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Outside the Lines by Samantha Cayto

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  • ISBN Print: 978-1-5092-1067-1

    ISBN Digital: 978-1-5092-1068-8

    Page Count: 304

    Word Count: 81768

    Red Cell Security Book 1

    An IED ended Declan Hunter’s career as a Navy SEAL. Now, he’s fighting to establish a personal security business, Red Cell. When his very first client ends up dead, Dec is determined to learn the truth and clear his reputation. The only thing getting in his way is a stubborn cop with a chip on his shoulder and the unexpected power to reawaken Dec’s sexual desire.
    Sergeant Ryan Jakes, a South Boston boy made good, has caught the kind of high-profile case that can either advance his career or end it. He hates private security people who get in his way, but his first encounter with Dec pushes entirely different buttons.
    As Dec’s and Ryan’s paths cross, neither can ignore the attraction growing between them. The stakes are high, and with failure always an option, their need for each other is greater than they realize.

    Excerpt:

    Murder, stolen art, and sizzling passion…

    “Is that your way of saying that you’d get hard for any man in your vicinity so I shouldn’t take it personally?”

    Dec worried the label of his bottle with this thumb, disbelieving that he was having this conversation at all. Felix would say it was because the time was right. As much as he valued the therapist’s opinion, he couldn’t quite believe that. He figured it was one more version of the kind of self-destructive behavior he thought was behind him.

    “No, what I’m really saying is that you’re the first guy to make me hard since the injuries that killed my career.” There. If that revelation didn’t send the man screaming out into the night, nothing would.

    Instead, Jakes asked, “What injuries? I mean I know the PTSD, but what else?”

    Dec shrugged. “Can’t hear out of my right ear and my right knee is kind of shot.”

    Jakes slugged the rest of his beer back and stood. “Then I’ll be sure to talk into your left ear and we’ll be careful of your knee.”

    “Seriously?” Slamming his own bottle down on what served as his battered coffee table, Dec got vertical. “You think our fucking is a good idea?”

    “Hell no. It’s a spectacularly bad idea, but this”—he waved in the vicinity of his crotch—“isn’t going anywhere that I can tell.

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