Rapture by Ayden K. Morgen Book Tour and Giveaway :)
Rapture
The
Teplo Trilogy #3
by
Ayden K. Morgen
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Four
months ago, DEA agent Tristan Riley nearly lost his life and the
disabled ballerina who stole his heart. Now his relationship with
Lillian Maddox is stronger than ever, and he wants nothing more than
to put Teplo
and the Vetrov case behind him. But when Elijah Noel and the deadly
Vetrov drug appear in Los Angeles, Tristan is thrust right back into
the middle of his worst nightmare.
In
order to stop a vicious gang war and keep the drug out of Pedro
Francisco's hands, the DEA agent finds himself wading into unfamiliar
gang territory. The stakes are high, and the body count is even
higher. Los Angeles is nothing like Seattle…and Francisco's people
are a whole new level of terrifying.
When
the DEA jeopardizes Lillian's safety and loses their one shot at
finding the Vetrov drug, Tristan walks away from his job to save her
life. With a rogue ATF agent and Michael Kincaid at his side, he will
stop at nothing to bring her home safely.
Outnumbered,
outgunned, and with his back against the wall, Tristan will find his
resolve tested in ways he never could have imagine. Making a deal
with the devil was never in his plans, but he'll do whatever it takes
to save his ballerina one last time…even if he has to catapult the
entire West Coast into a drug war unlike they've ever seen.
Roman
strolled across the barren waiting room, headed for the desk
separated from the rest of the room by bullet-proof glass. Tristan
followed behind him, glancing around. Like most jails, this one
wasn't anything to write home about. The chairs were bolted to the
floor. A few grimy magazines were littered around, most torn and
illegible from heavy use. Large signs were posted throughout the
room, warning visitors of the strict rules and the consequences of
violating them. Cameras were positioned high up on the cinderblock
walls, capturing every angle of the room.
"Roman
Gregory, ATF. And Tristan Riley, DEA. We're here to see Jesus de
Silva. They should be expecting us." Using one finger, Roman
lifted the chain around his neck for the visitation clerk to inspect
his badge.
Her
bored gaze flickered over his shield before she lifted her expectant
gaze to Tristan. He held his badge up for the same disinterested
inspection.
"Any
weapons?"
"Nope."
"Are
you taking anything in with you?"
"Just
the case file and my car key." Roman tapped the file on the desk
and then presented the key in question.
The
clerk barely glanced at it before sliding a sign-in sheet across the
desk toward him. "Sign in here. They're taking him to interview
room three. Go through the sally port, take a left, and it'll be the
third room on the right."
Roman
scrawled their names and the time across the visitation log before
sliding it back to the woman. "Thanks, Jessie."
"Mmhmm."
They
walked in silence through the waiting room and then to their third
set of metal detectors for the day, dropping their badges, the case
file, and Roman's car key into a plastic bin. Tristan sighed loudly
when the metal pins in his arm set the damn thing off and he had to
explain, yet again, why the wand kept triggering on his arm.
The
guard examined the surgical scar carefully, like he expected Tristan
to rip it open and pull out a gun or drugs. Eventually, the man
grunted wordlessly and waved him through.
"Son
of a bitch," he muttered, yanking the sleeve of his shirt back
down.
"Makes
you wonder exactly how many ways they've seen shit brought inside,
doesn't it?" Roman asked, waiting for the guard to buzz them
into the sally port.
"I
don't even want to know." Prisoners were nothing if not creative
when it came to smuggling contraband into jails. It wouldn't surprise
him if one or two had tried to pull some shit like that at some
point.
Roman
chuckled.
Once
they were through the sally port and into the jail proper, the smell
hit Tristan right in the gut. He'd never understand how jails could
smell like industrial strength cleaner and stale urine at the same
time, but somehow, they always managed to do exactly that. The
combination was worse than the noxious cloud of perfume, body odor,
and stale smoke that had permeated Teplo
every night.
"Fair
warning, de Silva doesn't like me much," Roman muttered as they
made their way down the hall to the interview room.
"Old
friends?"
"I
dislocated his dick, and broke his jaw and both of his legs a few
months ago." Roman shrugged, his expression completely stoic.
"He's still bitter."
"Not
very sporting of him," Tristan said. He'd already known that
Roman and his former partner, Brady Kaplan, had kicked the shit out
of de Silva and a handful of his buddies after Guerrero targeted
Mila. From what Jason had told him, Roman was suspended for a while
and Brady resigned after everything went down. For whatever reason,
de Silva didn't pursue charges. The dick thing was new info though.
"He
had it coming."
"I
didn't even know you could dislocate a dick," Tristan muttered.
The thought of de Silva's dick being out of commission for a while
made him happy. He hoped the fucker never worked properly again.
"I
didn't either at the time."
Tristan
laughed loudly at the hint of quiet surprise in Roman's voice.
"Agent
Gregory?" A rotund man popped his head out of the doorway, his
gray eyes bouncing from Roman to Tristan and then back again. With a
few strands of hair badly combed over his balding head and sweat
staining his button down, he looked squirrely as fuck.
"That'd
be me." Roman held up his shield.
"Tristan
Riley," Tristan muttered to the man, not bothering to add the
whole "agent" part. Over the years, he'd been called a lot
of things, but nothing pissed him off more than someone calling him
Agent Riley. It grated on his nerves for reasons he couldn't even
explain to himself…perhaps because he'd never felt particularly
worthy of the Riley name to begin with. Oddly, that wasn't the case
any longer.
For
once in his life, he actually thought his parents would have been
proud of the man he'd become. That, he knew, was Lillian's doing. She
made him see himself clearly…and he wasn't as bad as he'd always
believed.
He
still hated being called Agent Riley though.
"I'm
William Black, Mr. de Silva's lawyer." The man held out his
hand, only to lower it again when he realized neither Tristan nor
Roman intended to shake it. He pursed his lips, his expression
souring. "You understand he's here of his own volition to speak
with you?"
"I'm
sure the plea deal the D.A. offered him on the drug trafficking and
weapons charges has nothing to do with his willingness to speak to us
today," Roman shot right back at him.
Black's
lips compressed into an even tighter line, his face going red.
"Frankly,
I don't give a fuck if he's here because God told him to be here,"
Roman muttered, glaring down at the man. "We have questions. He
has answers. Let's get this shit over with."
Black
huffed and then stepped aside, allowing Roman to duck into the
interview room. Tristan followed behind him, keeping as much distance
between himself and Black as possible. The man smelled like piss and
stale sweat.
The
nondescript interview room didn't hold much. Paint peeled from the
walls and an inch of dirt and grime was visible in the corners. The
four chairs in the small space were bolted to the floor. So was the
table in the center of the room. Two guards stood at the door on the
opposite side of the room, pretending to look everywhere except at
them.
The
man handcuffed and shackled to the table had shaggy black hair and
gang tattoos all over his face and hands. Unless Tristan missed his
guess, Jesus de Silva was in his late twenties or early thirties. One
of his front teeth was missing in action. The permanent sneer on his
face and those hard brown eyes made him appear sullen. Intelligence
shone in his eyes though, making it clear he wasn't just another
gangbanger. He was smart enough to have made it damn near to the top
of one of the most violent gangs in Los Angeles, and that counted for
something.
"Puto,"
he muttered, his lips twisting into a sneer as he glared at Roman.
"Miss
me, de Silva?" Roman asked, slapping the case file down onto the
table.
"Fuck
you, homie."
"We
both know I'm not your type, de Silva. You prefer innocent teenagers,
remember?" Hatred rolled through Roman's expression as he stared
at the gangbanger. "You sick fuck."
"If
that's how you're going to speak to my client–"
"Settle
down, Black. I know his fucking rights." Roman rolled his eyes
and dropped down into the chair across from de Silva. "Riley,
this is Jesus. Jesus, this is Riley. He likes you about as well as my
last partner did. You remember Brady, right?"
The
gangbanger ignored him, his hard gaze flickering across Tristan's
face. He schooled his expression quickly, but not quickly enough to
hide the flare of recognition, followed by annoyance that flashed
across his face.
When
Black made his way around the table to take the seat beside his
client, Roman caught Tristan's eye and arched a brow. Tristan nodded
back before sliding into an empty chair, letting the ATF agent know
he'd noticed it too.
Somehow,
de Silva knew who he was and wasn't thrilled to see him here.
Wasn't
that just fucking lovely?
Rhapsody
The
Teplo Trilogy #2
After
Anton Vetrov brutally murders a young girl as a warning to Tristan
Riley, the broken DEA agent believes the best thing for Lillian
Maddox to do would be to stay far, far away from him. But Lillian
knows a thing or two about fear, and she's not willing to let the man
she loves push her away that easily. If he won't fight for them, she
will... even if that means risking her life to prove she's strong
enough to live in his world.
Her
plan ends in disaster when she's dragged out of Teplo at
gunpoint, forcing Tristan onto a collision course with the Vetrov
family and Pedro Francisco. With nothing left to lose except the only
woman who has ever mattered to him, he will do whatever it takes to
stop Vetrov and Francisco from ever hurting her again.
But
he doesn't know they've been waiting for him to make his move. When
he does, all hell breaks loose, and his life is on the line. It's up
to Lillian and the DEA to save him, and she's terrified they won't
make it in time.
Thrust
headlong into a violent, bloody confrontation with the Vetrov family,
Lillian comes face to the face with the heartbreaking realization
that maybe she doesn't belong in Tristan's world, after all. When the
smoke clears, will he be able to convince his ballerina that she's
the best thing for him, or will he lose her and the chance at a real
future once and for all?
**Only
.99 cents!!**
"Hey,"
he whispered, leaning back against the counter.
She
didn't hesitate before walking straight to him.
His
right arm went around her, gathering her close as that same strange
twisting sensation hit him right in the heart. She rested her head
against his chest, humming her contentment. She felt so good in his
arms, warm and soft. He pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing
her in. She smelled like sin, like him and her and lilacs.
"How'd
you sleep, beautiful?" he asked.
"Good.
I always sleep so well with you."
"Good."
A pleased rumble started in his chest. He pressed his lips to her
forehead again, and then her temple. "I like having you in my
bed."
"Me
too."
Jason
cleared his throat, reminding Tristan he was still on the line. "I'll
let you go, man. See you tonight?"
"Yeah,
later." Tristan set his phone on the counter and tilted
Lillian's face up to his, kissing her deeply. She tasted like mint
and sugar, so sweet. When they were both breathing heavily, he broke
the kiss and led her to the table before settling her into a chair.
Her
blush deepened as her eyes flickered to the table and then back to
him, no doubt remembering what they'd done there a few short hours
ago.
He
couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he
remembered too. The feel of her gripping him, the way she cried out
for him, gasping that she loved him. The look in her eyes when she'd
demanded he take her…. His cock hardened at the memory of her
commanding him to give her what she wanted. Christ, he'd never get
enough of her.
"You
hungry?" he asked, backing away before he lifted her up onto the
tabletop and had her for breakfast.
"Starving,"
she whispered, desire turning her eyes to hazel flames. She bit her
lip, her gaze roving shamelessly up and down his body.
"Behave,"
he growled, swiping his thumb across her bottom lip, "or I'll
bend you over the table and make you scream my name again."
Ravished
The
Teplo Trilogy #1
When
Tristan Riley drags Lillian Maddox onto the dance floor at Teplo,
he intends only to protect his cover… at least that's what he tells
himself. But the lovely Lillian would tempt a saint, and Tristan is
far from a gentleman. Beneath the bright lights of the Vetrov
family's dangerous club, the weary DEA agent finds himself captivated
by the ballerina, coaxing them both into a reckless, erotic
encounter.
But
Tristan isn't prepared for the intense connection between him and
Lillian, or for the fallout of their tryst. In
a matter of days, their lives careen wildly off course, catapulting
them both into a deadly game of hide and seek with the Vetrov family
and one of Mexico's deadliest drug cartels.
Trying
to keep his hands to himself while working alongside Lillian
to stop Anton Vetrov's deadly new drug proves almost impossible
for Tristan, but what choice does he have when being with her might
get her killed? He should know: his entire family was murdered by
people just like Anton.
When
the stakes are raised and innocent lives are lost, will Tristan be
able to let go of the guilt, or will he destroy his chance at
happiness with Lillian before it ever truly begins?
**Only
.99 cents!!**
"What?"
Tristan blinked.
"I
didn't stutter, Tristan," she said. "You had no right to
come in here accusing me of anything
when
you were the one using me. And it's pathetic that you had to send
your boss to admit it for you." She laughed, swiping at her eyes
as if expecting to find tears there. "As if it weren't
humiliating enough to find out from someone else that you're a DEA
agent, or to have someone else tell me your last name after the
things we did. I had to sit in a hospital bed and listen to your boss
tell me you'd used me and I needed to stay the hell out of your way.
You couldn't even be bothered to do that much yourself. You make me
sick."
He
stared at her, trying to absorb and process what she'd said.
Jason
had told her that he'd used her?
"Don't
you dare look at me like that," Lillian seethed, swiping at her
dry eyes again. "You used me to save your own ass, and I was
naïve enough to let it happen." She stopped, her shoulders
slumping as if she'd run out of steam. When she met his gaze this
time, the sadness and doubt in her gaze wrecked him. "Tell me
one thing. Why did you pick me? Out of everyone there… was I really
the one that looked the most desperate and pathetic?"
Her
sad question hit him like a bullet to his gut. Eight days of guilt
and resentment boiled, flashed to steam, and then erupted outward,
leaving fury in its place. Fury at Jason for allowing her to believe
that he'd used her, at himself for letting Jason convince him to stay
away, and fury at her for believing for a second that she looked
anything like the women prostituting themselves at Teplo.
Fuck
that.
"You
think I used you?" he demanded, pacing toward her. If she wanted
to believe he didn't care about her safety, fine. But he'd be damned
if he let her believe he'd used her because she looked easy.
She
backed away from him, but he was implacable.
"You
think I wanted convenient or desperate? A quick fuck?"
"I
know you did," she said, her chin coming up and a haughty gleam
entering her eyes. She continued to back away from him, one careful
step at a time.
"You
know nothing!"
He smiled a feral, wicked smile and kept stalking toward her. Even
when her back thumped into the pale wall across the foyer, he didn't
stop. He advanced until he was toe to toe with her, and her eyes were
inches from his.
Her
breasts grazed across his chest with every sharp exhalation of breath
from her lungs. The electric hunger between them snapped and sizzled,
the edges tinged an angry red. His hands came up and landed on the
wall on either side of her head, trapping her beneath him.
"Let
me go," she demanded, her eyes wide and her face flushed. She
stood still, not even attempting to push him away. It wasn't fear
that kept her there though, not of him anyway. It was fear of herself
and of what she might do if she touched him.
Even
if she hated him, she still wanted him. He saw that truth in her
eyes, too.
A
satisfied smile spread across his face.
"I
may have approached you as a cover, Lillian, but that ended before I
ever touched you. I buried my fingers in your body until you came
because I wanted you.
I dragged you to the lounge and fucked you with my tongue until you
screamed because I couldn't stop thinking about you.
I wanted you."
She
gasped at his low, fervent words, trembled, and then clenched her
jaw. Desire flared brighter in her gaze. She balled her fists,
seemingly fighting for the ability to keep her hands to herself.
"Even
when I thought you worked with the Vetrov family, I wanted you. Even
now that you fucking hate me, I still
want you." He pressed himself into her, making her feel the
truth of that statement as his erection pressed into her stomach. He
dropped his head, placed his lips to the shell of her ear, and nipped
at her skin.
"I
want to be inside of you so goddamned bad it's driving me out of my
mind, beautiful."
Lillian
swallowed hard and shivered, a breathless groan escaping her lips.
He
hummed at her involuntary, telling reaction, and put his mouth to her
skin again, unable to resist. Jesus, he wanted her. Here. Now.
Against the wall with her legs around his waist and her nails digging
into his back.
Wanted
her until neither of them could move, let alone remember why she
hated him.
"Go
to hell," she whispered. Her words shook, but were no less
desperate for it.
"You
want me," he said, shifting his hips into her one more time.
"You want me right here and now, don't you, baby?"
"No,"
she lied as he dragged his lips down her throat.
"You
do." He ran his tongue across her skin, working his way closer
to her collarbone.
"I
can't stand you." She tilted her head, granting him access.
Ayden
K. Morgen is the Amazon Bestselling author of the Ragnarök
Prophesies series. She lives in the heart of Arkansas with her
childhood sweetheart/husband of fifteen years, and their furry
minions. When not writing, she spends her time hiking, reading,
volunteering, causing mischief, and building a Spork army.
She
graduated summa cum laude with her Bachelor of Science degree
in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on
to complete her graduate degree in CJ and Law.
She
puts her education to use as a 911 Dispatch Supervisor, where she's
responsible for leading a team of dispatchers as they watch over
police, EMS, and firefighters for her county. Her books feature law
enforcement officers, the women who love them, and the difficult
cases that drive them.
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