A Love Restrained Read online

  Old secrets, new threats...What are they willing to sacrifice?

  Philadelphia police officer Kylee Parker is dedicated to protecting and serving. She sees the work in absolutes: right and wrong, black and white, good guys and bad guys. That is, until she chases a drug dealer into a dead-end alley and finds the bad boy she had a painful crush on throughout her teen years has turned into a more dangerous and more attractive man.

  Jayson Donovan knows he doesn’t deserve someone as good as Kylee Parker. As the right hand man to a local drug-pushing mobster, he’s solidly on the wrong side of Kylee’s moral compass. But he can’t help reaching for her time and again when he knows he shouldn’t.

  Even when his secrets threaten them both.

  A LOVE RESTRAINED

  Becky Flade

  Published by Tirgearr Publishing

  Author Copyright 2017 Becky Flade

  Cover Art: EJR Digital Art (ejrdigitalart.com)

  Editor: Sharon Pickrel

  Proofreader: Barbara Whary

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not given to you for the purpose of review, then please log into the publisher’s website and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting our author’s hard work.

  This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  DEDICATION

  In memory of my brother, Christopher Flade.

  A LOVE RESTRAINED

  Becky Flade

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Spring in the city brought people out of winter hibernation like a siren song, but as the temperature rose, so in turn, did the crime rate. Cops had to be sharp as they walked the streets of Philadelphia. In her ten years on the force, on these streets, she’d seen a lot of crazy and often stupid criminals do a lot of crazy and often stupid things. But to be so brazen, or so plain dumb, as to do a hand-to-hand drug buy right in front of two uniformed officers rode high on her list of top ten.

  “Tell me you saw that?”

  “Saw what?” Hunks of half chewed soft pretzel fell from Sherman’s mouth.

  Pete Sherman’s not a bad cop, just not an observant one whose paunch portrayed his love of all things fried and his reupholstered recliner. He hadn’t seen a thing in the last six months. But he took direction well, despite the fact he had seniority.

  “There, across the street.” She pointed. “The junkie walking east just scored off the guy in the leather bomber heading west. I swear the dealer looked right at us before the exchange. Call it in, Pete, and grab the junkie. I’m going after the dealer.”

  Sherman didn’t argue. She took off into a quick lope, kept her footsteps light so as to not alert the man she pursued. The spring day had drawn people out and the complaints of the pedestrians she weaved through grew loud. The guy glanced over his shoulder, and the edge of his mouth tipped into a grin before he sprinted around the corner.

  “Cocky jerk.” She turned the corner, and shouted, “Stop! Police.”

  She ran clean and fast, closing the distance between them with little effort. The dealer ducked into an alley she knew to be a dead end. She slowed and put one hand on the butt of her service pistol as she approached. He had his back to her, his hands on his hips as he stared at the brick wall in front of him.

  “Philly PD, you’re under arrest. Slowly put your hands above your head and against the wall to your left.” She closed the few feet between them, using her free hand to release the handcuffs from her belt, the other remaining on her weapon. She cuffed him, with practiced efficiency, and then read him his rights before leading him out of the alley, preferring to do the pat down with her partner present.

  “Kylee Parker, I’ll admit I daydreamed a time or two about you cuffing me, but it was never in this context.”

  The voice shocked her; she hadn’t heard it since senior year of high school. Kylee twisted him around so that she could see the whole of his face. Crap, oh crap.

  “Jayson Donovan. Why aren’t I surprised?”

  His lopsided smile hadn’t changed since high school. With a nudge on his shackled wrists, she started them walking. Damn. I should’ve chased the junkie instead.

  “My friends call me JD.”

  His voice had changed, gotten deeper, but his butter smooth style hadn’t changed since the last time she’d seen him - the day of their senior English final.

  He’d stopped her in the hall, a few feet from the door, practically whispering her name and she’d felt that twist in her chest and the confusing ache low in her tummy. He’d been standing so close. He’d never been that close. She remembered even now how her head swam and her face burned as a telltale blush filled her cheeks. How she put her back against the lockers, trying to distance herself from him, but he filled the buffer she’d tried to create.

  He put his hand on the locker next to her head and dipped his low. For one crazy second, she thought he’d intended to kiss her, and her heart had danced a crazy rhythm in anticipation. His eyes were blue and ringed in dark, thick lashes. She couldn’t stare into them; they made her nervous, and she’d lowered her gaze.

  I didn’t have a chance to study, and they won’t let me graduate if I fail this final. Everybody knows you’re the smartest girl in school. Maybe if you left your arm at your side a time or two, let me get a peek at your paper, what do you say?

  She had hesitated. She’d wanted to help him, wanted him to like her, but didn’t want to cheat. Then he dangled the carrot she couldn’t refuse.

  I’d really like to take you to the senior picnic, but they won’t let me go if I don’t pass.

  With her heart dancing in her chest and covered in a paranoid sweat, she had helped him, leaving her paper unguarded. After, in the hall, he’d touched her arm, kissed her cheek, and he’d told her he’d meet her at the picnic. She fretted about what to wear for hours. She fussed with her hair. Arrived at the picnic early and found what she thought would be the perfect spot. She laid out a blanket, and she’d waited. All day.

  Now he tried to sweet talk his way out of an arrest.

  “We are not friends. You can call me Officer Parker.”

  “Oh honey, that’s the sexiest put down I’ve ever gotten. But I’m afraid it’s got the exact opposite effect. Frankly, I’m looking forward to the pat down. Officer Parker.”

  She jerked his wrists upward to quicken Jayson’s pace cutting off his soft, yet mocking, laughter. He kept quiet for the rest of the walk. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for small favors. She found Sherman leaning against the hood of their car finishing another soft pretzel.

  “Sherman, where’s the buyer?”

  He shrugged over the last bite of his snack, wiped his hands on his uniform, and hiked his pants up over his oversized bottom. “Got away. Fast, little sucker.” He nodded to her, “See you got the dealer though. Good job.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sherman ignored or didn’t notice the sarcasm. Then she had what she thought a stroke of pure genius.

  “You know what? I haven’t searched him yet, and I’m a little out of breath, would you mind doing it?”

  JD’s eyes flashed to hers, and she had to battle the urge to smile when she saw the quick flash of alarm in those disarming blue eyes of his. With unprofessional glee, she sat in the cruiser and watched as the overweight and unattractive Officer Peter Sherman patted down one Jayson Donovan.
r />   “Good luck getting a conviction without the alleged buyer,” JD muttered from the back seat. “It’s going to be my word against yours, Officer Parker.”

  “I’m not worried about that. You’re a liar. I’m not.”

  They took him in and booked him. She offered to do the paperwork if her partner escorted their collar to lock-up. Sherman jumped on the opportunity to avoid more work. Two hours later, her commanding officer called her into his office.

  “What do you mean Donovan’s being released?”

  “The bust is tenuous at best. There were no drugs or weapons found on his person, you yourself stated you didn’t observe the subject tossing anything suspicious and while he possessed a large volume of small bills that alone is not evidence of criminal activity.”

  “I saw him make the deal, Lieu. I saw it. He ran, tried to avoid arrest, had a suspicious quantity of small bills on him, and has a record for dealing. We’ve gotten convictions with less.” He’s going to get away with it. He’s going to get one over on me again. This isn’t personal.

  The hell it isn’t.

  “Parker, the truth is this guy is connected somewhere and connected well. One of the city’s most expensive criminal defense attorneys came in within minutes of Donovan getting booked before he’d even had his one phone call. And I got a call from the head of narcotics telling me to let him go as our bust interferes with an ongoing investigation into the activities of one Jayson Donovan and known associates. He’s being released, and that’s the end of it.”

  She went back to the desk she shared with other officers—beat cops didn’t have their own desks—and finished writing up the arrest report. Futile or not she completed the report on the arrest of one Jayson Donovan. She banged on her keyboard with angry enthusiasm, the sound echoing around the communal space. She could’ve had her own desk and shield years earlier, but she’d turned down any promotion that did not include a transfer to narcotics.

  The image of Donovan returning to the streets mingled with the images of the young men responsible for her partner’s death. The crime scene unit hadn’t been able to identify from which gun her first partner and mentor had been shot and killed, added to the fact all the gang bangers arrested that day were lower-level dealers willing to testify against their supplier to get cherry plea deals. The case against the supplier had ended in a hung jury. All the cooperators were already serving their reduced sentences; they had no incentive to testify in a re-trial. Justice hadn’t been served for Guff or his family.

  She finished her paperwork, signed out for the night and with a sigh, walked out into the cool evening air. She loved her job and her life, but there were days when she felt the keen frustration of being a cog in the great unfair wheel of justice and wished that Lady Justice would take off her blindfold to see right and wrong for herself. Today is one of those days.

  Strolling through the parking lot, her gate easy and unhurried, she estimated how long it would take her to get home, grab a beer, and a long hot shower. A familiar body leaned against her vehicle. The muscles in her back and shoulders tensed.

  The years had been kinder to him than she would’ve liked.

  His charming but childish good looks had chiseled, hardened in a way that made the bad boy seem innocent in comparison. Danger emanated from him even though his eyes still glittered and his dimples still flashed. Like an over-sized pup that’d finally grown into his paws, the tall, broad shouldered man grew into a lean and lethal predator. Blue eyes framed by thick lashes and a too full bottom lip, about which she had spent many an adolescent night dreaming, still teased at unshed secrets. The bomber jacket, jeans, and worn boots suited him. He looked more like an urban cowboy than a drug dealer but looks deceived.

  “Hello, Officer Parker or can I call you Ky now that you’re off duty?” His lips curved into a tempting smile.

  “Get off my car.”

  “Aren’t you even curious as to how I knew it was your car?”

  She ignored, and then attempted to step around, the persistent jerk.

  “Come on, you’re not mad I beat those lame charges, are you?”

  “Get. Off. My. Car.”

  He stepped back, and she threw herself into the jeep she babied, slammed the door and threw it into gear. She backed out, fast, making him jump to avoid her tail end and peeled out of the precinct parking lot. Her quiet wish for a shower and beer gone, she glanced at the time on the dashboard. If she hurried, she’d make the kickboxing class she preferred. Deliberately not glancing in the rear-view mirror, she cursed Jayson Donovan all the way to her gym.

  * * *

  He’d known it foolish to linger, to wait for her, but no one had ever accused him of being a smart man. He hadn’t thought about her in years, so many he couldn’t guess when the last time had been. He knew she’d joined the force. Everyone knew Officer Kylee Parker following the press her partner’s death had received. He stared at her taillights considering the shocking zap of awareness he’d experienced when she cuffed him. She’s a bad idea. Always has been. He walked to his motorcycle, remembering how desperately he’d loved her.

  Her hair had been a lighter brown then and long, but she’d always worn it pulled into a braid or ponytail with the little bits around her face curling free. His bastard of a father took him bow hunting once when he was thirteen. He found a baby doe hiding in a thicket. The fawn’s eyes were huge, soft brown filled with innocence and trust and curiosity even a small kid could recognize. Her eyes had always reminded him of that doe; they were the same soft brown, like the color of caramel, big and wide and full of innocent curiosity. He’d wanted to protect the doe. And Kylee Parker. The memory surprised him.

  He’d fantasized about kissing her, just as much as he’d dreamed of holding her hand or brushing those errant curls from her face. But even then, he knew she wasn’t for him, that he wasn’t good enough for her. He didn’t fit in with her friends, but often found excuses to be close so he could hear her voice. Once he’d caught her staring at him and thought maybe she felt the same about him. He remembered the day he’d gotten close to kissing her in school. Her eyes had nearly swallowed them both. She’d looked both terrified and thrilled. He missed that train, thanks to his father.

  His thoughts turned to the woman she’d become. She’d cut her hair into a short cap of dark-brown, a style he found both sassy and sophisticated, but he imagined she chose it for practical purposes. He liked it. The look suited her angular face. Her eyes were still big and wide, but she’d lost the innocence that used to shine out of her. The woman who’d arrested him had harder edges and haunted eyes.

  He smiled as he kicked the bike into gear. Too bad for her, I prefer sharp angles.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She stared at the assortment of potted plants littering her kitchen table and frowned. All five were beautiful, and they were all from Jayson. The first, tulips, appeared at her front door the morning after she’d arrested him with a one-word note: I. Geraniums waited on the hood of her car when she’d left for her shift. The card read: am. She’d had sorry peonies waiting for her at the front desk of her gym; Dinner? gardenias were delivered to her mother’s; and daisies with a cell phone number had come to the precinct yesterday. Each note had a small JD scrawled in the corner. Kylee scooped the pots into her arms before shouldering her way through the door.

  “I hope you’re just taking those plants for a walk.”

  He sat on her front steps, a potted fern beside him, as unwelcome there as he was in her thoughts. Does what he wants, when he wants, and to hell with the consequences. His arrogance is intolerable.

  “Keep it up, Mr. Donovan, and I’ll have grounds for an arrest based on the stalking laws in this county.” She opened her arms and let the pots shatter on the Mayfair sidewalk. Stepping over the mess she’d created, she went back the way she’d come. She wasn’t surprised when he followed her, unhappy but not surprised. She had to slam the screen door in his face and hold it shut to keep him out of her home.
“Have you no boundaries?”

  “Nope. Have dinner with me, and I promise I’ll stop sending you such offensive plants.” He smiled.

  “Nope.” She flicked the lock on the screen, shut the heavy door and threw the bolt. His laughter bothered her. You weren’t supposed to be amused, asshole. He can’t even get that right. She’d been rude, and as much as she disliked Jayson Donovan, her mother had taught her better. She opened the back door, not the screen, prepared to apologize, but he’d left.

  Two hours later, freshly showered and scrubbed, she backed her jeep into her parent’s driveway and snatched her cell from the cup holder. “Hi, Mom. Could you come outside for a minute?”

  “I’m cooking.”

  “I know, but I need a minute? I’m in the driveway.” She disconnected and had lowered the tailgate as her mother bustled through the side gate.

  “What’s so important?”

  “Where do you want me to put this thing?” She gestured to the planter full of the plants JD had gifted her. She managed to salvage all but a few bulbs. She found the arrangement random, but pleasing.

  “Oh.” Her mother thought for a minute. “How about the back deck?”

  “Back deck it is. I got this, Mom. I’ll be inside to help with dinner in a second.”

  Her mom waited and then led the way, as though she couldn’t find the back deck. They stood side by side, staring at the planter. They nodded, smiled and walked inside arm-in-arm. With a surprising display of patience, her mother waited until she had finished peeling more than half of the potatoes before asking questions.

  “Were those the gardenias that were delivered here the other day?”