The Siren's Storm: The Burkes Series Book Two

Prologue

The prosecution rests, Your Honor. She’d done it—she’d won. Carolina Marossi didn’t need the judge to confirm it. Her arguments were too compelling and the evidence too damning to dismiss. Judge Latham compared two pieces of paper side by side as she sat in her short, rickety rolling desk chair. Carrie looked over to the defense’s table and got the receiving end of an angry scowl from Jordan Mills. Carrie just smiled back at him and gave her shoulders a slight shrug in response, causing her long, espresso hair to bounce from the movement and the fluorescent lights to gleam a dull shine onto the dark silk.

Jordan’s glower said it all. He knew he’d been defeated. The three consecutive muted smacks of a Fisher-Price plastic hammer coming down onto the folding table drew everyone’s attention, and the room fell silent. There had been a soft humming of chatter, but it immediately ceased in the anticipation of the verdict.

In the case of The People vs John Smith Company, the court rules in favor of the prosecution. One half of the room erupted in cheers and end zone dances, while the other released an echoing ripple of huffs and grumbles with eyes rolling in unison. Mrs. Latham’s government class was the highlight of Carrie’s senior year, aside from Speech and Debate. The mock trial had been a slam dunk, home run, touch down, goal, or any other sports term for scoring you wanted to use. That was because Carrie was the best, plain and simple. Even if the extensive research she and some of her peers did was excluded, Carrie was the most well-spoken in the class. She knew how to move and motivate the listener with her words, her tone, her inflections, to make them feel it, believe it, understand it. Yes, she was the best.

As promised, the victor, being the prosecution, will get to be excused from class this Friday. You will still come by here to check in, and then you are free to leave. There will be no loitering around the school, so make sure you have transportation settled. In other words, get off campus a.s.a.p. or you will forfeit your win and be forced to come back to class.

Carrie couldn’t wait. Her best friend had fourth period off Friday as well, and the girls had plans to get mani-pedis and then have a sleepover. The bell rang, ending the class and the day, and the halls were soon filled with students.

Care! a voice shouted, as it came closer. A tall, curvy beauty bounded over to Carrie, anticipation in her eyes. Did you win?

Please, Carrie replied in a cocky tone. "You know I did."

The girl laughed. You’d better be careful, or your fat head will be too big for the hallway. Danielle Walsh always knew how to keep Carrie in check. She never held back.

They looked as different as night and day, but their hearts were the same. Danielle was five foot nine with wavy, caramel hair, golden skin, and a realistic hourglass shape. Carrie was petite, her five-foot two-inch body barely reaching Danielle’s shoulders. Her hair was a rich espresso brown, straight and thick, and complimented her olive tan skin. Even their eyes were different, yet equally beautiful. Danielle’s irises were a striking combination of topaz and green that blended seamlessly into a perfect ombre, while Carrie’s eyes were a deep, bold emerald.

Though their personalities differed, they complemented each other. Together, they were a great team and made up for what the other lacked. Most of all, they encouraged and supported each other. They were like sisters.

Okay, let me know what you want to eat for dinner Friday so I can get everything when I go to the store tomorrow with my mom.

"Oh my god, I’m so glad we’re staying at your house. I have zero privacy anymore," Carrie complained with an eye roll.

Is it really that bad?

They are always in my business, especially when you’re there. Carrie had her suspicions that one or more of her nosy brothers had a thing for Danielle. I think Marco and Luca might have crushes on you.

Psh, Danielle scoffed, I highly doubt that. Both of them go through girlfriends like napkins at a barbeque. Besides, based on the ones I’ve seen, I’m not their type.

Carrie wasn’t as convinced. Well, regardless, I cherish every opportunity I can get away from those snoops. They’re so annoying.

The girls continued to discuss their plans as they headed to the student parking lot. Both Danielle’s brother and sister had plans of their own for Friday night, so the best friends would have no interruptions. Kyle spent most of his time with his college buddies these days, and Alaina had her own sleepover with her dance team. Carrie never had a problem with Kyle or Alaina being around, but getting time away from all siblings amplified her sense of freedom.

Are you going to do the same color for your fingers and toes, or do you think you’ll do something different?

Hmm, Carrie thought for a moment, I’m not sure yet, but I’m definitely picking something vibrant.

Danielle chuckled. Care, you always choose something vibrant.

And? Vibrant looks good on me, Carrie stated very matter-of-factly.

And the modesty award goes to… Danielle mocked in her best ceremonial voice, as though she were presenting Carrie with a well-deserved Oscar, even going so far as to open an invisible envelope and applaud, congratulating her on her win.

Dani, there’s a difference between being conceited and being confident.

Danielle’s eyes rolled in dramatic fashion at the coming rhetoric.

"I am confident that bright shades complement my skin tone, which in turn, makes me feel good about myself, and every girl has the right to feel good about herself, correct?"

Danielle audibly sighed. Yes.

"If I were conceited, I’d tell everyone in the entire world how great I think the colors look on me, but I’m confident enough in knowing it on my own that I don’t need to. The only person’s approval I need is mine." Carrie’s gaze was distant and wide, as if she were making an address to a large crowd to rally support for a cause.

You forgot to thank the academy in your acceptance speech, Miss Marossi, Danielle teased.

Oh, hush! Carrie clucked and hooked her arm with Danielle’s as they continued to make their way to the student lot, exchanging their jokes and laughter.

Chapter One

Damn. 8:07 p.m. She was supposed to be there at a quarter till. Of all the days to be late, this was not one of them. Carrie’s best friend in the whole world was getting married to the man of her dreams, and their engagement was finally being celebrated. Both the bride and groom-to-be had insisted on waiting until all siblings were able to make it back to San Diego for the soirée—and a soirée it would be. The groom’s mother was a prestigious event planner, and Carrie had no doubts that the party would be nothing less than fabulous.

It was only three short weeks ago in October that Carrie’s best friend had been kidnapped and almost murdered by a lunatic serial killer. Danielle Walsh had been the center of the psychopath’s disturbing obsession, his sick and twisted distortion of reality that had cost the lives of so many others. He was nothing short of a monster.

Thinking about it made Carrie shiver. Her short, sleeveless dress didn’t help, either. Frustration was building inside as she idled in her Audi, stuck between 5th and 6th Avenue. From what she could see, some idiot tried to turn right onto a one-way street—the same street she was on, and it just so happened the direction of the one-way was not the same as that driver. Carrie let out a huff. Cars were moving at a snail’s pace. Everyone was being forced to one lane in order to get around the accident, and not all of the motorists agreed on the same method of executing said detour. You had some drivers that were letting everyone over and some that refused to take pity. They had the sucks to be you mentality.

Carrie’s thoughts ventured back to the harrowing events that still felt like yesterday. Had it not been for Adam, Danielle would be dead today—just another victim of a tragic story. Detective Adam Burke had been assigned to the case when the murder spree began. He and Danielle had fallen for each other, though they both took their sweet time admitting it. In fact, it took near death for them to realize they couldn’t live without each other.

Carrie shook her head lightly and smiled to herself. It was ridiculous to her how hard they’d made something so obviously simple. She looked at the clock again—double damn. She was officially thirty minutes late now. Just as she was about to call Danielle, her phone rang.

Hey, Dani, I’m still stuck.

Don’t worry about it, Care, just get here safely.

Thanks, I’m so sorry. Even though it’s creeping along, I think I can make it in ten minutes, fifteen tops.

Do you want me to go ahead and order a drink for you? Carrie could hear the music and laughter at the lounge, Belo, through the phone. By the sound of it, it would probably take just as long for Danielle to get the drink as it would for Carrie to get there. Her apartment was only a mile—one freaking mile—from the sophisticated club, but an accident on Market Street had forced her to take this alternate route, which proved to be just as bad. It seemed all of the bozos were out tonight.

Sure, get me a Sex on the Beach… with extra Sex.

Danielle burst into laughter. I’ll see what I can do.

"Alright, ciao, bella."

Danielle was still chuckling. Bye.

* * *

Foam fizzled as it slid down to the bottom of the now empty pilsner glass. Dean signaled to the waitress for another beer but couldn’t quite get her attention. She’d been snatched by another patron just before her line of sight would have caught his gesture.

You’re not tapping out already, are you? Warren asked, as he nudged his elbow into Dean’s arm. That’d be pretty pitiful, he continued with a smirk. One of the younger Burke brothers, Warren was the instigator of the family and the biggest smart-ass.

Dean didn’t feel like humoring him. I’m trying to flag down our waitress.

Warren took an assessment. It looks pretty swamped over there. You may be better off going to the bar yourself. He was right. There were now two other men vying for the young woman’s attention. It may have had to do with the fact that she was attractive.

If you want, I’ll go grab her, said Caleb with a devilish smile. Warren’s twin was the ladies’ man, and the ladies definitely agreed with that moniker.

No, I’ll get it myself, Dean said, as he put his hand to Caleb’s chest, blocking his movement, as he was already preparing to take off after the pretty young woman. You don’t need to ‘go grab her.’

Caleb’s face took on a look to say, I don’t know what you mean, as Dean gave his own look of, Yes, you damn well do.

Danielle, his soon to be sister-in-law, jumped in. Oh, Dean, are you going to the bar? Would you please order a Sex on the Beach?

Normally, he would have felt a little ridiculous ordering such a girly drink, but not for Danielle. She was an amazing woman and perfect for his other brother, Adam. They’d just been through hell and back, and Dean was glad to see his brother pull his head out of his ass and snatch her up before someone else did. And someone else definitely would have. Plenty of men’s eyes were on her, and he witnessed Adam’s possessive hold on her tighten, well aware of their looks.

Dean wasn’t a mushy kind of guy, but even he had to admire their love. The passion, the devotion, radiated off them. Just the way Adam looked at her said everything—and Danielle was certainly something to look at. Her long, caramel waves flowed from the top of her head to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Her green and gold eyes—the colors melding into each other—sparkled at her fiancé, who never failed to take in the sight of her. Adam always took the opportunity to look her up and down, and Dean was sure if she had ever wanted to, she could have been a runway model. She was tall with long, lean legs that, tonight, were accentuated even more by the white sequined ‘tube top romper’ with ‘satin shoulder knot draping and waist wrap.’ At least, that was how his mother had described it when all of the women were gushing over each other.

Sure, he said.

Danielle flashed him a sweet, appreciative smile. Thanks, she said in a sing-song voice. She could probably tell that this favor wasn’t his favorite one to execute. He cleared a path to the bar. Most people got out of his way on their own, but there was a cluster in front of him that wasn’t breaking up. The swarm of men seemed to be staring at something, dumbfounded. Make that someone.

Dean pushed his way through the horde only to run smack straight into the siren. He quickly snaked an arm around her waist to prevent her from tumbling backward, pulling her into him. The gorgeous creature, even in her three-inch stilettos, barely came to his chin. Dark espresso hair cascaded down to the middle of her back, the multitude of layers framing from her chin all the way down her slender, petite little body.

Her dazzling emerald eyes were accentuated by the vibrant green, beaded dress. Jewels, sequins, and crystals covered the short little number, which revealed most of her tanned legs. It was no wonder why every man in the vicinity was ogling her. The sexy cocktail dress covered only from her breasts to the top half of her thighs, with plenty of cleavage to admire. She felt good pressed up against him. After the surprise left her features, the beauty gave him a heart-stopping smile.

Chapter Two

Carrie had finally made it to Belo and began making her way through the lounge. She could feel the gawking from the opposite sex as she strutted across the floor. Ordinarily, she would take her time—she wasn’t ashamed to admit that she liked the perusing. It boosted her confidence and made her feel sexy.

Tonight was different, though. She was agitated that she’d already missed a bit of the engagement party, so she lengthened her strides as she headed toward the back to the VIP area where the Walshes and the Burkes were waiting. A small congregation of men were in her path, staring her down, but Carrie didn’t slow. She knew they’d part for her.

Suddenly, a tall brick wall in a handsome black suit slammed into her, nearly knocking her off her feet. In a flash of speed, a strong arm wrapped around her, saving her from the floor. The six-foot-three hottie clutched Carrie tightly to his hard body, leaving her momentarily breathless.

The look in his eyes shifted from surprise to something heady, intense. Those steel gray eyes… Carrie had only seen one other pair in that beautiful shade. This had to be one of Adam’s brothers. There was only one thing to do—she had to mess with him.

With a flirtatious smile, she said, Wow, tiger, you’re fast. Do you tackle all of your prey this way, or am I just lucky? Carrie could see the bewilderment, then fluster in his reaction.

Sorry about that, Hottie said huskily. He released his hold on her slowly, almost reluctantly, as he righted her on her feet. Carrie liked the feel of his hand sliding across her lower back.

Don’t worry, she said, still seducing him with her smile, I’ll let you make it up to me later. See ya. She touched Hottie Burke’s arm as she walked past him, sashaying her way through the room.

* * *

Dean stood in the middle of the floor, perfectly still, as he watched the siren’s hips sway from side to side. After she disappeared into the throng of drooling men, he continued his trip to the bar. He placed the order with the bartender, and as he waited, his thoughts went back to what that beautifully seductive voice had said.

I’ll let you make it up to me later. What did that mean? The tightening in his pants had its own theory. Dean arrived back to the tables with a tall glass of amber beer in one hand and the fruity vodka drink in the other. As he was about to hand off the beverage to Danielle, a delicate, tan hand reached across him to retrieve it.

Thanks, tiger. I knew you’d come through.

He looked to his left, and there she was, his siren. His confused expression made her chuckle and wink at him.

Tiger? Adam asked, his gaze shifting back and forth between Dean and the bombshell in green. Danielle didn’t seem surprised, though. She just grinned.

Your brother just about pummeled me a moment ago. Luckily, he’s got the reflexes of a cat, but based on what I see, no ordinary, domesticated house cat. Her full, glossy pink lips began sucking on the tiny straw, sipping the cocktail down slowly. Dean couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away.

Dean, I’d like you to meet Carrie, Danielle introduced with laughter in her voice, making Dean get a hold of his wits.

Nice to meet you, he said, extending his hand out to hers. Carrie reciprocated with a firm shake. For someone so delicate-looking, she had a strong, confident grip. It impressed him. He’d have taken her for the kind of woman who gave the princess shake—light and fragile, like you might break her hand.

Right back at-cha. Their hands remained clasped longer than they should have, and Dean broke the contact the minute he realized that. Her smile was sly and playful. Those full lips looked delicious. He did a subconscious shake of his head.

Oh my God, Carrie, that dress is amazing—super sexy! Danielle’s younger sister, Alaina, rushed over from one of the tables where she’d been mingling. She grabbed Carrie’s hands and spun her in a slow circle to show off the sparkling garment.

I’ll say. Smooth-talking Caleb joined the group. Did he ever take a rest? This was the first time that his brother’s incessant flirting actually bothered Dean.

Why, thank you, Carrie said with a coquettish smile. It was clear to him that she was a flirt herself, making her and Caleb two peas in a pod. In fact, Dean was sure at any moment Caleb would sweet-talk her into a dance. Why did that bother him?

Come on, tiger. Carrie set her drink down on the table and grabbed Dean’s hand. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. Her skin was soft and warm. A romantic Paul McCartney tune filled the lounge, and she was taking Dean to the dance floor, whether he wanted to or not.

She delicately placed a hand on his shoulder as he repositioned his hold of their joined hands, and they began swaying. Dean could feel the soft brush of Carrie’s hair on his arm as he took hold of her waist for the second time tonight.

I think my brother may be a little disappointed in your choice.

The corner of her mouth pulled up as she turned her attention back to the party. I think he’ll get over me.

Dean’s gaze followed and saw Cassanova already chatting up Alaina Walsh. He grinned to himself as he shook his head, and Carrie let out a soft chuckle. The gentle laugh seduced his ears.

Paul McCartney continued to croon his romantic ballad over the lounge’s sound system, casting an amorous spell over the couples on the dance floor. You could feel the weight of it in the air—could see it in their movements. Carrie’s eyes were staring deep into Dean’s, as the two sweetly moved across the floor in circles. Those emeralds were hypnotic. Carrie didn’t say a word, only smiled, and the trance was all-encompassing. He had to do something to stop the tightening in his chest.

* * *

So, what do you do?

Carrie was a bit surprised by Dean’s question. It sounded more like an interview than a sincere interest. Oh, just boring stuff.

That wasn’t quite true. Trials in criminal court were anything but boring, but she really didn’t want to talk about work. She had put in a lot of long hours this week, and she wanted to enjoy her time away from it. She wanted to absorb the happiness all around her and enjoy the party, her friends, and a dance with a handsome man. Out of courtesy, though, she countered the question.

What do you do?

Dean lightly grinned. Boring stuff.

Carrie just laughed. Okay.

She studied Dean. Aside from a few smiles, his features remained expressionless. She felt she was good at reading men, but this one was proving to be more difficult. She did, however, notice that he refused to keep eye contact with her for more than two seconds at a time. Did she make him nervous? It was hard to tell. His gaze shifted subtly from point to point, not erratically all over the place. Either Dean Burke was determined not to look at her, or she wasn’t of enough interest to hold his attention.

Carrie was intrigued. She needed to tamp it down, now. Dean was not someone she should be intrigued by. Curiosity would get the better of her, and she’d… Nope, not a path she could venture down. After all, her only intention was to have a bit of fun at his expense. Why should she care if she made him nervous—or if he found her uninteresting? She didn’t, she told herself. But that didn’t stop her nose from crinkling and brows furrowing.

* * *

The bridge of Carrie’s nose cinched, and her pink lips tightened as they pursed together. She looked mad, and she was staring right at him. Was she angry with him? Dean wasn’t sure what he might have done, but that wasn’t too surprising. He didn’t spend much time with women, and when he did, he kept it short. He didn’t know how to read them the way Caleb did, and he didn’t want to. For some reason, though, it bothered him—the thought that he possibly upset this woman. Why? He decided not to dwell on it. What did he care? He didn’t.

Suddenly, as if she realized her expression, her face turned sweet. Pulling Dean down by the nape of his neck, Carrie met him halfway, rising onto her tiptoes, and placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

Thanks for the dance, tiger. Her voice was laced with seduction, and her eyes twinkled at him, that sexy smile taunting him.

Dean remarked with the safest response he could think of, Sure.

She chuckled again. Damn, she was sexy. Dean’s chest was starting to constrict again. A siren, indeed. One little laugh, and he was a mess in the head. He didn’t like it. She flashed him one more smile as she headed back to the group, leaving him alone on the dance floor. He hadn’t even realized the song had ended. He had been so focused on Carrie…

Damn, she’s good, he scoffed. Good at the game. Plenty of women had tried to get him to play, but he left them wanting. He didn’t do games—he didn’t do relationships.

Dean felt a firm slap on his back. Hey, you alright? Adam was to his right. Dean hadn’t noticed his approach—not good for someone with honed observation skills.

Yeah, fine. Why?

Adam took a sip of the fresh refill in his pilsner glass. You just kind of had an intense stare focused on our tables. Plus, you’re standing on the dance floor by yourself, looking creepy. He grinned, as he sipped the lager, when his comment got a narrowed glare from Dean.

Before he got the chance to throw some name-calling at his brother, a beautiful, sexy laugh cut through Dean’s thoughts, calling him to attention.

Carrie’s long, espresso hair swayed as she tossed her head back. The light shone on it, gleaming ribbons across every strand. She was holding on to Danielle’s hands, as though if she were to let go, she might fall over from her laughter.

So, are you just going to stand here all night and stare at her, or are you going to come back to the party?

Dean shot another glare at Adam before the two walked back to the tables. As they approached, their waitress appeared, tray and drinks in hand. She delivered everyone’s order, then placed a drink in front of Carrie.

Oh, I didn’t order this, Carrie said apologetically.

It’s from the gentleman at the bar, the girl said with a smile. Everyone turned to get a glimpse of Carrie’s admirer. His blond hair was parted and slicked back, and based on his suit and skinny tie, it was clear he’d been watching too much Mad Men.

What a tool, Dean thought.

The man flashed a ‘dapper Dan’ smile at Carrie as he raised his glass to her. That aggravated Dean, but what bothered him more was that Carrie reciprocated the gesture.

Is there something I can get for anyone else?

Yes, Dean replied, as he grabbed the drink out of Carrie’s hand.

I need another Sex on the Beach—you can take this one back, he said, placing the glass back on the tray, and a scotch, neat.

The waitress looked to Carrie for approval, but Carrie’s eyes were on Dean, seemingly stunned and perplexed by what had just happened. The young woman only hesitated a moment before she headed back to place the new order. Dean turned his attention to Don Draper—or potentially Patrick Bates—at the bar. He could see the displeasure on the douchebag’s face and then his forfeit as he turned his back on Dean.

Adam nudged Dean in the arm as he raised a brow and whispered, Scotch? He knew Dean only ordered scotch when something was on his mind—really on his mind. Dean didn’t respond, but instead clenched his jaw for a visible tick. Okay, Adam said, along with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.

A sharp finger stabbed Dean in the chest. Excuse me, but would you care to explain yourself? Carrie was mere inches from him, hand on hip, and a challenge in her eyes. Was this woman ever not sexy?

He gave it to her straight. You were going to drink a beverage from a perfect stranger.

And?

And nothing. That’s reason enough.

She didn’t back down. No, it’s not.

You don’t know him or what he could have done to your drink. Dean kept his response very matter of fact.

It’s not like he made it himself. It came straight from the bar.

Can you prove that?

Carrie was quiet with rage brimming in her eyes. Dean knew that technically, no, she couldn’t prove that it hadn’t been touched by anyone other than the bartender and waitress.

Really? she asked with exasperation, looking to Adam for help.

He has a point.

Her eyes narrowed and scrutinized them in disbelief. Dean knew Adam would back him up, regardless of how thin his case was. Working for the police department, Adam knew how easy it was for women’s drinks to get spiked.

Carrie scoffed loudly at them. "Well, I’ll make sure I call you the next time I need a lecture on ‘stranger danger.’" Dean noticed that she hadn’t backed away from him. She was still in his face—or with their height difference, as close to his face as she could get. The sound of a woman’s throat clearing interrupted the staring contest.

Here are your drinks, the waitress said, as she placed them on the table and quickly left. This time, she didn’t ask for more orders. It was apparent that she felt the tension between Dean and Carrie, and she wasn’t the only one. They had developed a small audience from their group. Multiple pairs of eyes shifted back and forth in anticipation.

* * *

In any other circumstance, this wouldn’t warrant much attention from Danielle. As Carrie’s best friend, she was used to her tendencies for the dramatic. Carrie didn’t seek out arguments,