Title: The Priest
Series: Bratva Blood #5
Author: SR Jones
Genre: Mafia Romance/Organized Crime
Release Date: February 19, 2021
BLURB
They call me The Priest, but there’s nothing holy about me.
Call sign: Priest
Occupation: Mercenary
Assignment: Hostage Extraction
The assignment was simple: Extract the hostage. Take out all hostiles. Relocate the hostage to a safe house.
The assignment was simple…
Until it wasn’t.
Roze is a mafia princess, but she doesn’t live in that world.
Innocent, young, and naïve, she’s become mine to protect.
Just a broken girl looking for some humanity, and a man with nothing left to give.
Yet, she’s the light to my dark and my soul yearns for her.
Lines are about to be crossed. Morals burned to the ground.
She’s the first thing I’ve wanted in forever, and I’m not about to walk away.
God help me.
The Priest can be read as a standalone.
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EXCERPT
The air between me and my close protection officer, as he calls himself, could be on fire there’s that much heat swirling between us.
He stares at me, and emotions race through his gaze so fast I can’t catalogue them. One moment, I’m standing hand on hip, head to one side, being a bitch, and the next I’m over his shoulder, ass in the air, and his huge hand comes down on said ass in a fierce slap that rings out in the room.
I let out a high-pitched yell and start to struggle.
“What the hell?” I demand. “My father is paying you; put me down right now.”
“You asked me what I do to bratty, pushy little princesses. I’m going to show you.”
“No, you are not. Put me down.”
“Not happening.” He turns us around and walks to a desk in the corner of the room.
He places me on the floor, kicks my legs apart roughly, and orders, “Hands on the desk.”
My heart is pounding. What is this? I do it, though. I glance behind me.
“Eyes forward,” he growls, and I face front.
I do what he says like some automaton.
“Do you think you’re the one in charge here?” Priest asks me, his voice low. Deadly calm covers his skin. A shield of nonchalance against my tempestuous emotions.
I’m shaking, but I don’t hesitate to reply, “My father hired you. I can call him right now and get you taken off my protection. So, yes, I am.”
I don’t want to lose Priest. He’s the only thing in this f****d up world that makes me feel safe, so why do I keep pushing? Because you want him, and he keeps rejecting you? My inner shrink helpfully provides the answer.
“That’s not what I asked.” His voice is so damn reasonable. “What I asked is, do you really think you’re the one in charge here?”
The answer to his question is clearly, no. I’m so not in charge. Hell, how can I be when I’m clearly not in control of my own bodily responses. I shake my head, unable to admit it. My legs are trembling. Is he going to smack my ass again?
I kind of want him to.
“I tried,” he says, mystifyingly. He sighs. “Tried to be honorable, good. Do the right thing. Stay the right side of the line. You kept pushing though.”
I did, didn’t I? I’m not sorry either, if it breaks through to him.
“You don’t want to be in charge, do you?”
God help me, I don’t. I want someone to just make it all … stop. The noise in my head. The zinging damn electricity that hasn’t left me since I was taken. I want that all to stop, and I want to be pulled back into the real world. The one where there isn’t something separating me from truly being a part of the life going on around me. I can’t even decide what to wear in that stupid closet full of clothes that aren’t mine.
Should I wear the jeans and t-shirt, or the smart pantsuit? Should I call my father and ask him outright if he’s scum? Should I go back to Dubrovnik ,or start a new life somewhere like America or Canada?
Should I take my next breath?
I. Want. It. To. Stop. I want someone else to tell me what to do. For now, at least.
Eat the salad, Roze. Breathe, Roze. Drink the water, Roze. Put the pantsuit on, Roze. Go to sleep, Roze. Suck my cock, Roze.
God. I’m so screwed.
He touches me, and it is feather light. Two fingers on the pulse point on my neck. “You’re a mess. Your hearts beating so fast. Are you scared?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
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