided. “I started this. I have to finish it. Lobato Loco will only talk to me. No one else knows the facts like I do. Or has cultivated the contacts. But I can’t keep Seth in the middle of this danger. After the bomb destroyed my Toyota—I’m so glad I hadn’t strapped Seth in his car seat before I started the car with my key fob—I realized that—”

“The prick bombed your car?” Now Tyler sounded beyond furious. He’d gone deadly, with his jaw clenched damn tight. Delaney wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so enraged. “They meant to kill both you and our son?”

“Me more than Seth. Focus. All the admittedly circumstantial evidence I’d collected against Carlson was in that car, and now it’s gone. He means business. So I need you to protect Seth. It kills me to ask this of you.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes watering as she stroked her son’s arm, then gripped his little hand. “So please, don’t make this harder. I don’t want to leave him, but I’d rather he be alive with you than dead with me. No one knows you’re his father, and no one will think to look for him here. I have to go back to California and fix this mess. While I do, please keep our son safe.”