The trouble with rylee, p.1
The Trouble with Rylee, page 1
The Trouble with Rylee
Katie Reus
Copyright © 2024 by Katie Reus. All rights reserved.
Cover art by Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs
Editors: Julia Ganis
Proofreader: Book Nook Nuts
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload this book to a file sharing program. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Contents
About the Book
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Epilogue
17. About the Author
18. Complete Booklist
About the Book
She witnessed a terrible crime…
So she goes to the only place she knows she’ll be safe—Detective Mateo Jackson’s house. He’s her older brother’s best friend and has starred in far too many of her fantasies. Even if he thinks of her as a nuisance, she knows he’ll keep her safe.
He’ll do anything to keep her safe…
Mateo has wanted Rylee for longer than he wants to admit. But he’s always kept his distance out of respect for her family. Now that she’s in danger, all bets are off. When they’re forced to share a roof, undeniable sparks fly, but unless he can keep her alive—and get over his own baggage—their relationship might never get off the ground.
Length: SHORT NOVELLA
Chapter 1
Rylee Dubois balanced her cell phone against her shoulder and ear as she locked the front door to her bookstore. “Calm down, I’m on my way.”
“This place is filled with hot guys so you better hurry before they’re all taken.” Tara, her best friend since college had just broken up with her cheating boyfriend.
“Somehow I doubt all the men will be gone in the next ten minutes.” She dropped her keys into her purse and headed toward Biscayne Boulevard, her boots clicking along the deserted sidewalk.
“Well two guys are walking toward my table. Too bad you’re running late because I get first dibs,” Tara half-whispered.
“I’ll be there in a few—” Loud, angry shouts cut through the quiet evening air as she crossed Fourth Street. As the male voices grew louder, she slowed as she approached an alleyway.
“Are you still there?” Tara asked, the thump of music and voices loud in the background.
The shouting continued the nearer Rylee drew to the alley so she stopped right before the entrance.
“I’ll call you back,” she whispered before ending the call.
Holding the slim device tightly in her hand, she took a deep breath and peered around the corner. For years she’d taken shortcuts through some of the back alleys—this one included—but lately the mugging rate had gone up so she’d been careful.
Two men in suits stood in front of a sleek, black Jaguar while another man in a suit kicked a young man curled up in a ball on the filthy ground.
She jumped back so that she was hidden from view. As she glanced up and down the normally busy street, her fist tightened on her phone. All businesses had closed an hour ago and not one single person was on the tiny strip. Seriously? There weren’t even any cars driving by.
Rylee glanced back around the corner. She wanted to shout at the men, but she was one woman. And if they had no problem beating up some guy, she had no doubt they’d do something worse to her.
Heart racing, she quickly dialed 911. After four rings, someone finally picked up. “All operators are currently assisting other callers. Please do not hang up. Someone will be with you shortly.”
“Shit,” she muttered to herself before taking another look.
The poor man on the ground wasn’t moving or even protecting his head anymore. When the attacker kicked him in the back, Rylee couldn’t stop herself. The guy could be dead before the police even answered her call.
“Hey! I see you! I’m live streaming this and the police are on their way!” she shouted, and held her phone up as proof.
All three men turned toward her end of the alley. She made eye contact with the man who’d been doing the beating, and her blood chilled. Even from a distance, his dark eyes seemed to pierce through her. Something about him was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place him. He growled something to the other men with him. Yeah, not waiting around to find out what. She sprinted back down the street.
Her leg muscles strained and as she reached the next street, she risked a glance over her shoulder. When she didn’t spot the men, she veered right and ran down the next side street, hoping to lose them.
She saw a throng of people crossing the street that ran parallel to Biscayne Boulevard. Yes! If she could get to them, she could disappear into the crowd. Her lungs burned against the slight winter chill in the air, but her sense of survival overtook everything else. Blood rushing in her ears, she glanced over her shoulder again.
The dark Jaguar was turning onto her current street. Keeping to the right, she rounded the corner and slowed her pace as she intermingled with a group of people in suits no doubt headed to happy hour. If she ran, she’d stand out, so against all her survival instincts telling her to run, she kept a steady pace.
And as she passed a coffee shop, the 911 operator finally answered.
“911, how may I assist you?”
Rylee ducked inside the coffee shop and headed straight for the restrooms as she responded.
Chapter 2
Mateo Jackson scrubbed a hand over his three-day stubble and shoved open the door to his boss’s office. He already knew it would be empty, and he needed a place to cool down. After a three-day stakeout in a shitty motel he had nothing to show for his time and effort.
He shoved back his frustration as he collapsed onto one of Captain Garcia’s beat-up leather chairs. His team had finally gotten someone to flip on Sandrino Carbajal—only for someone to get to their witness. So now they had absolutely nothing to show for all their work.
And Carbajal was still importing heroin and abusing women.
The sound of the door opening caused Mateo to turn. He grunted a greeting when he saw his boss.
“Detective.” Captain Garcia rounded his desk and dropped a thin manila file in front of him.
“We were so close to turning that guy—”
His boss held up a hand as he sat. “Don’t worry about it. Christmas came early this year.”
He straightened. “How so?”
Garcia was in his fifties with dark hair and only the barest hint of gray at his temples. “About an hour ago, Bishop Ortiz beat the hell out of a waiter at some sandwich shop. Didn’t like how long his food was taking, I guess.”
Ortiz was midlevel in Carbajal’s organization, did a lot of the other man’s dirty work. “Okay…”
“The kid is in the ICU, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”
Ah, hell. “Which means Ortiz is looking at doing time for murder.”
“Exactly. And we’ve got a witness this time. A very reliable one. If we cut Ortiz a deal, he might turn on Carbajal.”
“Who’s the witness?”
Garcia flipped open the file. “Well, that’s the part you might not like. It’s Rylee Dubois.”
His heart stuttered in his chest. “Rylee’s your witness?”
“Listen, I realize you know her, but she’s all we’ve got.”
Mateo knew her all right. Not as well as he’d like, but he definitely knew the sexy brunette. The little vixen had always gotten under his skin, and the sad part was she had no idea how bad she affected him. “Is she here now?” he managed to rasp out.
“Yeah, she’s in interrogation room three.”
“Interrogation? Who’s with her?”
“Armenta. He’s taking her statement. Thought it would be easier to do it in one of the rooms instead of—”
Mateo stood abruptly, desperate to get to her. Armenta didn’t know how to talk to witnesses. He had no problem interviewing suspects, but witnesses? The man had no tact. Hell, he’d probably scared the shit out of her by now. “Rylee and I go way back. Permission to sit in, sir.” It wasn’t necessarily a question.
Garcia paused, but nodded. “We need her to testify.”
“I know.” He hurried down the hall toward the stairs. The interrogation rooms were only one floor up. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made it in under a minute.
Mateo started
Armenta sat at the table by himself, tapping his pen against a pad of paper. “Hey, Jackson, what are you doing here?”
“Where’s your witness?”
“Uh, bathroom. Why?”
Mateo shrugged. “I know her. Thought it might be easier on her if I was in here while you were taking her statement.”
Armenta adjusted his shoulder holster and leaned back in his chair. “She’s doing fine. Besides, I like the alone time. She’s a fucking smoke show.”
“Say one more word, and I’ll shove that pen into your throat,” Mateo growled.
Rylee was gorgeous, sure, but there was a lot more to her than looks. The petite brunette was shy, sweet, and starred in all of his fantasies. Mateo had been friends with her brother Andre since they were kids. Unfortunately for him, he’d had a thing for her since she was eighteen going on nineteen. He’d been twenty-two and just out of the Marine Corps when the first hint of attraction hit him. When he’d come home, she’d nearly knocked him on his ass. So he'd done the only sane thing—he’d avoided her completely.
“Jesus, Jackson. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Armenta muttered, glancing at his watch. He frowned.
“What is it?”
“She’s been in the bathroom almost ten minutes.”
Hell. Getting to a witness in a police station would be stupid, even for Bishop Ortiz. But if he was desperate enough, he just might try it. Moving on pure adrenaline, he hurried down the hallway and shoved open the door to the bathroom, Armenta right behind him.
“Rylee! You in here?” Knowing that it was unlikely anyone would target her here, Mateo attempted to shove back his panic. And failed.
There was no answer. After sweeping each stall and finding them empty, raw fear settled in his gut. She wouldn’t have just left. “Let the captain know what happened,” he barked even as he left, heading for the security room.
Chapter 3
Rylee crouched near the corner of Mateo’s porch, using the darkness and patio furniture to hide. It had been almost three hours, and he still hadn’t come home. Since it was a Monday night, she’d assumed he wouldn’t have a date. Well, she really hoped he didn’t. If so, she’d be stuck out here all night.
January in Florida wasn’t terrible, but anything below fifty and she was done. She tried to snuggle deeper in her coat, but it was no use. Earlier she’d grabbed one of her thin peacoats that was all about style with zero insulation. Now she was stuck sitting on a porch, freezing her ass off.
After the day she’d had, Mateo’s house was the only place she could think to go. She couldn’t go home, and she definitely couldn’t stay with any of her family or friends. She hadn’t talked to Mateo in months so no one would think to look for her here.
The last time she’d seen him he’d acted like a royal jackass to one of her dates. The guy had gotten a little too touchy, but she’d been in complete control of the situation and had been about to handle things before Mateo barged in and just took over. She was tired of him treating her like a kid. Even so, he was a detective and she trusted him with her life.
Rylee just wished he’d hurry up and get home.
Bright headlights coming up the drive made her freeze, but she jumped up as soon as she saw Mateo’s dark truck.
Considering the way he’d practically threatened her date with bodily harm all those months ago, he was probably going to be a little more than angry when he found out she’d slipped out of the police station a few hours ago. But whatever.
When she heard his footsteps stomping up the short set of stairs on the porch, she stepped out of the shadows and triggered one of his security lights. “Hey.”
“Rylee?” His voice was scratchy and tired and he was definitely surprised to see her.
Mateo wasn’t classically handsome—he was too rough around the edges for that—but he definitely had that tall, dark, and mysterious thing going on. Where she had dark hair and pale skin, thanks to his Cuban heritage he was bronze year-round, had dark hair, dark eyes, and of course, he always seemed to be in a dark mood.
She’d seen him with his shirt off on more than one occasion, and the man had a godlike body she might have fantasized about once or twice.
Or you know, a hundred…thousand times.
She scooted the chair out of the way and fought to stay calm. “I know I shouldn’t have just shown up here, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
In response, he crossed the few feet between them, and before she realized what he planned, he pulled her into a bear hug, lifting her off the ground.
Considering how much her day had sucked, she buried her face against his neck. She hadn’t even realized how badly she’d needed this, but the contact grounded her even as it made her want to cry in relief. They might have their differences, but Mateo had always been there for her when she needed him. She actually felt safe in his embrace. His very muscular embrace.
And damn, he smelled good.
That thought tugged her back into the present. She definitely did not need to be noticing how her brother’s best friend smelled. Mateo thought of her as a little sister anyway. So she did what she always did and shelved her feelings for him. Locked them up tight and ignored them.
She cleared her throat when he didn’t let her go. “Uh, Mateo?”
“Are you okay? And how’d you get here?” he demanded, back to Mr. Serious as he stepped away.
“I drove. And before you ask, I parked in your garage.” He had a small detached garage behind his house and she’d known it would be empty. He used it to store tools and other stuff because his truck was too big to fit comfortably.
“What the hell are you doing here?” There was an edge to his voice she’d never heard before. One she wasn’t sure how to define.
“I think I might have gotten into some trouble, and you’re the first person I thought of.” At her words, his face softened a fraction.
Sighing, he unlocked his front door. “Let’s talk about this inside.”
Once inside, she shoved her hands in her coat pocket, feeling lost and relieved at the same time.
“Hungry or thirsty?” His gravelly voice rolled over her.
“I could go for a glass of wine. If you have any. Or a beer would be fine.” Anything to take off the edge of the last few hours.
He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. “Yeah, I think I’ve still got that bottle of red you got me as a housewarming present.”
“Really?”
Mateo made some sort of grunting noise as he headed for the kitchen. She assumed he meant for her to follow, so she did. As she took a tentative seat on one of the chairs at his kitchen table, he grabbed a stemless glass from one of the cabinets. Also a gift from her.
“Want me to tell you why half of Miami PD is out hunting for you right now?” His tone was dry.
Crap. “I guess you know about what I saw, huh?”
He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled a bottle opener from one of the drawers. “Yep.”
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “I didn’t mean to run. It just sort of happened. That detective guy, Dave something…”
“Armenta,” he supplied.
“Yeah. That’s the one. He freaked me out. As I was giving my statement, he started talking about drug running, possible witness protection, and then he brought up Sandrino Carbajal. I don’t want anything to do with that guy. I’ve heard what he does to people, Mateo. So, I told him I had to go to the restroom, and I left.”
“You never think anything through,” he muttered, still not looking at her. “Until I saw you on the camera leaving of your own volition, I thought…” He shook his head.
Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could practically read the disappointment from him. And it pissed her off. “That’s not fair. You know what? Screw you!” She pushed up from the table, pretty much done with all men today. After dealing with that jerk detective and waiting out in the cold, she was dangerously close to crying.
