SYNOPSIS:
Part One: Mercy
Driven by ambition…
Third-year law student, Kate Martin, outran her tragic past to become an intern for her idol and secret crush, the powerful attorney, Nicholas Trenton. She is thrilled when Nick assigns her to represent his best friend and client, millionaire Jaxon Deveroux…the prime suspect in his submissive wife’s murder.
Seduced by desire…
Kate knows they have only a few days to find the real killer, and since signs point to a member of the BDSM community, she volunteers to go undercover as Jaxon’s submissive at Benediction-the private sex club where he is a member-to covertly investigate Alyssa’s last few months. For years, Kate has kept her dark fantasies a secret…but a chance to explore them with sexy, dominant Jaxon is just too tempting to pass up.
BOOK TRAILER:
EXCERPT:
After three hours of computer
research on piercing the corporate veil, Kate’s vision blurred, the words on
the screen bleeding into one another until they resembled a giant Rorschach
inkblot. She lowered her mug of lukewarm coffee to her cubicle’s mahogany
tabletop and rubbed her tired eyes.
Without
warning, the door to the interns’ windowless office flew open, banging against
the wall. Light streamed into the dim room, casting the elongated shadow of her
boss, Nicholas Trenton, on the beige carpet.
“Ms.
Martin, take your jacket and come with me.” He didn’t wait for a response,
simply issued his command and strode down the hall.
Jumping to
her feet, she teetered on her secondhand heels and grabbed her suit jacket from
the back of her chair. As Mr. Trenton’s intern for the year, she’d follow him
off the edge of a cliff. She had no choice in the matter if she wanted a junior
associate position at Detroit’s most prestigious law firm, Joseph and Long,
after graduation. Because of the fierce competition for an internship and
because several qualified lackeys waited patiently in the wings for an opening,
one minor screwup would result in termination.
Most of the
other interns ignored the interruption, but her best friend Hannah took a
second to raise an arched eyebrow. Kate shrugged, having no idea what her boss
required. He hadn’t spoken to her since her initial interview a few months
earlier.
She
collected her briefcase, her heart pounding. As far as she knew, she hadn’t
made a mistake since starting two months ago. Other than class time, she’d
spent virtually every waking moment at this firm, a schedule her boyfriend,
Tom, resented. To placate him, she’d used her dinner break last Saturday to
drive to his place and give him a quick blow job before returning to work. She
didn’t even have time for her own orgasm.
She raced
as fast as she could down the hallway and found her boss pacing and talking on
his cell phone in the marbled lobby. He frowned and pointedly looked at his
watch, demonstrating his displeasure at her delay. Still on the phone, he
stalked out of the firm and headed toward the elevator. She chased him, cursing
her short legs as she remained a step or two behind until catching up with him
on the elevator.
When the
doors slid shut, he ended his call and slipped his cell into the pocket of his
Armani jacket. She risked a quick glance at him to ascertain his mood, careful
not to visually suggest anything more than casual regard.
He was an
extremely handsome man whose picture frequently appeared in local magazines and
papers beside prominent judges and legislative officials. But photos couldn’t
do him justice, film lacking the capability of capturing his commanding
presence. Often she’d had to fight her instinct to look directly into his blue
eyes. At the office, his every move, his every word overshadowed anyone and
everything around her.
Standing
close to him in the claustrophobic space, she inhaled the musky scent of his
aftershave, felt his radiating heat. Her trembling body instinctively angled
toward him.
Mr. Trenton
spoke, fracturing the quiet of the small space with his deep and powerful
voice. “This morning, our firm’s biggest client, Jaxon Deveroux, arrived home
from his business trip and found his wife dead from multiple stab wounds.”
“I thought
you limited your practice to civil law,” she blurted out before she could stop
herself. When his jaw grew rigid, she internally chastised herself for the
mistake. “Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”
The silence
was deafening as she waited for him to decide whether to accept her apology.
Interns had been fired for less.
“No, you
shouldn’t have interrupted. However, it was a valid question and, therefore,
I’ll let it pass.”
Once the
elevator doors opened, they stepped out into the bustling main floor lobby, and
she fought to match Mr. Trenton’s brisk pace as they headed toward the parking
garage. “While typically I would refer my clients to Jeffrey Reaver, the head
of our criminal division, Mr. Deveroux and I have been friends for many years,
and he requested me personally. Jaxon’s a very private man, but those who are
in his circle are aware of certain . . . proclivities that may come up in the
police’s line of questioning.”
What sort
of proclivities? It pained her to remain silent.
He paused
as if expecting her to screw up by asking another question. She curled the
sharp edges of her nails into the flesh of her palms, the biting pain a
reminder to keep her mouth shut. A wave of peace rippled through her, and her
heart slowed for the first time since Mr. Trenton had requested her presence.
“He and his
wife engaged in the practice of BDSM. Do you know what that is, Ms. Martin?” he
asked with a slight upturn of his lips. On anyone else, she’d believe it was
the beginning of a smile, but since she’d never seen Mr. Trenton smile, she
couldn’t be sure what it meant.
There
wasn’t a woman in the country who hadn’t heard of BDSM since the popular
erotica novel hit the charts a few years back. His mention of it awoke that
dormant part of her hibernating in the recesses of her mind during the light of
day.
Her cheeks
heated, but she kept her tone professional despite the fireworks launching
between her thighs. “BDSM stands for bondage and discipline, domination and
submission, sadism and masochism. It’s kinky sex.”
They
reached the parking garage and climbed the concrete stairs to the second level.
“For some
it is, and for others, it’s a way of life. Unfortunately, the media has a way
of distorting the truth to their advantage for the sensational headlines. You
remember the recent case.”
A
metro-Detroit man had allegedly hired a hit man to kill his wife, but it was
the fact that he’d practiced BDSM in a seedy sex dungeon that the media had
latched on to, riding the frenzy caused by the popular erotica trilogy.
Kate had
read the books. Twice. But in the end, she agreed with the popular opinion that
BDSM fiction was nothing but romantic fantasy.
A bit
breathless from her attempt to keep up with him, she was relieved to slide into
the passenger seat of his Mercedes. Moments later they sped toward the highway.
Weighing
the consequences against her curiosity, she decided to risk asking her boss a
question. “In your opinion, should Mr. Deveroux divulge the nature of his
relationship with his wife to the police?”
He tilted
his head as if to think over the answer, but she didn’t doubt he’d known the
answer before she’d finished asking the question. “At this point, I see no
reason why he needs to say anything about it. What happens behind closed doors
is none of their business unless it’s relevant to the murder. Until someone
brings it up in questioning, I’d advise Jaxon to keep his sex life to himself.”
For the
next few minutes, they rode in silence, and she peered out the window at
Detroit’s crumbling houses. The car proceeded west to the suburbs and the view
changed to a large brick wall that shielded homeowners and businesses from the
sight of the expressway. They exited onto a street that led them into a
recently developed upper-class neighborhood of palatial homes, strip malls, and
trendy restaurants.
Mr. Trenton
turned the car into the parking lot of a police station, which was
inconspicuously nestled between two office buildings made of the same
dark-brown brick. Had it not been for the crammed lot filled with police cars
and media vans, she would’ve never guessed they’d reached their destination.
Of course
the media had jumped on this. A white woman from the suburbs was murdered. That
kind of juicy story trumped the mundane coverage of the upcoming November
elections.
As her boss
searched for a place to park, she watched four local news crews rushing around,
several of them on cell phones, no doubt calling their contacts for more
information on the murder.
Vultures.
Mr. Trenton
gripped the door handle. “Did you take advanced criminal procedure in school,
Ms. Martin?”
“No, sir.
Why?”
“Some of
the details you’ll both hear and witness today may be graphic. Since the class
prepares students by desensitizing them with real crime photos of stab wounds
and gunshots, I thought you might be more prepared for what you’re about to
encounter.”
She bit the
inside of her cheek, tamping down the vivid image of blood-splattered leaves
and the sulfuric scent of gunpowder. “It won’t bother me.”
There was
no mistaking that her answer had caused him to grin. “I didn’t think it would.
I wouldn’t have allowed you to accompany me if I hadn’t thought you were up for
it, but I needed to confirm. It wouldn’t look good if my intern fainted over a
couple of crime scene photos.”
They
departed the Mercedes, and this time Mr. Trenton walked beside her, escorting
her inside the police station to the information desk, where he handed a young
male officer a business card from his pocket. “Please let Mr. Deveroux know his
attorney is here.”
The cop
picked up a desk phone and pressed an extension. “Is Mr. Deveroux expecting a
Nicholas Trenton?”
She hadn’t
stepped into a police station in ten years, but the memory of that harrowing
day crashed into her with the force and velocity of a gunshot. Her chest
tightened as she tried to breathe. In an attempt to ward off the anxiety
attack, she counted backward from one hundred.
Her boss
leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’re okay. Breathe through your nose.”
Pressing
her lips together, she sucked air through her nose, expanding her lungs with
precious oxygen. How had he known?
“Thank
you,” the officer said into the phone. He hung up, picked up a notebook,
flipped it open, and handed Mr. Trenton a pen. “You two need to sign in.”
Her boss
signed his name before giving her the pen. Hands shaking, she supplied her
barely legible information. After she gave back the notebook, the officer
buzzed them in and pointed behind him. “Go through those doors to room three,
second room on the left.”
As Mr.
Trenton stepped in front of her, she surreptitiously obtained a small pill from
her Tic Tac dispenser in her purse and slipped it in her mouth. When they got
to the interrogation room, he knocked on the door.
Anticipation
boiled in her blood. Something was wrong with how eager she was to meet her
client, a man who would find himself under suspicion of his wife’s murder even
if he was innocent of the crime.
Could she
defend a man if she believed he was guilty?
As the door
opened and her sight fell on the man hunched over a table, she had a feeling
she’d soon find out.
AUTHOR BIO:
SHELLY BELL writes sensual romance and erotic thrillers with
high-emotional stakes for her alpha heroes and kiss-ass heroines. She began
writing upon the insistence of her husband who dragged her to the store and
bought her a laptop. When she’s not practicing corporate law, taking care of
her family, or writing, you’ll find her reading the latest smutty romance.
Shelly is a member of Romance Writers of America and International Thriller Writers.
Shelly is a member of Romance Writers of America and International Thriller Writers.
MEDIA LINKS:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ShellyBellBooks
Website: http://www.shellybellbooks.com
“Shelly Bell is a fresh
new voice in erotic romance. She brings the heat!” ~ Lexi Blake, NYT and USA
Today Bestselling Author
"White Collared
takes you on a thrill ride of danger, murder and lust, leaving you hungry for
the next installment." ~ Stacey Kennedy, USA Today Bestselling Author of
BARED
"A rollercoaster ride of jaw-dropping sex, heated anticipation, and a perfect dash of suspense, all tied together with flawless writing. When I wasn't clenching my thighs, I was frantically flipping pages to find out what would happen next! I can't recommend this series enough. Buy it. Devour it." ~ Alessandra Torre, USA Today Bestselling Author of BLINDFOLDED INNOCENCE
"A rollercoaster ride of jaw-dropping sex, heated anticipation, and a perfect dash of suspense, all tied together with flawless writing. When I wasn't clenching my thighs, I was frantically flipping pages to find out what would happen next! I can't recommend this series enough. Buy it. Devour it." ~ Alessandra Torre, USA Today Bestselling Author of BLINDFOLDED INNOCENCE
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