Rogue Love (Kings of Corruption Book 1) Read online

  Rogue Love

  Kings of Corruption Book One

  Michelle St. James

  Blackthorn Press

  Contents

  Rogue Love

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Rebel Love Sneak Peek

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Links

  Notes from MSJ

  Other Books

  Rogue Love

  Kings of Corruption Book One

  by Michelle St. James

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2016 by Michelle St. James aka Michelle Zink

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Isabel Robalo

  ISBN 978-0-9982838-1-4

  1

  Braden Kane sat in the back of the armored vehicle, trying not to think about the woman next to him as they sped down the 405. It wasn’t the first time they’d been assigned to the same sting but it never seemed to get easier.

  “Why so quiet, Kane?”

  He braced for the impact as he turned to face Special Agent Nora Murphy. She was wearing the tactical gear that was standard for FBI agents in operations like this one, but even the homogenous black garb couldn’t detract from her inherent beauty. Her vibrant blue eyes still took him by surprise, her features almost too delicate over the full mouth that begged to be kissed.

  Just not by him. Never by him.

  “Running over the timeline,” he said. “You know how it is.”

  “I do.”

  She tucked a blond tendril behind her ear. It was a gesture as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror. He’d been watching her do it ever since the academy when they’d been cajoled, harassed, and bullied through months of studying and physical training made bearable only by her presence.

  It hadn’t been the work that almost killed him — it was the boredom. A fast-tracked Masters at Princeton had prepared him for the intellectual challenge. Four years in Special Forces had prepared him for the rest. By the time he got to the academy he just wanted to get on with it.

  But the more he got to know Nora, the more he found himself dreading graduation. It had been both a dream and a curse when she’d been assigned to L.A. Now they worked together nearly every day, which meant it was still both a dream and a curse.

  They exited the freeway and Perelli spoke from the driver’s seat. “Five minutes.”

  Braden watched him flex his fingers on the steering wheel, the motion pulling at his shirt sleeves to reveal the beads on his rosary tattoo. It was normal to be nervous before a raid, although “nervous” wasn’t a word used lightly by anyone at the Bureau. Agents were more inclined to say they were amped or psyched, ready to bust some balls. Nervous was weakness.

  Nervous got you killed. And maybe someone else too.

  Nora started working the straps on her Kevlar, her graceful neck bent as she tightened the straps. Braden had to fight the urge to remove the hair tie holding back her glossy blond hair. He wanted to let it fall around her shoulders the way it did when they hung out — strictly as friends — on the weekends, or when she got dolled up for one of the few agency events he bothered to attend.

  The thought was absurd. He shook it off, started cataloging his equipment as they made their way to the biggest shipyard in Southern California. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. None of them could. They’d been setting up the arms raid for almost a year, following the trail of phone calls, money transfers, passports and bribes to this one, important shipment that would lead them to the man behind the curtain — Ivan Kalashnik.

  The case had come at a good time. He’d spent the last three years working too closely with a group of criminals who had become too much like friends. He’d needed the project. Had needed to renew his faith in the Bureau and the work they did. Because from where he’d been sitting, the lines had gotten more than a little blurry. Bad guys like those in the Syndicate seemed to be doing more to benefit society than the good guys. The crimes they committed in the name of their own brand of justice had begun to seem like a small price to pay for the greater good.

  It was a kind of insanity, something that had forced him to call into question everything he’d believed since joining the military, and later, the Bureau. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d violated one of the cardinal rules: he’d gotten too close. He’d even considered leaving, joining the ranks of agents who had gone rogue over the years, exacting off-the-books justice that, while not exactly legal, would be a hell of a lot more satisfying.

  But he was over that impulse. Now he was more than ready to bring Kalashnik to justice by shutting down the back channel sale of assault weapons that had no business on the streets. To remind himself that the work he was doing had value even if the change was so incremental it was almost invisible at times.

  “Your hair’s caught. Let me help.”

  Braden turned his attention to the tall man on the other side of Nora. He had to force down the irrational surge of jealousy that flooded his body as the other man wrapped his hand around a strand of Nora’s hair, pulling it free from her Kevlar.

  “Ow,” Nora said, wincing.

  Mike Shields smiled. “Sorry.”

  The bastard didn’t look sorry, and Braden had an image of his fist meeting Shields’ smarmy face.

  “It’s okay,” Nora said. “Thanks.”

  She and Mike were friends. Braden knew it but didn’t like it, and he had a feeling Shields felt the same way about him. He knew Nora sometimes worked weekends with Shields, too. Had spent more than one sleepless night fighting images of her in the bastard’s arms despite the fact that Nora didn’t date her fellow agents on principle.

  Not that he’d ever asked her directly about it. Because doing that — letting her know how often he thought of her, how much he looked forward to the times they were alone, how often he wanted to tell her she was brave and beautiful — would bring down the wall that was holding back his feelings like a crumbling dam.

  And really, fuck feelings. They were the last thing he needed.

  Perelli pulled into the shipyard, waving his badge at the guy manning the gate. They were expected, and the dock workers on duty had all been cleared through extensive background checks to insure no possible connections to Kalashnik. Two other vehicles, both loaded with agents, were on their way. All that was left now was to get into position and wait for the pickup.

  They pulled the car into an empty wareh
ouse on the concrete next to the dock. They were stepping out of the A/C and into the mild June evening before Perelli killed the engine. Less than a minute later two SUVs pulled into the warehouse. Then it was a clatter of boots and clicking of weapons into place and murmured conversation as everyone prepared for what was next.

  Which could be anything.

  Braden went to work on his checklist, trying not to think about the fact that Nora would be stepping into danger along with him. He was double-checking his firearm when he felt the hand on his arm. He turned to find himself staring into Nora’s deep-sea eyes.

  “Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  She shrugged her slender shoulders. “You seem a little… distracted.”

  The defensiveness rose in him before he could stop it. “I’m fine.”

  “Kane,” she said softly. “It’s me. I’m just checking on you, that’s all.”

  He drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t his enemy. And it wasn’t her fault he worried himself sick about her safety every time she was assigned to a sting. She was a professional. One of the best. A woman with the physical stamina to run marathons, training in three different martial arts, and an eye on the firing range that almost qualified her as a sniper.

  But he still couldn’t help worrying about her.

  “I know,” he said. “Thanks. I am a little distracted.”

  “Want to grab coffee later?” she asked. “Talk about it?”

  He nodded. “Maybe.”

  He wouldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t want to spend every minute with her, but that didn’t mean it was a good idea. In fact, talking about his feelings over coffee with the one woman who invaded his dreams was the worst kind of bad idea. At some point he’d have to accept that it wasn’t going to happen for them.

  That it couldn’t.

  She smiled, squeezed his arm. “Let me know.”

  She turned away, joining Shields and three of the other men in a group by the door. He watched as Shields moved in, closing the distance between them just enough to be work appropriate while making it clear he was staking his territory. Braden refocused on his gear.

  Nora wasn’t his business. It didn’t matter that he wanted her to be.

  2

  Nora Murphy was only half-listening as the men ribbed each other, making jokes over everything from the size of their guns (regulation) to the snugness of their pants (yet another pissing contest). She played along but her mind was still with Kane.

  She’d taken him for a typical recruit when they’d been assigned to the same group at the academy. Another empty vessel with more testosterone than sense. But little by little, he’d proven her wrong.

  He had at least as much sense as he had testosterone.

  They’d become fast friends, pushing each other on long runs through Quantico, studying psychological profiles, and debating who would score higher on their latest exam. Even then it hadn’t been easy to keep her distance. He was magnetic. What her grandmother would have called the strong, silent type. Of course, it didn’t hurt that his eyes were the deep green of trees in summer or that his smile was so beautiful and so rare that when he gave it to her it felt like a gift.

  She’d thought it was an act. Most of the guys at the academy spent years honing a tough but honorable persona in law enforcement or the military, but it wasn’t that difficult to find cracks in their facade — moments of weakness when things got tough, mean streaks when their ego was on the line, sexism when they thought she wasn’t listening.

  Braden was different. What she saw was what she got, and what she saw was a good man. A man strong enough to keep his own counsel and secure enough not to be influenced by little boys pretending to be grown-ups. A man with secrets he was accustomed to keeping, a reluctant but warm smile, and kind eyes.

  Plus a very, very hot body.

  Not that she went out of her way to look at his body. Because really, what would be the point? Why make things harder than they already were? Why pile temptation on top of temptation when there was no way it could ever go anywhere?

  Everything you need to know is right in front of you.

  She heard her mother’s voice, as clearly as if she were standing next to Nora in the dying light. It was something she had said often when Nora was confused or worried, and while Nora appreciated the assist, it wasn’t that simple.

  It wasn’t the Bureau that was the problem. Lots of people hooked up through work, not just with fellow agents but with lawyers and law enforcement too. She even had an acquaintance who’d had an affair with her Bureau-appointed psychiatrist.

  But falling for someone was a special kind of danger. The danger of losing yourself so totally that you became someone else. That you did crazy things and hurt the people you cared about to maintain a love that wasn’t love at all. To hang onto something that would eventually kill you. It was a lesson she’d learned in the most painful way possible and it was one she didn’t intend to forget.

  Besides, the fact that everyone else hooked up at work didn’t make it a good idea. Her brothers would say, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Her father, for all his years at the Boston PD, would call them crass, but he would agree.

  It wasn’t just the obvious conflict of interest. It was the risk of caring too much about the people who went into dangerous situations at your side, which was just as bad as not caring enough. The key was to balance on the knife’s blade in-between. To care enough to lay down your life for them but not so much that it would make you stupid.

  She didn’t dare ask her brothers — or her father — what to do if it was too late. If she already cared too much.

  It was something she would have talked to her mother about if she’d survived the cancer that had ravaged her body when Nora was twenty. Or maybe her sister, Erin, if she hadn’t fallen in love with the wrong guy and OD'ed on heroin two years later.

  Nora pushed the thought away before it had time to sink its teeth in her. She wouldn't think about that now. Tried not to think about it ever.

  She pictured her brothers instead — a legion of giants, all bachelors to the core. They had taken Erin’s death hard. Had used it as fuel to create a lucrative and illegal business that was the antithesis of their father’s long career in law enforcement — of her burgeoning career at the FBI. Their choice only made the work she did more important. She was her father’s legacy, the one Murphy still dedicated to serving the law instead of circumventing it.

  “Yo, Murphy, you need another cup of coffee?”

  She looked up to find Mike staring at her, his Tom Cruise smile practically gleaming in the dim light of the warehouse.

  She laughed. “I’m good.”

  “You looked a little out of it there for a minute,” he teased.

  She fumbled with her vest, trying to hide the fact that she’d been caught letting her mind wander. “I’m just prepping.”

  He nodded, then stepped closer, bowing his head so the other men wouldn’t hear him speak. “You sure you’re okay?”

  He was sweet. One of her best friends at the Bureau besides Braden.

  She smiled. “I’m good. Seriously.”

  “Cool.”

  Looking at his jet black hair, ice blue eyes, and the lean muscle visible even under his tac gear, she couldn’t blame all the women at the Bureau for lusting after him. Add to that his sense of humor and you pretty much had the perfect combo for any red-blooded female.

  Another vehicle pulled into the warehouse and Special Agent in Charge Alvarez stepped out of its interior. He was sporting tactical gear instead of the suit he’d taken to wearing since his promotion to SAC, and he stepped up to the group and rubbed his hands together as Braden came to stand on the other side of Nora.

  “Is it just me, or is he more of an asshole than he was yesterday?” Braden muttered under his breath.

  She grinned. “It’s not just you.”

  It was true that Alvarez had gotten a little cocky since his
promotion, but she couldn’t help liking him. He’d been good to her, had mentored her when she’d first come to LA, taken a personal interest in her success.

  “Everybody here?” Alvarez scanned the group as everyone looked around, taking inventory of the agents who were present. “Good. Let’s run through everything one more time.”

  Kowalski, Alvarez's sidekick and resident brown-noser, handed him an iPad. He held it up and Nora looked at an aerial photograph of the shipyard, different areas marked with color-coded circles.

  “Bravo team is staging on the other side of the yard,” he said, pointing to one of the green circles. “Their positions will mirror yours. The shipment will be unloaded here and moved to the east side of the holding area.” He pointed to a red circle near the dock and traced a path along a red line to another location. “If all goes well, Ivan Kalashnik will come for it tonight. The two point men will keep eyes on the container until they show up. Then we’ll make our move. Any questions?”

  Braden spoke up from the group. “What are our orders for force?”

  Nora was glad he asked the question. They still hadn’t confirmed that Kalashnik was behind the shipment, but the deal had his name all over it. And while the strike team might have Kalashnik outgunned, he was infamous for his brutality. If things went bad, he wouldn’t go quietly — he would take out as many of them as he could before he let them kill him.

  “We need these guys alive so we can dismantle their organization,” Alvarez said. “Otherwise we’re just taking a few guns off the street.”

  Nora was acutely aware of Braden next to her, his body tense, already in the quiet space they had to enter to make life and death decisions. He was a great agent — probably too good for the LA office, evidenced by all the special projects he’d been assigned in the past two years. She wondered how long it would be before he was transferred to DC or New York, then had to stuff down a pang of loss at the thought.