Torched_ Afterburn - Shay Mara Page 0,14

be hasty, I think I can handle it under the radar.”

He looked skeptical. “How are you gonna handle it?”

“We’ll have a little chat, nothing extreme. I know it’s a foreign concept, but you don’t always have to break bones to make a point. ”

“But it’s a lot more fun than playing politics,” he protested.

“Tell you what,” I murmured, melting into his chest and reaching around to run my fingers up his back. “Let me try it my way first. If it doesn’t work, have at her.”

“All these fucking compromises,” he grumbled.

I gripped the back of his head with the other hand and lifted my heels to gain a few inches. “Yeah, but aren’t they always worth it?”

“Goddamn it,” he groaned, “now you’re the one trying to distract me so I stand down.”

I leaned back and smiled. “Is it working?”

He grabbed me by the waist and pulled my hips tightly to his, the hardness in his jeans answering my question. “Not down here. He’s pretty happy standing up.”

“And I’ll be happy to give him some attention if his owner concedes on the issue at hand,” I offered.

Pursing his lips, he fisted my hair and tugged it back, forcing me to stare into those gorgeous eyes. It was a good view, they burned with frustration and primal desire, which was the best way to tame this particular manly species. “You have twenty-four hours, Mrs. Larter, and I’m hereby calling an end to the workday.”

: 5 :

| LIVIA |

I sat on my bike across the street from Linwood’s municipal building waiting for Jan Collins to make an appearance. It was late in the morning, but members of Linwood’s city council rarely kept regular hours at the office. Representing a four-digit population was apparently an easy gig judging by how little they all had on their email calendars.

Not only had I figured out Jan’s cockeyed plan to shut the bar down, I’d also discovered things about the bitch that didn’t really line up with who she was making herself out to be. And since nothing pissed me off more than a hypocrite with a superiority complex, dealing with me was about to become a rather unpleasant part of her day. I was cranky. Really fucking cranky. But I was also feeling pretty cocky. I knew I had her by the lady balls.

Ten minutes and a cigarette later, I spotted my prey walking down the front steps. She was forty-five, but with that flaming red hair, statuesque build, and the complexion of a teenager, she could easily have passed for early thirties. The woman was gorgeous, I’d give her that, and it was easy to see why she’d spent most of her adult life as a trophy wife. From what I’d gathered, she’d been married to Linwood’s long-time Director of Public Works until his death a few years back. Between his retirement and life insurance payouts, Jan had made out like a bandit, but her shopping habits drained those funds within months. In order to keep her enormous house on the outskirts of town, she bit the bullet and went into real estate. She then won her elected seat by running on a platform of being one of the people; a grieving widow and working mom who subscribed to family values over everything else.

Right.

Seeing her coming down the front steps, I hopped to my feet and jogged up to meet her halfway. “Councilwoman Collins,” I greeted.

“I’m on my way to an appointment, Mrs. Larter. What do you want?”

Ignoring her objection and shitty attitude, I smiled and remained planted in place. “Oh good, you know who I am, saves us the boring formalities. I’ll be quick and to the point, I want the club’s liquor license back.”

“You need to take that up with Rick Gellar, the city manager,” she replied curtly.

“Are you sure? Because I’m fairly certain he only suspended it to keep you quiet. Blackmail really should be left to the professionals, Jan. Amateurs like you tend to… you know… fuck shit up.”

“I have no idea what you’re babbling on about, but I don’t have time for this. Excuse me.”

She tried to step around me, but I skipped down the stairs and intercepted her. I wanted to grab her and hurl her down to the street, but seeing as how we were out in public, I decided to practice a little self-control. “You’ll make time,” I insisted, the bogus saccharine tone of my voice making my own stomach curl.

She angrily stared me down. “Do I

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