His Kidnapped Queen (Crowned in Sin #3)

Chapter 1

SOPHIA

My boots pound the pavement as I run, my thighs burning as I swing around a corner, one hand on my gun.

The perp is ahead of me, running full tilt toward the next alley.

I run and run, panting, wishing that I’d eaten a lighter breakfast this morning as my stomach flips.

My heart pounds with adrenaline.

This is why I do this. This is what I’m meant for.

I catch up to him as he tries to push the dumpsters toward the back fence of the alley.

“Hampton!” I bark, and he turns toward me, panic evident on his face.

I draw my gun. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to draw it on shift, and I ignore that my hand is trembling, blaming it on adrenaline. I’ve trained hundreds of hours at the range…my body can do this.

Mark Hampton is a low-level punk, but he knows the higher-ups.

He’s a middleman, nothing in the scheme of things.

He works around the Italian mob, not for it. But he has names. Names that could change everything for my department.

There’s abject fear on his face as he slowly raises his hands.

“Look, miss, don’t shoot me,” he pleads. “I got a wife and kids. I know I’m no good for them, but the kids…they’ll miss me.”

I hesitate, slowly lowering my gun then Hampton rushes me, tackling me to the ground, trying to push me down and climb over me to get away. The air rushes out of me in a rush and I struggle to breathe.

Hampton grins, like he’s sure he’s gotten away.

He scrambles up and I kick out my leg, taking out his knee.

He yelps and goes down, then I’m on his back, handcuffing him as I wheeze, still trying to get my breath back.

Finally, the air enters my lungs and I gasp in air like I’ve been drowning.

Scott Baker, my partner and my best friend, catches up to me, his brown eyes wide with panic.

“Jesus, Soph. Are you okay? I saw him tackle you and I thought…” He pauses, taking in a sharp breath. “Let me call the EMTs, get them to check you out.”

I shake my head, standing with effort, still breathing hard.

“No. I’m good, Scott. Promise. Just remind me to eat smarter before shift.” I grimace, my stomach rolling after all that unplanned activity.

He laughs. “I’m not fighting you over bear claws again. You scratch.”

I grunt as Scott pulls Hampton up and gets him in the back of my cruiser.

Scott has been my partner for the last eighteen months, and we’ve gotten plenty of perps together.

Today, though, he was training a new hire before he was supposed to meet up with me—a rookie.

I used to be one, but that doesn’t mean they don’t irritate me.

Scott has a better temperament for training than I do, I’ll admit. I tend to fly off the handle at times.

It’s just the Italian in me, I guess.

My father was a first generation Italian immigrant, so I speak the language and I know some of the culture. It helps me in our efforts to take down the Italian mob in the area.

I want them out of my city.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Scott scolds as we drive back to the precinct.

Hampton complains in the backseat and I bang on the window separating us.

He shuts up.

I roll my shoulders, feeling sore all over. “I thought I could handle it. I did handle it.”

“Yeah, but he almost got the drop on you. What’s with that, anyway? Did he give you a sob story about his wife and kids?”

My eyes widen. “Don’t tell me—”

“Yeah. No wife. No kids. He’s a loner, just gives that story to try and get out of trouble.”

“Dammit,” I mutter, hating that I was taken in and played for a fool. Usually, I’m not so sensitive, but today…I don’t know. I started thinking about family, about how I don’t really have anyone but my dad.

Stupid.

I think of my father again, speaking Italian to me at home.

Mama spoke English and Italian, but she was Irish as they come, red hair and green eyes.

She was so beautiful.

The memory of my mother pierces my heart and I push it away, all that long, curly red hair I used to play with to go to sleep, push away the void she left when she died.

There was no time to grieve. There never was.

I flip back my curls—one of the only things I got from my mother along with my blue eyes.

Otherwise I’m my father’s spitting image, chestnut brown hair, sharp chin.

I draw in a breath.

“It’s okay, Soph,” Scott says softly, patting me on the back.

I look up at him gratefully, giving him a weak half-smile.

Scott is a gorgeous man with his soulful brown eyes, broad shoulders, and sharp jaw.

If he didn’t bat for the other team, I’d have snatched him up a year ago.

I’m just grateful that he’s my partner and not some new rookie. Scott and I were rookies together, grew together as cops, and so I always want him in my corner.

“It’s alright to feel for perps,” Scott continues, and I scoff.

“Not ones like Hampton, here.” I jerk my head to Hampton in the back. Hampton, to his credit, hangs his head.

Scott laughs. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have trusted Hampton.”

“I might have some kids out there,” Hampton argues. “Somewhere.”

I can’t help but snort out a laugh as we pull into the precinct.

When we arrive, Scott starts to haul Hampton out of the back of the car but our lieutenant, Francesca Sanchez, whistles at us.

“Leave him in the cruiser,” she barks. “Chief wants to see Bianchi in his office. Now.”

Shit shit shit.

I’m definitely in trouble. I’ve been a beat cop for eight months now, and I’ve never once gone after a perp without backup. Not until today.

But Hampton would have gotten away, and he was crucial to the district attorney’s case against one of the biggest mob organizations in the country.

The last of the Italian mob.

Scott makes a face at me, shrugging, and I sigh heavily, making my way to the chief’s office.

Chief Larry Johnston stands at six foot six, broad shouldered, silver-haired.

He looks intimidating even behind his desk. I don’t have the world’s closest relationship with the chief, but then again no one does.

He plays his cards close to the chest, and emotions? I don’t think he has any.

He’s cold, calculating.

As ruthless as the mobsters that we’re building a case about.

And he’s about to tear me a new asshole.

I try not to gulp as I stand in front of him.

“Sit.” It’s not a bark like I’d expected.

I slowly sit on the chair across from his desk, staying ready with my hands squeezing the arms. Ready for what? I don’t know.

“Look, sir, I know I should have waited for backup. But Hampton is really important to this case and—”

Chief Johnston raises a hand.

“Stop talking now before you get yourself in trouble,” he warns, his ice blue eyes piercing through me.

If I’m honest, I find him kind of attractive, but I like older guys. Too bad he’s married to our dispatcher, Sharon. She’s sweet as sugar and as expressive as he is contained.

I shut my mouth, my teeth coming together with a click.

“I called you in here to tell you that you passed the detective exam.” He throws down an opened envelope in front of me on his desk and I stare at it, my mouth open. “Results came in today, and they want you as a detective. I hate to lose you as a beat cop, Bianchi, but…”

He trails off and I’m still staring at the open envelope with the results of the detective’s exam.

I can’t believe it. I’d taken the exam on a whim, thinking I’d never pass it this early in my career. I’d never expected to actually get the promotion.

“You’re…you’re serious, sir?”

“Do I look like the type of man to play pranks?”

He raises a silver eyebrow and I nod.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ll report to Detective Gray Monday morning,” he finishes. “We’ll miss you around here, Bianchi.”

I blink at his words. He never does anything other than bark at us, usually, so him saying he’d miss me on the beat touches me deeply.

“Thank you, sir.”

I stand and walk toward the door.

“And Bianchi?”

I turn to look at him and he nods at me.

“Congratulations.”

A thrill goes up my spine. It’s really happening. I’m really detective material.

I can’t help the bounce in my step as I walk out of the office, but I try to keep my expression blank.

“Did you get reamed out?” Scott hisses as I walk by, but I just shake my head. “You didn’t?”

“I got promoted,” I say, keeping the same blank expression on my face.

Scott’s wide eyes widen even further, threatening to bug out of their sockets.

“You’re serious? Detective?”

My face splits into a huge grin. “Detective.”

Scott claps his hand over his mouth, but it doesn’t hide a squeal.

I giggle and slap his hand, trying to tell him to keep it together.

Not that I’m keeping it together myself, not very well, anyway.

“Baker! Bianchi!” the chief barks, peeking out of his office door.

We both jump and turn toward him.

“Yes, sir?” Scott asks hesitantly.

“Process that perp you brought in. Then you can go home and celebrate.”

I nearly salute him but restrain myself.

Scott breaks out into a big grin after the chief closes his office door.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Scott hauls Hampton into a standing position even as the man protests and we all head toward the processing area.

There’s glass separating us from the lobby, but I don’t pay too much attention, thinking about all the new, exciting position I’ve been handed.

I’ve been wanting this since the day I joined the academy. I look up at Scott, still smiling, and then I realize that he’s pouting.

My smile fades. “Hey, what’s wrong with you, grumpy Gus?”

“Don’t call me Gus,” he mumbles, and I frown, taking his hand as he puts Hampton in position to be photographed.

He shakes me off and mans the camera, taking Hampton’s hundredth mug shot.

“Scott, seriously, what’s your problem?”

“It’s not a problem,” he mutters. “It’s stupid.”

I frown wider. “It’s not stupid to me. You’re my best friend.”

Scott’s glares at me. “You won’t be my best friend anymore.”

“What do you mean? Of course I will—”

He cuts me off. “I won’t be your partner anymore, Soph. We’ll barely see each other.”

“At work, maybe. But after work, you’ll be the first person I call when I want to go out or just bitch about life.”

“You’d better still bitch about life with me,” Scott says plaintively, and I smile, nudging my shoulder against his.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Can we get this over with and you guys can do your weird soap opera drama later?” Hampton grumbles, and Scott just glares at him.

After reassuring Scott, I can go back to daydreaming about my new life. Chasing perps, maybe even going undercover…

It’ll be so much more meaningful than picking up thugs like Mark Hampton.

I realize I’ve been staring into space, and when I come to I’m staring through the glass into the lobby.

There’s a man in the remnants of a suit, his jacket discarded, tie slightly skewed. He looks put together even though his suit is crooked and disheveled.

His salt-and-pepper hair looks like it’s been swept back from his face repeatedly, a couple of locks hanging over his forehead.

And he has the most piercing, beautiful, green eyes that I’ve ever seen.

I look away instantly, startled by what I saw on his face—not a single ounce of fear.

There’s no silent fear of authority in those green eyes.

I see it every day, even in the toughest guys, just a sliver of modesty.

A fear that they might be caught.

But those green eyes are fearless.

Ruthless.

A heat shoots through my body.

No, Sophia. That’s not what you need right now.

I don’t look back at the man in the suit, not once, but I can feel his gaze burning through the glass as I work.