Crossing the Line for a Bad Boy

Chapter 1

Averie Morris

My phone blared the shrill sound of my factory iPhone ringtone, shattering the silence inside my car. I snatched it up, my heart skipping as I saw the precinct’s number flash across the screen.

“Morris,” I said, snapping into the receiver, my grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Multiple shots fired at Karma,” the voice on the other end said, terse and anxious. “It’s a mess up here, Averie. We need you.”

“I’m on my way.”

Fuck.

I ended the call without bothering to ask for details.

Karma was Sir’s place. My pulse quickened with a mix of professional urgency and personal dread.

The heater in my sedan fought a losing battle against the biting cold that gnawed at the edges of the windshield, but I felt a heat burning inside me that had nothing to do with the temperature—a heat that had been simmering for fourteen fucking years.

We first crossed paths at sixteen in the bustling hallways of our high school.

I was the epitome of a good girl—well-organized, educated, and polite, with dreams of following in my father’s law enforcement footsteps.

My father was not only a respected police officer but also a pastor, instilling in me a strong sense of right and wrong.

On the other hand, Sir was the definition of a bad boy.

With his defiant attitude and talent for finding trouble, he was everything my parents warned me about.

But Sir wasn’t just a classic menace; he was clever and charming, attracting people to him with an ease that I found both mesmerizing and irritating.

Yet, something inside me had always been drawn to Sir’s wild, untamed spirit.

Despite being from two different worlds, we had an undeniable spark.

We shared stolen glances across classrooms and witty banter with a sensual undertone.

We spent years skirting the edge of something more but never crossing the line.

I always struggled with my feelings for Sir, bound by the unspoken rule that a good girl like me could never be with a bad boy like Sir.

Nevertheless, I admired his intellect and saw hints of the good person he could be, but I also knew the dangerous path ahead of him in the streets.

After high school, our lives took very different paths.

My father’s warnings echoed in the back of my mind, reminding me of the type of life I was supposed to lead.

I went to the police academy, determined to uphold the law and make my father proud of the daughter he raised.

I threw myself into my training, determined to be the best in the unit.

Sir, meanwhile, plunged deeper into the game. Starting as a corner boy, he quickly rose through the ranks, his intelligence and charisma turning him into a dominant figure in the criminal underworld. His ascension to kingpin was marked by ruthlessness and strategic brilliance.

Fast forward to the present, I was thirty and an esteemed detective known for my drive and allegiance to the law.

I followed my father’s footsteps and carved out a name for myself in law enforcement.

Despite my successful career, thoughts of Sir lingered in the back of my mind whenever his name came across my desk.

It was a bittersweet reminder of my youth and the path not taken.

Sir was a powerful kingpin, feared and respected in equal measure.

He’d unlocked a level of power I’m not sure he even dreamed of, but it came with a price.

The New York snow swirled like a swarm of ghostly insects in the car’s headlights as I pressed harder on the gas pedal.

I felt the car struggle for traction on the slippery roads.

The tires crunched through the freshly fallen snow, spitting up small sprays of ice and slush.

It was New Year’s Eve, and I was trading in clinking glasses and drunkenly singing “Auld Lang Syne” for body bags and crime scene tape.

The world outside my windshield was a blur of heavy white snowflakes, limiting my visibility.

I had to squint to see more than a few feet ahead.

The wipers swished furiously across the windshield, but they could barely keep up with the snow buildup.

The defrost hummed, fighting to keep the glass from fogging up as I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

A passing sense of relief washed over me as I finally reached my destination.

I parked haphazardly near the crowded street, seeing the chaos unfold.

Flashing red and blue lights painted the snowfall in surreal hues while people dressed in heels and sparkling evening wear huddled together for warmth and comfort, their breaths creating misty clouds in the frigid air.

“Jesus,” I muttered, tightly pulling my pea coat around me as I stepped out into the winter assault. I paused, taking a second to appreciate the winter wonderland around me before I faced the music. Snow crunched underfoot, each step inching me closer to what I hoped wasn’t true.

“Detective Morris?” one of the uniformed officers called out as I approached the club and restaurant rooftop entrance. “It looks like a professional job—no sign of the attackers.”

“Is he…” I began, my question trailing off. I cleared my throat. “Is Sir alive?” The thought consumed me, coiling around my gut like barbed wire.

“Daniels?” The officer hesitated, then nodded toward the restaurant. “Still breathing… barely a scratch on him.”

A flood of relief washed over me, so powerful it left my knees weak.

But I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it show. Not here.

Not in front of the uniforms who knew me as the detective who played by the book, not the woman who lay awake at night wrestling with desire for a man whose hands were stained with more than just tattoo ink.

I pushed past the officer and made my way through the disarray, the scene before me a chilling dance of paramedics and investigators.

Each dead body I passed was a stark reminder of what Sir was and what he did.

And yet, none of it mattered at the moment.

There was no room for logic or duty when it came to Sir Daniels.

He was the itch I couldn’t scratch, the craving I couldn’t satisfy.

And now, amid the wreckage of his empire, I realized how deep those roots had nestled into my soul.

“Detective Morris.” His baritone voice cut through the commotion, and I turned to see him standing on the balcony that most of the restaurant’s patrons paid extra for, even in the freezing temperatures.

He stood there, tall and unscathed, his sultry cocoa-brown eyes locking onto mine.

Their depths, framed by naturally long eyelashes, held the same hunger and fire that burned in mine.

There was an air of confidence about him; always had been.

Sir commanded attention the minute he sauntered into any room.

His rich and deep chocolate skin radiated with a healthy melanated glow.

His hairstyle was fresh, a low-wave fade with precise lines that accentuated his strong jawline and waves that rippled perfectly across his scalp.

His thick, well-maintained beard framed his face seamlessly, providing a rugged yet refined look.

“Daniels,” I replied, my voice steady despite the fact that my panties were wetter than a hurricane. “You’ve got a hell of a way to ring in the new year.”

Sir’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smile in another life, another world.

Regardless, it was mesmerizing. He had perfectly aligned porcelain teeth with a striking gold bottom grill that gleamed in the light.

The gold accent added a touch of boldness to his otherwise polished appearance, giving him the street edge I both hated and craved.

“Looks like you’re right on time, Detective,” he said, his gaze stationed on mine.

I should walk away and leave him to his world of blood and bullets.

But as the snow continued to fall and the wind whispered secrets that I was confident only the two of us could hear, I knew I was already too far gone to turn back.

My hand shot out, my index finger jabbing toward a nondescript door off to the side of the chaotic scene.

My eyes locked with Sir’s, and without a word, he understood my silent command.

Stalking through the swirling snowflakes, I led the way, with him following like a shadow trailing behind his sun.

Inside the dimly lit room, the outside world’s noise dulled to a distant murmur.

I turned to face Sir, my breaths coming fast and uneven.

He stepped closer, the heat of his body melting the snow that clung to my long, curly hair.

I saw the recognition in his eyes, the primal understanding that sliced right through the pretense.

“Detective,” Sir murmured, his voice a low, raspy growl as he leaned in, his nose tracing the line of my neck. “You look like you need something.”

His breath was hot against my chilled skin. My heart thundered at the implication, the illicitness of it all making my blood thrum with excitement.

“You fucking right I do,” I whispered back fiercely, my gaze trained on his.

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. “I’m still here, Averie. Still breathing, still standing…and if you want this dick, it’s still yours for the taking.”

The bluntness of his words was like a jolt of electricity to my system. It wasn’t just lust in his confession. It was years of unspoken truths laid bare between us.

“Jesus, Sir!” I exhaled, feeling his pull and the gravity he had on my entire being. It was wrong, a sin against my gold badge, but God, it felt so right.

Sir’s long, brown fingers brushed over my cheek before drifting down to trace the curve of my C-cup breast. “I love this body of yours, Averie. Those curves… your full breasts and sexy ass hips… I’ve imagined holding onto them while I fuck you senseless so many times, I’ve lost count.”