Book 2 of the Brothers in Blue Series...
BROTHERS IN BLUE: MARC
The Brothers in Blue Series, book #2
Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
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Meet the men of
Manning Grove, three small-town cops and brothers, who meet the women who will
change the rest of their lives. This is Marc’s story…
Officer Marc Bryson doesn’t believe women should be in law
enforcement. Ever. When his older brother, Max, is promoted to the small town’s
police chief the first thing he does is hire a woman fresh out of the academy.
Then makes Marc her Field Training Officer.
Determined to follow in her late father’s footsteps, Leah
Grant has the moxie to break any glass ceiling that stands in the way from
becoming a police officer. Even if that means proving to her coach—who only
wants her in his bed and not in the field—she’s worthy of being a permanent
member of the force.
Working in a man’s world, Leah challenges Marc’s
misconceptions about women in the line of duty. But as they struggle to
separate their work life from their undeniable chemistry, things continue to steam
up and get a little kinky. These two officers of the law must toe the line
after being caught red-handed.
In the end, can Leah prove to Marc that she is good as
backup as well as in bed?
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Chapter One
“What the fuck do you mean a woman?” Corporal Marc Bryson all but
sputtered over the chief’s desk and the too-tidy piles of paperwork, which were
perfectly spaced apart on the spotless surface.
The chief, who just happened
to be his older brother, lifted an eyebrow. “I would hope you would know what a
woman is by your age, Marc. Though, now that I think about it, you never did
bring any women home when you squatted at my house.”
“Oh, very funny. And I
wasn’t squatting. I gave you money every month.”
Max Bryson snorted.
“Anyway, let’s get back to
this discussion—”
Max cut him off at the
knees. “There will be no discussion. Period. I hired her and you’re going to be
her FTO.”
Marc didn’t want to be some
woman’s Field Training Officer. No way, no how. Women shouldn’t be cops. Ever.
“Why do I have to train her? Why not Dunn?”
“Because I said so.”
What the fuck. Big brother
says so and that’s all, folks. Fellow officer Tommy Dunn wasn’t going to be
the new rookie’s FTO because he was too easy going, he would coddle the female,
not train her for the real world in policing. And Marc would. Plus, Dunn wasn’t
certified to be an FTO. Though that was just semantics. Right?
Shit. Marc wouldn’t give any slack to a woman fresh out of the
academy. Max knew how much he opposed women in law enforcement. If she wanted
to be treated as an equal, then Marc would have no problem being tough and
inflexible with the rules just because she was a w—new recruit. Right.
Fine. But he didn’t have to be happy about it.
“Let me just remind you that
you’re a corporal now. I warned you when you accepted the promotion that with
the buck more weekly salary increase you’re getting”—Max snickered—“comes more
responsibility.”
Max was obviously enjoying
this, not giving a flipping fuck how Marc felt about this new “responsibility.” If his older brother could find a way
to bust his balls, he did it.
Fighting this would be
pointless. Marc exhaled loudly in defeat. “When does she start?”
Max glanced at his black
G-Shock wrist watch. “As soon as Dunn is finished issuing all her equipment.”
Marc’s head snapped up and
he thought he’d have to shove his eyeballs back into their sockets. “Today?”
Max laughed. “Got a problem
with that, Corp?”
Marc took another deep
breath. He kept playing into Max’s hands. He needed to act like this whole
thing didn’t bother him. Otherwise, Max would ride him hard until he broke. Big
brothers were assholes like that. The power of becoming chief had gone to his
head. He didn’t know how his wife put up with him.
Oh, that’s right. Amanda
didn’t take any of his shit. One misstep and that woman brought him to his
knees. Whap! Marc looked down at the
floor while he chuckled.
“Something funny, brother?”
“Nope. Max, you interviewed
her, so what does she look like?” He hoped she wasn’t someone prissy, more
worried about breaking a nail than doing actual police work. Nor did he want a
beast. A woman who would look like she could break Marc in half.
“It shouldn’t matter what
she looks like. Get your priorities straight. She graduated the academy at the
top of her class. That’s what’s important.”
“Chief, we’re done,” Tommy
Dunn called out from the hallway as he turned the corner. His large, lanky body
suddenly filled the office doorway and Marc couldn’t see the new officer.
Apparently neither could
Max. “Why don’t you get the hell out of the way, and let her through? Get back
out on patrol. I’m sure Mrs. Johnson needs her cat rescued again.”
The redhead shuffled his
feet. “No problem, Max.”
Marc shook his head
and chuckled softly just waiting. Dunn never learned.
Max cleared his throat
loudly and gave Tommy the stink eye. “Excuse me?”
Dunn’s face paled which
illuminated the countless freckles that covered his face. “I meant chief. Sorry, Chief.” With a mumble,
Dunn backed up, then jerked forward as he bumped into the person behind him. He
excused himself and rushed off.
Marc leaned back in his
chair and crossed his arms and ankles and waited, a frown front and center on
his face.
After a few moments of no
sign of the rookie, Max barked, “Grant, get in here!”
A figure appeared in the
open doorway and she stood at attention, her body stiff and tight. Marc did a
preliminary inspection, starting at her feet. She wore black tactical boots,
the dark blue summer uniform of the department, a full duty belt that looked
like it weighed more than she did, and as his gaze rose, her torso looked out
of proportion. What the hell?
There was something
seriously wrong with her Kevlar vest underneath her uniform.
Marc jumped to his feet and
stood with legs apart, pointing at her chest. “What’s wrong with your vest?”
A blush rose from the tight
collar of her shirt into her cheeks as she stared at his finger. “Sir, it’s too
big, Sir.”
Fuck that double sir shit.
Academy bullshit that was drilled into you. While attending the academy, you
could be at the grocery store on the weekend and have to ask a stock boy a
question and you’d start and end the question with a sir. Sir, where are the kumquats, Sir? The teenager would look at you as
if you’d grown two heads.
“I’ll order you a new vest,”
Max said. “Just bear with that one for now. I don’t want you going without.
It’s in our Field Regulations.”
“Sir, yes, Sir.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, drop
the sir echo,” Marc barked. Okay, maybe a little harsh for the first day, but
he was annoyed. Just a tad. This whole FTO thing was a flaming bunch of
bullshit. And now he was stuck training someone who probably would faint at the
sight of blood and hide when shit went down. “And stop standing in the doorway.
Get in here front and center.”
She rushed to the center of
Max’s office, heels together, fists clamped to the sides of her thighs, head
up, eyes staring forward focused on some spot above Max’s head.
“By the way, Grant, the
corporal here will be your FTO.”
Marc narrowed his eyes at
the wide smile his brother wore. Then he caught the quick flick of her gaze
toward him before pinning it straight ahead again. He circled her closely,
looking her up and down. He checked the tuck of her uniform shirt into her
pants, he checked the crease on her sleeves—it had to be centered from her
shoulder directly through the patch to the hem. It was. He moved around to
stand directly in front of her, less than a foot away. By being in her personal
space he was testing her. Would she step back or stand her ground?
He flicked her name tag with
his index finger. “Your tag is crooked. Fix it. Did you even read the
regulations?”
As she repined the black and
silver tag that said GRANT straight
with trembling fingers, Marc wondered if Max had even provided her copies of
the department’s Administration and Field Regulations as well as their
SOPs—Standard Operating Procedures—yet.
“Sir—”
“Corporal,” Marc corrected
her sharply.
“Corporal…” Her eyes jumped
to his nametag. Confusion crossed her face, but it was hidden in a flash.
“Bryson. I have studied the SOPs, the FRs, and the ARs as required.”
Well, well, well. Max was on
it. Good for big brother. And good for the recruit. But she’d have to do a lot
more than that to impress him.
“Every day while you’re in
field training expect to be inspected like this. Get used to it. And make sure
you’re squared away before beginning your shift.”
He studied her from head to
toe one last time. But this inspection was of her, not her uniform. She stood
about five-six. She probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds at best. And
she was young. Maybe twenty-five.
Young enough to think she could make a difference out in the world. She may be
disappointed.
He sucked in a deep breath,
steeling himself for what, he didn’t know, but it turned out to be a mistake. A
big one. He inhaled her unmistakable scent. Not perfume, no. It was light,
floral. He couldn’t help sniff a little more, trying not to be obvious. It was
her shampoo, or her soap, or her body lotion. Something that caught his
attention. Her dark hair was pulled back into a thick, tight bun, not a stray
hair to be seen. It made him wonder how long it actually was when let down. Her
thick eyelashes surrounded amazing hazel eyes. It had to be his imagination when
they flashed different colors, from gold to brown to green, all within a dark
outer ring. Had to be; irises didn’t change colors. Her nose was thin and
straight, her cheekbones high and blooming with color from his detailed
inspection. And her lips…
Fuck. Marc stepped back and cleared his throat.
Max cut into his thoughts.
“Grant, why don’t you go and wait in the patrol room. Your FTO will be with you
in a couple minutes so he can start showing you the ropes. Close the door on
your way out, would you?”
“Thank you, S—Chief.” She
spun on the ball of her right foot and marched stiffly out of the office.
Polyester uniform pants were
never flattering on anyone, man or woman, but somehow she managed to make her
tight little ass looked good in them. A sigh almost slipped past his lips.
“Was it good for you?” Max
asked him.
“What.”
“You stripping her bare in
your head.”
“I didn’t,” he grumbled. Was
it that obvious? He didn’t want to check for it, or even look, but he might have a chubby.
“Keep it professional. Don’t
make me have to write you up, or worse, for doing something stupid.”
“Why did she have
to be so—”
Max slammed his palm on the
desk top, making Marc jump. “Don’t fuck this up, Corporal. We’re already shorthanded and I need her. We need her. With Matt still overseas
and since Chief Peters retired, there’s been a gaping hole. Unless you want to
work constant doubles, then do everything you can to make sure she’s trained
properly and is an asset to this department. As for you being stuck with all
sixty days of her training, I have no other option. You’re it until our baby
brother gets his feet back on American soil. And even then, I don’t think his
head will be in the game enough to train another officer.”
Once their youngest brother
gets back from his stint in the Marines, it could be possible that he would
need refresher training anyway.
Like it or not, Marc will
have to spend the next two months as their new female recruit’s shadow. He was
so screwed.
JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic
romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only 13 started
writing when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage
angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine.
Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up,
was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She
writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.
She has a few new releases coming up
in 2017. So keep an eye on her website at
www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for
her newsletter
here.
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