by Marie Harte
Peter Omaney had been found dead next to Sarah Moreland’s body. The cause of death had been ruled a suicide. Apparently, Sarah had been the key to his redemption, and her loss had pushed him over the edge. They’d found Peter’s contact at Westlake. But, to everyone’s dismay, the man had fled before they could nail him for conspiracy to commit murder.
Every one of the men at Ray’s house had been indicted on one charge or another. The bust was a huge coup for Westlake Enterprises, as well as the federal agencies, for taking down Wraith. Max had chosen to remain quiet about their part in the effort, not wanting any undue attention from the government.
“You heard that Thorne, Storm, and Luc are starting work here next week,” Cole said as he pocketed a chocolate bar from her desk drawer. The rat. “You still want to leave? I’ll miss you.”
“Oh, come on. You hated me working here.”
“Only because it’s dangerous. I liked spending time with you.” He drew silent, and the worry in his gaze concerned her.
“Okay, spit it out.”
“You and Hunter, are you sure?”
She’d never been more sure about anything in her life. “About running a consulting business with him? Yes. He’s wanted to be on his own for a while, and I like the idea of us working on a contractual basis. Between his practical knowledge about security and my business sense and contacts, we’ll make a killing. And don’t worry, he’s as bad as you are about keeping me safe.”
“Well, that’s one thing, at least.” Cole sighed.
“Now, about me loving him? I do. I can’t help myself. He’s the first guy I’ve been completely honest with, and he loves me so much.” He just hasn’t said it yet, the stubborn man. But he showed her in so many ways. She smiled, surprised to find tears in her eyes. “I’m so happy with him.”
“Aw, Alex. Don’t cry.” Her brother took her in his arms. “If you like him, I’ll like him. I’ll try to like him,” he amended.
She chuckled and wiped her eyes. Cole dropped his arms, and she stepped back, finally on her own in a way she’d never before been. The independence gratified her. “I won’t be far, Cole. I mean, I’m living at his place, but we’re going to keep an office at the Westlake building. It was the only way Jurek would agree to let Hunter go. I think he wants to keep an eye on us personally.”
“Probably.” Cole toyed with her stapler. “So you’re going to work with him. You love him, and you’re living with him. And?”
“And what?”
Hunter answered her, though she hadn’t heard him walk down the hall. “And he wants to know when we’re getting married.”
Alex stared at him in shock. They hadn’t mentioned marriage. Hell, he still hadn’t admitted how he felt about her. She’d stayed with him night and day until he recovered, blathered on and on about how she loved him and worried about him. And then he’d insisted she move in with him. But no talk about a long-term relationship.
“Well?” Cole asked as they stared at one another.
“Answer him, Alex. Are you going to marry me or not?” Hunter demanded. He had the nerve to sound impatient.
“I don’t know. No one’s asked me yet.” She glared at him. Good Lord, did she need to spell it out?
Cole smirked, until Hunter said something under his breath. Her brother quickly took his leave.
“What did you say to him?” she asked as Hunter closed the door behind Cole.
“I said if he didn’t want to see a repeat of what he’d seen before, he’d better get his ass gone.”
“Oh.” What else could she say to that?
Hunter closed the distance between them. “Marry, me, angel. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“That’s it?”
He frowned, then dug into his pocket. “Mercenary little thing, aren’t you?” He handed her a small box. “Open it.”
She did and trembled as she put the square-cut, emerald engagement ring on her finger. “It’s beautiful.”
“Okay, you’re wearing it. That’s a yes.” Hunter leaned down to kiss her, but she stopped him.
“Hold it. Just marry me? What about I love you?”
“You do? You’ve never said it before,” he teased.
Alex poked him hard in the chest. “I said it about a hundred times while you were in the hospital and since then, you monster. Now tell me. I want to hear you say it.” She tried to hold on to her irritation, but the love in his eyes brought only joy.
“I love you, Alexandra Sainte. And I can’t live without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Finally. I love you, too!” She hugged him tight. “I’d love to marry you.”
“It’s about damn time.” He hugged her back and lifted her off the floor. “You’re mine, angel. All mine.”
About the Author
Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Marie Harte has over 100 books published with more constantly on the way. She’s a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after. Visit http://marieharte.com and fall in love.
Other Romantic Suspense Releases
Circe’s Recruits
Roane
Zack & Ace
Derrick
Hale
PowerUp!
The Lost Locket
RetroCog
Whispered Words
Fortune’s Favor
Flight of Fancy
Silver Tongue
Entranced
Killer Thoughts
Westlake Enterprises
To Hunt a Sainte
Storming His Heart
Love in Electric Blue
For more contemporary, paranormal, suspense, and sci-fi romance, visit marieharte.com and fall in love
Storming His Heart: Excerpt
Look for the second book in the Westlake Enterprises series
Storm spotted the study door and hurried. A glance at the bedside clock showed she was running out of time. She dragged her shoes with her, careful to leave no evidence of her presence behind.
Using the codes Thorne had also appropriated from Locklen’s mind, she unlocked the door and entered. The light from the bedroom illuminated the moderate space. She noted the shelves of old books, nautical charts and antiques encased in glass. And there, atop his large mahogany desk, a wrought iron statue of Captain Michael G. Locklen, founder of the family’s dynasty. That statue meant the jewels were close.
A sudden bang made her jump. Outside, the wind shrieked and blew a tree limb against the study window overlooking the back gardens. With her luck, the power would go out. Not needing more of a headache than she already had, Storm closed the heavy drapes and the study door before turning on the desk lamp. Shadows darkened the corners of an already dim room, but she didn’t dare expose herself with more lighting.
In this room, Locklen relied on simple locks to secure his valuables. His antiquated security matched the aged valuables he held dear. She made short work of his desk using a lockpick she’d hidden in the heel of her shoe. A search through his things turned up nothing. She tapped her foot in frustration.
“Where are you?” The statue was here, therefore the jewels had to be here. She looked again around the room and noticed an antique lamp standing over a plush leather reading chair. It was hard to see since the desk light didn’t illuminate much more than the top of the desk.
Storm approached the lamp for better study. She still didn’t want to turn on the main light on the off chance one of the guards patrolling outside the house might notice. And then she saw it. A sparkling, emerald necklace atop the lampshade, right in plain sight. From a distance it had looked like part of the lampshade’s decoration. Relieved she’d finally found it, she reached for the necklace.
“Move and you’ll be very sorry,” a voice whispered in the dark
ness a split second before someone yanked her back against a hard frame and covered her mouth with his hand.
Storm froze. She didn’t necessarily need to see this intruder to get him to bend to her will, but eye contact always strengthened her bond. She struggled to get free.
“Don’t scream or I’ll gag you,” he threatened and released her mouth, keeping his hand close should she try to yell.
“I don’t know who you are, but I’m sure you don’t want me,” she whispered, her voice smooth, like the deceptive calm before a hurricane. She concentrated on an image of herself walking out of the study. “Why don’t you just let me go and I’ll forget you were ever here?”
The arm around her tightened—not what she’d expected. He secured her hands behind her back with a speed that betrayed expertise then turned her around. Unfortunately, she could see nothing of his face but brown eyes and a firm mouth through his ski mask.
Those eyes... Damn it. She knew those eyes. Her own widened. “You were at that bar trying to steal my witness three weeks ago,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so breathless.
“Whose witness?” he drawled, humor in his deep voice.
“Who are you?” But she knew. Just her luck that of all the agents she might have run into, she had to encounter the one she had nightly fantasies about. Rafe Savage—sexy asshole extraordinaire.
Storming His Heart
RetroCog: Excerpt
For more psychic romantic suspense, check out the PowerUp! series
“Enjoy your stay.” Lara nodded to the elderly couple and locked their credit card receipt in the old-fashioned register. The nine-room inn, once an infamous saloon and brothel, now boasted polished pinewood floors, comfortable southwestern décor intermixed with nineteenth-century antiques, and the modern conveniences of air-conditioning, spa bathrooms, and a state-of-the-art kitchen Lara used to its fullest. Nine rooms of rental bliss for those who wanted the real Southwestern atmosphere of a brothel done in tasteful hues and tacky tassels. Lara had loved the place the minute she’d laid eyes on it six months ago.
And if she had her way, she’d own it in a few short years.
She watched a couple people relax in the formal living room while their newest guests went upstairs. To both her relief and suspicion, the voice in her head remained quiet. So far, so good. That made two weeks of relative peace.
“Not bad,” Frank said from directly behind her, making her jump. He chuckled. “I am the king of stealth.”
“And a pain in my ass.” She grinned along with him. Lara didn’t take to people, but from day one, something between her and Frank had clicked. Before she could start a volley of verbal abuse that would be sure to take them past their daily insults into truly raunchy rhetoric, a man entered the inn.
Everything around Lara came to a complete halt.
Hello, handsome. About time you arrived.
Lara winced. Oh hell. The voice had returned with a vengeance.
“Honey, I have this one.” Frank preened as he slicked back his shoulder-length dark hair, which emphasized his good looks.
Lara ignored the husky voice clucking in her mind. It really had been a stretch to think she could outrun her past. Especially with all the ghost stories in Brownville. Doing her best to compose herself, she donned the veil of normalcy she’d worked most her life to perfect and huffed, “No way he’s gay.”
“Sexuality has nothing to do with this. It’s all about charm. Just watch me work my magic.”
“Please. Even you can’t turn a straight man gay within five seconds of meeting him. You’re not that good.”
Frank snickered. “But I’d love to try. Come on, Lara, get your head out of the gutter. I’m not after sex.”
“Yet.”
He ignored her. “Ten bucks says I can finagle dinner with tall, dark, and handsome. A friendly face to show him around town; that’s all. Sex on the first date is too tacky, anyway. I’m not that easy.”
Yes, he was. Used to Frank’s amusing arrogance, Lara nodded. “You’re on.”
Frank approached the stranger with his typical swagger, one of youth and confidence that never failed to attract attention from both men and women, regardless of their orientation. With bright blue eyes, a trim frame, and a sunny disposition, Frank could charm the scales off a snake. In a town that welcomed temperamental artists of all sizes, shapes, and sexualities, her part-time coworker fit in perfectly. Frank Hanover — popular figure on the art scene and her right-hand man when it came to running the inn.
He rarely struck out when presented with a potential bedmate, and as Lara watched from her position behind a section of the inn’s original bar, she couldn’t help feeling a tingle of disappointment. The stranger took Frank’s hand in a firm grip and seemed to hold it a minute longer than he had to. Just more proof that all the good ones were taken.
She and Frank had the same taste in men. Tall, rugged, and intense. The stranger had shaggy brown hair flecked with gold and paired with light brown eyes that looked closer to... green when he turned his head and the light hit him just right. He had an arresting face, one more interesting than classically handsome. Intelligence shone in his eyes set beneath dark brows that angled in confusion at something Frank said.
Lara couldn’t help noticing the man’s broad shoulders even under the long tan field coat he wore. Oh, and what nice thighs he had. She felt like the big bad wolf angling for a tender morsel and chuckled at the image. Her inner voice chuckled with her, and that quickly, her amusement fled.
At the sound of her laughter, the man looked over Frank’s shoulder and met her gaze.
His eyes widened as if he recognized her in some way. But Lara would never forget a man like him. It wasn’t his looks so much as his presence. He screamed intensity just by standing there. Frank walked with him toward Lara, and she did her best not to smirk at her friend’s barely disguised disappointment.
The stranger looked even taller up close.
They stared at one another, but he didn’t speak. She added silent to her tall, dark, and handsome description.
“Welcome to the Lady Fine Inn.” She wished she didn’t sound so breathless. “I’m Lara, the manager, and I see you already met Frank.”
“I just got into town. Do you have any rooms available?” His voice rushed over her like liquid heat, and to her embarrassment, Lara felt her body respond.
RetroCog
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