Committed (Atlanta’s Finest Series)

  Sharon C. Cooper

  Amaris Publishing LLC

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Next Book In Series

  Join Sharon’s Newsletter

  Other Titles By Sharon

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2022 Sharon C. Cooper

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For permission, contact the author at www.sharoncooper.net

  ISBN: 978-1-946172-31-0

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge shout out to Circle of Sisters (CoS) book club! I didn’t forget Priya’s kids, and thanks for the idea!

  And

  Brenda S. - You make writing fun, and you are the most patient person in the world! Lol! You’re awesome, and I so appreciate you!

  Claire F. - Everyone should have a friend like you! I can’t imagine my life without you!

  Blurb

  Even when he does good, he’s still bad….

  Lazarus “Laz” Dimas made plenty of enemies as an Atlanta police detective. Now that he is a security specialist and married with a family, he does everything by the book…mostly. It’s not until someone threatens his family that he falls back into his old, lethal behavior and resurrects his former mantra: By Any Means Necessary.

  Journey has it all—an amazing husband, a rewarding career as an assistant district attorney, and the most adorable baby girl. Yet, she wants more. She wants to be elected Atlanta’s next district attorney.

  Laz is always supportive and makes sure she wants for nothing, but not this time. He insists she make a choice: their marriage or the job she desires. It should be an easy decision, but it takes almost losing everything she holds dear before Journey checks her priorities.

  And when tragedy threatens to rip her and Laz’s relationship apart, they must fight to keep it together…but is it too late?

  Prologue

  “I saw Dennis Stratton kill Joyce Hayes.”

  A shiver went through Fred as those words flowed around in his head while he pulled into his driveway. He parked his Toyota Corolla on the side of his house under the carport next to his brother’s sports car.

  On the ride home, all he could think was—had he done the right thing?

  Had he done the right thing in talking to the assistant district attorney and the DA office’s investigator?

  Sure, confessing cleared his conscience, and hopefully, he’d get a good night’s sleep for the first time in two weeks. But he wasn’t sure adding to his initial statement had been a good idea.

  They had asked him why he hadn’t been more forthcoming when the detectives on the case questioned him weeks ago. All he could tell them was that he’d been afraid of how it would look if they’d known that not only had he been in the office that night, but he saw and heard everything leading up to the murder.

  I hope I did the right thing.

  Questions bombarded his mind as he stared out into the darkness of his backyard.

  What if I should’ve kept my mouth shut? What if the ADA somehow starts thinking that I’m the murderer? What if she tries to pin everything on me instead of the actual murderer—the CEO of Leverage Construction company?

  His life would be ruined. Even if he was just a custodial worker, he had built up a pretty good life for himself. What if….

  Someone knocked on the car window, and Fred jumped in his seat, hitting his knee on the bottom of the steering wheel. Pain shot through his leg. His heart leaped into his throat. Breathing hard, he jerked his head to the left and saw the person standing outside the driver’s side window.

  Christ.

  He released the breath that had gotten stuck in his chest and dropped back against the cloth seat.

  Omar.

  His brother had scared the crap out of him. Fred hadn’t heard or seen him approach. He shut off the car and pushed open the door.

  “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he asked, willing his heart rate to return to normal.

  Omar, standing over six feet tall with broad shoulders and dressed in all black, looked intimidating as hell. He stepped back as Fred climbed out of the vehicle.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I heard you pull up, and when you didn’t come into the house, I figured I’d check on you.”

  Omar was three years younger and a few inches taller and broader. His skin was a shade lighter than Fred’s mocha tone, but they had the same dark eyes and full lips. Still, most people who saw them together didn’t know right away that they were brothers.

  “You all right?” Omar asked as he led the way into their house.

  The three-bedroom bungalow was located on the east side of Atlanta in a neighborhood that was slowly being gentrified. A few years ago, they’d purchased the fixer-upper with the intent to renovate and flip it. Instead, they decided to live there while they worked on another property.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…just….” He shook his head and released a pent-up sigh. His heart rate had slowly gone back to normal, but Fred was still on edge.

  Placing his keys on the kitchen counter, he moved past his brother and headed to the living room, where they had a partially stocked minibar to the right of the wall-mounted big-screen television. Nothing like some Jameson to calm his nerves. He poured himself three fingers of whiskey and turned to his brother, who had followed him into the room.

  He held up the bottle. “Want some?”

  Omar leaned on the back of the navy-blue leather recliner. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Fred took a large swig and closed his eyes, grimacing at the burn sliding down the back of his throat.

  “Man, that’s strong,” he said, shaking his head.

  Omar laughed. “Yeah, that stuff is not for the weak at heart. You probably should stick to your usual—light beer.”

  Fred chuckled and added a little more to his glass before carrying the tumbler to the leather sectional.

  “Rough day?” Omar asked.

  Fred grunted as he brought his drink up to his lips and sipped. He glanced over the rim at his brother. Omar was still in the sowing-his-wild-oats stage. Dressed in a black leather jacket, with a dark T-shirt and black jeans, Omar was obviously heading out to a club or a party—his usual Friday-night ritual.

  “The day was okay. It was this evening that shook me up, though. I took your advice and talked to the assistant district attorney overseeing the murder case.”

  Omar straightened, and his dark eyes grew large. “Seriously? How’d that go? Did you tell her everything?”

  Fred picked up the television remote. “Yeah, I did. I hope I don’t regret it.”

  “So, what’s next? Did you agree to testify?”

  “Yes. I’m just glad they’ve already arrested Dennis,” he said, referring to the CEO of Leverage Construction Company.

  On the night of the murder, Fred had suffered from being at the wrong place at the wrong time. As a custodial worker at a large office building, he’d been assigned to clean the Leverage Construction offices. That had led to the worst night of his life.

  “How do you feel?” Omar asked.

  “I’m tired as hell, but I’m glad I told the truth. Joyce was a nice lady. She was always kind to me, and I thought the least I could do was tell what had happened to her. I plan to do anything I can to help keep Mr. Stratton behind bars so he can pay for his crime. I’ll just be glad when all of this is over.”

  “Well, I’m glad you told them the truth. I know it was eating at you. For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.” Omar strolled across the room to the coat closet. He grabbed his Yankees baseball cap and shoved it onto his head, pulling the brim low over his eyes. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

  “Not much. I canceled my date with Raina. Now I’m just going to have another drink, jump in the shower, and hopefully sleep for the next two days.”

  If he had more personal days left at work, he’d use up every single one. At least his supervisor had reassigned him to a different floor, realizing he couldn’t handle cleaning Leverage anymore—not without having nightmares. No one at work knew he had actually witnessed the murder. They only knew that he’d found the body, and Fred planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  “Well, I’m out of here.” Om
ar picked up his black duffel bag that Fred hadn’t seen until now and looped it over his shoulder. “Heading to Suzanne’s for the weekend. I’ll check in on you, but holler if you need anything,”

  Fred set his glass on the side table, then stretched out his legs and propped his size twelves on the table in front of him. “Will do. Have a good time.”

  Shortly after his brother left, Fred found himself dozing off, then jerking awake. He was so tired but trying to sleep the last few days only resulted in him waking up in a cold sweat. Even now, he kept remembering how the CEO had slammed the paperweight against the side of Joyce’s head. It had been like watching a horror movie. Joyce’s body crumbled to the floor, and she didn’t get up. The vision played on a loop inside his head ever since that night.

  Fred’s eyes popped open when he thought he heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He bolted upright and listened. Seconds ticked by. Nothing.

  Now, I’m hearing things.

  He dropped back against the sofa and glanced at his watch. Eleven-thirty. He’d done more than doze. He had actually slept a few hours, but still, he was exhausted.

  Heavy footsteps sounded against the hardwood floors, and Fred’s gaze leaped toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Okay, maybe he wasn’t crazy. His brother must’ve forgotten something.

  “Omar?” Fred called out and started flipping through channels on the remote. “Man, you had me in here thinking that….”

  A tall, imposing figure stepped into the room, and Fred leaped from the sofa, dropping the remote in the process. The person was dressed in all black, including the ski mask covering his face.

  “What the…. Who the hell are—”

  “You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” the intruder said, his voice deep and raspy.

  That’s when Fred saw the large gun at the man’s side.

  His heart slammed against his chest, and an icy fear clawed through his body when the man raised his arm.

  “No. No. Please….” Fred begged. He held his hands out in front of him as panic welled in his throat. He stumbled back, his leg making contact with the side table. “Please, please, don’t….”

  Chapter One

  Journey collapsed on top of her husband’s muscular chest, struggling to catch her breath as his intoxicating woodsy scent surrounded her. Despite the morning chorus of birds chirping outside their bedroom window, the house was fairly quiet. The only other sound was the rapid pace of her man’s heartbeat against her ear. It matched the same staccato tempo of her own.

  Morning sex was the best.

  It didn’t matter if it was a quickie; Lazarus Dimas had a way of putting it on her so thoroughly that each time he was inside of her felt like heaven. There might’ve been a couple of cracks in their marriage, but one thing was for sure, their lovemaking was still as intense as it had been the very first time their bodies joined.

  It seemed like they’d been together forever, but it had only been a little over three years since they married. Journey couldn’t imagine building a life with anyone else. Her love and desire for this strong, sexy man grew with each passing day. He and their almost-three-year-old daughter, Arielle, were everything to her.

  Still panting, Laz placed a lingering kiss against her forehead, not caring about the beads of sweat littering her hairline.

  “I’ll never get enough of you,” he murmured. His deep voice sent goosebumps racing over her heated skin, and the desire to go another round with him bloomed inside of her. “And this sexy body of yours….” His words trailed off as his large hands slid languidly down her back and didn’t stop moving until he palmed her ass.

  Journey’s eyes drifted closed, and she moaned as he squeezed and kneaded her butt. She felt his erection growing again inside of her and rotated her hips as passion swirled within her.

  “I see you’re trying to get something else started, Detective Dimas.”

  Laz chuckled. He was no longer with Atlanta PD; now, he was a personal security specialist with Supreme Security, but she still called him detective from time to time.

  He pulled her closer. “Like I said, I can’t get enough of you.”

  Journey’s eyes flew open, and she yelped when Laz flipped her onto her back. Then she burst out laughing. The man was big and strong and handled her as if she weighed nothing.

  “Shhh…if you wake up Arielle….” he said, referring to their rambunctious daughter, “we won’t have time to go another round.”

  He hovered above her, and Journey smiled while staring into his intense hazel-green eyes. Eyes that she had fallen in love with almost at first sight. He was such a handsome man. His Greek heritage was evident in his olive skin, which looked like he had spent all day in the sun, tanning his body to perfection.

  She cupped his cheek, and her dark hand was such a contrast against his skin, like neon yellow paint against a black backdrop.

  Journey slid her hands up into Laz’s thick, black hair. He usually kept it short, but he had let it grow. Though it was hanging loose around his shoulders, he usually wore it in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, intensifying his already badass persona.

  “I love you,” she said quietly as her fingers sifted through the soft strands.

  Laz kissed her lips. “I love you, too.” He trailed kisses over her jaw, near her ear, and worked his way down her neck.

  There was so much Journey wanted to say to him.

  Like…I’m sorry.

  For the last few months, she’d been consumed by work. Her marriage had taken a back seat to her career—something Laz wasn’t happy about. As an assistant district attorney, her schedule was unrelenting. It didn’t help that she had recently been taking on more challenging cases, determined to win them and shine a favorable light on herself while she considered running for district attorney. She was just waiting for her boss to retire at the end of the year.

  Too bad she didn’t have Laz’s support.

  His gentle kisses down her body brought her back to the present and sent pleasure swirling inside her. Laz was the most amazing and supportive husband a woman could ever ask for. Until recently. She understood why he didn’t want her to make a run for DA, especially since she kept canceling on him at every turn. Seemed everything lately was coming in second to her career.

  Her husband was losing patience.

  Her marriage was in jeopardy.

  And it was all her fault.

  I have to do better. I have to make some changes.

  That’s what she’d been telling herself, and she planned to start today. She looked forward to a much-needed family day hanging out with her husband and daughter.

  Yes, her career meant everything to her, but nothing was more important than them.

  Laz worked his way back up her body, peppering her skin with feathery kisses. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked when their gazes connected.

  “What? I can’t look at my smoking-hot husband?”

  A wicked grin spread across his tempting lips. “Yeah, you can, but when you do, it makes me want you all over again.”

  Laz’s mouth covered hers before she could respond. The kiss started slow and tender but soon turned more passionate as their tongues tangled. Heat soared through her, nipping at every nerve while their hands explored each other’s naked bodies.

  Their kiss deepened, and Journey whimpered into his mouth.

  God, she loved this man more than life, and the thought squeezed her heart.