LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

      —Ecclesiastes 3:4

      To my friends: Gail Ranstrom, Nina Bruhns, Michele Hauf and Pat White. You are the best!

       Hugs to the ABC kids to being the great kids you are, and to my own hunky hero, Dale, for your unwavering support and encouragement throughout the years. I love you all.

      A special thanks to Kim Nadelson and Tracy Farrell for believing in Luck and a Prayer and making this author’s dreams come true.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Chapter One

      Detective Willa Barrett stifled a groan as jolts of pain gnawed at her calves and moved up her spine. Grimacing, she shifted slightly, but stayed crouched behind the kitchen counter, not daring to move or make a sound.

      Why Jack would bring someone in here at 9:00 a.m. was beyond her, especially after one of his late-night parties. Luckily, her brother Johnny had just left; otherwise, she’d have a hard time explaining why a “paying customer” was sleeping in the spare room.

      “Nice, isn’t it?” Jack Paulson boomed from the other side of the counter. “One of our best. You’ll be rooming with Blondie,” he told the woman. “She’ll take good care of you. Teach you everything you need to know.”

      No doubt. Willa barely resisted snorting aloud. A roommate would make her farce of “working” all that more difficult. Now she’d actually have to take the other undercover cops into her room with her. A thought she didn’t relish, since there wasn’t one of them she could tolerate. Straining her ears, she tried to determine exactly where Jack and the woman were positioned.

      She gnawed her bottom lip and rubbed her injured arm. She couldn’t afford to get caught spying on Jack again. The captain had ordered her to go home and take care of her arm, but had she? No. Instead she’d hurried back to the strip dressed in purple sequins and tassels, swinging her hips in her exaggerated “Blondie” mode. Left and right she’d swung, calling to motorists, winking, hawking her feminine wares, clattering down Sunset Boulevard in five-inch spiked heels.

      The same heels that were torturing her calf muscles now as she adjusted her weight from one hip to the other in her cramped position behind the counter. She had one last shot to get the goods on Jack Paulson and she wasn’t about to lose it because the captain had gotten squeamish over a sprained arm and pulled her off the case. She couldn’t worry about that now; right now the only thing that mattered was nailing Jack Paulson.

      Willa turned on the special Pen Cam Johnny had acquired and inched it onto the counter behind a pot of African violets. The amazing little thing looked just like a standard ink pen, but in actuality was a self-contained video and audio outfit. It must have cost Johnny a pretty penny, but he was as anxious to put Mr. Slimebag Paulson behind bars as she was. They both had good reason.

      Adjusting the Pen Cam’s position, she hunkered back down. Perhaps now she should make her way back to the bedroom where she’d have less of a chance of getting caught.

      “You sure are a pretty thing. Wear your hair loose for me. That’s it, falling over your shoulders.” Jack’s raspy voice, low and seductive, filled the room. “What do you think of our new girl, Carlos?”

      “She’s a beauty, boss. She’ll class up the place all right.”

      Silently, Willa shoved her back into the cabinets. Carlos sounded close. Too close. Jack was known far and wide for being cruel to his girls, but it wasn’t Jack who did the most damage. It was Carlos. Jack just liked to watch.

      “Here, you’ll have your own place, your own money, you’ll make your own rules,” Jack continued his pitch to seduce his hapless victim into the “good” life. “I won’t be here to check what time you come in or to tell you who you can see. If you want that kind of treatment, stay home with Daddy.”

      “You don’t have to worry about me, sir.” The woman’s voice, soft and low, trembled as she spoke. “I won’t give you any trouble.”

      Willa inched her way along the kitchen counter toward her room, once again trying to get a handle on Jack’s position. She’d feel better if she could make it out of the kitchen. That way she could come out of a door when he called her, instead of popping up from behind the counter like a peeping Willa-in-the-box.

      “All I want from you in return is sixty percent, Tracey. That will cover your expenses. This is a nice place—it ain’t cheap. Is it, Carlos?”

      “No, sir. Not cheap at all,” Carlos’s voice thundered, resonating right down Willa’s spine.

      The creep was directly above her. With knees burning and calves screaming, Willa quickly scampered along the counter to the other side of the kitchen. She wouldn’t make it back to her room now. From Carlos’s position, he’d be able to see her. She’d have to stay and hope Jack didn’t call for her.

      “I know you’re not experienced with this kind of life, so I’ll do you a favor. I’ll give you a few days to get used to

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