Landon's Desire (Book Three of The Pulse Series 3)

Copyright © 2014 Jennifer Rose

All Rights Reserved Worldwide

This book is a purely fictional. Names, characters and events are the mind creation of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or events is entirely coincidental.

Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from author Jennifer Rose.

All songs, titles, and lyrics are the property of the songwriters.

Printed in the United States of America November 2014

ISBN-10:1502883279

ISBN-13:978-1502883278

Book covers design by Sarah Foster of Sprinkles On Top Studios.

http://sprinklesontopstudios.com/

Editing Services by Melissa Burton

Proofing by Lynn Martin

Typesetting and formatting by C.L. Foster

http://authorclfoster.com

Facebook: Author Jennifer Rose

Twitter: JenniferRose62

Website: http://jenniferroseauthor.wix.com/jennifer-rose

Other Novels by Jennifer Rose

Eden’s Pleasure (Book one of the Pulse series)

Mikala’s Passion (Book two of the Pulse series)

If Not For You

Dedication

Bradley McLean, this one’s for you. You were my inspiration to take the risk, my sounding block and one of my biggest supporters. I love you dearly and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Special thanks to poet Ethan Radcliff for your support, your poems inspire me.

ONE

“Breath.”

“Easier said than done,” Landon said, crumpling the greeting card in his fist and throwing it into the waste basket. “This is someone’s idea of a joke, and it’s a fucking sick one.”

Tristen took the crumpled card from the waste basket, smoothing it out before reading the message inside.

Happy Anniversary cop killer!

May You Never Forget That Night!

“You said it wasn’t your fault, you said that, right?” Tristen asked.

“Yeah well, I wasn’t the one that pulled the trigger, but you never leave your partner’s side, I fucked up and he’s dead. Who else would you blame?” Landon asked, raking his fingers through his hair.

The images of that night haunted his mind, playing on a continual loop, robbing him of sleep and causing him to question every move he made.

The call had come in at eleven forty pm, a domestic disturbance. Landon and Steve were first on the scene. All was quiet on the dark suburban street except for hollering from the interior of a picturesque cottage style house. Steve looked over at Landon and rolled his eyes, holding the button on the radio verifying that they were on scene.

“Fucking people gotta start this shit at this time of night?” Steve growled, he hated dealing with fights, avoided them like the plague. Rarely did he even raise his voice, he and Landon had never had a fight. Disagreements yes, but voices never raised and things were never said that left regrets and tortured souls.

As they reached the top step of the front porch, Landon stopped when the next door neighbor yelled over. He trotted down the steps to instruct the woman to go back inside when the sound of gun fire filled the air, leaving an eerie silence. A single pop permeated the silence, sending shivers up his spine.

He ran back to the stairs with his gun drawn and froze momentarily at the sight of Steve lying on his back, his head hanging over the first step as his lifeless eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hat toppled down the stairs. Landon’s eyes locked on the man standing in the doorway with his gun pointed at Steve, Landon opened fire and the man went down like a sack of shit, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

“Officer down, officer down!” Landon screamed into his shoulder mic as he fell to his knees at Steve’s side, feeling for a pulse. He pulled Steve into his chest and rocked him as officers and paramedics rushed on scene.

Landon’s cell phone rang, bringing him back from his thoughts. He looked at the screen and smiled. He caught Tristan’s eye watching him. He pulled open the door and looked out at the parking lot, his truck sitting not too far from the door.

“Mason old man, what’s popping? You back?”

“I’m back,” Mason said, “you still doing the PI thing?”

“Nah, I gave up that bullshit,” Landon said, turning away from Tristen. “Why, what’s up?”

“I need someone I can trust to do a job for me, I heard you might be available,” Mason said. “I’d like to make the position a permanent one.”

“You’re still in Boston?”

“Yeah,” Mason said, walking farther away from curious ears. “There’s trouble at
Pulse
, some guy has been sending Mikala threatening messages, tried to burn the place down and assaulted her the other night.”

“Fuck… are you asking me to get this guy?” Landon asked. “I’m not a cop anymore, Mase.”

“I know,” Mason said, feeling a pull at his chest, remembering what happened to Steve. “What I’m looking for is someone to guard Mikala, stay on her twenty four seven, like white on rice, I want you glued to her side. You understand?”

Landon looked around his pokey motel apartment. It was small, dark and the one window in the place was partially boarded over, the pane of glass resembling a spider’s web. He met Tristen’s eyes and said, “I can do twenty four seven.”

“I need you here as soon as possible,” Mason instructed. “You ready to give up dazzling Detroit for a life in Boston?”

“I could be persuaded,” Landon said, looking from the disheveled bed sheets to the confused look on Tristen’s face.

“I’m not going to drag you here short term, I promise you that. Once this creep is dealt with I want you to stay on at the club as head of security. Mikala will ultimately be your boss.”

“Now that’s a glamorous position I can’t turn down,” Landon laughed. “To tell you the truth Mase, I’ve been thinking about getting away from this town for a while now, I think your timing is fucking impeccable.”

“The pays not great, but the job includes room and board and a vehicle.”

“Like I’m worried about money,” Landon chuckled. “I don’t need a vehicle I have a new Denali with blacked out bullet proof glass. I live in Detroit, the car capital of the world with the highest crime rate…I’ll be on the road as soon as I pack a bag.”

“Thanks man, I’ll get your room ready.” Mason said. “Oh, by the way, Mikala’s a real fireball. She’s not going to be happy about our arrangement. But given time, she’ll come around.”

“So you’re telling me we won’t be besties then?” Landon asked, with a snicker.

“Far from it.”

“Are you still living in that shit hole loft?” Landon asked.

“Yeah, but it’s no longer a shit hole, thank you very much. See you in a few hours.”

“I’ll be there.” Landon hit end on his phone and looked up at a scowling Tristen.

“Are we going somewhere?” Tristen asked.

“
We’re
not going anywhere,” Landon said. “
I’m
going to Boston.”

Tristen rushed over to Landon, placing his hands on his chest. “What about us?” he asked.

Landon shrugged. “Trisket baby, it’s been a blast, but it’s over.”

“Over?” Tristen asked. There was desperation in his voice as he grasped the front of Landon’s shirt in his fists.

Landon looked down into his sad blue eyes and smiled. “I never said this was forever, you were supposed to be a one-nighter. I let it get out of control, I’m sorry.”

He was a nice kid, a go-go dancer trying to earn enough money to get through college. Landon had picked him up after watching him dance the entire night. He was good in the sac, didn’t mind a bit of rough play and made sexy sounds that got Landon off. They shared one hot night and after, Landon didn’t have the heart the send him packing.

“You’re sorry?” Tristen yelled, pounding Landon’s chest as he went into a tirade. “I thought I meant more to you than that. I did things for you I would never do for anyone else. I put up with your kinky shit and look where it’s gotten me, you bastard!”

“Knock off the drama, Trisket,” Landon said, pulling a duffle bag from under the bed and emptying the contents from his dresser drawers inside haphazardly. “We had fun, now it’s over and time for you to move on.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tristen yanked Landon’s travel kit from his hand and threw it to the floor, the contents spilling out. “You’re not walking away from me, I won’t let you!”

Landon laughed as he watched the sweet faced young man before him, turn into something from the exorcist. He waited patiently for Tristen’s head to start spinning around like Linda Blair’s with thick pea soup spewing from his mouth. This was what came from letting his guard down and bringing the guy back to his apartment, he should have known no good would come from it. Tristen had been clingy from the first night he fucked him in the washroom at Gigi’s Bar.

“You really are a sweet kid, but you have no fucking say in this.” Landon pinched his chin. “You’ll find someone new, someone who’ll take care of you. Don’t let one bad experience with a bastard like me change who you are.”

Landon took an envelope from the side pocket of his bag, leafed through it and handed it to Tristan. “I want you to put this toward that college fund of yours.”

“Holy shit, there has to be five grand here,” Tristen said, holding his hand to his chest.

“Ten, but it’s for college, you hear me? I don’t want you fucking it away,” Landon said, holding his face in his hands. “You got big potential kid. You’re going to succeed in anything you try.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“By getting that business degree and making Tristen St. James a household name that demands respect, that’s how you repay me.”

“Can I call you?” Tristen asked, lowering his eyes to the floor.

“It’s probably better that you don’t.” Landon warned, lifting his duffle bag onto his shoulder and opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Trisket, lock up when you leave.”

TWO

~Three Years Later~

“Surely there’s something you could be doing?” Carl snarled.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, shots?” Landon laughed.

Carl narrowed his eyes and shot daggers across the bar at Landon before turning his back, pretending to wipe spots from perfectly clean glasses.

A scuffle at the end of the bar among a group of well liquored up ladies drew Landon’s attention away from Carl’s sweet ass.

“Looks like I’m needed,” Landon stood. “I will be back.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Landon leaned over the bar. “I don’t give warnings, Babes. I’m like a stealth bomber; I swoop in for the kill before you can hear me coming, I’m into surprise attacks.”

Carl spun to face Landon. “Look, Ace,”

“Calm your shit, I’m just fucking with you,” Landon said, laughing.

“You need to stop,” Carl said, looking to see if they were being watched. “I’ve told you before, I’m not gay and if I was, you certainly wouldn’t be my type.”

“The man doth protest too much, methinks,” Landon quoted Shakespeare, toddling off in the direction of the rowdies, as Carl took aim and shot a few more daggers.

“Ladies, right this way, let’s get you home safely,” Landon said, attempting to direct two very inebriated women through the doors leading to the street out front of ‘
Passion & Pulse.’