Sin In Blue Jeans Read online

  Sin in Blue Jeans

  A Bad Apple Novella

  By

  Dakota Trace

  Sin in Blue Jeans by Dakota Trace

  Published by Trace Imaginations

  282 Wroble Dr Marion, IA 52302

  First Edition © May 2020 Dakota Trace

  Cover Art 2020 by Evanlea Publishing & Designs

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Five years ago

  “Mason Adams, you’ve been offered parole based on good behavior and time served.” The spokesman for the parole board continued to drone on about all the terms and conditions of said parole, but Mason was barely able to concentrate on anything more than the fact that he would soon be a free man. A feat that he laid squarely on Sister Mary Agnes. The defrocked nun had come into his life at a time when it had been at its darkest. When he had warred with his natural dominant tendencies and what was acceptable.

  A spunky spitfire, the tiny salt and peppered haired angel had refused to let him give up or turn completely rotten. She hadn’t judged him, or even raised an eyebrow when she found out that he’d nearly beaten a man to death. Not that his former friend, who’d assaulted Mason’s twin sister, hadn’t deserved what he’d had gotten. Randy had learned what it felt like to be on the receiving end of someone’s fists - especially someone larger than him. Instead of condemning him to hell, Sister Mary Agnes merely patted his shoulder in the day room of Riker’s and told him sometimes God worked in mysterious ways - and loved all his children equally.

  “Do you understand these conditions, Mr. Adams?’

  Mason cleared his throat, then nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” The chairman quickly wrapped up the hearing, obviously eager to get on to the next case file. “The warden’s staff will gather the correct paperwork and your parole shall start no later than April 8th. You will be expected to report to your assigned parole officer within 48 hours of release. Are we clear?”

  “Yes.” Mason exhaled slowly, still dazed that he’d actually been granted parole the first time around.

  “That will be all.” The unsmiling man shifted his file into what Mason could only assume was the done pile.

  “Thank you.” He slowly stood and waited for the guard to escort him back to his cell. Freedom would soon be his - and this time he wouldn’t squander it.

  * * * *

  Pressing the woman up against the rough brick of an alley behind the bar, Mason groaned. Against the fly of his jeans, his cock throbbed. His head buzzed from the cheap whiskey he’d consumed earlier in the evening. He probably never should’ve allowed his cousins to convince him to go out for a beer. A beer had turned into three, three had turned into shot, and shot had somehow turned into a fifth of some of the most rough-gutt swill he’d ever consumed - and after drinking prison hooch that was saying something. But with the sexy red-head’s thighs climbing his waist, he found it hard to focus on anything other than the driving need to feel her pussy squeezing around his dick. It didn’t matter that he had an appointment in the morning with his new parole officer, or that Sister Mary Agnes was expecting him for lunch.

  “Please!” She wrenched her mouth free of his, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

  “Tell me what you want…” he used one hand to catch the back of her knee and spread her thighs further. He ground his hips against hers, loving the way she arched against him, clawing at him.

  “You!”

  “Fuck.” He rocked against her, pushing the side of her silk shirt to the side with his nose, seeking warm fragrant flesh - more of the tantalizing scent of whatever body mist she wore. It reminded him of the sweet peas that had grown outside his mother’s kitchen window. He nipped at the edge of her collarbone before pushing aside the material to bury his face between the rounded globes of her breasts. Every part of him wanted to spin her around, tear off whatever flimsy excuse for underwear she wore, bend her over and sink inside of her.

  “More.” She raked her fingers through his hair, tugging on the longish strands.

  “Hell yeah!” He jerked on the bottom of her skirt, hiking it up enough to expose the lacy thong the woman had foolishly worn. As if that would slow him down. A rough twist of his wrist and the material tore, leaving her bare to his touch. With trembling fingers, he rubbed between her lower lips, testing her readiness.

  “Oh, my god...oh, my god!” She arched against him.

  “Damn you’re wet, sweet pea.” He slid his fingers inside her warmth, then groaned as she clamped down on them. “You want this as much as I do. Fuck.” He slowly drove them in and out of her body, ready to burst out of his jeans.

  “Yes, please.” She clenched around him, her muscles milking him. “Fuck me.” She nipped at his ear.

  He growled, her act of aggression pulling on every alpha tendency he had. Pulling his fingers free, he grabbed for the fly on his jeans. If the lady wanted some cock, he’d give it to her. He barely got the button freed when a bright light shone down the alley and lit up the wall behind them.

  “That’ll be enough of that. N.Y.P.D. Step away from the young lady right now.” A disembodied voice boomed.

  The woman under him stiffened. “Uncle Danny?”

  He lifted his head to stare down at her kiss swollen lips. “Your uncle is a cop?”

  Her green eyes darted away from his. “Yeah. Almost every Fagin is on the force.”

  “Fuck me.” He released her and stepped back, his hands slowly rising in the air. He had the shittiest of luck.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Current Day

  “Hey, Mason!”

  A man’s yell echoed across the busy construction site. The early morning sun glinted off his hardhat, as several other workers paused what they were doing to stare. It wasn’t unusual to hear yelling or catcalling when you got a group of roughnecks together, but this early in the morning was a bit out of the norm.

  Looking up from the blueprints in front of him, Mason sighed as he spotted Tony, one of the electricians assigned to the job, jogging across the lot. The clamoring of machinery fell silent as he passed.

  “Get back to work!” Mason barked. They couldn’t afford to fall any further behind. Shitty weather - in the form of a massive system of storms had hit the big Apple a few weeks back, shutting down the site because of flooding.

  A few seconds later, Tony joined him in the shade. In deference to the warm summer sun, Mason had taken refuge under a lone tree at the property line. Other than the foreman’s trailer, it was the only shaded spot to be found. It also guaranteed he’d have peace and quiet as he laid out the tasks for the day - something that never happened if he stepped inside the battered trailer that was ‘grand central station’.

  “What’s up?” It had to be something serious to get the big Italian moving at more than a snail’s pace.

  “Inspector is here to see ya,” Tony’s face was red under the yellow hardhat. “She's waiting in the foreman’s trailer for ya.”

  “So, get Joe. He should be here by now.” Unease filled Mason’s gut. “That’s his job. He’s the foreman.” A lousy one, but Mason wasn’t about to tell Tony that - seeing that Joe was his cousin.

  Tony shook his head. “Not no more. Got canned this morning for shagging the old man’s daugh
ter. Boss didn’t take kindly to the fact a married man was sniffing around his precious little angel.” He shook his head. “I warned him about shitting where he eats. Idiota.”

  Mason groaned at the other man’s stupidity. DeLuca Construction’s motto wasn’t ‘building families one home at a time’ for nothing. Joe was beyond a fucking idiot to go screwing around with boss’s daughter. It didn’t matter how long he’d been with the company. There were certain things you just didn’t do.

  “So effective immediately DeLuca appointed you as new foreman. Here’s your notice.” Tony grinned ear to ear - looking entirely all too happy that his cousin’s termination had landed Mason right into the hot seat with the city inspector. “Have fun! I hear she’s a real ball buster, at least that’s what Rico told me.”

  “Screw what your slimy cousin says.” He wiped his brow off with his forearm. “Get your ass back to work, Tony.”

  “No problem, Boss!” Tony chortled, before abandoning his torment of Mason to saunter back to the half-finished building.

  Mason glared at his retreating back. “Fuck me.” He’d have run his fingers through his short hair if he hadn’t been wearing a hard hat himself. Joe hadn’t been just a lousy husband, but a shitty foreman as well. His paperwork was a fucking disaster. And now Mason had to fast talk some city bureaucrat into looking the other way until he straightened out the shit show Joe left him.

  Grabbing the blueprints off the temporary table of two sawhorses and a couple of two by sixes, he rolled them back up and shoved them in their protective tube. It wasn’t even a Monday. Shit like this was only supposed to happen the first day of the week, not the fourth. He could only hope that the inspector would give him a bit of leeway - considering everything. Because he sure as hell didn’t want to get on DeLuca’s bad side by getting his job site shut down - even if it wasn’t his doing. He’d warned the man in the past about Joe.

  In the leather case hanging from his hip, his battered cell phone rang. He grimaced at the all too familiar ringtone. Thumbing the holding tether free, he slipped the phone free. “Hey, boss.”

  “You at the Starkton site?” The thick Italian accent filled his ear.

  “Yeah.” He strode toward the foreman’s trailer. “Where else would I be?”

  “I don’t have time for your crap, boy. We got a situation.”

  Mason paused outside the trailer door. “Yeah, Tony told me.”

  “Fix it, Mason. I can’t afford for the city to shut down this job. I got too much riding on it. Sweet talk that damned inspector gal.”

  The rock in his stomach grew heavier. He wasn’t a ladies man - in fact, the only woman in his life was Sister Mary Agnes, and that was the way he liked it. The deeper his darker needs for control stayed buried, the better. “Boss, I don’t think I’m the right guy for this. The last woman I tried to sweet talk almost landed my ass back in jail when her uncle caught us making out.”

  “That was years ago, Mason. You’re not some ‘off-the-bus’ con anymore. You’re a good man - a hard man - but a good one. Turn on the charm, flash those damned dimples, whatever. I highly doubt that you’ll have to take her to bed - rumor has it she’s hard ass about regs - so she’ll keep things above board. Take her to coffee, or something. Just don’t let her shut us down. Got it?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I got it.” He slipped the phone back into its holster, drew a deep breath, then slowly entered the trailer as if he was heading for death row. The boss didn’t pay him enough for this shit.

  Inside the tight confines was a battered steel desk, a bank of gun metal gray filing cabinets, and an auburn-haired female, dressed in a bright blue polo and jeans, who was looking at the permits posted to the wall. The tablet in her hand and hardhat tucked under one slender arm assured him that this was indeed the inspector. In profile, he could make out the furrow of her brow as she checked off something on the electronic device. A quick glance at the wall had him cursing softly. “Fuck.” The large type on them made it obvious that Joe had never replaced the originals with the updated ones after DeLuca had filed an extension with the city.

  The woman pivoted at the sound and surprise flowed across her face.

  “You.” The word slipped past her pink lips. Her cheeks flushed as her hard hat hit the floor.

  He froze as he stared into the green eyes that still occasionally haunted his dreams. It was her, the temptress from the alley. Well, fuck me sideways - this day just went to shit.

  * * * *

  The thud of her hardhat hitting the floor barely registered as Ryleigh Fagin stared at the man who had starred in many of her late-night solo sessions with her favorite vibrator. It’d been years since the night he’d pinned her to the wall outside of O’Malley’s and nearly screwed her brains out - or would have if Uncle Danny hadn’t interfered. Men had come and gone in her life since, but damned if her body didn’t still crave for much more than the brief taste he’d given her.

  Obviously, he remembered their fumbling encounter, but like her, he probably assumed that they’d never cross paths again. After all New York was a huge city - the chances of them running into one another was slim. And after Danny had run his record, she knew it was pointless to pursue anything with a con - especially one who’d copped an assault charge. So she’d written off their encounter as nothing more than a moment of weakness never to be repeated. Lord knew she hadn’t expected to see him while on the job.

  When he frowned, her heart sank. And there goes any hope I had that he’s forgotten what happened after Uncle Danny caught us. She drew a deep breath. She was a professional. She could do this. She was here to certify that DeLuca Construction was following the city ordinances and the site was up to code. She’d already put her personal life on the back burner when it came to this assignment. It wasn’t her boss’s fault they were short staffed, any more than it was hers for being the only daughter of Benedetto DeLuca’s disowned sister.

  Not that he’d even recognize me. I’ve never even seen a picture of him, let alone met him. Mom sure knows how to carry a grudge - even after nearly forty years.

  The feud that had ended up with her momma abandoning her family in favor of her father’s was legendary. In fact, if Regnata Fagin ever found out that Ryleigh had been assigned to inspect one of her brother’s construction sites, she’d have probably locked her youngest child in her old bedroom at home. Which is why she hadn’t opened her mouth or mentioned to her boss that DeLuca was related to her.

  Pushing that past mess away to focus on the embarrassing one in front of her, she pasted a small smile on her lips and held her hand out after bending to retrieve her hard hat. “Inspector Ryleigh Fagin. The City of New York has asked me to perform a random inspection of your job site, Mister…?”

  “Mason will do…” He gave her hand a quick reluctant squeeze before dropping it. He not-so-discreetly wiped it over one jean-clad thigh, as if her touch was repulsive.

  “Fine.” She kept her tone professional, even though she wanted to say something about how he hadn’t found her distasteful the night he’d had her plastered against the wall. He’d actually acted starved for her touch - as if it’d been years since a woman had clung to his whipcord lean frame. But now wasn’t a time to indulge in memories. She nodded toward the displayed paperwork. “I noticed that your permits aren’t current, Mason. Is there a reason?” A quick check of the database on her Ipad had assured her that at least Deluca Construction was good about keeping their permit work up to date.

  Mason shrugged his shoulders. “Hell, you caught me off guard.” He skirted around the messy desk. “I just got promoted this morning.” He started to move things around the cluttered surface. “I’m sure they’re here. Joe never threw anything away.”

  She watched as he searched for a few minutes to find the updated permits before taking pity on him. Reaming his ass over his predecessor’s fuckup wouldn’t do anything but make her feel better, and she was a firm believer in keeping personal issues separate from her job. �
�Don’t worry about it.” She made a notation on the inspection. “Just make sure they are up for the next one, okay?”

  He nodded, relief flickering over his face. “Sure thing, sweet pea.”

  She stiffened at the endearment. Cutesy names at a bar were one thing. But when she was on the job? Not happening - as he was about to find out. “Excuse me? Did you just call me sweet pea?”

  His cheeks turned ruddy. “Um... maybe?”

  “Mr. Adams, I’ll have you know that this isn’t some corner bar - nor am I looking for a hookup. I’m here to do my job. I suggest you do the same. Unless you wish to have another inspector come out? It’ll take time and shut down operations for a few weeks, but I can do so...”

  “Whoa…” he held up his hands, panic once more taking up residence in his gaze. “...there’s no need for that. Professional it is.”

  “Good. Because I’d hate to think you’re one of those guys who think women have no business in construction - other than to pretty up the scenery.”

  He dropped his hands, then scowled. “Look, Ms. Fagin. I’m not going to assume because you don’t have a dick that you’re any less qualified then the next asshole sent down to bust my chops. So, unless there’s anything else you need in here, why not give me a break and finish your inspection? I have work to do.”

  “Fine.” She slapped the hard hat over the tight chignon she wore it in when she visited job sites. “Let’s get this over.”

  “After you.” He gestured toward the door.

  As she passed him, the delectable scent of pine and man teased her nostrils, and her heart began to race in her chest. Keeping things professional may not be as easy as she planned. Especially when the palm he placed at the small of her back as he escorted her out of the trailer sent sparks of awareness up her spine. Nope, not gonna be easy at all.

  CHAPTER TWO