On the Run (Sugarland Blue Novel, Band 4) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jo Davis is the author of the Sugarland Blue novels, including In His Sights, Sworn to Protect and Hot Pursuit, the popular Firefighters of Station Five series, including Ride the Fire, Line of Fire, and Hidden Fire, and the dark, sexy paranormal Alpha Pack series written as J.D. Tyler. She has also been a multiple finalist in the Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence, a finalist for the Bookseller's Best Award, has captured the HOLT Medallion Award of Merit, and has been a two-time nominee for the Australian Romance Readers Award in romantic suspense. She’s had one book optioned for a major motion picture.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

PRAISE FOR THE SURGARLAND BLUE NOVELS

ALSO BY JO DAVIS

SIGNET ECLIPSE

Prologue

The stench reached his consciousness first.

Then the pain. All-over, racking agony that proved he wasn’t dead yet, though he didn’t have a clue how that could be.

Awareness of being trapped came next. Buried. But not in the dirt. As he tried to move, various items surrounding him shifted and rolled away. With his fingertips he felt . . . cans. Paper. Slime. Old food? Cold knowledge gripped him, turned his blood to ice.

After the bastards finished with me, they threw me in the garbage. Literally.

Move, Salvatore. Move or you’re dead.

Using his hand, he sought the air. Pushed and clawed, twisting his body in the stinking refuse. The weight on top of him was heavy but not crushing. They’d meant to hide his body, completely confident he wouldn’t wake, or make it out even if he did. He tried not to think they might be right.

At last, fresh air. But as he broke through the pile, the heap sloped downward sharply and he was tumbling sideways. For several feet he fell, jabbed and poked by sharp edges until he landed in the dirt at the bottom, the wind knocked out of him. Breathing was almost impossible, his lungs burning. He was hurt inside, and out.

His eyes opened to slits, and he tried to peer into the darkness. All he could make out was a sea of garbage. No moon or stars. Worse, little hope.

They’d thrown him into the dump miles outside the city, where nobody in their right mind would venture.

Don’t give up.

Drawing his legs under him, he pushed upward. His legs were like rubber, his strength almost nonexistent. He made it halfway to a standing position before crashing back to the ground with a hoarse cry. God, the pain. His entire body felt hot and cold by turns, and swollen like a balloon. Any second, he would split and spill onto the ground like the plastic bags all around him vomiting their guts. His skin and clothing were wet, too, from head to toe.

He knew it wasn’t all from the slime of the trash.

Shaking, Tonio crawled forward on his belly, inch by inch. Time lost meaning. An hour or three might have passed, though he didn’t think it had been so long—he would already be dead.

Wetness ran down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose. Gradually he grew cold. So cold he knew he’d never get warm again. What was he doing? Too much blood loss. Confusion. He tried to remember, couldn’t.

Knew that was the beginning of the end.

Anthony. I’m Anthony Salvatore, and I’m a cop. Have to get out of here, get help. Let them know—what?

Her name whispered through his mind like a promise. Or a nightmare. He didn’t know which, and now he might never.

Angel.

Have to let Chris, somebody, know about Angel. Because if I fail . . .

Brother or not, Rab would kill her. He would show her no mercy, and she would end up here, in a grave next to Tonio. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Angel.”

Her name was on his lips, her beautiful face in his mind and the memory of her warm, supple body close to his heart when his strength finally deserted him.

He’d wanted years to learn her secrets, her joys, and had been granted only weeks. It would have to be enough.

“Be smart, baby,” he rasped. “Stay safe.”

Against his will, his eyes drifted shut.

And Tonio surrendered to the darkness.

1

Five weeks earlier

Detective Tonio Salvatore leaned against the bar in one of his favorite dives where the regulars only knew him by his first name, and sipped his whiskey, neat.

They didn’t know what he did for a living, either, and nobody ever asked. He figured that, if anything, they had him pegged for a dangerous thug of some sort, maybe into drugs or fencing stolen goods like three-quarters of the guys there. Dressed as he always was when he came here, in leathers, a tight black Metallica T-shirt, heavy boots, a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and a bandanna around his short raven hair, it was a reasonable assumption.

It didn’t hurt that he was six-four and muscular, and looked mean even though he wasn’t unless he had to be.

Stroker’s was a rough place with an even rougher clientele, but it suited him despite his job—or maybe because of it. It was the perfect place to keep his finger on the pulse of Cheatham County’s criminal activity without risking being seen and recognized in his nearby city of Sugarland, Tennessee. He wasn’t here in any official capacity, though. He just wanted to relax, incognito.

And maybe see some action that involved the weapon in the front of his leathers and not the one strapped to his ankle.

Taking another sip of his Dewar’s, he savored the smooth flavor and recalled the sweet little piece of work from last weekend. The blonde, what was her name? Trish? Tess? Didn’t matter. She’d been all over him from the minute she spied him at the bar, and it hadn’t taken her long to maneuver her way between his legs as he sat on the stool, then proceed to check his tonsils with her tongue.

His cock stirred as he remembered giving her a ride on his Harley to the motel down the road, his go-to for the one-night stands that provided him and his chosen partners with relief. No way was he taking any of them home. He wasn’t stupid.

The blonde had hugged him tightly from behind, pressed her breasts against his back, her hot crotch against his ass, and he’d nearly wrecked trying to get them to the motel. Inside, they’d been naked in seconds and he’d been eating her out, enjoying the moaning and breathy little whimpers coming from her throat. She’d dug her fingers into his short hair and held on for the ride as he’d thrown her onto the bed, slid his cock deep, and fucked her so hard the headboard had cracked the plaster on the wall.

Looking around, he hoped she’d be back tonight.

“Another round?” the bartender asked. The guy’s name was Rick, and he was as tough as anyone here. Had to be to work in a place like this. Tonio knew for a fact that the man kept a baseball bat behind the counter, and wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“Sure,” he answered. Fuck it, he was off duty tonight. Always made sure he never drank when he was on call, either, and he wasn’t tonight.

“Comin’ up.”

His night improved when the little blonde with the perky bust and tight jeans strolled through the front door. He turned back to his drink, making sure not to clue her in that he’d noticed her arrival. As he thought it might, pretty soon a warm body sidled close to him, and a woman’s voice whispered in his ear, “Fancy meeting you here, Tonio.” Small teeth nibbled at his ear lobe. “Buy a girl a drink?”

“You bet.” Damn, what was her name?

“Hey, Tess,” Rick said in greeting. “What’s your poison tonight, baby girl?”

Settling on the stood beside Tonio, she brought a long, manicured nail to her lips in thought. Then she grinned. “How about a Screaming Orgasm?”

Rick snorted, then smirked at Tonio. “Don’t think you need me for that one, but whatever the lady wants.”

While Rick mixed her drink, she swiveled to face Tonio. Leaning over enticingly, she showed every bit of the rosy nipples on display under her plunging blouse and eyed him like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. They both knew she wouldn’t have to work real...