Wicked Edge
Rebecca Zanetti
“You ever ride a bike before?”
Her pretty pink lips turned down. “You know, oddly enough, I have not.”
The way she talked, every once in a while, bespoke an Ivy League education and hard-won experience. Just who was Cee Cee? “What’s your last name, darlin’?”
“Jones.” She shivered in the night air and zipped up a designer leather jacket.
Daire would bet his last coin that his cousin, clothes aficionado Simone Brightston, would approve of the coat. “You’re a mystery, Cee Cee Jones.”
She stepped into him, bringing the scent of wild hyacinth. “I’m just a good girl out for one wild time before getting back to real life. You going to give me that, Enforcer?”
ALSO BY REBECCA ZANETTI
THE DARK PROTECTORS SERIES
Fated
Claimed
Tempted
Hunted
Consumed
Provoked
Twisted
Shadowed
Tamed
Marked
THE REALM ENFORCERS SERIES
Wicked Ride
Wicked Edge
Realm Enforcers, Book 2
REBECCA ZANETTI
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
“You ever ride a bike before?”
ALSO BY REBECCA ZANETTI
Title Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Teaser chapter
Teaser chapter
Teaser chapter
Copyright Page
This one’s for Big Tone,
because for our first date,
he took me on a motorcycle ride
to visit my Nana.
I love you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have many people to thank for help in getting this second Wicked book to readers, and I sincerely apologize to anyone I’ve forgotten;
Thank you to the readers who’ve followed the Dark Protectors into the Wicked Realm, and thanks for understanding that I make up places and people in my books (the island isn’t real in this one, gang);
Thank you to Big Tone for giving me tons to write about and for being supportive from the very first time I sat down to write. Thanks also to Gabe and Karlina for being such awesome kids and for making life so much fun;
Thank you to my talented agents, Caitlin Blasdell and Liza Dawson, who have been with me from the first book and who have supported, guided, and protected me in this wild industry;
Thank you to my amazing editor, Alicia Condon, who is unflappable, willing to take a risk, and is always a wonderful sounding board;
Thank you to the Kensington gang: Steven Zacharius, Adam Zacharius, Alexandra Nicolajsen, Vida Engstrand, Michelle Forde, Jane Nutter, Justine Willis, Lauren Jernigan, Fiona Jayde, and Arthur Maisel;
And thanks also to my constant support system: Gail and Jim English, Debbie and Travis Smith, Stephanie and Don West, Brandie and Mike Chapman, Jessica and Jonah Namson, and Kathy and Herb Zanetti.
Chapter 1
Daire Dunne swung his leg over his Harley, disembarking and biting back a growl. Music and boisterous voices spilled out the open doorway to the club’s main bar area, and the stench of beer permeated the center concrete courtyard.
Another bloody party at Titans of Fire Motorcycle Club.
He’d spent most of the evening at the Grizzly MC headquarters, quietly drinking aged whiskey and playing poker with several friends, who were supposed to be his enemies. He’d had enough of the potent brew to be feeling nicely mellow, but with his metabolism, the feeling wouldn’t last long. Especially since he’d had to return to Fire, pretending to be a full member.
Enough of this undercover shit.
He rolled his neck and erased his normal pissed-off expression, stalking inside the room heated with too many bodies and alcohol fumes. Maybe he could get a couple of Fire members to finally loosen up and give him the Intel he needed. Spilled booze squished beneath his size fourteen boots, and he felt the scowl forming on his face again.
He scoured the disorganized array of bar tables, stools, and drunks, his gaze hitching on a woman across the room, moving on, and then zooming back in.
Fucking stunning. Long, nearly white-blond hair, deep blue eyes, bone structure masterfully crafted by the gods on a seriously good day. She sat on a stool across a round wooden table, a low-cut black T-shirt revealing high breasts—pushed up and surprisingly full from what could only be described as a petite bone structure.
Her gaze met his and traveled from his head to his boots . . . and then back again. Her pink lips twitched and spread into a smile.
It was the smile that did it. Sweet and filled with challenge, which was a combination he’d never been able to ignore.
He didn’t need to deal with a human female right now, especially one who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, while he’d lived for more than three centuries. Even so, his boots kicked into motion and he moved through the crush of bodies toward her.
A couple of club members greeted him, and more than one scantily clad female tried to halt his progress, but he arrived at her table soon enough.
Young and typically angry, a new club prospect sat across from her, generously pouring tequila into lined-up shot glasses and spilling onto the knife-scratched table. The kid’s name was Grad, because supposedly he’d graduated from college the year before. He stiffened when Daire walked up.
“Move,” Daire said, his gaze on the woman.
The kid faltered and then moved on with a sigh of disappointment. Yeah, it sucked to be just a prospect and not a full club member.
Daire straddled the now unoccupied fifties-style stool. “Daire Dunne,” he said.
The woman lifted an eyebrow in a curiously confident way. “Cee Cee,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
That tone licked down his skin and planted hard in his balls. Jesus. He leaned back and studied her. Enhanced. Definite tingles cascaded from her, not too strong, but with enough force to show she was probably an enhanced human female. Either an empath or a psychic, probably.
Which explained the instant attraction.
He nudged a tequila shot glass toward her and picked one up, waiting until she’d clanked hers with his. Her fingers were small and graceful with natural nails and no frills.
They tipped back the drink, and she kept his gaze, swallowing the brew without a hitch in her breath.
Most enhanced humans either didn’t realize they had special abilities, or ignored them, so he focused elsewhere. “How old are ya, Cee Cee?” he asked, pushing a second glass her way.
Amusement curved her lower lip. “Old enough. You?”
“Too old,” he answered honestly. He’d been undercover at t
he club for nearly two months, and so far, he hadn’t learned shit about the elusive drug he was tracking, a drug that harmed humans as well as his people. While he usually avoided the parties, he still kept an eye on participants. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
She nodded. “It’s my first time. I came with a friend.” She craned her neck, all grace, to look around the loud party. “I don’t see her, though.”
“A lot of the, ah, women who attend the parties end up in the back rooms,” he said quietly. The correct term was bitch, honeybun, or even skank, but his mama had taught him better.
She smiled. “That’s quite an accent you have there.”
“I’m from Dublin,” he said, quite enjoying her smile. “Our club merged with Titans of Fire, and I’m here for a bit.” As soon as he got all the information he could from the club leader, he was getting back home.
A fight broke out on the other side of the room, drunken members arguing about bike pipes, and Daire shifted his weight to put himself between the woman and danger.
She smiled, no concern entering her stunning eyes, even as the guys threw a series of punches until one careened over the stained bar to disappear on the other side. “Your patch says you’re an enforcer.”
“Aye.”
“Of what?” She leaned toward him, revealing more creamy cleavage.
His groin hardened instantly. Something about her, something graceful and out of place in the smoke-filled bar, kept his interest from where it should be—on his investigation for the witch nation. “Internal laws for Titans of Fire MC and whatever else needs to be enforced.”
She breathed out. “You believe that ends justify means?”
“Yes.” Unfortunately, in his line of work, he had to draw a line before any gray area. His words probably alarmed her, but he had to know more about her before she took off, as any smart woman would do. Intelligence shimmered in her eyes, so no doubt the lady had a brain. “What were you doing with the prospect?”
Her gaze dropped to the several full tequila shot glasses. “Drinking and arguing the merits of the United Nations.”
Daire lifted an eyebrow. “Your opinion?”
She twirled a full shot glass with delicate fingers. “Great in theory but with no bite. A governing authority needs teeth.”
Her emphasis on bite rioted more fire throughout him. “You like bite?”
Her eyelids lowered just enough to be unbelievably sexy. “Right place and right time, absolutely.” Without moving, she glanced around at the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, despite the lack of decent music. “Not here, however.”
Yeah. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this. “Wanna get out of here?”
She sat back, studying him.
He didn’t smile or try to cajole, almost fascinated by the play of expressions across her finely crafted features. When she opened her mouth to speak, he fully expected a refusal.
“You sure you’re safe with me?” she asked, that throaty voice scratching under his skin.
He grinned. Not in flirtation, and not in reassurance, but in pure amusement. He was a three-centuries-old witch, an enforcer for his people, and one of the most dangerous beings on the planet. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Remember those words,” she whispered, sliding from the stool.
He pushed back and stood, struck by her size. Even wearing spectacular black boots with three-inch spike heels, she barely reached his chest. It was a colossal mistake to spend the night with a human woman, and he was surely ignoring his duties, but for once, he didn’t give a damn.
His two younger brothers, both enforcers, were out of the country on jobs, while the two prospects, who weren’t quite prospects, were out clubbing in Seattle, looking for the elusive drug they were all trying to stop. None of them required babysitting for the evening. In fact, nobody needed his assistance right now, and with a woman like Cee Cee sending out unmistakable signals, he was taking a fucking night for himself. Yet he paused. “This is one night.”
She threw back all of that glorious hair and laughed, deep and throaty. “I’m not looking for a ring, Enforcer. This is an adventure for one night, and then it’s back to reality.”
He had the oddest urge to discover her reality, but he shook it off. “Fair enough.” Sliding a hand around her bicep, he propelled her through the crowd to the door, ignoring the hangdog expression on Grad’s face. The kid hadn’t had a chance and apparently was too dumb to know it.
They reached outside, a cool Seattle night, and he escorted her to the Harley. “You have a car here?”
“No. I came with my friend.” She eyed the supercharged bike with bright eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
His chest lifted. Yeah, she was. “Thanks. You ever ride a bike before?”
Her pretty lips turned down. “You know, oddly enough, I have not.”
The way she talked, every once in a while, bespoke an Ivy League education and hard-won experience. Just who was Cee Cee? “What’s your last name, darlin’?”
“Jones.” She shivered in the night air and zipped up a designer leather jacket.
Daire would bet his last coin that his cousin, clothes aficionado Simone Brightston, would approve of the coat. “You’re a mystery, Cee Cee Jones.”
She stepped into him, bringing the scent of wild hyacinth. “I’m just a good girl out for one wild time before getting back to real life. You going to give me that, Enforcer?”
Aye. Aye, he was. He threw a leg over the bike and held back an arm to assist her to sit behind him. She straddled the bike like she’d been born for it, and he shoved down a groan at the mental image of her straddling him. Then she slid her hands around his waist, tucking them inside his jacket.
Swallowing deep, his body rioting like a teenager’s on a first date, he handed back the helmet. “Tiny blondes with big brains protect their heads,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed shards of glass.
She shifted against him and slid on the helmet. “I’m ready.” Her voice emerged muffled.
Shit. He was more than ready. “Hold on, baby.” He paused before igniting the engine. “Your place or mine?” Damn, had he really just used that stupid line?
She laughed and leaned up and into him, the helmet smacking his cheek. “Your place.”
Fair enough. He had a flat across town in a high-rise building where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Igniting the engine, he pulled out of the lot and opened the throttle down the quiet road.
Cee Cee held on tighter, her laugh an energetic hum of pleasure.
He smiled and slowly took a turn. She plastered her body against his, relaxing into him, allowing him to control the bike without any resistance. The woman was a natural.
What else was she a natural at?
He made record time through the quiet Seattle streets, finally driving down and into a private parking garage.
She jumped off the bike before he could assist her, yanking the helmet free. Her hair spread out and tumbled down her shoulders, and delight pinkened her high cheeks. “That was lovely.”
Lovely. Not fucking great, awesome, or cool. But lovely. The little blonde had class and quite a few layers, now didn’t she? Daire swung his leg over the bike and towered over her again. Small. God, she was small. He hadn’t been with a human in decades. Was she too delicate?
As if reading him, she slipped her hand in his. “Stop being silly. Show me your flat in this beautiful building.”
He kept his hold gentle but couldn’t wait any longer. Leaning down and tugging her up on her toes, he took her mouth. Slow and sweet, he explored, shocked by the electricity ricocheting through him.
Fire. All fire and sparks.
She moaned and slid her hands over his shoulders, pressing against him, tilting her head back to take more of him. Giving as good as she got, she kissed him back, a soft, needy sigh emerging with her breath.
He leaned back, nostrils flaring, taking her in.
Surprise, almost s
hock, and sheer delight covered her face. Her lips pursed in a round O, and a feminine wonderment tilted her eyes.
Wonder.
Yeah, he felt it, too. So damn sweet, and he wanted more. He tightened his hold on her hand and all but dragged her toward the elevator. Slow. He had to slow down and make sure not to break her. Human. Definitely enhanced human who was already messing with his equilibrium.
And he fucking loved it.
How long had it been since a woman, any woman, had caught his attention for more than a few minutes?
Yet the surprise on her face, the innocence of the expression, still caught him off guard. “You okay?” he asked once the elevator door closed.
A delicate coral, stunning in its femininity, spread from her chest over the smooth bones in her face. She chuckled, all hoarse woman, and patted his arm. “I’m better than okay. It has just been a while, Enforcer.”
“Why tonight?” he asked, not really caring about the answer.
She faltered. “Why, ah, not tonight?”
Why not, indeed? If she didn’t want to tell him her story, she didn’t have to, considering this was a one-night thing to scratch an itch. “Fair enough,” he said, drawing her into his body. She fit. As small as she was, as fragile, she settled into his side like she belonged just there.
Unease swept through him.
As if sensing his mood, she flattened her palm over his abs and gave a slight purr. “I’m betting we’re looking at a six-pack here. Maybe a twelve-pack.” Drawing in air, steeling her shoulders as if for courage, she moved her hand down and over the obvious bulge in his jeans.
He stilled. A second later, his cock jumped with the force of forging steel. His balls drew up tight, and heat flushed down his torso.
If his family could see him now. The grouchy, always in control, demanding oldest brother now panting in an elevator from the touch of one tiny human.
