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Authors: Aliyah Burke

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was a gray eyed, tanned, brown haired man that swam before her. “What are you calling for? What’s up?”

“Well, I heard you were having one hell of a storm up there and wanted to make sure you were okay.

Couldn’t get through the other day, they said the lines were down. How are you doing?” Lateef asked,

concerned for her.

“You know me,” she said.

“Yes, which is why I am asking. How are you?”

“I’m doing fine, Lateef. I’m fine. We got dumped on but with all those generators I hardly noticed.”

I almost slept with a man that came from the storm but, hey.
“How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I have another car for you if you want, and if you have any room.”

This perked her up. Another car. “Wow, what is it? Whose is it?”

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He chuckled. “We’ll get to that. Tell me about you right now. Fill me in.”

Covering herself with a blanket, she answered him. “Well, I just got finished with the hardtop Aston.

David is coming to get it tomorrow. You should see it; it purrs like a kitten.”

“I bet it does. Turn down any more marriage proposals?”

She laughed. “Yes, Shawn asked me again. I don’t know why he keeps asking when my answer is

never going to change.”

“Because he is in love with you. Not that I blame him,” Lateef said.

“I don’t think I will ever get married, not unless the right man just appears in front of me.” The

clearing of a throat made her look up into the smoky gaze of her guest. Running her eyes up and down his

fine body, she continued to talk to the man on the other end of the phone, “What are the chances of that

happening to me?”

“Up there? Slim to none. Which is why you need to come visit. Get away from that state, go to some

civilization,” he said.

“I don’t have time for a vacation, you know that. Come on, Lateef, you know me.” She closed her

eyes on the disapproving stare from Jeb. “Now tell me about this car.”

The sigh reached her easily. “Fine, I know when to stop beating a dead horse. It’s a 1966

Lamborghini Miura.”

Sitting up, she blinked a few times. “Are you serious?”

“Dead. The man saw some of the pics you sent me of that last show you did and asked me to get in

touch for him. I will give you his number and you can contact him. A word of warning, he is a bit…um

rough around the edges.”

“Meaning what…he is a rude man? An old curmudgeon?” she asked her friend.

“Meaning he is different. Maybe eccentric would be a good word.”

“But I can trust him?” Dezarae wondered.

“Yes, I just don’t want you put off by his callous attitude. He will not be easy to talk to. You will

have to watch your tongue,” Lateef warned.

“Me?” she cried. “How come I am the one who is going to have to watch their tongue?” Laughter

filled the line. “I know, because I am the temperamental one. Okay, Lateef, I will call him in the morning.

Thanks, man.”

“You know I love you, Darling,” he said.

“I love you too, Lateef. Are you going to be at the show?” she wondered.

“I haven’t missed one yet. And I don’t plan on starting.”

“Then I will see you there.” She paused and added. “I miss you. Take care.”

“Always do, Darling, always do. Love you.” Then he was gone.

“Love you, too,” she whispered to the dial tone and hung up.

Jeb did a perimeter check of her house and shop. The motions he went through were instinctive for

him. Whoever had been watching them was no longer there. He was sure about that. He still didn’t like the

situation.

When he walked back into her house he heard her talking to someone on the phone. The thought of

her marrying anyone made him sick. He was the one for her just like she was the one for him.

Her affection for the man on the other end was obvious and it ate at his gut. Even though he knew he

had no claim over this woman, for he didn’t even know if he was married. None of that mattered; he wanted

her, and for longer than one night. Much, much longer than that.

Sitting down in a chair, he waited for her to finish her call. His eyes roamed freely over her body as

she lay on the couch, snuggled up to a stuffed Corvette and covered by a blanket. He watched as her

enthusiasm grew at the discussion of a new car for her to work on.

He stayed silent until she hung up the phone and put her profound gaze on him. “Friend of yours?”

he asked his fingers touched in front of his firm mouth.

Stretching back on the couch, Dezarae smiled, “Yes. Lateef is a very good friend.”

“How good?” Jeb’s tone was irascibly patient.

Staring at him from under lowered lashes, she answered him. “The best kind of friend a girl can

have.”

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“What exactly does that mean?” His question came as his hands dropped to grip the arms of the

chair.

“It means that he is the best thing I have my life,” she replied, remaining deliberately obtuse.

“We will see,” he promised in a low voice.

“Did you get whatever you needed to out of your system on your walk?” Dezarae changed the

subject.

“For now.” He stretched his long muscular legs out in front of him. “When’s bed?”

Her mouth grew dry and her panties wet at that statement. “You can go whenever you want. I’m

taking the couch.”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to let you give up your bed for me.”
That and I put some traps

around your bedroom window so I know you will be safe there. I will be between you and the door.

“I fit on the couch. You don’t,” she insisted.

“Listen to me. You are sleeping in that bed tonight. With or without me but you aren’t sleeping on

the couch.” There was no room for compromise in his tone.

Sitting up, she tossed off the blanket. “What the hell is going on here?” She pointed one finger at

him. “You have been acting different since we got back from the shop.”

“Nothing,” he lied.

Leaving the couch, she walked over to where he sat looking devilishly handsome in her chair.

Poking him in the chest, she demanded, “Bullshit. What is going on?” Dezarae had her face right in his.

Inhaling deeply, Jeb found himself surrounded by the subtle smell of Dezarae; it was the smell of

sweet peas. He had looked through her stuff and found her soap and shampoo. His gaze raked over her body.

The color of his eyes intensified as they filled with desire.

“You smell so good,” he groaned before he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her.

Dezarae straddled his lap and began to rock against his hard erection as she kissed him back with all

she had. The kiss sent her insides into a wild swirl; she wanted everything from him.

Fingers wound in her hair, Jeb pulled her back from his mouth and said, “You…you could make a

monk give up his vow.”

“I don’t want a monk, I want you,” her honest admission fell.

“What about my past?” he asked.

Dropping her head to rest against his, she swore, “You’re right. I can’t do this. Not without

knowing.” Dezarae began to back up off his lap but he lifted and placed her across it.

“Just let me hold you at least, Firebird. Let me at least hold you,” he murmured into her hair.

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CHAPTER 9

A dark van pulled up to the house. The two men getting out were impressive to look at. Both of them

were tall men, but one was dark-haired, possibly a Native American from his coloring and the other was a

tanned Caucasian with brown hair.

Unknown to the curvaceous Black woman walking down the steps from the house to meet them,

there were five more members of the Megalodon Team surrounding her home and shop. Those men were

cold, uncomfortable, and, yet, completely in their element. “Can I help you gentlemen?” she asked as she hit

the ground and approached them.

Dezarae looked over the men before her; there was something about their stance and presence that

seemed familiar to her. They were both large and imposing. But she hadn’t survived and become so

successful in this world by being intimidated by men, so she waited for an answer.

Maverick and Cade looked at the woman before them. Her gaze was direct as she met each of theirs.

“We are looking for a friend of ours. His name’s Ross, Ross Connelly,” the lean white man said.

“Sorry,” Dezarae said shaking her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name. Did you ask around in

town?”

Two sets of eyes narrowed as they watched her face. The same man spoke again, “Are you sure?”

Readjusting her leather gloves, Dezarae arched both brows. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m not an idiot. Excuse

me. I have some work to do.” She got two steps past them when the dark-haired man grabbed her arm.

“Hey!” she shouted, trying unsuccessfully to get away. “Let me go.”

“Don’t jerk us around, Lady.” This man’s tone was much more menacing than the other one. His

fingers dug into the tender flesh of her arm, even through the thick coat she wore.

“Look, I don’t know anyone named Ross.” She pulled futilely on her arm. “Unless…unless you

mean—”

“Let her go, or I kill your friend,” Jeb’s deep southern voice rang loud across the yard.

“Him,” Dezarae finished quietly.

Jeb was moving towards them, holding another man hostage. “Ross!” Both men by Dezarae said.

“Ghost?” the white man asked the man who was the hostage.

“Fine, Cade, he doesn’t know who we are,” the man said in an emotionless voice.

“Shut up!” Jeb hissed, pressing the knife closer yet to the exposed throat. “I said, let her go!”

When the light from the sun glinted off the knife, Dezarae realized this was no trick on Jeb’s part, he

really meant what he said. “Let me go,” she ordered. “He thinks you want to hurt me.” Maverick dropped her

arm and she ran towards Jeb at the same moment four more men with guns materialized out of the snow.

“Let him go,” Dezarae commanded as she slid to a stop before her stranger. “Let him go,” she

reiterated as he ignored her.

Gray eyes were unyielding as the other men moved in closer. “He could have hurt you.”

“He didn’t. Listen to me,” she pled. “Let him go. Hey,” Dezarae reached for his face and touched it.

“You have to let him go now. Come on, Johnny Reb, let him go. They don’t want to hurt me. I think they are

here for you.”

Jeb shoved the man away from him only to haul Dezarae in close with the same motion. “Are you

okay?” he murmured, stroking her face before his gaze hardened as he watched the group of men getting

closer.

“I’m fine,” she responded, immediately noticing how much safer she felt in his arms.

The seven men exchanged glances. They had come in expecting to have to save their teammate only

to find he didn’t know them from Adam.

“What’s going on here?” a large blond man asked.

Dezarae stopped Jeb from trying to put himself in front of her. “Do you know him?” she asked the

men although focusing on the blond who had spoken.

“Yes, Ma’am,” that same man answered. “His name is Ross Connelly. He is a Petty Officer in the

United States Navy.”

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Looking to the man beside her, she asked him. “Does any of that seem familiar to you? Do any of

them?”

“He does.” One finger pointed at the lone Black man in the group. Images were swarming before

him as he felt a big pressure in his head. Jeb frowned, snatches of things were flashing like a movie before

his eyes.

“What is going on here?” that blond man asked again.

“I think we’d all better go inside.” Dezarae said with a frown. Immediately eight men looked

suspicious and she held up her hands. “Look, I don’t have much time before I have some business to conduct

so can we get inside where it is warmer? And I can fill you in on what I know. Please.” Latching her hand

into Jeb’s coat, she dragged him up the steps and inside the small house, leaving the other men to follow.

One by one they entered her house and walked into her living room, which seemed miniscule with

all their larger bodies and guns in it. “Please have a seat.” She gestured to the open seats as Jeb sat in her

overstuffed chair and tugged her down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

“The explanation, please,” the blond giant said, leaning forward to rest his large arms on his thighs,

his amazing blue eyes reading the situation. And not believing really what he was seeing.

“A few nights ago, I came upon a car that had gone off the road,” she began, ignoring the tightening

of Jeb’s arms around her. “I found him not too far from the burning car. I brought him here and when he

came to, he couldn’t remember his name. We got to the point where he said Jeb was familiar, but that is it.

Oh, and something about a woman named Charmane is familiar.”

“And that’s it?” the man asked, frowning as he heard a chopper closing in.

“That’s it. Look, what was left of that car is that mangled mess you had to pass to get up here. He is

lucky to be alive. I didn’t see any identification and the sheriff has been checking the missing persons for a

man matching his description.”

Before Dezarae could say anything else, the radio at her side crackled. “Excuse me,” she jumped off

Jeb’s lap and answered the radio. “That you, David?”

“Sure is, Darling. You ready?”

“I’m on my way now. You know where to set her down. The area has been plowed. I’ll be there to

unhook the cable.” Glancing at the men in her living room, Dezarae shook her head, this was a strange day.

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