Kingdom Come Read online

  Kingdom Come

  Terri E. Laine

  First Edition

  Copyright 2020 Terri E. Laine

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading and distribution of the book via the Internet or via any other means without permission is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchased only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support for the author’s rights is appreciated. For information address to SDTEL Books.

  Michele @ Michele Catalano Creative - cover design

  Author’s Note

  If you want to know when my next release will come out, please sign up for my newsletter. https://www.subscribepage.com/terrielaine

  If you are a fan of this series or me, make sure you join my fan group. Terri’s Butterflies

  And you can join my reader group to talk books. Terri E. Laine Reader Group

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Terri E. Laine

  Prologue

  Feeling fierce was the greatest thing, especially when heading to a bar with questionable clientele. Being that my legs were my best asset, I wore tight jeans with knee-length boots over top to show them off. I felt like a force to be reckoned with. I even wore a peekaboo sweater, which made it clear my tits were small but mighty.

  That was important. Especially when I stood next to my best friend and roommate, whose curves made men drool even when she was fully covered.

  We strolled into the bar that was night and day apart from the Manhattan neighbor it barely had an address in. The patrons weren’t stockbrokers or any of the stuffy types, which was why I loved it so.

  With my bestie, Bailey, in tow, I found an open spot at the bar, which ran the length of the wall. On the opposite side were a scattering of tables and even a makeshift dance area. Near the front, where we’d entered, were the pool tables currently in use by a rowdy group of guys.

  It was a Friday night, but the place wasn’t too crowded yet. Though it was never packed like the clubs in the area.

  “The usual, Piper,” I said.

  The woman manning the bar had soft, pretty features that could put her on covers of magazines, but she was a complete hardass. Regulars knew not to mess with her. She dressed like a biker chick but denied she was a card-carrying patched member. I still liked, and even admired, her badassery.

  Piper nodded, acknowledging my order as she kept a keen eye on everything going on. I wanted to know her story—her expression was too cold for her not to have one hell of a story. But she wasn’t much of a talker and hadn’t taken any of my past offers to hang out.

  Two drinks appeared in front of Bailey and me. I left Bailey to sip hers and took mine and wandered over to the empty dance floor. Bails was still in sight and this wasn’t her first time here, so I let the thumping beat draw me to move my body. I tried waving her over, but she shook her head.

  It wasn’t long before several guys joined me. None of them wanted to know what was on my mind. They all had sex on the brain. Too bad for them, they didn’t match what I was in the mood for.

  Eventually, the music lost its allure, and I decided to rejoin my friend, who was still nursing her drink. The men who thought they had a shot protested my leaving, so I said, “Girls’ night,” because I wasn’t a total bitch.

  Bailey did her best to look as though she was having a good time. She was having boy trouble and I’d thought a night on the town would cheer her up. I was about to cut her a break and suggest we leave when a man who checked off every box of mine walked in. Bailey’s eyes widened as I did my best to keep my reaction under wraps. He took off a beaten-all-to-hell leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack up front, seemingly not at all worried that it would be taken.

  His black tee clung to hardened muscles, and with his back to us, his muscled arms revealed more art than the Met gallery. I might have mouthed, “Holy shit,” when he looked our way, but I’d totally deny it. He made his way over to the only open spot at the bar, which happened to be next to me. He smelled of leather and all man and hell if I wasn’t on board.

  As he flagged down Piper, I took in the well-worn black jeans and scuffed boots. He was perfect.

  Sending a silent request of approval with a mere look at bestie, I waited for Bailey’s response. We’d known each other since freshman year of college, so she read my question easily and answered with a barely perceptible nod.

  Piper came over and my every fantasy come to life spoke. “Beer.”

  His voice was deep and stoked every nerve ending I had to life. Point of fact, it was a real possibility my panties combusted. I gave him a look most men didn’t need a dictionary to understand.

  His eyes met mine for half a second before they bounced off me and onto my friend. His lips only curled up a half a centimeter, but I caught the appreciation in his gaze.

  Some women might have given up. Especially when he said, “Ladies,” before taking his beer and heading over to the pool tables. But I wasn’t most women. First, Bailey was taken whether she admitted or not, so there was no chance for him there. Second, I hated to lose. So, challenge accepted.

  Piper disappeared in the back, but another bartender had walked over in time to witness the exchange and was busy laughing. He too was totally my type, but his longtime girlfriend, who was as heavily tattooed as he was, was a waitress and here tonight. I spotted her by the tables. She stood nearly as tall as her man and taller than me, which was saying something. She could kick my ass and Baily’s at the same time. Therefore, I didn’t bother flirting with the bartender.

  “I see you girls like him,” he said, grin as wide as Texas.

  Having no shame, I asked, “You know him?”

  “Not really. He’s only been in a few times.”

  “Do you know his name?” I pressed.

  “I’ve heard some of the guys call him Striker, but I’m not sure if they were just referring to his pool skills.”

  Before I could pepper him with any more questions, he was waved over to fill more orders.

  After he walked away, Bailey asked, “What about Hans?”

  Hans was a guy I’d met when she met the man currently giving her the blues. He and I weren’t serious, and I wasn’t sure yet if I wanted to be.

  I grinned cheekily. “What about him? We aren’t married or exclusive. Besides, there’s no harm in flirting.”

  The chess match between Striker and me had already started, even if he didn’t know it yet. I didn’t intend
to lose. I tossed my hair over one shoulder, determined to use a winning strategy. It was perfect timing when a bearded guy who looked as if he chewed nails for breakfast came over and asked me to dance.

  “Why not?” I said, letting him lead to the spot occupied by a few other couples.

  I kept my eyes on Striker, who if I wasn’t totally off base, had been checking me out a time or two, but he hadn’t taken the bait. Instead, I caught money changing hands between him and another man before a serious game of pool started.

  I stayed on the floor, enjoying the freedom of music. Several modern crossover country songs played, and my partner wasn’t a half bad dancer. He twirled me around as though he knew what he was doing, and I laughed, enjoying it. Only it wasn’t enough to draw Striker to me.

  When it was clear Striker might be done with pool, I made my move.

  “Thanks for the dance,” I said to my partner with a wink and sashayed over to the pool tables.

  “Looks like you need a drink after all that dancing,” Striker said as I went to grab a pool cue. That confirmed he had noticed.

  “Want to buy me one?” I asked, grinning.

  “Not especially.”

  That could have thrown me off my game, but I was a word warrior when it came to trading barbs. “It’s okay. I can afford to get my own.”

  “I’m sure you can,” he said.

  This was about the time I should have hedged my bet and folded. But I wasn’t playing Texas Hold’em.

  “Fancy a game?” I asked, holding the cue stick as if it was a wizard’s staff, and with a firm belief I could totally turn his brush-off into a winning game move.

  He gave me a brisk shake of his head before leaving me there alone. All I could do was watch with narrowed eyes as he slipped on his jacket and headed outside.

  “I’ll play you,” one of the guys who’d witnessed my crushing defeat offered.

  I didn’t even look in the man’s direction as I said, “Next time,” and made my way to my bestie.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been turned down. I didn’t have an ego, which would lead me to believe I was God’s gift to all mankind. No, what hurt was the glance Striker had sent my friend’s way before he’d exited the building. Clearly, she was more his type. Short, petite, and not lacking in the chest area like I was. Worse, I was still very much attracted to him. It wasn’t often I came across a man who so perfectly fit my “type.”

  “You ready to blow?” I asked Bailey when I reached her.

  I could have kissed her when she said yes without putting to words the humiliation she’d witnessed.

  I paid the tab quickly. Bailey was on a budget and we both knew it. She’d gone out for me when she’d much rather have stayed home with a book, so I took care of the expenses.

  As if fate wanted a repeat performance of my mortification, Striker was still out front when we exited. To give my fantasies more to work with, he was on a tricked-out Harley, smoking a cigarette.

  I pulled up my big girl pants and strode to the curb to hail a cab, which showed how off my game was. I normally used my Uber app, but it was too late to pull that move. Instead, I continued to ignore the guy who knew he was better-looking than any man in a ten-block radius.

  Striker was speaking to another biker who, unlike Striker, had taken notice of us.

  “I can give you a ride,” that guy said, eyes dropping to my tomboy cleavage.

  “Don’t bother with the princess,” Striker said to him.

  “Why not?” the guy asked. “I’d bend a knee to get some of that.”

  I couldn’t stop the coy smile from growing on my face. At least someone appreciated all the hard work I’d put into looking like this tonight.

  Striker flicked the cigarette to the payment, revved the engine, and said in words that could be heard over the noise, “A girl like her only wants to brag to her friends about slumming.”

  As Striker’s Harley disappeared down the street, I lost my cool and yelled, “Bastard.”

  “Hey, I don’t mind if you slum with me,” the guy said.

  It didn’t matter what that guy looked like—I wasn’t a second-best kind of girl. So I ignored him and raised my hand to hail the approaching cab, which came to a stop next to us. Bailey slid next to me in the back seat, the pair of us speechless.

  Silently, I worked on coming to terms with double mortification. Never had I ever been so thoroughly put in my place. Bailey seemed to be at a loss as well, or she didn’t want to add to my shame.

  Still, that part of me that never wanted to lose wished for a second chance to turn the tables and bring Striker to heel.

  One

  Weeks later

  The Chicago sky was a mottled gray, the same color as my thought. It held my attention as Matt drove us from the airport where he’d picked me up.

  Part of the reason I’d come to see my brother was to fill the hole Bailey left when she’d been swept overseas by her man.

  Just call me a jealous bitch.

  I didn’t want to be. Not of Bailey, my best friend in all the world, the one who deserved to win the jackpot when it came to men. Kalen was rich, gorgeous, and a sex god, judging by the noises that had come from her room before she had left for Scotland.

  Who wouldn’t be envious of winning a man prize such as him? Me. At least I shouldn’t be. I didn’t want a rich man. I hated the money game and had steered clear of any guy with a bank account that rivaled mine.

  “What are you thinking about?” Matty asked.

  I looked at my brother. “You mean you can’t read my mind? I am your twin,” I said, exaggerating every word.

  He rolled his eyes and went back to paying attention to the road. When he didn’t laugh as I’d expected, I turned the tables on him. He seemed nervous.

  “What’s going on with you?” Since I trusted him and knew he’d never lie to me, I ignored the few beats of dead air and waited for his answer.

  “I’ve got to tell you something and you can’t tell Mom and Dad.” He ran a hand through his hair and added, “Or anyone.”

  “Just spit it out,” I said, worrying about the seriousness in his tone.

  “It’s about my job.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Your job? Don’t worry. I’m not looking for your undivided attention while I’m in town. As I told you, I’m here to meet with Haven.”

  Haven was an amazing up-and-coming artist based out of Chicago. My trip here would serve the dual purpose of checking on my brother while also securing more of Haven’s art for my next art show.

  I’d told Matty about Haven, but he must have been distracted because he asked, “Haven? A new friend?”

  “No. I don’t know her other than her art. I’m here for a face-to-face to see if I can convince her to give me more for an upcoming show. Don’t you remember that conversation?” I angled my head so I could see him better, given he wasn’t looking at me but at the road.

  “It’s just a bad time.”

  I let the arch of my eyebrow say it all.

  He sighed. “I’m on a tough assignment right now.”

  “You’re a cop. Aren’t all assignments difficult?” I asked.

  “A federal one.”

  For a second, I tried to figure out what he meant. “Wait. What? You’re a Fed? FBI?”

  “Undercover,” he replied. “I’m working undercover for some bad fucking people, Lizzy. Honestly, you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t want you caught in it.”

  I couldn’t speak. It was one thing for my brother to lie about being a cop. It was another that he was in so much danger. I could be too.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I shouted because he couldn’t be serious. He nodded. “And you’re only telling me now?” I had a hard time accepting, but the look on his face cured me of that.

  “You said you weren’t sure if you were coming, then I get a call that you’re boarding a plane.”

  “I didn’t think I had to make appointment
s to see my brother. But maybe if I’d known he was a Fed,” I shouted.

  He’d told us he was uncover but with the Chicago Police Department, not the Feds.

  He shook his head. “Well, now you know, and you can’t tell a soul. I mean it. Not even our parents or Bailey.”

  “How long?” I asked, still thunderstruck.

  “How long what?”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “I’ve been working with them since college,” he admitted. “And I’m only telling you because I trust you with my life.” I opened my mouth to say something snarky like we shared a womb, so he better, but he shut me down. “We can’t talk about this now. We’re almost to my place.”

  My eyes widened. “What, is it bugged?”

  He shrugged. “I do a daily sweep, but you never know.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Look, when we get there, I need you not to act like my sister.”

  That was a jaw-dropping statement. “I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend either, eww.”

  “No. But for your safety, I don’t want anyone to think you mean anything to me at all.”

  “Like a hookup?”

  He shrugged again, but I could tell he was stressed. “Yes and no. Just pretend we’re less than family or friends in public, okay?”

  “And if they’re watching your place?”

  “It a weekend hookup. As long as they don’t see a pattern of us being together, it should be fine.”