Storm - Dominant Protectors Book Two Read online

  Storm

  Dominant Protectors Book Two

  © Jack Ellison 2017

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Hi, I’m Jack, and I’m a guy that writes romance. If you have any feedback, suggestions, or just want to chat, you can email me anytime here: [email protected]

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9 | Abi

  Chapter 10

  Big Hard Bodyguard | Dominant Protectors Book One | Jack Ellison | Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One | Chloe

  Chapter Two | Axel

  Chapter Three | Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Four | Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Chapter Five | Axel

  Chapter Six | Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Seven | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Eight | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Nine | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Ten | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Eleven | Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Chapter Twelve | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Chapter Thirteen | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Fourteen | Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Fifteen | Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Sixteen | Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chapter Seventeen | Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Chapter Eighteen | Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  Chloe

  Axel

  THE END

  Hi, I’m Jack, and I’m a guy that writes romance. If you have any feedback, suggestions, or just want to chat, you can email me anytime here: [email protected]

  Or connect with me on Facebook here:https://www.facebook.com/JEllisonRomance/

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  I’m looking forward to sharing all of my dirtiest thoughts with you all! I write about Bad Boys and the women they fall in love with, and all of my books are guaranteed to keep you up past your bedtime ;)

  I’m already hard at work on the next book in the Dominant Protectors series, so keep an eye on your email inbox for more information and teasers soon!

  Jack x x x

  Chapter 1

  Charlie

  I was sitting at my desk with my feet up, legs crossed, leaning back on my reclining office chair. My expensive crocodile skin boots shone as I studied them, reflecting the harsh light illuminating the Police Department's main office area.

  I’d been told the crocodile skin was sustainably farmed by the guy I’d bought the shoes from, but I didn’t really give a fuck. They looked cool as hell, and that’s what mattered.

  I was still studying my new boots when a beat cop knocked sarcastically on my desk, grinning at me.

  I looked up, slightly glad to be awoken from my bored reverie.

  “Storm. How’s things with you, bro?” he said, frowning at my boots as he spoke.

  “Those real?” he added.

  I glared at him. “‘Course they’re fucking real, Danny. What do you take me for, some sort of tight ass?”

  He laughed. I’d known Daniel since before the Police Academy, when we’d both been drinking buddies. We didn’t go to school together, but knew each other through mutual friends in our small, close knit home town. He was used to my dry humor.

  I crossed my hands behind my head and sighed, absently.

  “What you got for me, Danny boy? Better be good. Can’t you see I’m busy, man?”

  I kept a straight face as he laughed again.

  “Listen, I know you been taken off the case you was on with your partner. Ain’t no shame in twiddling your thumbs between cases, bro. How is Rick? He holdin’ up alright?” He frowned with genuine concern.

  Rick was my partner, and we’d both worked together on the case which made us both detective. He’d taken a bullet during a shootout on our first big case together as detectives, looking into a local illegal prostitution ring. We’d gotten close to taking the operation down when we were spotted by two armed thugs while snooping around an old warehouse.

  We both got bullets sprayed at us, he got two in the chest, one in the shoulder and one in the thigh. His vest saved his life, but he was still recovering from the other two bullets. None of the bullets went near me. Lucky, I guess.

  One of those rounds had been near fatal, but I’d shot the two gangsters pinning us down by popping out from solid cover, inviting them to show their heads. They obliged. I killed them both cooly with headshots. They’d fired first, after all.

  Until the ambulance arrived I’d kept him alive with rudimentary first aid, combined with shouting threats of what I’d do to him if he fucking died on me. He was out for a few months at least, but we all knew the psychological scars might take a while longer to heal then the bullet wounds. It was an unspoken rule that most who’d been shot or seen their colleague shot knew all too well.

  I snapped out of the flashback, looking up at Danny.

  “He’s a tough bastard. He’ll live, but I don’t know how he’s taken it, y’know. Ain’t been round to see him since he left hospital, figured he needs time with his family.”

  I picked up a mug of coffee from the table in front of me, studying the contents.

  “I’m gonna go see him this weekend, take him some fucking flowers or something. Maybe sneak in a cold brew or two.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. Glad to hear he’s pulling through, Storm.” Danny nodded sincerely.

  “Anyways, got something that will cheer you up.” Danny beamed at me proudly, white teeth showing behind his tanned skin.

  Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed evidence bag, waving it at me. There was a smaller bag inside it, with what looked like a small amount of crystal meth.

  “Bit early for that, Danny boy. You know I don’t tweak before at least 3pm, bro.”

  He snorted. “Fuck off. Look at it closer, bonehead.”

  My new boots thudded on the floor as I leaned forward to inspect the contents of the bag he was holding. It was a small amount, maybe an eighth of an ounce, so I had to lean across the desk on my elbows to get a good look.

  I whistled.

  “No fucking shit. Thought this stuff had pretty much disappeared now?” The crystals were clear, much clearer than low grade street meth. They had a yellow tint to them, and a slight blue hue when looked at closely.

  “Thing is, it had. I got this off a guy earlier today, saw him leaning into a car that was driving around, you know. He thought he’d go into a side alley for a little smoke.” Danny shrugged.

  “Booked him, but he wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t say a damn word, said he was scared shitless. Ain’t enough there for us to really do anything. First offence. So we let him off with a caution.”

  Danny passed
the bag to me and sat on my desk, turning to face me.

  “This ain’t the only batch that’s been grabbed recently, Charlie. There’s more of it appearing, driving the small time dealers out. There’ve been shootings, disappearances. Seems like...” He drifted off, a concerned look on his face.

  “Yeah. Seems like the O’Neills are back. But that ain’t possible,” I said, my mind racing.

  Before I’d made detective I’d worked undercover on a special assignment to take down a bigtime drug operation. Me and my partner Ricky had been called in to work on the case undercover, following direct recommendation straight from our Captain. Our Lieutenant had later said the Captain had wanted us fast tracked to detective, to shake things up a bit in the department.

  It was well known that a few of the old boys in the department had agreements with the main dealers in town, taking bribes and coercing them to keep to their designated turf and to not cause too much trouble.

  The drug operation we’d infiltrated was run by the O’Neills, a biker gang that had rolled into town one day out of nowhere, and had set up with biggest meth operation we’d ever seen. They took every corner, killed or recruited every small time dealer in the area. They had eventually made a few deals with some detectives, but the Captain was under pressure to shut the gang down. The O’Neills were making national news, and the publicity gave our town a bad name.

  Soon enough after the biker gang had arrived, the streets were flooded with almost 80% pure meth. The town’s youth were hooked not long after.

  “This ain’t no Heisenberg shit.” Danny said. “But its almost 80% pure, a shade off 78.” He pointed a finger at the bag I was still studying intently. “Rest of the other stuff we got is the same quality. Exactly the same quality. Someone’s trying to get back into the game.”

  “Well, unless they’re running it from prison or from beyond the grave it ain’t the old O’Neills,” I said absently, deep in thought.

  We had infiltrated the gang successfully, but to do so I’d done some stuff I wasn’t proud of. Coercion, giving and taking bribes to grease the palms of police informers, drug dealing and taking, recruiting new police informers by intimidation and even assault, manipulating and planting evidence... the list went on.

  But eventually the clean detectives working the case built up enough evidence to take down the whole operation. Three of the gang leaders were shot, resisting arrest. Two were behind bars, almost indefinitely.

  The rest of the gang had been given various sentences and had been split up and sent to jails across the country. They had been strongly advised to avoid making contact with any of their previous “associates” when the day finally came when they walked free.

  “So it’s either a new operation,” I said, ticking the possibilities off on my fingers as I stared into the middle distance. “Or it could be an old batch that’s been found. Or could be we didn’t get everyone before that was involved in the operation. Or, there are some O’Neills we never knew about in the first place.”

  I drummed my fingers on my desk as my brain started sifting through the possibilities.

  “Well, listen. I’ll get you the names of the guys who found the other stuff. We both know this ain’t enough for a case yet, but you ain’t busy anyway, right? So you could look into it, if you found the time. That’s all I’m saying. Help a brother out, you know?” Danny leant over and patted me on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, thanks Danny. I appreciate it. Hell, if this works out and I get another big bust under my belt, maybe I’ll bring you some flowers too!” I winked at him.

  “I don’t swing that way, bro.” He paused thoughtfully. “But fuck it, bring me a bottle of Cuervo Gold and I’ll do anything you want!”

  We both laughed.

  “When you gonna make Detective, Dan? We could use someone like you ‘round here. You know the streets. Got contacts, and you ain’t no moron. God knows we’re short on numbers here, too.” I looked around. Only half the desks were occupied. Half of those were occupied by old detectives who had got a little too comfortable. And fat. And half of those old guys were corrupt as fuck.

  “When I get the time I’m gonna go for Detective. Maria thinks I got the brains, the way I help out the kids with homework.” He sighed. “But four young kids don’t leave me with much time.”

  He looked away, wistfully. “But when they’re at college I’ll still be in my thirties. I’ll have plenty of time to put my mind to it then.”

  Maria was Danny’s wife, who’d been his childhood sweetheart. They’d married as soon as they could, and she had her first kid about 6 months later.

  I looked at Danny. I could tell he was exhausted, but was trying his best not to show it. Dark rings were beginning to form under his eyes.

  “Listen carefully, alright. Because for once I ain’t joking. When you’re ready, come see me. I might even be Lieutenant. I’ll help you out.” I looked at him seriously.

  I raised my eyebrows when he laughed at me good naturedly.

  “Charlie if you ain’t Captain by then, I’m half fucking Mexican!” He grinned, eyes watering with tears of laughter.

  He turned and walked away, swaggering as he walked. He turned back to me as he headed to the exit.

  “Yo, Storm. Let’s grab a beer Friday?” He stopped, raising his arm in a gesture of feigned irritation.

  “Maria’s Mom is over for the weekend. Gonna need a few beers in me to deal with that damn ice queen.”

  I smiled, nodding. “You’re on.” I pointed a finger at him, frowning. “But you’re fucking paying this time!”

  Abi

  I WAS LOOKING AT MY reflection in the full length mirror in front of me, adjusting my slightly too tight work uniform. I pulled the hem of my shirt down over my hips, and wriggled my butt in my trousers, glad that they were at least a little stretchy.

  I’d filled out recently, losing my too-skinny look from my late teens I’d had until roughly a year ago, when I’d turned 22. Since then I’d kept my athletic figure but put weight on in all the right places, butt, thighs and a little around my waist. My boobs hadn’t grown too much, but were perky and in proportion as far as I was concerned. I adjusted my boobs in my bra which was a little too tight, promising myself to buy some new clothes soon.

  Maybe some sexy underwear. Not that I have anyone to show it to...

  Happy that I’d managed to squeeze into my uniform, I headed downstairs for a quick breakfast before I’d need to head for work.

  I clicked the small TV on I had in my kitchen before lighting the stove and grabbing a pan. I half listened to the news anchor as I prepared some eggs and bacon.

  “...has resurfaced in the town. Although the O’Neills are currently behind bars, we have an exclusive report that biker meth of a very similar quality is starting to appear again. Over to Vicky outside Freddie’s Biker Bar for more.”

  “Thanks, John. Yes, we have had an exclusive report that O’Neill-quality meth is starting to reappear on the streets, corroborated from a number of sources, who wish to remain anonymous.

  I’m here outside Freddie’s where the now-famous shootout took place a few years back, leading to the deaths or arrests of the O’Neill biker gang. How this meth has resurfaced is currently a mystery, but a number of theories have...”

  I clicked the TV off, gritting my teeth as I felt a cold cramp of fear in my gut. I breathed in and out deeply as I poked at my bacon shakily.

  You don’t need it any more, Abi. Those times are behind you. Mickey isn’t here to force you to do things you would never have dreamed of doing otherwise.

  I’d been clean from meth for a number of years, since my ex-boyfriend Mickey O’Neill had disappeared, following his release from custody due to lack of evidence.

  I hadn’t been a prolific user or hopeless addict, hell I didn’t even smoke it. Just a few lines when Mickey and his biker mates wanted to drink and get high. Which was quite often, it turned out.

  Since stopping the meth and with the
violent and unpredictable Mickey out of my life, I’d become a new person. Confident, witty and hardworking. Stopping the meth had also coincided with my figure becoming fuller, but I didn’t think it was much of a coincidence. I’d worked hard, two or sometimes three jobs, to save up a deposit for a place of my own after moving back with my parents for a while.

  After getting my own place and everything I needed, I was now working two jobs; my day job at the most popular diner in town, and an occasional evening job at a local bar.

  The pay wasn’t too great, but the tips from both jobs boosted my income nicely and I was able to put away a fair amount of money each month. I was saving for a vacation, which I hadn’t had in god-knows how long. And I was considering a college course in accounting so I could get a decent, well-paid 9 to 5.

  Then I just have to meet a nice man to look after me, maybe have a few kids...

  I sighed wistfully as I plated my bacon and eggs, adding a slice of slightly burnt toast to the side. I didn’t like to admit it to myself, but I was lonely. Working hard went some way to help me forget, but it didn’t give me any time to actually meet someone. The only men I usually met were the perverts who came in to ogle me at the bar.

  I smiled to myself sardonically. Since I’d filled out and started to wear tighter clothes to show off my curves, I’d noticed my tips increased considerably, and I didn’t go a night without getting a drink or two bought for me.

  Men. Just like animals sometimes. Why am I cursed to only meet violent thugs or old perverts?

  My house phone rang as I took my first bite of breakfast.

  Fucking typical.

  I sprang up and half jogged to the phone.

  “Hey, Abi here.”

  It was my manager from the bar. I wasn’t due to work this evening, but apparently the usual waitress had come down sick earlier. I was his first call to find a replacement, he said. Said the locals liked me, drank more when I was working, apparently.

  “Sure thing, Bill. I’ll be in at 8. Ain’t gonna turn down work, you know me.”

  I made my excuses and went back to my breakfast, gobbling the eggs and bacon down hungrily. I was still astonished at my new appetite sometimes, since stopping the meth and without the worry of what Mickey was going to do next.