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Undercover Quickie
Black Market Billionaire - The Prequel
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Life undercover isn't easy, but add some life under the covers and things can get real hot, real fast!

It's been three years since I've had pleasure between the sheets, and I've definitely been missing it--but not enough to blow my cover with some of the toughest mercenaries in the world. At least not until Detective Lance Boomer showed up at my office, and his sexy biceps drove me out of my mind. Then all my secrets came spilling out, along with naughtier things...

Now that this undercover cop and I have joined up to bring an end to a co-worker's sick crimes, will I get my chance to "join up" with him in a different kind of way, or will tough choices put an end to the fantasy before it really begins?

This is a PREQUEL NOVELLA to the Black Market Billionaire series. Though it is best to read Book 1 of the series (Heart Thief) first, this book can be read as a STANDALONE! It takes place just before Heart Thief.

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Being shoved into a cab by Mrs. Cho was definitely a life-flashing-before-the-eyes-moment.  At least it was a pretty good life.  I’d had some great sex over the years.

I didn’t know why she’d helped me out, but I did not want to be trapped in a cab with this ravage pussy.  Cat.  Ravage pussy cat.  Because I was not thinking about Mrs. Cho’s pussy.  Even if she was unusually hot for a woman who threatened to mutilate balls on a regular basis.

Okay, the bad ass sass might have been a little bit of the sizzle…  What could I say?  I liked women with balls.  Metaphorically, of course.

The taxi jerked into motion, and I grimaced, realizing that the crazy Asian lady had climbed in beside me while I was busy daydreaming about the sexiness of a woman with an attitude problem to rival Kim Jong-un.

Ugh, that was a stomach turner.  Remind me never to put Kim Jong-un and “sexy” in the same sentence again.

“Where are we going?” I finally gave in and asked, after carefully shifting into a position that wouldn’t allow her easy access to my balls.

“Shut up,” she snapped in her heavy Chinese accent.  She glanced up from the smartphone she was fiddling with just long enough to glare at me with the coldest eyes I’d ever seen.  At least aside from Rex Bennett’s a few minutes ago.  

I’d never worked at a Fortune 100 company before, and I knew the CEOs were said to be hardcore, but the fact that the man could literally make his assistant piss his pants?  Even my boss back when I was a cop couldn’t do that, and he made The Rock look like a wimpy kid.

I winced as the taxi made its way into Chinatown.  This was probably where she hid the bodies.  Not to mention that I hated Chinese food.  It gave me the runs.

As we crawled through traffic, I distracted myself from the fact that I was trapped with a woman known for biting off dicks by tapping my foot three times, twitching my nostrils four times, then tapping my fingers again twice in rotation. 

“Will you fucking stop that tapping?!  It’s annoyin’ as hell!” Mrs. Cho snarled after several minutes of it, and if I didn’t know better, I would have said her Chinese accent disappeared, replaced by something a little more Carrie Bradshaw meets Miranda Lambert.  An accent that reminded me of my home in Tulsa.

My eyebrows furrowed, and I shook my head, deciding I must have imagined it.  Mrs. Cho had no reason to be faking an accent, Chinese or American.

I halted my tapping, eyes riding up and down her body.  If I was going to die, I might as well enjoy the view.  And a nice view it was.  I loved small women that I could practically pick up like dolls, and she was a tiny thing, barely five feet.  Her bones were delicate, but I knew damn well she was not.  I’d seen her fist fight with one of the security guards, and she’d kicked his ex-Marine ass.  

Her hair was cut short in a pixie sort of look, with longer layers in front that framed her beautiful face.  She would be a lot more beautiful if she scowled less, but even with her usual Grumpy Cat glare, she was a stunner.

“Why you look at me like that?” she snapped, definitely sounding Chinese now.  “Look at your pee pee if you have no other place to look.”

“Maybe I like looking at you,” I said, more to see what the crazy bitch would do than anything else.  

She blinked, obviously taken by surprise, then her eyes narrowed.  “I know you cop, Boomer.  Don’t mess around.”

I stiffened.  “Stop the car,” I ordered the driver, no longer interested in playing this game.  Everyone in the office could bow to her every wish if they wanted.  I wasn’t doing it any more.

It wasn’t as if I had anything to lose.  I’d lost my badge two months ago over the very case I was now trying to work on my own.  

Before going up against Schumer and his ring of pedophile photographers, I was a respected detective in the Vice department.  Now?  I was out in the cold, all because I refused to give up on a case against a man I was sure was producing and selling child porn.

The car halted, but before I could get a grip on the door handle, Cho was in my lap, straddling me like a fucking porn star, her hips grinding hard into my cock as her hand clenched around my neck, cutting off my air.

“He changed his mind,” she called out to the driver in a very sweet, very American voice.  “He wants to stick around.”

I couldn’t protest, not with how tightly her hand was wrapped around my throat.  I reached up to grab her shoulders and pry her off like a fucking tick, but she made a “tsking" sound, and the look she gave me was terrifying enough that I actually hesitated.  Well, the look and the way her other hand was wrapped around the massive gun she’d pulled out of thin air, the barrel pressing hard into my balls.

God, the employees of the Brotherhood Building were some scary bastards.  I might be out of law enforcement for good, but I was so never joining the white collar workforce if this is what it was like.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen.  I’m going to be nice and let you go so you can breathe,” she said in a calm voice that was as far from Mrs. Cho’s usual howling tone as you could get.  There was a touch of Southern drawl in there, too.  I knew I’d heard home in her.  

“You’re going to sit here calmly as we drive to the Iron Dragon.  You’re going to smile politely while we climb out of the taxi and I pay the driver.  You’re going to walk with me, arm in arm, into the restaurant.  Or…”

Her grip on my neck lightened, and I began to cough, finally managing to choke out the word, “Or…?”

“Or I’m going to knock you unconscious and drag you inside with me.  Then, when you wake up, I’m going to kick you a dozen times in the fucking balls.  Hopefully they won’t bust, because you’re super hot, and I’d love to see them sometime.  It’s your choice.”

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