Anger, Managed Read online

  Anger, Managed

  By

  Amy Robyn

  Copyright © 2016

  www.facebook.com/AmyRobyn1author

  Introduction

  Ella is a tough as nails, FBI agent who has had it with men. She catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman. She decides to teach the SOB a lesson. Who knew that shooting above his head would land her in Anger Management?

  Ty meets the woman he can’t live without in Anger Management. Who would have thought that an even tempered doctor would fall instantly in love with a smart mouthed, foul tempered FBI agent? It must be love because neither can keep their hands off each other.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Table of Contents

  Legal Notes

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  About The Author

  Other Books By (Author)

  Legal Notes

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

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Copyright© 2016 Amy Robyn. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Version 2016.04.02

  Chapter 1. Ella

  I am not sure why I am here. It’s not like I actually hit the bastard. I am trained to shoot, if I wanted the fucker dead he would be dead. I just wanted him to piss his pants and I succeeded. Too bad the ugly whore he was doing was still underneath him. I can laugh about it now. The asshole pressed charges, saying I was trying to kill him. Again if that were the case he would be.

  I work for the FBI. I have been with them for two years as a field agent. I had just gotten off of a double shift, tracking down an arms dealer. I was exhausted and only thinking about climbing into bed when I walked in on my boyfriend sleeping with his slutty secretary. I shouldn’t have been surprised it’s not like I didn’t know what kind of man he was before I got involved. What is it about us women that we think we can change a man?

  He was very surprised to see me, but more surprised when I pulled out my gun and proceeded to shoot inches from his head. You think I enjoyed hearing the shrieking bimbo as she flailed around on my boyfriend’s cock? Hell no. He cried his eyes out while she screamed and the whole time I thought ‘what the hell did I ever see in this guy?’ I mean come on. Here he is not even trying to protect the plastic bimbo.

  Now, I am here and I am pissed that I have to be. Anger Management. Who in the world would think that talking in front of a group of losers was a way to end your aggression? If anything it seems to be adding to mine. I feel a headache coming on. You know the kind that starts behind the eyes and feels like something is behind them, trying to get out.

  This man is droning on about how he lost his job because he punched a customer. His whining is making my fingers itch to choke him. Okay maybe my superior has a point. The only thing that is keeping me in my seat now is that I am playing a game, I am trying to figure out what each person did to get landed in here before they talk. The agent in me is testing my skills. The little old lady I have pegged for road rage. The man to her right is domestic abuse and to the left, is Mr. Sexy.

  I am stilling trying to figure out Mr. Sexy. If I had a dick it would be hard. The man is gorgeous. He is tall even for me. I always hated my height. I am nearly six foot and guys in school were intimidated by my height. It used to tick me off that none would ever ask me out. Then while I was in college I got tired of being asked out. Grass is always greener on the other side, my momma used to say.

  Mr. Sexy has me stymied and that’s not easy to do. I honestly do not think he belongs here. What could he have done? Not tip a waitress. Even that doesn’t seem to fit. What is really getting to me is how his big beautiful green eyes have not left me since he sat down. Curse those pretty eyes. I shouldn’t even be tempted. Some women love a great ass and some like a killer body. Me it is soulful eyes. Pretty big eyes fringed in thick lashes makes my panties wet.

  I am not sure Mr. Sexy has even blinked. I seem to be his soul focus. I wonder if he is like that in the bedroom. The jackass that caused me to be in this situation, was lacking when it comes to sexual prowess. I want someone who takes charge and makes sure I cum first. Rat bastard, tried and most of the time I would fake it. It was a pity cum. A cum that was nothing more than your good acting skills could supply. Like he knew the difference.

  I want someone who can tell me what to do and not fear me. I want to be tossed around and fucked within an inch of my life. I want a larger than average cock that can last longer than the shmuck did. Two pumps and a squirt does nothing for me. I want a real man who isn’t afraid to stroke the clit while riding me. Dick-less wonder’s pride got in the way of him ever being a good lover. The slutty secretary was sure carrying on like he was good but I know a good play acting. She can have him.

  It is Mr. Sexy’s turn to talk. His beautiful green eyes stay on me as he talks about threatening his neighbor who’s dog keeps shitting in his yard. I am not buying it. For some reason my bull shit meter is dinging. His brown hair is medium length and very well styled. His clothes are wrinkle free and he doesn’t have a single blemish on his golden skin. He screams married at a glance but then you really look at him and you see it. This is a man of money. Not sure how much but enough to hire someone to clean and iron his clothes. He also does not have a violent bone in his body.

  When they get to me, I tell them about my ex and his shitty display of idiocy. I talk about shooting at him but knowing I would miss.

  “Your Superior Mr. Ricker sent me his file on you. He says you are a very good marksman. Can you tell me why you shot at him in the first place?” The head shrink asked.

  “I wanted to scare the shit out of him. I had to buy a new bed anyway. The woman probably had crabs.” Mr. Sexy starts laughing. I can’t help it, I smile back at him. Oh lord, the man has dimples. I am so fucked.

  “Yes, I get that but you stated to your superior that you were never in love with this man.” And there lies the kicker. I have even thought about this.

  “I think it was the principle of the matter. He needed to have balls enough to say we were done rather than bring home a bimbo.” I say as I look at the shrink who shakes his head.

  “There is more to it. Dig deep.” His penetrating eyes hold mine as I think back to how I felt walking in to that room.

  “I was angry that I had not already broken up with him before I had to buy a new bed.” I say but that’s not quite it.

  “He used me for a place to live and I knew it in that instant. He was a loser and I was stupid enough to think he would change.” Finally the psychologist nods his head.

  “I want you to think about how to avoid that in the future.” He tells me. I shrug my shoulders.

  “Avoid men like the plague and then no more dick-less losers.” I tell him as Mr. Sexy starts laughing again. Dr. Davidson glares at him until he sobers up.

  “I think you should concentrate on not dating guys that need any changing and you need to think of the pros and cons. What can you live with and what has to not be
in the equation.” Dr. Davidson says. Sound advice for someone who probably met his wife in college and married as soon as he got residency. Now, probably cheats on his trophy wife with a nurse or cleaning lady.

  I know I have become cynical in my life and with those around me. If you saw the shit I did every day you would too. Maybe it is time for another annual vacation. Where I say I will go somewhere fun and not be so cautious but every damn year I spend it in my apartment trying to reevaluate my life. Well I can do that shit now. Why do I not have a man in my life? Well, because they suck. Why am I still in this apartment? Because my ass is too lazy to move. I know the answers.

  Maybe it’s time for a change. I will look at houses tomorrow. Oh who am I kidding? I will wake up tomorrow and go in to the office and work. Then, I will be too tired to do anything else but come home and crash. Sounds like the story of my life. I need something to shake up the monotony. I look over at Mr. Sexy. I bet he would be a great ride. Of course the skeptic in me is looking for his flaws. Maybe he has a tiny dick. My eyes travel down and he clears his throat. Damn. Busted.

  I look back up quickly to find him smiling and he gives me a wink. Damn him and his gorgeous dimples and fuck me eyes. He is too good looking for his own good or mine. I wish I could say that I handled things like an adult and just looked away and continued to listen to the remainder of the people, but I can’t. I turn my hand to him and let my middle finger spring up like it was a kid on a trampoline. Damn thing likes to get me in trouble. The cheeky bastard.

  He laughs even harder until he gets a disparaging look from the good Doctor. I roll my eyes and try to ignore him for the remainder of this session. It was even harder than the time I tried not to eat the last chocolate truffle that I knew my mother wanted. I swear to this day that a little devil sat on my shoulder encouraging me to eat it. “Come on nobody will know it was you” It told me, only the smear of chocolate on my upper lip as I plead my case was my downfall. Thankfully, mom took pity on her pathetic child and her first lie.

  Ignoring Mr. Sexy was like having that devil on my shoulder again. I can even see her now in her red leather outfit with a whip like tail and little red horns sprouting out of my jet black hair. Yes she is me only with more attitude, if that was even possible. “Look at that sexy man. I bet we could take him home and ride him like a prized pony.” Damn devil voice, go away. Although what she says does have merit.

  I look up when people start standing up from the circle of chairs. I must have been off in my own world. I try not to do that often. In my line of work that’s a death sentence. I must always remain on guard. I never know whom I pissed off by arresting them or someone they care about. We lost a field agent a month ago that way. I told myself then that I would always stay aware of my surroundings and here I am letting myself be distracted.

  I need to get the hell out of here and learn to block Mr. Sexy from now on. It is too soon to get involved after the last attempt at having a love life went up in smoke. I look over at him one last time as I make my way to the door and seeing him following the sway of my hips. Not a chance in hell will I be able to avoid him. I’m fucked.

  Chapter 2. Ty

  This is the last time I am scooping up poop out of my yard. The neighbor is a menace. I swear he brings his damn dog over here so that he doesn’t have to clean up the mutt’s mess. Why have the dog in the first place if you’re not going to take care of them. I should not have to do this. I decided not to get a dog until I find the woman I am going to spend my life with. The only problem is that all the women I meet are my patients or related to one.

  I hate the idea of meeting a woman in the bar. I have done it and even enjoyed it at one time in my life but typically those women are looking for just a good time. I want something meaningful in my life. I know, revoke my man card now. I do not care if it makes me sound like a woman. I am thirty two and I am ready to start a family. I want that one woman that will be my partner during the day and let me dominate her at night in our bedroom.

  I’m not talking BDSM. I am not in to that shit. I just like to be in charge and control her body. I do not like inflicting pain on anyone. I see pain every day at my office. It’s the last thing I want to see with my woman. I am a family practice physician and I love my job. I opened my own practice two years ago when working the ER became too much for me. I enjoy setting my own schedule and not having to see blood and guts on a daily bases.

  I was just coming out of my building when I saw her yesterday. I knew right away that she was the one I was looking for. I do not know how I knew. I just did. She walked past me with her waist length, curtain of black hair. I hadn’t even seen her face and I was following her through the doors of the building next to mine. She looked over her shoulder and her beautiful blue eyes captured my soul. I know it sounds ridiculous, it is what it is.

  I knew then that my life would never be the same. I know that starting anything on a lie is a bad idea, I just couldn’t walk away. I needed to be in her presence and learn all I can about her. What I have learned only cemented my feelings. She is funny and courageous, with one hell of a temper. She is also a bit jaded and will need time. I can be patient. I am sure I can.

  The Anger management session was a joke but I did learn a lot about her. She is very funny and loves to be in control of her life. I do not mind giving her that control out of the bedroom. As soon as the door closes and our clothes come off though, she needs to let me lead. I am man enough to know we are equals in every way but when we are intimate I have to drive or I can’t get off.

  She is strong. That is a given knowing what she does for a living. She is also vulnerable in a way that makes my protective instincts want to take over. She has been hurt, though I do not believe it was from the cheating bastard that she shot at. There is a story there I need to learn. Why would such a beautiful woman choose to be in the FBI? She could be a model for god’s sake. I do not think she would ever be a beauty queen type. She might even slap the crap out of you for suggesting it.

  I can’t believe that some idiot out there could cheat on someone so perfect. The guy seriously has to be fucked in the head. His loss is my gain and I planning on winning her heart. Fuck, I sound like a woman. She makes me insane. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. I know it isn’t just wanting to get laid. I am playing for keeps. I want what only yesterday morning would have scared the shit out of me.

  I am taking a risk and trusting my instincts. My instincts are telling me that she is the one for me. Now, I just need to get her to agree. I have never felt so vulnerable and I am not sure I like it but I can’t seem to turn away. She has me completely intrigued. I have to have her. I need to know her likes and dislikes. What makes her tick?

  I throw away the baggy of dog poop and turn on my sprinklers, hopefully that keeps him out of my yard for a while. I shut my door and kick off my shoes. I hate Saturdays lately. I need something to occupy my time. I can think of some very intriguing ways to spend a Saturday with a certain sexy FBI agent. I hope to have her in my life as soon as possible. Next Friday can’t come soon enough.

  I clean up my kitchen and decide a nice long workout will take my mind off of my beauty queen. Not that it actually has a chance in hell of working. She is forever on my mind. I have a feeling it will always will be that way. It is amazing how quickly she has taken over my life. I never thought I would be one of those guys that would be taken down that easily. I guess I am, now. She corrupts my very thoughts with her beauty.

  I want nothing more than to own her and give her what her heart desires. I hope that takes the sting out of my deception. I jump off the treadmill and head over to the weights. I start lifting the dumbbells in rapid succession until the burning in my muscles makes me set them back down. I am about to go over to the door way and hang from my feet for my inverted sit-ups, when the doorbell rings.

  I grab the towel from the shelf as I make my way to the door. I run the towel over my face and wipe the sweat away. I throw it over my
shoulders before pulling the door open. There she is. The woman that has been on my mind from the very moment our eyes met. The woman I intend to make mine. She just doesn’t know it, yet.

  “Dr. Tyson Taylor?” She asks as she pulls a badge out of her pocket and flashes it at me.

  “Yes, that’s me.” I tell her. She winces and then continues.

  “Your neighbor, Mr. Thomas Peterson, was found dead early this morning and I need to ask you some questions.” She says as she looks me up and down. I bite my lip as I step back and allow her and her partner into my home.

  “Let’s go sit at the table. Are either of you thirsty?” They both decline the offer. It isn’t surprising. It would have been perfect having her in my home if it were under different circumstance. I couldn’t stop staring at her as we all sit down at my table. Her partner clears his throat and she flinches. Maybe I have more of her attention than I thought.

  “What were you doing between the hours of eight and nine this morning?” She asks as she opens her notebook to take notes. I always wondered if they actually take notes or if they do it to make us nervous?

  “I was grocery shopping and picking up my dry cleaning. I have the receipts to both somewhere, if you need them?” They can’t possibly think I would kill the asshole though I have thought about it. Damn it, the anger management group sessions are coming back to bite me in the ass. If I hadn’t made up an excuse to be in the same room as her, I would not be a suspect.

  “You are angry with the man. Maybe things got a little heated and you lashed out and accidentally killed him.” She asks me as her eyes penetrate me as though they can see through me. I hope she sees all that I am and how much she affects me. I will never try to deceive her.

  “I have never hit anyone in my life. I save people not inflict harm.” She writes something down and then looks back up at me. I wish I could read her better than I do. With time I will know what she is thinking by her expressions. I want that kind of intimacy with her. She may not give us the chance now that she thinks I am a suspect. Fuck. Did I shoot myself in the foot from the lie that landed me in her life? Maybe it is time for some truth.