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  Big Bad Marine

  A Texas Bounty Novel

  Jackie Ashenden

  Copyright © 2019 by Jackie Ashenden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  She’s been a very bad girl…and it’s going to take a big, bad Marine to take her in hand.

  * * *

  Rose Hammond has had a crush on older, harder West O’Connor ever since she was a bratty teen and he was in charge of protecting her. Now she’s an adult, she’s still bratty and tormenting him is her favorite pastime. But she’ll have to be good if she ever has a hope of fulfilling her dream of being a bounty hunter. So when she’s assigned on a mission with West, she’s determined to be on her best behavior. Yet he’s so damn hot and she can’t resist. Surely one little tease is okay? Just one…

  * * *

  West is on a mission of revenge, and has no intention of touching his boss’s little sister. But Rose can’t help herself, and the more she pushes, the more tempted he is to give her the punishment she’s asking for — one they’ll both enjoy. When he gives in, it’s explosive, and keeping things temporary begins to feel impossible.

  * * *

  But soon West will have to make a choice between the revenge he's been chasing all these years and the young woman who gave him her heart. And there's only one certainty: he can't have both...

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Black Sheep Bounty Hunter (Texas Bounty #6)

  About Jackie

  Also by Jackie Ashenden

  1

  West O’Connor didn’t like saying no to women. Especially beautiful women. Most of the time he was right into doing whatever they wanted, because whatever they wanted was usually what he wanted, too. Plus he was an old-fashioned Texas gentleman. He was into courtesy and being respectful – at least outside the bedroom. Inside, it was a whole different ballgame. Inside, he was—

  But hell, he was getting distracted. He was an old fashioned guy who had a hell of a lot of respect for Duchess, AKA Lily Hammond, owner of Duchess Bail Bonds, the bounty hunting agency he worked for. And he pretty much never said no to her.

  Except for now.

  “No,” said West.

  Duchess, tall, slender and perfectly put together in a white pencil skirt and pretty ice-blue blouse, leaned back against her desk and folded her arms, a frown marring her smooth pale forehead. “Please.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Just once.”

  “I said no.” He did not look at the other person in the room, the woman perched on the end of Duchess’s desk wearing the shortest denim mini in the history of creation, a tight black tank that showcased the most impressive rack he’d seen since, oh, probably the last time he saw it all of half an hour ago, and sky-high, black platform sandals on her pretty little feet.

  “I don’t like to say I told you so, buuuut….” Rose Hammond, Duchess’s younger sister and the most irritating woman on the planet, sighed theatrically and shook her head, setting her blonde curls bouncing.

  Duchess didn’t look at her, either. “Rose,” she said. “Would you mind?”

  “Would I mind what?”

  “Would you mind leaving?”

  Rose snorted and sent West a look from underneath her lashes. He guessed it was supposed to be flirtatious – everything Rose did was flirtatious – yet she couldn’t quite disguise the anger glittering in her bright blue eyes.

  He only stared blandly back.

  He put up with a lot because Duchess was his friend and the woman who’d basically saved him from plunging headfirst into a bottle of bourbon. And he’d known Rose since she was a not-so-sweet sixteen-year-old getting mad because her older sister wouldn’t let her go out or do anything. He’d done a fair bit of babysitting said sulky teenager over the years, and he’d never minded it.

  But she wasn’t a teenager anymore and he minded today.

  He absolutely fucking minded today.

  Rose made another impatient sound, then pushed herself off the desk. “Fine, I’m going.” As she passed by the chair West was sprawled in, she gave him a cheeky wink and an extra butt wiggle before leaving the room, closing the door not softly, but not loud enough to count as a slam.

  “I know,” Duchess said, after Rose had gone. “She’s a handful.”

  “She’s a pain in the ass,” West amended.

  “That, too. Which is why I think you should take her on this job.”

  West tried not to roll his eyes and failed. “How many more times do I have to say it? She’s too young and too inexperienced. She never does what she’s told and she’s way too fucking unpredictable. Picking up this guy is going to be tricky, but with her along, it’ll be damn near impossible.”

  There were a host of reasons he didn’t want Rose on this job, only one of which was that he’d spent years trying to nail down this particular bail skipper, and he did not want anything to screw it up. Anything being Rose.

  The other reasons he wasn’t going to think about. Perhaps not ever.

  Duchess’s icy-blue gaze didn’t waver. “I get that, believe me. But I honestly think that half of Rose’s problem is boredom. She’s smart, West, you know that. And she’s been wanting to be a real part of this agency for a year or so.” She paused. “I think it’s time.”

  West scowled. “Get Nora to take her out. Chicks together, they can have a bonding moment.”

  Nora was another of Duchess’s bail agents and a certified badass. She was more than capable of handling Rose, and had the added advantage of Rose looking up to her.

  “I respect Nora, but she’s not as experienced as you are. Not to mention that you’re ex-military and you’ve got a great instinct. I trust Rose with you.” Duchess’s gaze was sharp. “If it’s about her crush—”

  “It’s not about the crush,” he cut her off impatiently. “She doesn’t follow orders and she’s unpredictable. I can’t have that on this trip.” Which wasn’t quite true, or at least, the crush part wasn’t. Because the crush was an issue. He’d known for a long time that Rose had a thing for him, a thing she made no effort to hide. She didn’t exactly shout it to the heavens, but what with her short skirts and her low cut tops, the wicked, flirtatious glances and sassy comebacks, it had always been very, very obvious.

  Normally, he handled it by ignoring her completely. But in the last month or so, she’d suddenly started becoming even more persistent, including sending him sexy text messages.

  Except Rose being persistent wasn’t the real problem.

  The real problem was him. Her constant attention seeking hadn’t used to bother him, yet over the past few weeks, he’d found himself getting more and more bothered.

  Extremely fucking bothered.

  He wasn’t sure why. He only knew it was a bad thing all round for a yet another host of reasons, only one of which involved not wanting to take Rose with him to Vegas.

  As if on cue, the phone in his pocket chimed loudly.

  West made no move to look at it. He knew who it was.

  “I could pay you extra,” Duchess offered, a slight crease between her brows. “Danger money if you like.”

  “You couldn’t pay me e
nough to take her,” he said, then gritted his teeth as his phone chimed again.

  The crease between Duchess’s brows deepened. “Are you going to get that?

  “No.”

  His phone chimed a third time. Holy shit.

  Duchess’s mouth thinned. “Sounds like a lot of texts, West. Why don’t you get them?”

  He didn’t want to get them, because he knew exactly what kind of texts he was getting. He’d been receiving them every day for the past month and all from Rose.

  “They can wait,” he said grimly.

  Then his phone chimed a fourth time, helpfully reminding him that he had unread texts waiting for him.

  Duchess waved a hand. “Go on, read them. I’m not going to be able to continue this if your damn phone keeps interrupting.”

  Dammit. That little girl out there was getting to be an even bigger pain in his backside than she already was. She needed a goddamn spanking. Stat.

  Best not think about spanking that delicious ass.

  Fuck.

  Grinding his teeth and forcing certain, specific thoughts from his head, West reached into his pocket and glanced down at the screen, and sure enough, there were three texts from Rose.

  Time for your daily underwear status update!

  Today’s status is: white cotton lace. With bows!

  Hipster briefs and thanks for asking.

  White. Cotton. Lace. With bows.

  The blood in his veins began to pool in a certain part of his anatomy. A part of his anatomy he definitely didn’t want it pooling in, not with Duchess in the room.

  Fuck and fuck again.

  Jaw tight, West muted the phone and stuck it back in his pocket before Duchess could see what kind of texts her sister had been sending him. She would not approve, that was for damn sure. Not that he did. He’d already told Rose to stop and she hadn’t paid the slightest bit of notice, which in another woman he would have taken as an invitation. An invitation he would have had no hesitation taking her up on.

  But not Rose. There was no way he was taking up any of the invitations she kept issuing.

  West scowled at nothing in particular, trying not to think about white lace and tiny bows. Or about the red thong she’d told him she was wearing the day before. Or the black lace pair with the silver star over the crotch. No, he wasn’t thinking about those. Not in the slightest.

  “West,” Duchess said, looking at him, and he cursed under his breath because she had that expression in her eyes. The one he could never resist, that was far more likely to get him to do what she wanted than any kind of order ever could. “I’m asking this as a personal favor. As a friend.”

  He could never resist a beautiful woman. Especially a beautiful woman who was his friend and to whom he owed a hell of a lot.

  And Lily Hammond, the smartest, savviest woman he’d ever met, knew it.

  He sighed. “That’s underhanded and sneaky.”

  She stared back, unrepentant. “She’s my sister. I think this could be good for her. And I don't know, maybe you can teach her a few lessons.”

  Sadly the lessons currently occupying West’s brain had nothing whatsoever to do with hunting skips, and were very definitely not ones he should be teaching Duchess’s younger sister.

  Perhaps he needed to go through his extensive little black book and see if he couldn’t find himself a partner for the night, let off some steam. Because God knew he could use it.

  He shifted in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. “She doesn’t need a teacher. She needs some goddamn discipline.” Which was fine talk coming from him, considering his preferences for dealing out said discipline. He also had a little problem with authority and didn’t do what anyone told him, either. Back in the Marines, when he’d been an officer, he’d had no issues with telling other people what to do. He still didn’t. It was the following orders part he didn’t like.

  Duchess pulled a face, her delicate features creasing. “Yes, I know. Well, maybe you could give her a few tips on that, too.”

  Now you’re talking. Lots of ways to teach Miss Rose Hammond a bit of discipline…

  Jesus. Would his goddamn brain shut the fuck up?

  Rose was off limits permanently and forever even if he had wanted to go there, and he definitely didn’t want to go there. Not only was she Duchess’s little sister, she was also only twenty-one, nearly fifteen years younger than he was, and he wasn’t a pervert. Plus she was a brat. He liked his women uncomplicated and Rose had complicated written all over her.

  “I’m not her damn teacher,” he muttered grouchily.

  “I know you’re not.” Duchess lifted a hand and rubbed her brow, as if she had a headache. “Look, to be honest, I’ve got a few things…on at the moment and I need her out of my hair for a bit.”

  Instantly, his irritation lessened and he sat forward, narrowing his gaze, his protective instincts kicking in hard. Duchess had been looking tired the past couple of days and her usual wry humor was missing. It worried him. Bail bonds wasn’t an easy industry to be in and keeping the company afloat was a constant struggle.

  Didn’t help that there was plenty of competition.

  “What things?” he asked. “That Redmond asshole been making a nuisance of himself?”

  That ‘Redmond asshole’ being Quinn Redmond and owner of Lone Star Bounty, a rival fugitive recovery firm. Quinn and his brothers seemed to be constantly up in Duchess’s business and West didn’t much like it. Especially not Quinn Redmond’s hot green stare that seemed to follow Duchess everywhere whenever the two of them were in the same room.

  West wasn’t jealous – he and Duchess didn’t have that kind of relationship – but he was protective, especially considering Duchess’s past, and Quinn Redmond was a prick with a capital P as far as West was concerned.

  “No. It’s got nothing to do with him.” Her hand dropped from her forehead and she gave him a warning glance. “It’s got nothing to do with you, either.”

  “Hey, I was only—”

  “I know what you were only. I don’t like that protective alpha-male crap and I especially don’t like it from you, understand?”

  West eased back in his chair again. Yeah, when she started getting pissed with him for wanting to make sure she was okay, it meant something was up. Something she didn’t want to worry anyone about.

  Duchess had spent a long time getting herself back on her feet after her fucking asshole of an ex had taken just about everything from her, and since then she’d always been ruthlessly independent. She didn’t give her trust lightly and she absolutely refused help.

  It drove him nuts. But insisting never worked with her, and so he’d learned to take the laid-back, easy-going approach. To be fair, that didn’t work much either, but he did it anyway, since standing by whenever people needed help had never been an option he liked.

  “Come on, you know I’m only trying to help,” he said easily. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

  Duchess gave him a narrow look. “If you want to help, take Rose to Vegas with you.”

  West tilted his head, met Duchess’s icy blue gaze, and silently contemplated his options.

  This particular job was important to him and not one he wanted some dewy-eyed or trigger happy newbie on, and most definitely not Rose.

  It concerned an asshole called Ian Jenkins, who’d once been a military buddy of his. Until he’d brought the guy home one day and Jenkins had repaid him by raping Wests’s younger sister, Carly. Her life had never been the same after that and neither had West’s. She’d gotten into drugs in a big way, while he, consumed with guilt for introducing Jenkins to her in the first place, had left the military and gotten to be great friends with his old pal Jack Daniels.

  It was only when Duchess had found him that he’d pulled himself out of it. But he’d never forgotten Jenkins and he’d never forgiven, and he’d been waiting a long time for the moment when the guy would slip up. Because when h
e did, West would be there to take him down.

  Now, that moment was finally at hand. West had known Jenkins had gotten heavily into drugs after he’d gotten out of the military, but then the guy had gone out of state and disappeared off the radar for a while, irritating West no end. But West had continued to try and track him, watching, keeping a look out for his name, and at last it had turned up.

  Jenkins had been arrested about a month ago on assault charges and, predictably enough since the bastard never took responsibility for anything, had skipped bail. Which was exactly the opportunity West had been waiting for. He’d told Duchess that Duchess Bail Bonds would be taking on Jenkins’ bond and that West would personally bring the guy in, and there would be no arguing about it.

  He hadn’t told Duchess the real reason he wanted to take on the job, because he was pretty sure Duchess would tell him to back off. And fair enough. As conflict of interests went, it was pretty major and he honestly didn’t know if he’d actually manage to restrain himself from blowing the prick’s head off when he finally caught him. Then again, Duchess would have an aneurysm if he went to jail for murder, and she certainly didn’t need that shit on her plate as well as whatever else she was dealing with. Certainly, though, he was going to give his good, old buddy Ian, a thorough and decent talking to at the very least.

  Yet another reason why he didn’t much want bouncy little Rose Hammond getting in the way and asking questions. In fact, he didn’t want that asshole anywhere near her, especially not given Jenkins’ predilections for pretty young things.

  Rather like your predilections right now, if you think about it.

  No. He was not going to think about it.

  “While I’m on the subject, any particular reason you’re so set on doing this by yourself?” Duchess lifted one pale brow.