Pivot

by Kat Martin

  Praise for Kat Martin

  “Filled with suspense, action and sizzling scenes, the pages of this book practically turn themselves.”

  —Bookpage on Beyond Danger

  “The kind of taut, edge-of-your-seat action you crave from a suspenseful book.”

  —Bustle on Beyond Reason

  “Martin whips together unforgettable characters and a high-octane plot with more twists and turns than a street in San Francisco . . . As the suspense unfurls at a breathtaking pace, readers will be captivated by this tale of drug dealers, foreign terrorists, bloody violence, and hot, steamy sex, all leading to a shocking ending. Martin’s fans and newcomers alike will enjoy every moment of this thrill ride.”

  —Publishers Weekly, STARRED REVIEW on Beyond Reason

  “Intense mystery and sensual love scenes will lure readers into this novel and not let go until the final page is turned.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Against the Wild

  Praise for Rebecca Zanetti

  “Zanetti’s . . . romantic thriller explodes with action, spice and humor.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Hidden

  “The first installment in Zanetti’s new, steamy romantic-suspense series starts with a bang, and quirky secondary characters will make readers long for the next tale. Fans of J. D. Robb and Karen Robards will love Zanetti’s series start.”

  —Booklist on Hidden

  “The suspense is chilling and the romance is hot in Rebecca Zanetti’s Hidden . . . The ticking-clock plot stretches the nerves, but Zanetti balances this with touches of humor—a dog in high heels!—and the burgeoning bond between lovers in her engrossing, entertaining read.”

  —Bookpage on Hidden

  “A romance genre classic.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Mercury Striking

  Praise for Alexandra Ivy

  “A satisfying mystery . . . Ivy’s clever foreshadowing keeps the tension high throughout this fast-moving tale, and the romance sizzles.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Pretend You’re Safe

  “A pulse-raising romantic thriller.”

  —Bookpage on Pretend You’re Safe

  “You Will Suffer is a brilliantly executed murder mystery . . . A well-written, very twisted story with amazing characters.”

  —Fresh Fiction on You Will Suffer

  “The cleverly written premise is intriguing and intense.”

  —The Reading Café

  More Romantic Suspense from Kat Martin

  Against the Wild

  Against the Sky

  Against the Tide

  Into the Fury

  Into the Whirlwind

  Into the Firestorm

  Beyond Reason

  Beyond Danger

  Beyond Control

  More Romantic Suspense from Rebecca Zanetti

  Hidden

  Fallen

  Taken

  More Romantic Suspense from Alexandra Ivy

  Kill Without Mercy

  Kill Without Shame

  Pretend You’re Safe

  What Are You Afraid Of?

  You Will Suffer

  The Intended Victim

  PIVOT

  KAT MARTIN

  ALEXANDRA IVY

  REBECCA ZANETTI

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for Kat Martin

  Praise for Rebecca Zanetti

  Praise for Alexandra Ivy

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  AGAINST THE HEART

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  SHAKEN

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  ECHOES OF THE PAST

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  Teaser chapter

  Teaser chapter

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Compilation copyright © 2020 by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Against the Heart copyright © 2013 by Kat Martin

  Shaken copyright © 2020 by Rebecca Zanetti

  Echoes of the Past copyright © 2020 by Debbie Raleigh

  Against the Heart was previously published in an unrevised form by Wolfpack Publishing.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-5114-5

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5115-2 (eBook)

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-5115-0 (eBook)

  AGAINST THE HEART

  KAT MARTIN

  Chapter One

  “This isn’t enough, dammit! Come on, Meri, I know you’ve got that money squirreled away someplace and I want it. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get it for me now!”

  Meriwether Jones forced herself to stay focused on Joey Bandini’s face and not the escape she was planning to make, not the car, packed and waiting for her and her daughter in the parking garage under her apartment.

  “I don’t have any more money, Joey. Mrs. Vandermeer wasn’t a wealthy woman.”

  “Bullshit. Besides what she had in the bank, I bet that old biddy had money stuffed in her mattress.”

  “She had some savings when she died, and she made sure I got the money. But it wasn’t all that much.” And what she’d had was almost gone. Mrs. Vandermeer had been her foster mom. As the woman grew older, Meri had become her caregiver. As soon as Joey had seen the older woman’s obituary in the paper, he had reappeared in her life. He’d been harassing her, demanding money, certain Mrs. Vandermeer had left her a lot more than the small inheritance she’d actually received.

  Meri had paid him, hoping he would leave her alone. Instead, she was out of cash and Joey was still the bloodsucking leech he’d been before.

  When she’d checked her savings
that morning, she’d had five hundred dollars put away for the trip: four hundred in twenties in her wallet and an emergency hundred-dollar bill tucked into the hideaway spot behind her driver’s license.

  Then Joey had appeared at her door, grabbed her purse, and stolen all the cash, leaving nothing but her credit card with a three-hundred-dollar limit, and her hideaway hundred-dollar bill.

  She looked at Joey, who kept counting the twenties over and over as if they might multiply in his hand. “Four hundred bucks? That’s chicken feed. I know she left you plenty. Where’s the rest, Meri?”

  “I got eight thousand total, Joey, just like I said. I spent some of it taking care of Lily. Most of it I’ve given to you.”

  “I told you to cut the crap. You’ve still got plenty and I need it. If you don’t get it for me, you know what’s going to happen.”

  A chill slipped through her. He was going to find a way to get to Lily. He had threatened to take her daughter away from her—one way or another.

  “Leave Lily alone.”

  “You want me to leave her alone? Get me that money.”

  Meri looked at Joey. Five years ago, the night she had met him, Joey Bandini, with his dark hair and long-lashed blue eyes, had been amazingly handsome. If she didn’t know him the way she did now, maybe she would still think he was.

  But Meri saw the destruction his alcohol and drug abuse had caused, the slackness in his features, his pale skin, and the hollows in his cheeks. She knew he was a lowlife who would do anything to get what he wanted.

  She took a calming breath. “Okay, I’ll get you the money. But the bank is closed on Sunday. I won’t be able to get the money until tomorrow.” It didn’t matter what she told Joey. She wasn’t going to be there when he came back to collect. “Meet me here at noon. I’ll have the money for you then.”

  “I’ll be here at eleven and you better have at least a couple of thousand. You don’t, Lily comes with me.”

  Meri suppressed a shudder. It was hard to imagine that the man standing in front of her was Lily’s father. Amazing how just one night—one stupid night—could change your life forever.

  “I said I’d get you the money. Now get out of here and leave me alone.”

  Joey tucked the roll of twenties into the pocket of his black leather jacket. “Tell Lily her daddy sends his love.”

  Turning away from Joey’s grinning face, Meri walked back into her apartment and firmly closed the door. Trembling as she stood at the window, she watched until Joey and two of his no-good friends got into Joey’s beat-up Ford and disappeared.

  Unfortunately, tomorrow they’d be back for the money she didn’t have. Her girlfriends had tried to get her to call the police, but Meri didn’t trust the cops, hadn’t since she was a teenager, shunted from one foster home to another. Back then, a lot of her problems had been her own fault, but even now, trust didn’t come easy.

  And the hard truth was, Joey was Lily’s father—DNA would prove it. Meri didn’t know what the police might say about that and she wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  “Lily, honey, come on. It’s time for us to leave.” Her four-year-old daughter came running out of the bedroom. Lily had the same dark hair as Joey, the same blue eyes, but any other sign the two were related was in Joey’s drug-hazed brain. “Go get your travel bag and let’s go.”

  “Okay.” Lily raced back to her bedroom and grabbed her red wheeled bag with a ladybug on the front. Meri grabbed the handle of her carry-on. The bags were the last two items she needed to load into the car.

  In minutes she was on her way, driving her old, reliable Chevy Malibu out of Riverside, then hitting the I-15 freeway heading north. Though she had a possible destination in mind, with her money now mostly gone, she would have to be flexible. She wasn’t completely sure where she was going to end up, just somewhere out of California where Joey couldn’t find her. The I-15 was closest to her apartment. She could change the route as she went along. It didn’t really matter. As long as she wound up somewhere Joey couldn’t continue to harass her and Lily.

  She was on her way as far as the money in her wallet and her credit card would take her, on her way to a life somewhere else.

  Meri just prayed wherever it was, it would be far enough away to disappear.

  * * *

  Ian Brodie took the Argonne Road exit off the freeway, east of Spokane. The road took him north, into the open Washington countryside. It didn’t take long to reach the rural, ten-acre property where he had been raised, the two-story farmhouse his father had been living in for the last thirty-five years.

  He pulled his dark green Jeep Cherokee up in front of the white two-story, wood-frame structure and turned off the engine, just sat there for a while. He’d moved out right after high school, gone to college in Seattle where he’d majored in police science, then become a cop with the Seattle PD. He’d left that profession years ago, taking a job as a private investigator for one of the local security firms. Now he owned his own very successful business in Seattle, Brodie Security, Inc.

  As busy as he was, Ian didn’t get back to Spokane all that often, hadn’t seen his dad in nearly two years.

  Guilt slipped through him. He should have returned a lot sooner. But since his mother had died five years ago, his father had changed. Daniel Brodie was little more than a shell of the man he’d once been. These days he was bitter, sour, and most of the time, downright unpleasant.

  Ian looked at the wood-frame house. The place had deteriorated since the last time he was there. The white paint on the door was peeling, the front yard needed mowing, the rain gutter above the porch was hanging loose. He had figured the house would be badly in need of repair and had taken two weeks off to get the work done.

  He had called his father, a little reluctantly since he was afraid his dad would tell him to stay away.

  Climbing out of the Jeep, he headed for the door, trying to ignore the dread churning in his stomach. The front door was unlocked, the way it always was. Daniel Brodie didn’t believe in locked doors. Ian had tried to tell him that times had changed, but his dad refused to listen.

  Daniel Brodie lived in the past and it looked like he always would.

  Ian walked into the house, calling his father’s name. “Dad! Dad, it’s me, Ian!”

  “I’m in the den!” his father yelled back, not bothering to come out and greet his only son. Ian steeled himself and walked in that direction.

  Only one set of curtains had been opened in the living room, which was dark and smelled airless and musty. The furniture hadn’t been moved or cleaned since before Ian’s mother had died, the same burgundy overstuffed sofa, same maple coffee table, same crocheted doilies on the tables and the arms of the chairs, the cotton thread no longer white, but yellowed with age.

  As he passed the kitchen the smell of rotten food hit him, making his stomach churn. A stack of half-eaten TV dinners sat on the kitchen counter, along with a three-foot stack of dirty dishes.

  Ian silently cursed. The place was a screaming mess, far worse than he had imagined.

  He continued into the den, found his dad sitting in his favorite dark brown Naugahyde recliner, his feet up, newspapers strewn all over the floor.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  Daniel cast him little more than a glance. “’Bout time you showed up. How long has it been? Two years? Three?”

  “Two years. And you’re right, it’s been way too long.”

  His dad grunted. At sixty, his hair was completely gray. He’d been a tall man, six-two, an inch taller than Ian. Now he was stoop-shouldered, his face too thin, and somehow he looked smaller. The white bristles on his cheeks said he hadn’t shaved in days.

  “You want a beer?” his dad asked. He was watching a football game, blue eyes the same shade as Ian’s glued to the screen.

  “No, thanks.” Ian blew out a breath as he glanced around the dismal room. “Listen, Dad, like I said on the phone, I’m here to help you get the place in shape. I’m going to carry
my duffel up to my old room, put on some work clothes, and get started.”

  His father just shrugged. “Suit yourself. You always have.”

  Ian let the remark slide. After all, he deserved it. But he was here now and he wasn’t afraid of hard work.

  Two hours later, when all he’d managed to do was repair the rain gutters around the perimeter of the house and pick up the trash in the yard, hadn’t even begun the job of cleaning up inside, he decided he could use some help. There was plenty he could be doing outside while a cleaner put the inside of the place back in order.

  There was a supermarket in a shopping center down Argonne Road, he recalled. He hadn’t been there in years, but he remembered the bulletin board just inside the door that held cards and notes left by people who were looking for work. They were usually locals, trustworthy folks. He’d start his search there.

  Ignoring the unpleasant odors inside the house, he went back into the den. “You need anything from the store, Dad? I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll be right back.”

  “Get a couple of those TV dinners. We’ll heat them up for supper.”

  Ian’s stomach rolled. “I’ll get something. I’ll be right back.” He left the house and stepped outside, trying not to sigh in relief. At least his room was the same as he’d left it the last time he was there. He’d opened the windows to air it out, but the bed was made, the floors clean. A little dust didn’t bother him.