Taming the Moon. Sherrill Quinn
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Название: Taming the Moon

Автор: Sherrill Quinn

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Зарубежная фантастика

Серия:

isbn: 9780758257338

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СКАЧАТЬ Lindstrom leaned forward in his chair at the desk next to Sully’s. “What did the old man have to say?”

      Sully brushed the edge of his suit coat aside to show where his badge would normally be clipped to his belt.

      “Damn.” Lindstrom’s pale gaze met his. “I really was hoping he wouldn’t go that route.”

      Sully sighed and sat down in his chair. Lindstrom was not only a good cop, he was a good friend. A good partner. “He really had no other choice, did he?” Sully stared at the top of his desk for a moment, gut churning with regret, frustration, and restrained rage. Biting back a curse, he pushed to his feet with enough force to send his chair rolling back to thud against the desk behind him.

      “Oi!” The detective behind the desk looked up with a frown. “Watch what you’re about, Sully.”

      “Sorry,” Sully muttered. He shoved his right hand into the front pocket of his trousers. He looked at Lindstrom. “I have to get out of here.” He couldn’t stand the thought of heading back to his terrace house or, God forbid, home to the family estate in Suffolk—it would send him ’round the bend if he had to go stare at four walls or pretend to his mother that he was fine.

      He was far from fine. He’d never been further from being fine. He was about as fucked up as a man could get.

      And, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Declan’s help.

      “I’ll probably be headed to the States for a bit.” He straightened a stack of folders on his desk and then met Lindstrom’s gaze. “Sorry to do this to you.”

      Their caseload was horrendous, and the last thing the detective constable needed was to have to take the load by himself. But there was nothing Sully could do about that. He needed to get his head on straight and come to terms with this new twist in his reality.

      “Don’t worry about it, mate. We’ll manage.” Lindstrom gave a slight smile. “You take care of yourself.”

      Sully nodded. He said his good-byes and left the building, stopping for a moment on the pavement to stare at the New Scotland Yard sign. This was his job, his life, and he was damn well going to fight to keep it. Up to this point his record was impeccable, so he didn’t think the review would cause him to lose his job, though the timing of his next promotion would probably be affected.

      To sit at home and wallow wasn’t in his nature. There was something he could do, as much as he might be reluctant to ask for help. Scowling, he yanked his mobile phone from its holder on his belt and punched in Declan’s number. As soon as Declan’s sleepy voice came on the line, Sully muttered, “I need your help, you son of a bitch.”

      “Do you have any concept of time zones at all, boyo?”

      Over the phone line Sully could hear the rustle of bed linens and pictured Declan rolling over to look at the clock. He glanced at his wristwatch and did the math. It was only three in the morning in Arizona where Declan was. Tough shit.

      “I nearly bit the head off a suspect today. Literally.” Sully hailed a cab. As he climbed into the backseat of the black Austin, he switched the phone to his left ear and pulled the door shut. “Lyall Mews, Belgravia,” he said to the cabbie. The car pulled away from the curb, and Sully turned his attention back to the phone. “I’ve just returned from holiday only to be this close”—he measured a small space between thumb and forefinger—“to being suspended, you bastard.” He settled back against the car seat cushions.

      “How exactly is that my fault?” Declan’s voice was heavy with sleepy irritation, which thickened his Irish brogue. Sully heard a feminine voice murmur in the background, and Declan’s tone immediately softened. “It’s just Sully, love. Go back to sleep.”

      “Is he all right?” Sully heard her ask. Pelicia Cobb, Declan’s fiancée—the woman Declan had asked Sully to help him protect. The woman in whose home Sully had been attacked by a werewolf, his life forever changed.

      Forever fucked up.

      Royally.

      “He’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

      Sully heard the soft smack of lips meeting lips, and Pelicia’s sleepy sigh. Then Declan said, “I told you that you should’ve come to the States with us from the get-go.”

      “I didn’t call to hear you say ‘I told you so,’” Sully interrupted. “Just…” He heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just tell me the offer to come stay with you and learn how to control this…” He met the gaze of the cabbie in the rearview mirror and changed what he’d been about to say. “Tell me the offer is still on the table.”

      “The offer’s still on the table.”

      The cab pulled up in front of his four-storied terrace house, and the cabbie told him the amount of the fare. Sully muttered, “Hold on,” into the phone. He pulled out his wallet and extracted several five-pound notes and handed them to the man. “Thanks.”

      “Right. ’Ave a nice day, guv.”

      Sully got out of the cab, pausing on the walkway in front of the house and watched the car pull away. A few doors down, a woman climbed out of another taxi. He couldn’t see her face, but long, dark hair streamed over her shoulders and caught the sunlight with strands of red and gold.

      His fingers curled with the desire to stroke through those tresses, to feel their silken strands against his skin. He drew a breath and smelled a light, orangey perfume and, underlying that, a sexy, musky all-woman scent that made his cock jerk against his thigh. He stared at her, his gaze zeroing in on the flare of her buttocks in tight blue jeans. His gut tightened with something that went beyond lust. It was…

      Primal.

      More than mere want. It was need.

      Deeper than he’d ever felt before.

      Sully was five paces down the pavement after her before he realized he’d moved. There was something vaguely familiar about her, something that drew him like an unaware fly to the spider’s web. Just as he decided to keep following her, to find out who she was, Declan’s voice sounded in his ear.

      “Hey! You still there?”

      Sully stopped. He watched the woman who, without a glance in his direction, started up the short front walk of a redbrick terrace house three doors down. Her head was turned, so he still couldn’t get a look at her face.

      For all he knew, she could be butt-ugly. But with an ass like that, somehow he doubted it.

      He huffed a sigh. Turning back toward his own house, he shoved his right hand into his pocket. Jingling his keys as he walked, he told Declan, “I’ll make travel arrangements and be in Tucson tomorrow.” He went up the pavement to his front door and drew his keys from his pocket. “My passport’s up-to-date, so it’s just a matter of booking a flight.” He unlocked the door and went inside, closing the door behind him with one heel. “Fuck. I hate this. I really, really hate this.”

      “It’s not that bad.” Declan was beginning to sound more alert. “You’ll find there are a lot of things you can do now that you couldn’t do before. You’ll have lots more stamina, for one thing. In all areas,” he added with a low chuckle.

      Sully СКАЧАТЬ