BRAVED by Dr. Rebecca Sharp is live and FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Are you ready for the final standalone in the Covington Security series! Keep reading for an excerpt…

BLURB

From bestselling author, Dr. Rebecca Sharp, comes a brother’s best friend, forced proximity romantic suspense…

Juliana Lozano has spent years living as the rebellious one of the family, a reputation she’s embraced. No one is surprised by her string of boyfriends that her brother would never approve… then again no one realizes all those flirtations aren’t what they seem.

When her little operation turns deadly, Juliana needs a place to hide and some lessons on how to protect herself.

Kane Rivera wants nothing more than to bury himself in his work. But as the new guy at Covington Security, when his teammate’s little sister shows up wanting self-defense training, he’s stuck entertaining her request.

It only takes one afternoon for Juliana to want to punch Kane for real. The older ex-DEA agent is buttoned-up, broody, and a borderline bully when it comes to keeping her safe. But better he think she’s brazen and bored than know the truth: she’s fighting for her life.

No matter how he’d prefer to be ignorant, Kane can’t ignore the bold beauty or all the bad things that keep happening to her. Juliana’s hiding something, but if close proximity offers any clues, it’s that he’s the one who’s in trouble. Getting involved with Juliana isn’t an option—not with his past. She’s braved too much to have her heart crushed by the one man who was supposed to protect it.

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EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE
JULIANA

“Did you think there’d be this many people?” Rosa spoke over the pervasive thump of the music.

I sipped on my tonic water, scanning the crowd that filled the ground floor of the Mirage, the newest club in downtown San Francisco. 

The building wasn’t new; it had been an exclusive nightclub for many years, but the previous owners had been arrested almost a year ago for ties to a drug cartel. The new owners had taken everything up a notch—or ten. Decadent décor. Top-tier alcohol. A members-only kink club upstairs. And their PR team had done a damn good job burying the club’s sordid past.

“This is perfect,” I replied, picking my cell phone up from the bar and snapping the obligatory selfies for social media: one with the bar. One with my hand on my Lorraine Sears necklace and a sultry look on my face. And another pressing a kiss to the side of my glass, leaving the perfect deep red imprint of my lipstick.

The Mirage. Lorraine Sears. And Tobi James lipstick. They all paid for the photos I’d post tonight for my seventeen million followers.

Social Media Influencer wasn’t on my list of things I wanted to be when I grew up, but who would turn down getting paid to post photos? Sure, it wasn’t saving lives or ruling over a business empire… but I lived in the same luxury apartment complex as people who did those things and made more money than most of them. They could roll their eyes all they wanted, but there was no arguing with the fancy apartment, expensive clothes, or the once-in-a-lifetime experiences it afforded me.

“Are you sure?” Rosa shifted in her seat, the quiver in her voice sending off warning bells in my head.

She wasn’t worried about the crush of people. She was worried about getting caught. It was understandable, except I was the one taking almost all of the risk, and if I wasn’t worried…

“It’s going to be fine.” I made sure I had her attention when I spoke, putting my phone down and letting out a throaty laugh as though she’d said something funny; there was an image to maintain and fear couldn’t be a part of it. “I’m going to be fine.”

The photos weren’t why we were here tonight. Not even close. They were just for show.

For the last two years, my social media persona has been a façade. Ironic, really, because that was all social media was to begin with; a farce. Your best face forward. But I’d taken it a step further. Being an influencer was now my cover story.

“More people means more distractions.” I lifted my glass in her direction, holding her hesitant gaze firmly until she clinked her own glass against it. “Relax,” I mouthed just before we drank.

If she didn’t, she was going to blow our only shot.

I let my eyes wander around the room again. Low lights. Dark walls. Opulent, old-world decorations. Champagne and expensive liquor flowed in gold-rimmed glasses. The pulse of the electric music adorned the air with a low, provocative beat. An array of expensive colognes and perfumes seducing every molecule of oxygen into submission. 

The Mirage lived up to every bit of its illustrious reputation. It was decadence and depravity all rolled into one.

“Hello, ladies.” A bald man in a suit stepped up to us. He smiled and let his eyes wander casually—carelessly down my body. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m the man who’s about to buy you another drink.” His gaze stopped at my chest—the kind of exaggerated stop you do at a stop sign when there’s a police officer watching you.

I counted to three, and even by then his eyes hadn’t left my tits. Perfect. This guy was cringey, but his demeanor was nothing short of applause for the role I was playing. With my short, low-cut clingy black dress, sky-high heels, full hair, and makeup… I was the bait.

The lure.

The honey trap.

“Oh really?” I arched one of my perfectly outlined brows.

“How can I not?” The leer of his gaze took another swipe over me, this time lingering on how high my dress rode up on my thighs. “You’re one of the Kardashians, aren’t you? I swear I won’t tell.”

In my periphery, I caught Rosa stifling a laugh. I owed her twenty bucks every time someone referred to me as a Kardashian.

Sure, it was great that I didn’t have to go through countless plastic surgeries to get an hourglass figure that could stop time, an ass that always drew a stare, and a set of lips that stopped a man cold, because if I had, the lesson would’ve been a whole lot harder—and more expensive—to learn that being beautiful wasn’t a shortcut to true love.

At eighteen, I’d thought being a brunette bombshell would make it easy to find the one. At twenty-seven, I’d accepted my physical appearance for what it was: a prize. Something to be won, not someone to be loved. So, for the last two years, I’d turned that weakness into a weapon.

“No, I’m not, but I’m so flattered you think so.” I kept my smile wide. “And I’m actually here with my girlfriend.”

I reached over and pulled Rosa in for a kiss, our lips locking for long enough to be convincing.

“Goddamn, I need a drink.” Bald guy walked away, desperately waving down the bartender as we broke out laughing.

“You know I’d happily be your girlfriend.” Rosa winked.

The first time I’d kissed Rosa… well, she’d actually kissed me. We’d been in a similar situation. Random guy hitting on me at a bar while we were waiting for our mark. He’d been pretty insistent, so Rosa grabbed me by the back of my neck and planted her mouth on mine. I’d told her there was no need for an apology as long as we could use that ruse in the future.

“Trust me, I wish you could be, too,” I said wryly to my friend who was as interested in women as she was in men.

I reached in my clutch for my lipstick, wanting to replace the layer I’d left on my glass. As soon as I went to use my phone as a mirror, it lit up with a missed call. Another one. Bringing the total of three calls from Dante since Rosa and I left my apartment.

My phone buzzed. And there was voice mail number three.

I swiped the notification away. I’d already listened to his spiel about how he didn’t want me frequenting the Mirage. How he and the security firm he worked for had been involved in the case against the original owners and that there could still be drugs and other dangerous things going on.

Like he had a say over a twenty-nine-year-old adult.

“I’m sure Dante would be over the moon,” I quipped and uncapped the lipstick; I actually liked this one.

“Did he call again?” Her brow creased. 

“It’s fine. I’ll handle him.” I set my phone on do not disturb.

“Jul,” she said lowly. “You said that last weekend when he came up here to check on you, and Rob almost had to shelve our whole mission.”

I made a show of applying the stain on my lips, letting it cover up the biting retort I felt brewing on my tongue.

Dante Lozano was simultaneously the world’s best and most annoyingly protective older brother. There were a million reasons. Being the oldest and only boy with five younger sisters was a start. Then having our dad die in the line of duty when he was a teen and we were even younger compounded the responsibility. And when he became a police officer… his protectiveness was given a badge.  

My problem was that I’d always been the rebellious one. Maybe it was a middle-child thing. Maybe it was that my older sisters, Maria and Regina, were the responsible and driven ones. Maybe it was that Carina and Sofia were the smart and shy ones. Maybe rebellious was the only thing left for me. Or maybe I just didn’t want to be known as the beautiful one. Not that my sisters weren’t gorgeous; they were. But I had it all: the curves, the lips, the eyes, the hair. Somewhere along the way, I realized that was all I was going to be remembered for if I didn’t do something about it; so I did.

And the only thing more memorable than being beautiful is being bad.

So, I made it my mission to be bad. Not bad bad—not criminal bad. But I tested my brother over the years. Tried his patience. Tried his limits. Snuck out. Drank with friends. Broke curfew. Dared to date boys. When Dante left SFPD and moved to Carmel, I guess I settled for a little bit. And so did my brother—a wife and twin boys would do that to a man. 

Then, two years ago, my younger sister saved a man’s life and fell in love with him… and everything changed. I’d never been a jealous person, but suddenly my little sister had something I wanted—needed. Not love. I was already resigned to that. But purpose.

And that was when Rob found me and showed me, I could be bad in order to do good.

“I handled him.”

“You’re not good at lying to him.” Or me, went unsaid as she swirled the ice in her almost-empty glass.

I gritted my teeth but refused to let my frustration break through. Every manicured and made-up inch of me was here for a purpose, and my brother’s overprotectiveness wasn’t going to ruin it.

“He believed me enough to leave,” I reminded her, pressing my lips together and shoving the tube of gloss back into my purse. “I’m sure he’s just calling to warn me to behave while he’s out of the country with Lenni and the boys.”

Dante’s wife was an actress famous for her role as the dragon queen in the hit TV show A Song of Dragons. She was about to start filming the new season in New Zealand and Iceland for the next six months, and my brother and their kids were traveling with her.

Six months where he couldn’t be overbearing about my dating life… and where I could learn how to better bury the truth.

The only thing worse than me dating too many men was putting myself in danger. 

“You know, if I had a man as protective of me as Dante is of you, I’d climb all over that,” Rosa quipped, setting her glass on the bar and then gently brushing back her full, dark curls.

In another life, my beautiful African American friend had been a model. Tall. Impossibly yet naturally skinny. Graceful. In another life, her appearance had been the only thing that mattered, and that was why Rob chose her, too. 

Because beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Like a brick. Broad and dense, jammed into the eye, making it impossible to see anything else.

It was what we counted on.

“Ugh.” I shuddered. “I love my brother, but I could never be with a man who was even close to being that protective.” Being a thing to protect was just as objectifying as being a thing to admire.

“I’m sure you’d change your tune if he was close to being that hot,” she teased and winked at me.

“Ew, stop.” My fake gag started to turn into a smile but faltered when my gaze snagged over her shoulder.

At the end of the bar stood the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

And when you’re a ten by society’s standards, you meet a lot of other tens who think the physical equation is all that matters.

But this man… he wasn’t a ten. He was a 911 kind of hot.

Even in the dim light, his olive skin gleamed golden. He wasn’t clean-shaven like every other pretty boy in the club. His beard was neatly trimmed, framed perfectly around his lush mouth. I’d never kissed a man with a beard before. My sister, the one with purpose, Carina, was married to one, but Rocco’s beard was bigger—more wild than this; she definitely had no complaints though. 

Mr. 911 drank from his glass, and my legs locked tighter, watching that mouth in action. Would his beard tickle or scratch between my thighs?

His glass came down, and his dark eyes sharpened instantly on mine. They flickered with something like recognition. Color rose to my cheeks, and I wondered if he’d recognized what I was thinking—and knew I was getting wet thinking about it.

I couldn’t stop the shiver that coursed through me nor the heat it left between my thighs, but I refused to look away—refused to let him think he was having any effect on me or that he was any different from any of the other men in the room.

Except he was.

He didn’t stand out because he was hotter than the rest; he stood out because he clearly didn’t fit in. He looked nothing like the rest of the lawyers and politicians and trust-fund babies who frequented this club, tailored into their Armani suits and wearing egotistical smirks so similar they must be a free gift given with each Ivy League degree. No, every inch of Mr. 911, from his narrow waist to his broad shoulders, was draped in dark and framed by rough edges.

And his confidence? It thrived in the shadows, letting everyone else fight for the superficial spotlight. But it was his eyes that captured me—that told me everything I needed to know.

I wasn’t fooling him.

His gaze didn’t break from mine. Not for my red lips. Not for my breasts popping out from my low-cut dress nor my hips stretching the tight fabric even higher on my thighs. There was no brick of beauty blinding him to the real me, and I shivered, the thought making me feel more exposed than had I been sitting here completely naked.

“Juliana…”

At Rosa’s voice, I instantly snapped my eyes to the door, cursing myself for being distracted on a mission. The only men allowed in my life were the ones I could fool with a warm smile and suggestive stare.

A group of such men had just entered the club, everything about them fitting with the vibe, but there was one in particular who stood out. Not because he was emergency-level gorgeous or had a haunting expression, he stood out because he saw himself above the rest—a man who committed murder and thought he could get away with it.

“That’s him,” I confirmed.

Paul McCullough. The youngest addition to the McCullough Law dynasty. His grandfather was former Judge Randolph McCullough. His father and two uncles, Peter, Alexander, and Ralph McCullough, all lawyers, along with his older brother, David.

There wasn’t a person in the city who hadn’t heard of McCullough & Sons, Attorneys at Law, who didn’t know of their high-profile clients all across the country, nor their work internationally. And there wasn’t a criminal in their vicinity who didn’t trust these men to shield them from the law.

I knew he’d see me. At some point, Paul’s eyes would swing past the bar and they’d lock on all the attributes that mistook me for a Kardashian. And that would make him mistake the come over look in my eyes for something other than what it really was. A trap.

“We’re on,” I murmured to Rosa, keeping my smile coy and my attention locked on Paul.

He chatted and laughed with his boys but his eyes—that superficial fascination couldn’t break from me. Looking at him, you’d never guess he lost his fiancée three weeks ago.

Looking at him, you’d never guess how close he was to getting away with her murder.

As he headed toward us, I let my gaze stray around the room. I couldn’t seem too eager; I needed him desperate. Normally, I looked for Rob in the room—Robyn DuBois. The woman who led our little ring of deception. The one who started it all. Somehow, even with her red hair, she still managed to blend into the crowd. But tonight, I looked at Rosa.

We’d taken on powerful marks before, but for some reason, Paul worried her more than the others.

“Ready?” I asked, my smile widening.

“I should be asking you that,” Rosa admitted under her breath before taking the last sip from her glass, her other hand working to pull out a small pill from her purse.

I was ready. My smile broadened, and I lifted my chest a little higher as Paul and his friends reached us. It was going to be fine. It had to be. Otherwise Katie would never get justice.

“Hello.” Paul’s voice was as slick as motor oil, his expression just as muddy, too.

“Hi.” I let my tongue roll through my lips, waiting for his eyes to sink in three… two… one… Anchor’s away. “How can I help you?” I slowed the first word, letting it linger on the ‘o’ sound before I finished speaking.

Like a pup on a leash, he couldn’t stop staring.

“Oh, I’m hoping I can help you, beautiful. Maybe to another round on me?”

I pretended to think about it. “I don’t take drinks from men I don’t know.”

“Oh, you know me.” Even the way he introduced himself, it was like he was introducing the Pope or the King of England. The pretentiousness made me want to gag, especially knowing the kind of man he really was. “I’m Paul McCullough. Attorney at McCullough and Sons.” He extended his hand, a giant signet ring on his ring finger. “And I have to warn you, sweetheart, as the most prominent lawyer in this city, your beauty is downright criminal.”

Vomit. 

“It is?” I feigned dismay, slowly lowering my hand to his in a limp shake. “What am I going to do?”

His smile lifted on one side as easily as he’d tipped the scales of justice in his favor. “Don’t worry,” he drawled and brought my hand to his mouth. “I’ll get you off”—he paused and kissed the back of my hand—“on all charges.”

If I let them, my eyes would’ve rolled so far back in my head it might’ve turned back time. This was, by far, one of the dumbest conversations I’d ever had in my entire life. But that was what beauty did—made men dumb—and that was exactly what I needed.

“Well, I guess I can consider it over a drink.” I lifted my shoulders, the small shrug allowing the spaghetti strap of my dress to fall off one shoulder.

His lip twitched like a hunter whose prey was almost in his grasp.

I went to replace the strap, and he knocked my hand aside, running his fingers up my arm as he moved the strap back into place. I shivered like his touch wasn’t acid on my skin. Once he had it back in its spot, he left his hand on my shoulder like he’d claimed me.

Good. Let him think that. It would make it all the more satisfying in the end.

“Bartender.” Paul snapped his fingers, clearly annoyed that he even had to call for someone to help him. “Grey Goose. Double. And another round for the ladies.”

While we waited for the drinks, I introduced myself as Julia and Rosa joined the conversation, engaging Paul so I could monitor the bartender. As soon as he headed our way with our drinks, I pushed out of my seat.

“I just need to use the ladies’ room,” I murmured, making sure I brushed close to Paul’s front as I stood. I lifted my eyes to his, smiling coyly. “I’ll be right back.”

For being such a smart lawyer, Paul McCullough’s dick was as dumb as the rest of them. He played right into my hand, distracted by my proximity and the sultry promise in my eyes that he couldn’t care less that his drink had been delivered on the bar. I kept my hold on his attention as I headed for the restroom, watching his stare lower to the sway in my hips with each click of my heels, my dress catching on the crease of my ass.

And watching Rosa reach for his glass.

Everything was going according to plan, and I should’ve stuck to it. Except the bathroom was right by Mr. 911. And for as much as I fled the weight of Paul’s leer, I also was drawn to the heat of another stare.

I should’ve picked someone else. Anyone would’ve done the trick. But I didn’t want anyone. I wanted the man who thought he saw me, and I wanted to prove to myself he was just like all the rest.

When I reached the end of the bar, I broke my eyes from Paul and glanced at Rosa. Her cue. And then I proceeded to pretend to trip and stumble right into Mr. 911.

Big arms locked like steel around me—hot metal bands that held me upright. Warmth rocketed through my blood, tumbling over every disc in my spine and reaching all the way to my toes. I breathed unsteadily, the electric hum of desire unexpected but not unwelcome. I pretended to have an instant attraction to men all the time… maybe that was why it took me so off-guard when it actually happened.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Do it, I willed. Grope me. Hit on me. Something to prove that you’re no different than the man I’m here to take down.

Instead, those arms released and gently rested on my shoulders. It seemed crazy that something so strong one second could be so tender the next.

And then he pushed me away.

Shit. I sucked in a harsh breath, not prepared for the way his touch would make me forget myself and my mission or the way his distance would make me hungry.

I didn’t know what was more shocking, the hot wave of desire that crashed over me the moment we touched or the cold dose of reality when he seemed eager to get me out of his arms.

Careful, Juliana, or you’ll become the kind of fool you came here to fool.

“Oh my gosh.” I fluttered my eyelids and faked a husky laugh. “I’m so sorry.” I swayed to one side, pretending to still be a little unsteady.

My head tipped, prepared to continue my ruse, when I found my eyes lost in the depths of his. They were even darker up close. More haunted. Hollow. Like a storm that never got the chance to break.

“Are you alright?” he rasped firmly, the shadow of his beard unable to hide the harsh tic in his jaw.

No, I wasn’t alright. Not when he looked at me like that.

“I’m fine,” I murmured just as his attention shifted behind me, and I retreated to my persona, knowing what was about to happen.

“Julia!” Paul grabbed my shoulder, almost making me fall for real as he turned me to him. “Are you okay?”

If there was one thing even more potent than beauty, it was jealousy. So, seeing his prey in the arms of another man was enough to make Paul miss the other woman who’d slipped something in his drink.

I nodded and bit my lip. “Maybe I’ve already had enough to drink,” I said coyly, ignoring the sharp cut of Mr. 911’s eyes on me.

“Well, I’ve got you now.” Paul glared at Mr. 911, but that was all he was going to do. The man in front of me was much larger and more imposing than everything about Paul McCullough except maybe his ego.

“So sorry,” I murmured again and let Paul guide me toward the restroom, refusing to allow myself another glance at the man I’d purposely bumped into. It would be better for both of us if we completely forgot it ever happened.

Paul waited while I went into the ladies’ room, using the minutes to catch my breath and give myself a little pep talk.

One shot. We had one shot at this—at him. And I wasn’t going to blow it.

Especially not on a stranger whose disinterest was as refreshing as it was disheartening.

* * *

“In here.” I exaggerated each panting breath, smiling and fumbling to open a door to a private room off the main floor of the club.

Rob had connections all over the city, so I didn’t ask questions when she told me to take Paul down the private hall next to the bar and use the third door on the right.

“What room is this?” Paul slurred but followed me inside.

“Who cares?” I laughed and shut the door, pulling him to me and kissing him again. He tasted rancid. Like food that looked fine but was moldy and rotted on the inside.

But I shoved that thought aside, feeling him sway against me.

Good. There wasn’t much time.

After the bathroom, we returned to the bar. Paul’s one friend was waiting—saying the others had left and we should leave, too. Rosa laughed and smiled, but I knew she was panicking. What we did need time to work—time he wasn’t giving us. There should’ve been at least another ten minutes at the bar before moving to a private room, but Paul wouldn’t be swayed.

If I didn’t act right then, he was going to leave the club, and any chance we had to bring him to justice would walk out with him.

So, I pressed myself to his side and told him I knew somewhere private we could go.

One look was all I had to wordlessly tell Rosa it was going to be fine—to just stay calm and keep watch. As I led him away, I heard him tell his buddy to go check out the upper floors and that he’d be back in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough. Not even after the way he’d chugged down his drink. The drugs needed time to work. He needed time to relax. And when it was over, he was going to sleep for the rest of the night.

But we’d waited so long—worked so hard for tonight. I couldn’t cut the mission short now.

“You like breaking rules?” Paul bit the corner of my neck hard and dug his fingers into my ass.

I gritted my teeth, reminding myself that my body was my weapon. “Maybe.”

“Good because I like to punish,” he declared and suddenly, his hand was around my throat. I choked and gasped for air, the assault so unexpected my brain went haywire. “And I’m going to enjoy punishing you.”

Fuck, this was bad.

That was my only thought as blackness prickled at the edges of my vision. Desperation took hold and I clawed at him—his hands, his wrists—anything to get him to let go.

And all Paul did was laugh and drag one of my hands to his groin.

No. No. No.

“This is how much I like it when you fight.” I felt him grow hard against my palm.

I probably would’ve vomited if he wasn’t choking me, and then, an instant later, he used the hand bruising my throat to shove me back.

I gasped and greedily inhaled oxygen just as my legs hit the edge of the bed and I fell onto it.

This was bad. But we were so close…

He was in front of me in an instant, his meaty grip jerking my legs apart.

Fuck. This fucker was not going to rape me.

I clamped my legs closed. “Hey—” My furious protest was silenced by the fist that cracked into my face, hitting me so hard I tumbled onto the floor.

Oh god…

Spots burst in my vision, and when I could see straight, the smear of blood on my hand came into focus first. He’d punched me so hard he’d broken skin.

“Don’t talk back to me,” he snarled and threatened. “And don’t… fucking scream… because no one is going to help you. My family runs this town, so you’re going to enjoy this fuck… and you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”

I could hear the drug working. Scopolamine. His exertion pumped the disorienting truth serum faster through his blood, making him pause and slur, promising that he would soon be docile—biddable—if I could survive long enough.

If Rob let me survive long enough.

She was listening to this whole exchange. The mic in my necklace recorded everything. If I didn’t get control of this and start getting information, she was going to pull the plug and that couldn’t happen; we’d never get another shot.

Paul reached for his belt, and I scrambled off the floor. He moved quickly—not as quick as the first time, but quick enough to grab my dress and tear it as he threw me into the wall. My head smacked into it, and I crumbled to the ground.

I heard myself cry out, but adrenaline blotted the pain.

“That’s it. Keep trying to run.” He groaned, massaging himself like the prospect of fucking a half-beaten woman was the epitome of a turn-on. “I’ll catch you… don’t… worry…”

He stepped toward me, slower and more unsteady on his feet, but I wasn’t going to take the chance. I wasn’t letting this piece of shit lay another hand on me.

“Actually, I’m the one going to catch you,” I snapped and kicked him in the groin.

He doubled over with a shout of pain, and that was my moment. I could’ve crawled to the door. Fled. Waited for Rosa and Rob to find me and abort the whole mission. But then he’d get away with it all. Killing Katie. Hurting me. And I couldn’t let that happen.

So, I crawled past the easy escape to the far side of the room. When I looked back, my vision struggled to focus; I was pretty sure my eye was swollen shut from where he’d hit me. But I just needed to hold out long enough for the drugs to kick in.

“You fucking cunt!” he roared, but when he tried to stand and lunge for me, he couldn’t. “What’s… happening…”

Thank god.

“How about you tell me what happened,” I demanded, my chest heaving as I stood behind the desk chair. “Tell me what you did to Katie.”

He blinked twice, rage focusing his gaze on me.

“Who are you?” he forced out. “An undercover whore?”

Fear knotted in my gut when he used the wall to help him stand. How was he still strong enough for this?

“Tell me how you killed her.” My knuckles turned white on the back of the chair.

“Fucking cunt.” He stumbled forward. “You’re going to pay…” He collapsed to the floor.

“You’re going to tell me how you killed her,” I said, slowly moving from behind the chair. “Tell me what you did with the body, Paul.”

He shook, rage bleeding from his expression as he fought the effects of the drugs.

“Fucking… cunt…”

“Where’s Katie’s body?” I felt the pain in my throat now that he was weakening. Every word. Every swallow. Everything worked, but it worked like it was made of parts that no longer meshed perfectly after his hand had crushed them.

“In the woods,” Paul said groggily, a trace of anger still lodged in his tone, hating that he couldn’t stop himself from confession.

Good. Hate yourself, you piece of shit.

“Where?” I demanded, moving closer to him—I had to, or I wouldn’t pick up the words he was mumbling—the location where he’d dumped her body.

My entire body was consumed with pain as though it were on fire, but that didn’t matter because we were finally going to get justice. 

“Tell me why—how you did it—”

The door burst open, and Rosa cried out as soon as she saw me.

“No,” I protested as she rushed to my side and shielded me from Paul who was now lying on the floor, his breathing labored.

“We have to go. They’re looking for him,” Rosa muttered, trying to get a good look at my face, which was why I kept it focused on Paul.

“No, we can’t.” I shook my head, ignoring the sudden pain it injected into my skull. “I’m fine, and he’s down. We have to get the truth—”

“Juliana.” 

I looked up. 

Rob stood in the doorway. She was wearing a skintight black top, a low V sliced down the front and wide-legged black pants. But the reason I hadn’t seen her earlier was because she was wearing a blonde wig over her bright red hair.

“It’s done.”

“Please, just another minute, and I’ll have his confession.” The urge to sob latched and twisted in my chest.

“Another minute, and the only person being arrested tonight will be you,” she declared lowly, coming to me, taking hold of my arm, and propelling me from the room. 

Her grip didn’t falter as she led us down the hall and through a labyrinth of doors until we reached the alley behind the club. 

There, a black car waited. Rob opened the door and motioned to it. “Rosa, go home. I’ll be in touch.”

“But—”

“I’ve got her.”

Rosa looked at me one last time, nodded, and then climbed into the back seat. 

The two of us were supposed to be getting in that car. It was where I was supposed to pass Rob my necklace—the pendant housing the microscopic microphone that should’ve recorded the whole of his confession. If I had gotten it.

“Shit.” I shook my head, trying to stay above the swells of anger rushing over me. “We should’ve stayed. I was so close. He told me where the body was. Just another minute, and he would’ve confessed—”

“It’s enough. We’ll still get him.”

“No.” I shook. “I didn’t get everything. I didn’t get his confession. It’s not enough—”

“Juliana.” Once more, the sound of her voice stopped me cold. 

Robyn DuBois was not a woman to be challenged. There was a fierceness to her that matched her determination for justice.

“We’ll get him because a man like this doesn’t get away with murder for long. I don’t care who he is—who his family is.” Rob gave my shoulders a little shake. “If we know where Katie’s body is, if the police find it… Justice will find him—I will find him, I promise.”

As the leader of our little spy ring, she always knew more. Everything we did was part of something larger—a piece to a puzzle of greater good. And as broken and beaten as I was, I had no choice but to trust her.

“Okay.” I winced as I tried to swallow. “Then what do I do now?”

I could pretend a lot of things—make up a ton of stories about a bad date, but there was no story good enough to explain my swollen eye and my bruised throat to anyone who saw me.

“You’re coming with me,” she declared, half-turning to unlock a car parked in the far corner of the lot. “Until you’re healed, and I know exactly how much Paul remembers about tonight, I’m getting you out of the city for a few weeks.”

We knew the risks with scopolamine, that it affected everyone’s memory differently, but it was the best drug for the job. We were able to safely get information from our targets and then plant different memories in their minds than what actually happened; memories where they got what they were hoping for—something their aggrandized pride would never let them doubt.

“Where are we going?” I murmured, following her to what I realized was a very expensive silver Mercedes.

She opened the passenger door for me. “To stay with my family.”

“You have family?” I blurted out stupidly, sinking into the seat with a wince. Guess I hit that wall a lot harder than I realized.

She buckled me in. “Adopted family. Two brothers and a sister,” she answered and shut the door.

A single exhale was all it took for the pain to settle in. My throat. My face. My head. It burned. It throbbed. It seared. But none of it hurt as bad as the knowledge that even after all this, I’d failed. I hadn’t gotten enough of Paul’s confession. Now, we had to hope there was evidence on the body because if there wasn’t…

Robyn slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. From the console, she pulled out a bottle of water and some Advil, making me take it even though it killed my throat to swallow. With that in my system, I waited for the car to move. When it didn’t, I peeled my good eye open and saw Robyn pulling out the pins keeping her wig in place. Seconds later, a swish of blonde flew past my face, the wig landing with a thump into the back seat.

“Where does your family live?” I murmured, feeling like I was seeing our ring leader with a little more clarity. Even if it was only with one good eye.

She didn’t respond right away. When we pulled out of the parking lot of the club, I closed my eyes again, the oncoming headlights too painful to endure.

“My brothers and I have property—secure property—just outside of Carmel Cove,” she surprised me by saying several minutes later.

“Carmel—” I winced. “My brother lives in Carmel.”

Until he left the country in a couple of days…

“I know.” Of course, she did. “But he’s not going to come looking for you at a motorcycle garage.”

“Motorcycle garage?” I croaked and hazarded a look at her again. 

Rob knew a lot of people, and though I clearly never envisioned her as having family, the last thing I expected them to be was bikers.

“You’ll be safe there, trust me,” she murmured. “Just rest, Juliana.”

I sighed and sagged back, whispering a few seconds later. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I was surprised when she glanced at me, the unmistakable sheen of tears in her eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I should’ve handled Paul. Now rest.”

My eyelids closed once more. And as the pain began to ebb, all I thought was that if she’d handled Paul—if I hadn’t been at the club tonight—then I never would’ve seen Mr. 911. Never would’ve known just how beautiful a man could be. Nor how hard he could feel. Nor how he could turn my blood electric.

It should’ve been a poor consolation for failing to get Paul’s confession, but for some reason—maybe the head wound—it wasn’t.

If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have met him. A man who saw me. I didn’t need to know him to be grateful he existed.

Keep reading here… https://mybook.to/ReadBraved

CHECK OUT THE COMPLETE SERIES

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08SVPS39B?ref_=dbs_p_mng_rwt_ser_shvlr&storeType=ebooks

BLP REVIEW – Tracy

It’s been too long since I last read a book from the Covington Security series and I’d kinda forgotten just how much I enjoy these books!!

I have to admit that I’ve not read all of the books yet but even though I’ve missed a couple of the instalments it didn’t detract from my enjoyment of the read.

I thought Kane & Juliana were well matched. Both have secrets, both have avoided relationships due to their work/past but when they initially see each other they have a palpable attraction that neither of them could deny.

My heart hurt a little for Kane and what he’d lost (I understood his thought process, I just didn’t quite agree with it!). Juliana has a whole facade that she shows to family and friends and a perceived reputation as trouble where her big brother is concerned and it was sorta sad that she had to hide so much of who she was from those closest to her.

I liked the storyline, the intrigue and action. Rebecca writes really good ‘bad guys’ and there were 2 in Braved that were seriously detestable.

For me this is a solid 4.5* – it didn’t hit 5* for me as Juliana’s flip flopping thoughts and bloody mindedness and both their dodgy communication drove me a tad crazy at times.

Sad the series has ended but looking forward to finding out more about the guys at the garage and what they’re all about.

AUTHOR BIO

Dr. Rebecca Sharp, while using a pen name, is actually a doctor living in Pennsylvania with her husband – the love of her life.

She enjoys working in her practice with her father as well as letting her creativity run free as an author. Growing up she’s always loved a good love story and finally decided to give writing one of her own a go.

After graduating with her doctoral degree, she now enjoys spending that thing called free time traveling with her husband, cooking, and knitting.

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