The Justice BrothersBy: Taylor Lee
The Justice Brothers
Sizzling Romantic Suspense
(The Justice Brothers Series Book 6)
Prequel: The Justice Brothers Series
Jared, Book 1 kicks off USA Today best-selling author Taylor Lee’s provocative new series, The Justice Brothers.
On her first mission, Officer Hailey Michels confronts the leader of a dangerous Cartel.
Her chance to become a hero evaporates when the powerful Cartel member turns out to be an undercover agent.
It was bad enough to blow his cover but when she discovers who he really is, Hailey’s budding career, along with her heart, takes a decided nose dive.
The rookie cop learns the hard way that when tangling with the Justice Brothers, Justice—like Love—isn’t always fair or easy.
Hailey Michels snagged a gasping breath, praying the sharp intake wasn’t audible. It was bad enough that her heart was a staccato drumstick beating against a tightly strung snare drum. Surely he could hear it; but the tall shadowy figure standing less than twenty yards in front of her didn’t look her way. She could only hope the misty hangover from the pelting rain that had drenched her and the woods around them gave her cover. Hailey cautiously leaned back against the towering Norway pine. Grateful for the huge trunk that was nearly as wide as she was, Hailey dug her boot heels into the wet ground, praying for purchase on the slippery leaf-strewn path.
It took her a full second that felt like a lifetime to come to grips with the fact that the man less than half a basketball court length away was one of the bangers they were chasing. Hailey knew that if she had the sense of a mindless mosquito facing a can of Raid she would be terrified—but her racing heart, spitless dry mouth, and blood rushing in her ears spoke to exhilaration not fear. Not even the badass tats decorating what she could see of the gangbanger’s corded neck above the collar of his leather jacket sounded a warning bell. Heck no. Her excitement flared realizing that she, Officer H. C. Michels, a rookie cop on her first honest-to-God mission, had a chance to bring down a member of the feared Dragon’s Curse gang. Inching her hand behind herself, Hailey reached for the 9mm Glock tucked in her back holster. Cautiously drawing the weapon, she silently racked the slide, grasped the leather grip with both hands, and pointed it at the hardened criminal in front of her.
Steadying her grip on the lethal weapon, Hailey promised herself that if necessary she absolutely would shoot to kill. A tiny shiver of doubt tricked up her spine but she immediately squashed it. Admittedly, she’d never killed a man. To be completely honest, she’d never shot a gun outside of the CQ tactical gun range. But by God, she’d put her ballistic scores up against the best recruits in her academy class. Okay, so she wasn’t at a Friday night GSSF Match at the local range, and the man in front of her wasn’t a paper target silhouette. No, to the contrary. The tats on his neck and fierce dragon insignia decorating the back of his jacket confirmed his membership in the Dragon’s Curse gang, an offshoot of the Balkan Organized Crime network.
From a crash course on Cartels for new police officers, Hailey knew that the BOC was one of the world’s most vicious Cartels, trafficking in cocaine, heroin and MDMA. They gave the South American Cartels a run for their money in sheer violence and fervent devotion to spreading their vile empire worldwide. The Croatian-based syndicate had invaded the unsuspecting upper Midwest in the guise of the Dragon’s Curse. In addition to their poisonous products courtesy of the BOC, the fierce motorcycle gang had aligned with the Aryan Brotherhood, America’s largest prison-based white supremacist alliance. The combination of the finest shit the DEA had seen to date and a fanatical adherence to the principles of “white-might” hate made the rag tag crotch rocketeers the most dangerous gang ever to set up shop in the normally placid Northern Lake Country. Sucking in another surreptitious breath and with a clamoring heart, Hailey acknowledged that a member of the vicious gang was standing mere yards away from her.
Hailey had been thrilled when Lieutenant Justice included her in the raid. Not believing her luck, she’d quickly agreed when he admonished her that she was back-up only and was to stick to Sergeant “Solly” Solberg like ‘ugly on an orangutan.’ Shaking with excitement, Hailey had huddled by the big Swede with the ruddy cheeks and ample gut who’d always treated her respectfully. Hailey didn’t kid herself; she knew that behind her back Solly likely joined in the chauvinistic trash talk that the guys usually managed to squash when she entered the room. But Hailey wasn’t deaf or blind. More than once, hearing the smothered chortling, she’d whirled in time to see one of her randier teammates mimicking wanking himself off at the sight of her backside.