Stealing Iris by Sahara Roberts
Series: Blood Ties #1
Publication date: August 17th, 2020
Synopsis:
After years of being a facilitator for the elites of criminal society, I know a bad deal when I see one.
I was walking away from the latest gangster wannabe, until he made an offer I couldn't refuse.
She was beautiful and innocent, until I took that away from her.
The more I took, the more I wanted.
But something's wrong, and Iris won't talk.
I'm beginning to think I'm being played.
Yet I can't shake the memory of her, the taste of her.
She's what I want... and I'm not taking no for an answer.
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Excerpt
As soon as I step out of the SUV, I feel eyes on me. Fuck. Annoyed, I open the back and grab a dark cowboy hat I keep to shield my face when needed. The best part of living in this section of South Texas is having a guy in a cowboy hat, faded jeans, and expensive shoes stepping out of a vehicle priced at six figures doesn't seem out of the ordinary.
Pulling the brim low, I stuff the keys into my pocket and walk toward the entrance. A friendly faced caricature with a beer belly and beat-up straw hat beckons me inside, promising incredible savings. The place is empty, though the big-brother vibe doesn't go away. A quick glance from under the brim confirms cameras watching from above while oversized mirrors sit in the corners, offering a view from behind each aisle. A local Tejano station plays over the speakers, the singer encouraging the women on the dance floor to show off what their mama gave 'em.
"Hey there," a woman calls over her shoulder from the back of the store. "I'll be with you in a sec." She pushes a mop into a narrow hallway while several large fans send the smell of lavender cleanser throughout the building.
Signs hang from the ceiling, leading me to the far wall and a small but well-stocked medical section. Snatching up something for migraines, I head back to pay. The cashier, a young, dark-haired woman, darts around the end of an aisle, her arms held out to help keep her balance. Tiny feet shuffle across the wet floor in a pair of tennis shoes that might be as old as she is. If I wasn't so used to keeping my thoughts to myself, I'd grin.
She wipes her hands on the front of the boring, coffee-colored smock she's wearing as she tilts her hips to slide behind the counter. "Is that it?" she asks, running the box over the scanner before dropping it in a bag.
"Yup." I pull a bill from the stack in my wallet and hand it to her.
She stares at Ben Franklin then purses her lips. "Sorry, I can't take that." She points a slim finger to the handwritten sign announcing they don't accept fifty or hundred dollar bills.
"No problem." I drag out the card I use when I travel. It's one of those gift cards you load on your own so nobody can connect you to the purchase or location.
"Umm." Pushing back a curl, she flashes a smile that lights up her features for a fraction of a second before she shuts it down. "Do you need water or something else to take those?" she offers, her attention on a sliding-door refrigerator a few feet away. The same colorful graphic of an odd man announces they have the coldest drinks in town.
I don't, but grabbing a drink will give me a few extra seconds to figure out what the hell is happening. This girl with the thick ponytail of curly dark hair is an innocent kid, mid-twenties or so. She'd run the other way if she knew I'm standing here wishing I had a better view of her body as she settles in behind the register. That didn't include what I'd do if I could reach out and touch. An other time I probably wouldn't give a sweet girl a second thought. But today is different because Montoya put the idea in my head.
"Yeah, guess I do." Before I can step over, she backs up and grabs a tall Ozarka bottle. Fingers spread over the contoured plastic, she swipes it over the scanner, once, twice then again, only to have the reader fail each time. The tip of her tongue darts out as she pulls the bottle around to read the numbers off the bar code.
Mmmm, I know exactly how she'd look playing those fingers around my cock before bringing it to her full, pouty lips. Putting the card into the payment slot, I twist the lid open and take a drink. The icy water is a sharp contrast to the heated thoughts creeping into my mind.
With the image filling my head, I reach into the bag for the meds. After fumbling a bit, I tear open the box then drop the container into my hand, just as the music goes silent and the lights go out. Big, startled eyes meet mine in the dim light. The stray curls framing her face stop dancing around in the breeze as the fans power down. Her only movement is the quick rise of her breasts as she sucks in a breath.
My chest tightens, sending the echo of my heartbeat throughout my body. I study her eyes, thick lashes lowering as she looks anywhere but at me. The image of her beneath me, lips parted, curls laid out around her, gets the best of me. I have to shift so I can get some relief, because even my cock is heading off on its own. Damn you, Montoya. The place feels a lot smaller all of a sudden, as if we're in an elevator. Just the two of us... I've never been into the shy, quiet type, so I need to shut this down pronto.
Playing on her obvious discomfort, I check the front of the smock, my gaze lingering on the curve of a perfect breast as I look for a name tag and find nothing.
"So, no hundreds and no power for the card reader means no water and no headache meds. And I don't even know your name so I can plead my case."
She crosses her arms, glancing over, out of the corner of her eyes. "Yeah, well, life can be a disappointment sometimes."
Despite my best efforts, a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Maybe there's more to the little innocent than I imagined.
Fuck.
Pulling the brim low, I stuff the keys into my pocket and walk toward the entrance. A friendly faced caricature with a beer belly and beat-up straw hat beckons me inside, promising incredible savings. The place is empty, though the big-brother vibe doesn't go away. A quick glance from under the brim confirms cameras watching from above while oversized mirrors sit in the corners, offering a view from behind each aisle. A local Tejano station plays over the speakers, the singer encouraging the women on the dance floor to show off what their mama gave 'em.
"Hey there," a woman calls over her shoulder from the back of the store. "I'll be with you in a sec." She pushes a mop into a narrow hallway while several large fans send the smell of lavender cleanser throughout the building.
Signs hang from the ceiling, leading me to the far wall and a small but well-stocked medical section. Snatching up something for migraines, I head back to pay. The cashier, a young, dark-haired woman, darts around the end of an aisle, her arms held out to help keep her balance. Tiny feet shuffle across the wet floor in a pair of tennis shoes that might be as old as she is. If I wasn't so used to keeping my thoughts to myself, I'd grin.
She wipes her hands on the front of the boring, coffee-colored smock she's wearing as she tilts her hips to slide behind the counter. "Is that it?" she asks, running the box over the scanner before dropping it in a bag.
"Yup." I pull a bill from the stack in my wallet and hand it to her.
She stares at Ben Franklin then purses her lips. "Sorry, I can't take that." She points a slim finger to the handwritten sign announcing they don't accept fifty or hundred dollar bills.
"No problem." I drag out the card I use when I travel. It's one of those gift cards you load on your own so nobody can connect you to the purchase or location.
"Umm." Pushing back a curl, she flashes a smile that lights up her features for a fraction of a second before she shuts it down. "Do you need water or something else to take those?" she offers, her attention on a sliding-door refrigerator a few feet away. The same colorful graphic of an odd man announces they have the coldest drinks in town.
I don't, but grabbing a drink will give me a few extra seconds to figure out what the hell is happening. This girl with the thick ponytail of curly dark hair is an innocent kid, mid-twenties or so. She'd run the other way if she knew I'm standing here wishing I had a better view of her body as she settles in behind the register. That didn't include what I'd do if I could reach out and touch. An other time I probably wouldn't give a sweet girl a second thought. But today is different because Montoya put the idea in my head.
"Yeah, guess I do." Before I can step over, she backs up and grabs a tall Ozarka bottle. Fingers spread over the contoured plastic, she swipes it over the scanner, once, twice then again, only to have the reader fail each time. The tip of her tongue darts out as she pulls the bottle around to read the numbers off the bar code.
Mmmm, I know exactly how she'd look playing those fingers around my cock before bringing it to her full, pouty lips. Putting the card into the payment slot, I twist the lid open and take a drink. The icy water is a sharp contrast to the heated thoughts creeping into my mind.
With the image filling my head, I reach into the bag for the meds. After fumbling a bit, I tear open the box then drop the container into my hand, just as the music goes silent and the lights go out. Big, startled eyes meet mine in the dim light. The stray curls framing her face stop dancing around in the breeze as the fans power down. Her only movement is the quick rise of her breasts as she sucks in a breath.
My chest tightens, sending the echo of my heartbeat throughout my body. I study her eyes, thick lashes lowering as she looks anywhere but at me. The image of her beneath me, lips parted, curls laid out around her, gets the best of me. I have to shift so I can get some relief, because even my cock is heading off on its own. Damn you, Montoya. The place feels a lot smaller all of a sudden, as if we're in an elevator. Just the two of us... I've never been into the shy, quiet type, so I need to shut this down pronto.
Playing on her obvious discomfort, I check the front of the smock, my gaze lingering on the curve of a perfect breast as I look for a name tag and find nothing.
"So, no hundreds and no power for the card reader means no water and no headache meds. And I don't even know your name so I can plead my case."
She crosses her arms, glancing over, out of the corner of her eyes. "Yeah, well, life can be a disappointment sometimes."
Despite my best efforts, a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Maybe there's more to the little innocent than I imagined.
Fuck.
About the Author:
SAHARA ROBERTS caught the writing bug early in life. She enjoys writing Dark Romance and Romantic Suspense. Her days are filled with international trade issues (the legal kind) and her evenings writing steamy romance.
She is currently working on Blood Ties, a Dark Mafia Romance series, along with a Contemporary Romance series due out in 2021.
When she's not at her usual hangout, Savvy Authors, she enjoys socializing on Facebook and Instagram or watching The Blacklist, Pure, and My Hero Academia.
Sahara lives in South Texas with her beloved husband and their three furry overlords. She enjoys cooking, baking, and cake decorating, but she would certainly prefer to have someone else do the dishes.
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