His to Take (Wicked Lovers 9)

too young.

Now, six years later, Mystery is grown, with a flourishing career and a full life—but she’s still stuck on Axel. In disguise, she propositions him in a bar, and the night they spend together is beyond her wildest dreams. Mystery steels herself to walk away—except the sheets are barely cold when her past comes back to haunt her.

Once he realizes Mystery isn’t the stranger he thought she was, Axel is incensed and intrigued. But when it’s clear she’s in danger, he doesn’t hesitate to become her protector—and her lover—again. And as the two uncover a secret someone is willing to kill for, Axel is determined to claim Mystery’s heart before a murderer silences her for good.

COMING SOON FROM BERKLEY BOOKS

Dear Reader,

Intrigue. Drama. Passion. Danger. Secrets. For Lexi Blake and me, those are the ingredients of a page-turning book. One night, over a bottle of wine (which is how much of our collaborating starts), we thought . . . what if? What if we wrote a series with all those elements? We started with a sexy romance, then added nail-biting stakes along with politics, wealth, and edge-of-your-seat action and surprises. From that, our new series, The Perfect Gentlemen, was born.

We’re thrilled to introduce to you a group of brothers-by-choice and the strong women who stand beside them to solve a shocking murder and uncover a long-buried scandal that will rock the foundations of their friendship—and America. Each book will be set in a dazzling city with a new couple to cheer on, but will bring back the characters you know and love as the friends confront a criminal force set on the destruction of everything they hold dear. Turn the page for a sneak peek at the first book in the series, Scandal Never Sleeps, which releases on July 7, 2015 from Berkley Books. We hope you’ll love the Perfect Gentlemen. Happy reading always!

Shayla and Lexi

EVERLY Parker looked around the swanky bar and felt out of place. This wasn’t her crowd, even though she worked with some of these people. She wasn’t a big bar hopper. She didn’t watch the clock and wait for five p.m. so she could hit her favorite watering hole. No, she was a work-long-hours-and-go-home-to-a-good-book-and-hot-bath kind of girl. But tonight, she wanted to be someone else—anyone who hadn’t buried her mentor and friend an hour ago and wasn’t now staring down the possibility of losing both her job and the roof over her head soon.

“Hey, are you going to nurse that drink all night long?” Scott leaned over and gave her a wink. He was on his third margarita. “Because I think you should down a few glasses of wine and be my wingwoman. Harry from accounting is here and I swear I’m going to die if I don’t go out with that hunk of man soon. He’s the only truly beautiful boy at work. He should be mine.”

Everly smiled. After she’d started at Crawford last year, she’d met Scott during her orientation. Initially, she’d mistaken his playful nature for a come-on. But he’d finagled her into having coffee with him shortly thereafter and apologized for giving her the wrong impression. He’d admitted that he hadn’t been himself because he’d just been through a rough breakup with his boyfriend. Scott sometimes used his happy-go-lucky face to mask his somber moods. To finally see him let go of his lost love and dip his toe in the dating pool with a hot guy thrilled her.

Honestly, Everly wasn’t sure she believed in true love. Attraction and affection, yes. But love? Her father had been burned by the concept. He’d taken the profound loss of his wife’s abandonment to his grave. Her mother had always seemed so distant, as though she’d spent her life up until the moment she’d walked out on them longing for something else. “Scott, I don’t even know what a wingwoman would do.”

He sat back and thought about it for a moment. “Well, first you’re going to have to go over there and talk me up. Tell him how perfect I am, what a great guy I am, then slip him a roofie so I can have my wicked way with him.”

She rolled her eyes. Sometimes Scott had a vivid imagination. “Sure. I’ll get right on that.”

“I tried,” he said with a long sigh, his gaze trailing to the back of the room.

Everly’s stare followed. A waitress in a female version of a tuxedo carried what looked to be a cheese plate past a large black man wearing a nondescript suit and aviators. He guarded a door that led to what she could only imagine was a VIP section.

“See that? I heard a rumor,” Scott whispered in her ear. “While you were in the bathroom, Marty from processing stopped by and told me the craziest story.”

“You shouldn’t listen to him. He’s a horrible gossip.”

“Do you want the scoop or not?”

She was kind of afraid that the next big scoop after this one would be “Wonder Girl Gets Fired After Kindly Employer Dies.” She’d shot through the ranks like a comet, and now she was going to hit the ground with a great big thud. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do when the new boss came in and found out his or her head of security was a too-young-for-her-position hacker who everyone except Maddox Crawford thought couldn’t handle the job. Maddox had been her champion, her mentor in this crazy corporate world. He’d also been a surprising friend.

At first, she’d been devastated by his death. But now, almost a week later, her brain had begun working overtime, and she had questions—the sort no one seemed to want to answer.

Maddox Crawford had been an experienced pilot. Had his death really been an accident?

Not according to that mysterious, inexplicable e-mail she’d received last night.

“Sure. What’s the big scoop?” Everly decided to disregard her own advice. She would listen to any gossip that took her mind off her troubles. She needed one good night before she faced whatever crap tomorrow would bring.

She took a healthy gulp of the Sauvignon Blanc she’d ordered. Scott was right. She needed to live a little before the hammer came down on her head. If things went the way she suspected, she would be lucky to afford box wine next month.

“You know how the Great Crawford had some seriously powerful friends, right?”

She didn’t follow the gossip rags the way everyone else did. In fact, she purposefully avoided that tripe. Why fixate on the problems of celebrities when she had so many of her own? Besides, when it came to people like Maddox, more fiction than truth filled the tabloids. They wanted a good story, and real life tended to be too boring. The Maddox she knew had worked hard—ten and eleven hour days, often six days a week. He’d cared about his employees. She bet no one reported on that. “He knew a lot of people. Men in his position often do.”

“He also knew one very powerful person,” Scott whispered.

She wasn’t sure what he was insinuating. “I don’t doubt that. He was in a very lofty position, Scott. It’s not so surprising he knew key players.”

Scott huffed, his frustration evident. “Damn it, don’t you know who I’m talking about? Zachary Hayes, the forty-fifth president of these United States, the hottest man to ever hit the White House. They were friends as teenagers, according to rumors. I’ve heard the president is a sentimental man. I think he attended Crawford’s funeral and is even now somewhere in this bar.”

Maddox had told her once that he’d attended the same prep school as the current president and that they’d been close back in the day. The two of them had been part of a small group of friends who had dubbed themselves the Perfect Gentlemen. The rumors of their hijinks had been the stuff of legend . . . and come up in some really low-blow preelection campaigns against Hayes. Everly wasn’t sure if they’d meant the name to be ironic, but she suspected so, given Maddox’s reputation.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, the president of the United States is here. I’m so sure.”

Scott looked pointedly back toward the VIP room. “Have you seen the surprising number of men in black suits hanging around here?”

“Scott, it’s a wake. The majority of people in this bar came straight from the funeral. Are you really shocked they’re wearing dark suits?”

“And the sungla

sses?” Scott shot back. “How many people besides crazy, scary feds do you know who wear sunglasses inside a crowded bar at dusk?”

She turned and caught a glimpse of two overly large men standing by the entry to the back room. When a woman stumbled toward them, they gently but firmly turned her away. Everly caught a glimpse of metal. Maybe Scott was onto something. “Holy shit. I just saw a SIG SAUER.”

Scott’s brow rose. “Who is Sig?”

Clearly, Scott hadn’t been raised around firearms. “It’s the weapon the Secret Service uses. I know because my father was a cop and a complete gun nut. I knew how to shoot practically before I could walk. I don’t know if that guy is actual Secret Service, but he’s carrying a similar piece.”

Scott stared at the doorway being guarded by the aforementioned black-suited, aviator-wearing bodyguards. “Just think, the hottest of all the commanders-in-chief might right now be sitting in that room, downing shitty tequila.”

“Somehow, I think they’d give him the good stuff. And it’s probably not him. More than likely, it’s some pretentious CEO or trust-fund playboy Mad knew. Surely, the president would go someplace more secure. Besides, if he was here, the press would be crawling everywhere.”

Scott shrugged as if he saw Everly’s wisdom but still liked his own theory better.

Grinning, she canvassed the room to see who else from Crawford Industries had come to pay their liquid respects to Mad and noticed Tavia coming her way. The stunning, polished executive dashed toward them, her standard professional smile in place.

“Good to see you here, dear. I thought you’d go back to Brooklyn after the service.” Like many raised on the Upper East Side, she said the word Brooklyn as if it were a virus she didn’t want to catch. Those poor deluded people thought the city only existed between Midtown and Harlem and wouldn’t dirty their designer shoes by walking on the rest of the island. But in every other way, Tavia had proven personable, if a bit high strung. The woman couldn’t sit still for anything.

“Scott convinced me to stay for a while.” It hadn’t taken much. Her loft had been so quiet for the last five days. The silence had become intolerable. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d come to depend on her boss’s friendship.

Over the last couple of months, he would show up on her doorstep out of the blue and uninvited with some project to talk about. They’d spend hours gabbing and eating. At first, she’d worried that she would have to fend off a lecherous boss, but he’d actually been surprisingly sweet. Kind, even. He’d taken a profound interest in her, but not as a lover. Somehow they’d fallen into a comfortable companionship, as if she’d known him all her life. There had not been a single spark between them.

She was going to miss him so much. The ache she felt at never seeing him again definitely hurt. Everly took a sip of wine, wishing again that she was someone else and somewhere else. Escape sounded great about now.

Tavia tapped a Prada wedge against the floor. The shoes might be a few years old, but they still looked sleek and classy. “Hey, I wanted to pass on a little insider info. Crawford’s lawyer is meeting with the executor of his will tomorrow, so it looks like we’ll have some news about the company’s future soon.”

Scott went a little green. “So the pink slips could go out in quick order. God, I don’t want to look for another job. It took forever to find this one. And it has so much potential.”

Tavia shook her head, her pale hair jerking over her shoulders. “There’s always a shake-up after someone new takes the reins, but you should be fine in the executive development program. They usually take out the players at the top. The new guy tends to like to bring in his own leadership team because he’s sure he can trust them. It also serves to show everyone who’s the boss. If anyone’s going to get the boot, it will be me and Everly.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “It could be any of us. I’m not exactly a peon, thank you very much, just rotating through all the departments until the program ends.”

Surely Tavia knew that. Three margaritas and a funeral had left Scott prickly and morose.

“Which means you’ll be valuable, Scott,” Everly assured her friend. “You know something about every part of Crawford, having spent six months in most of the major departments. You’ll be fine.”

“Exactly,” Tavia agreed. “But before I’m kicked to the curb, I need to make sure the new boss understands the importance of the foundation’s work. It’s excellent PR, and we all know Crawford Industries needs that now. With all the turmoil, our stock is down substantially. I’m hoping the new head honcho will think it looks bad to fire me two weeks before the annual fund-raiser. If he keeps me until then, I’ll have a little time to convince whoever takes over that I’m worth what Maddox paid me.”

The fund-raiser was the most important social event of the year at Crawford. Two weeks didn’t seem like a long time to sway a new boss, but Tavia was right. Crawford Industries’ support of her International Women and Girls Education Foundation was a true public relations gem. For a playboy like Maddox to give generously to fund educations for females in third-world countries had bought him a lot of good press and goodwill.

So why had Maddox told her privately that he wasn’t going to the gala this year? Everly frowned. He’d said it casually over dinner one night when they’d been going over her plans to strengthen their cyber security systems. He hadn’t exactly explained other than to say it was complicated. Then again, everything was complicated with Maddox Crawford.

He’d spent time with her, but he hadn’t trusted her with his secrets. And she’d understood that—right up until his plane had gone down and she’d received that mysterious e-mail.

Before his death, Everly had suspected he was hiding something. Now, she was almost certain of it. She wished she’d asked more questions and pressed harder, because needed answers now.

But she wasn’t going to be able to unravel all his mysteries tonight. Starting tomorrow, she’d probably have lots of time to figure out what Maddox had been up to . . . and find a new job. Tonight, she just wanted to get blitzed enough to sleep through the night.

One white wine wasn’t going to accomplish that.

“I’ll be right back.” She stood and scanned the place. The bar was packed and seemed hopelessly understaffed. It wasn’t likely the waitress was going to make it back anytime soon.

Everly couldn’t help but notice a couple of well-dressed waitstaff coming in and out of the back room, but they didn’t stop to help anyone else. If she wanted another drink, she would have to fend for herself.

Everly moved past the tables of coworkers. She stopped and said hello to some, but could barely handle the speculative stares of the rest. She knew what they thought. She wasn’t stupid. Despite the company being a large multinational conglomerate, the corporate office of Crawford Industries still functioned like a small town. Gossip abounded. There was no one they liked to gossip about more than the boss.

She’d been linked to him from the moment she was hired. Her first day on the job, he’d shown her around personally, sparking the rumors that she was Crawford’s mistress. When he’d bumped her up to head of security after only six months on the job, the chin-wagging had become unrelenting. Though that made her job difficult, Everly had put her head down and worked. She’d stopped a corporate spy and helped the FBI track down a ring that had used Crawford subsidiaries for phishing expeditions. Still, no matter how effective she’d proven herself, the employees still speculated that she’d slept her way to the top.

Everly sighed. That was a joke. She hadn’t slept with anyone in well over a year, and her long dry spell didn’t look like it would end anytime soon. At least the tabloids hadn’t printed the rumors of her torrid affair with Maddox. She had to be thankful for that small miracle.

She elbowed and nudged her way up to the crowded bar and tried to get the bartender’s attention. Unfortunately, she counted only two people working.

She held out

a hand as one headed her way. “Can I get a drink?”

He walked right past her, but he did stop for the two blondes at the end of the bar. They were thin and gorgeous. Story of her life. She’d always been short and slightly more plump than fashion dictated. Damn it, that didn’t mean she didn’t need a drink as much as the skinny chicks.

The bartender turned and headed her way again.

“I’d like a glass of wine, please.”

Nothing. Not even a “hey, I’ll be with you in a minute” that she wouldn’t believe. He just walked to the opposite end of the bar and started prepping what looked like Cosmopolitans. The female bartender walked by, even more dismissive than the first.

The male walked by again and delivered the drinks to the two supermodels at the end of the bar. This time she was ready. She leaned over, because maybe he just hadn’t heard her the first two times.

“Hello, could I get a glass of . . . ”

He started to stride past her again, but a large hand zipped past her and over the bar, stopping him in his tracks. “I believe the lady needs a drink. I’d appreciate it if you would help her now.”

That was the deepest, sexiest voice she’d ever heard in her life. It was attached to a really masculine-looking hand.

The bartender’s eyes widened. “Of course, sir.” He finally turned his attention to her. “What can I get you, ma’am?”

At the moment, Everly wasn’t interested in wine.