DUTCH, The Keeper Series Book One – Excerpt II

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“Full of sex, magic, and turmoil…poetic and utterly beautiful. I can’t remember the last time a book made me stop and think, wow.” – Meredith Wild, #1 New York Times bestselling author

JUMA, book II in The Keeper Series, is just 10 days from its release so I thought it might be a good idea to tease you guys with a little more of DUTCH.

This scene is significant because it’s the first time Dutch and Juma interact. They’ve seen each other before, but that’s it – eyeballs, not voices and personalities and total fuckery. Because as you’ll see, Dutch is up to his usual nastiness, this time drunk and despondent after being given an envelope with his next kill order.

Enjoy.

Then grab your own copies and get lost in the dark magic of The Keeper Series.


CHAPTER TEN – DUTCH

“Easy there, gorgeous.”

Her voice curved around every sharp edge, like being licked from shaft to head and then sucked nice and slow until nothing else mattered. It was perfect, low and sexy with a hint of rasp, and it moved through me and settled in the spaces of my being that nothing and no one touched. She might have been beautiful but nothing compared to what her voice did to me, how it made me want to be someone I wasn’t, hadn’t been in years, would never be again.

But that mattered little because I was a fucking black hole of shit with an envelope containing my next walk through hell and she was beautiful and magic and stunning and not a black hole of shit at all. And like Avery said, she was probably an amalgam of all the things I decided years ago I could no longer tolerate, would no longer tolerate.

“Fuck off, bitch.”

She laughed, and for the second time that night my dick fought to escape its confines and slam so deep inside her neither of us would be able to think straight, walk straight, talk straight.

“I love a dirty mouth as much as the next girl, but we hardly know each other for you to be getting all familiar and shit with me,” she purred as she looked down at me with a smile curving her big, wide, full mouth. The mouth I wanted all over my dick.

I leaned back in the booth and glared at her, wanting her badly but also wanting her to move very far away from me, pretend she never saw me, never walked over here to annihilate me with that perfect voice and that perfect face and that perfect everything.

“Are you still standing here because you want to fuck or are you just stupid?”

She smiled and those stormy grey eyes of hers danced with amusement as she contemplated me in my sorry state, verbally abusing her with a stream of noxious diarrhea. And finally she decided something because she leaned down and I glanced up and she moved closer still and licked her lips and I could smell the peppermint of her breath and I worried that she was going to touch me and I was going to have to fuck her up but she stopped a hairsbreadth away from my mouth as if she knew she was already too close. She stilled and smiled.

“I just want to know what’s in the envelope.”

And like that, reality slammed into me. I sat back suddenly, extricating myself from her wondrous orbit. Sensing the change in my person, she pulled back and stood straight but she didn’t leave. She just smiled that smile so full of mystery and mirth and dirty jokes and sex and she remained ignorant of the fact she was engaging a cold-blooded, black-hearted, diabolical killer. An individual so depraved and demented he could no longer stand himself so he drowned that self in bottle after bottle after bottle of bourbon and smoked hundreds of cigarettes and fucked and choked and cursed and sucked and came, and did it all again and again and again to blot out the black.

She knew none of this, the beautiful brown woman at the bar who became the beautiful brown woman who leaned so close to me she could have licked me, only to evolve into the beautiful brown woman looking down at me with a bemused expression on her face and a twinkle in her eye.

“Hey Juma,” the bartender called out. The beautiful brown woman finally stopped studying me and turned slightly. “I’m out. Can you close up here?”

She glanced around the room as if worried about something, realized I was the only fuck still in the place, and nodded. “Sure thing, babe. Just leave me the keys.” She then tapped my envelope, turned on her heel, and headed back to the bar. The bartender watched me the entire time, as if not so sure he should leave his friend alone with me. I smiled at him and he turned away, refusing to return my gesture but passing along the keys to the beautiful brown woman whose name I now knew to be Juma, thus making some sort of positive decision about me and whether he could trust me.

What a stupid fuck, I snickered to myself. His stupidity left open the opportunity for me to stick my dick in the beautiful brown woman named Juma and fuck her hard and fierce and senseless and then pat her ass and walk away, never to think of her and her perfect voice and perfect face and perfect everything ever again.

I toyed with the envelope as she moved around the room, wiping down the tables and putting up a few chairs and stools. She said nothing as she worked and I said nothing as she worked and the silence was fine. Instead I studied her, the way she moved, how her shirt slid up a little each time she bent over, the lower left lip she constantly worried as she worked her way around the room, the glances she kept tossing over her shoulder until she finally gave up the internal battle she waged and locked the door.

She lingered at the door knob, holding it a few seconds longer than normal, a sure sign she was worried, whether it was because of being stuck inside and alone with me or because of something or someone out there, it was hard to tell. And I shouldn’t have cared. I didn’t care, I just wanted to watch her every move.

“You should take a picture, drunk boy,” she broke the silence, a laugh in her voice, “it lasts longer.”

“I’m not fucking drunk and who said I was watching you?” I growled and poured myself another bourbon, the foul effects of the last few hours fading quickly, my Keeper body doing everything necessary to always be in perfect condition, no matter how badly I abused it.

She simply laughed and continued making her rounds.

Juma.

I rolled her name around my head over my tongue listened to its cadence and decided in the name game, her people hit a home run. There wasn’t a more fitting sound to describe her perfection and sexiness to capture the beauty of her warm brown skin or the miracle of her freckles. As I watched her from the corner of my eye, I found myself burning to uncover every brown mark on her body and press my lips to all of them.

I blinked and spit.

“Hey mister,” she was at my feet, wiping up the mess I just made, “cut that out.”

I mumbled some sort of half-assed apology, wanting her to move away from me. Far away before I grabbed her and slammed her into the bar and did something we would both regret.

“Don’t apologize,” she stood and returned to the bar, “just don’t do that shit, it’s disgusting.”

Pause.

“Plus, I’m sure there are much better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Without looking at her, I knew she was smiling and I made a decision right then and there about the remainder of my night. I pushed out of the booth, finished off the bottle of Scout, grabbed my envelope, and headed for the door. I didn’t look at her as I tossed the bottle into the trash and reached for the doorknob.

“I know you’re not leaving without telling me what’s in that envelope.”

I paused and closed my eyes, pressing my hands to my lids and releasing a long, slow hiss.

“You should just let me go.” I turned back to her and leaned against the door.

“But that’s no fun.” She came from behind the bar, drying her hands on her jeans.

“Nothing about me is fun.”

“Oh, I doubt that, drunk boy,” she stated without a smile, a certainty in her tone as if she knew me.

“Don’t,” I warned as she neared.

“Don’t what?” She stopped about a foot away, leaving enough space between us for me to almost breathe easy.

“Engage me.”

She laughed, low and sexy and deep.

“Who said anything about engaging you? I just want to fuck you.”


For the record, those two are just getting started. That scene only gets better.

“If you were (God forbid) limited to buy only one book this year, this is the book I would recommend hands down.” – Amazon reviewer

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DUTCH is available now and book two in the trilogy, JUMA, releasing on June 6th, is available for pre-order.

HERE for Amazon
HERE for Kobo
HERE for B&N
HERE for iBooks
HERE for Google Play

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