She held his gaze. “I’m sorry, Luke, but you’re too late,” she said solemnly.
He frowned. “Too late?”
“Yes. You see…I’ve already fallen in love with you.”
Contentment—like he hadn’t felt since his parents died—filled him. He zeroed in on her lips for a kiss to seal the deal, but she pressed her index finger against his mouth.
“I’ll be your roomie on one condition,” she said.
He pulled back. “I have something more permanent in mind, but hell, what’s your condition?”
“I get to keep the cat.”
He blinked. “Cat?”
She gasped. “Shame on you. Don’t you remember my barn buddy? My protector against rats of the four-legged variety. I want to keep him.”
Luke chuckled. “Babe, you can have all the cats you want, as long as I get to protect you from everything else. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The Rogue Security Series
Risky Redemption
Four years ago, Angela Reardon was brutally attacked, and she still bears the physical scars and traumatic memories. While she’s worked hard to overcome her fears and build a successful business, she’s still haunted by her inability to identify her assailant. Now Angela only wants to be left alone—until a shadowy stranger reignites her desire to be loved. But their time together may be brief…because someone wants her dead.
CIA assassin Jake Stone’s targets deserved to die. Until now. Until he falls in love with the innocent woman he’s been hired to kill. Jake can’t fight his attraction to Angela, and he knows that someone else will be sent to finish the job. So can he save Angela and redeem himself by uncovering who wants her killed? When the trail leads him into the carnal underbelly of L.A., the truth is more shocking than even he could ever imagine.
Deadly Deception
When her mother disappears, Jessica Hargrove’s life begins to unravel. And her problems are only just beginning. A horrible secret has been revealed, threatening to destroy three generations of her family, and the one person who may be able to help her is the man she’s never stopped loving, the man who once broke her heart.
LAPD Detective Sean Burke is back in his small hometown, pondering if his career in the big city is what he really wants anymore. As painful as it is to see Jess again, she needs him. He can’t walk away when she’s about to lose everything she holds dear. But will what he discovers ruin their second chance at love?
********************************************************
Ready for more sexy, heart-pounding thrills? Turn the page to read an exciting excerpt from RISKY REDEMPTION!
Excerpt from Risky Redemption
Prologue
The present
He slouched on the edge of the bed, his fingers clutching the deadly syringe hidden in his jacket pocket. Despite the timpani drum pounding in his chest and echoing in his ears, he kept his face expressionless.
He stared at the naked, unsuspecting woman asleep on the bed, her slender body seductive even in slumber, her blond hair a halo on the pillow.
The guilt gnawing at his gut did not spring from having been inside her, making love to her earlier in the night, but from what he knew was in her heart and mind and soul. That knowledge made killing her wrong on so many levels. Sadly, he’d known it was wrong for a long time, but he had been powerless to change the course of events set in motion all those weeks ago.
His fingers tightened around the syringe. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, releasing an avalanche of regret, remorse, and resignation, but a mountain of sorrow still crushed his chest.
What kind of monster had he become?
Somewhere along the way, the compass of his conscience had lost the true magnetic north of morality.
The woman stirred and opened her eyes. At first, she smiled, but that quickly faded when their gazes met.
He hated what his eyes told her.
“Why—” she began.
Chapter 1
Fifteen weeks earlier
With long angry strides, Jake Stone paced across his office in Valley Center, California, and growled into his cell phone. “Damn it, you know I’m not in the business anymore. Why the hell are you contacting me?”
“Good to talk to you, too,” the mechanically altered voice of the Contractor answered. “The Agency has a delicate situation, and I immediately thought of you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“But we need your specialty and are willing to make accommodations and compensate well for it.”
“Not interested,” Jake insisted.
“We’re paying three times the normal fee.”
He frowned and didn’t respond. Shit, that’s a helluva lot of money, even for a high-value target. Must be a serious threat to national security. Definitely a top-level hit.
When Jake hesitated, the Contractor seized the opportunity. “It’s an incredible deal. Want to hear more?”
Even though he’d sworn off the nasty profession, maybe he should at least listen to the critical information. “Not really, but go ahead,” he muttered. “Who?”
“A twenty-nine-year-old single woman.”
“A woman? Crap.” In all his years of killing for the CIA, Jake had eliminated only two women: one, a terrorist, the other, a spy. Both deserved to die. But for a man whose parents had ingrained in him the belief that women were to be respected and protected, killing one was damn hard. “Why?” he demanded.
“Not relevant.”
“The hell it isn’t. You know I never accept a contract without knowing the target’s crime.”
After a tense moment, the voice continued, “The woman has connections to the State Department. Apparently, she gained access to some highly classified information and decided to sell it.”
“Why not arrest her for treason or whatever, instead of putting her down?”
“I don’t question the Agency’s decisions, and neither should you.”
“Look, jerk, I’m a legitimate security expert and private investigator now. I don’t work for you guys anymore, so I can ask all the questions I want.”
“You can ask, but I can’t answer.” The Contractor exhaled impatiently. “Fine. I’ll only tell you that the information she sold got one of our operatives murdered. Heard he had a wife and kids.”
“Damn, the bitch robbed those poor kids of their father.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Where?”
“She lives and works near San Diego, across the bay in Coronado.”
“A domestic hit? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jake asked.
“Well, you are within spitting distance of Mexico, and we thought—”
“My specialty is fake suicides. People don’t usually run across the border to commit suicide.”
“The Agency realizes there are complications, but we need this particular situation handled by the best. And you’re the best.”
“Kiss my ass.”
“I’ll pass. The woman looks real hot in her picture, though, so I’m sure you’d prefer to have her kiss your ass anyway. Damn, I’d love to screw her.”
“You’d screw your own mother to get some action, asshole. What’s the timing?”
The Contractor ignored the insult. “Well, that’s one of the accommodations. We understand that subtlety is of utmost importance and that your finesse takes time. Delivery would be acceptable any time in the next three months.”
“Three months?”
“Yeah, maybe you could get some action out of her yourself.” His laugh sounded harsh and crude with the mechanical alteration.
“Isn’t the Agency afraid she’ll steal and sell more secrets?”
“No. We plugged the leak at the other end.” The Contractor snickered. “And we’re sure you’ll keep a close eye on her until you complete the contract. So, what do you say?”
“I’ll think about it. Don’t call me. I’ll call you. Noon, tomorrow.”
Jake slammed the phone on the des
k.
Damn, he didn’t want to come out of retirement, but someone had to avenge their fallen comrade.
* * *
Fourteen weeks earlier
The tall man scowling at her from the front doorway was intimidating even though he wore only a large bath towel wrapped around his narrow hips. His piercing pewter eyes bored into hers so intently that she had to make a conscious effort not to look away.
“Good morning. I’m Angela Reardon from Heavenly Interiors. I have an appointment with Mr. Jake Stone.”
“You’re early.”
“Excuse me?”
“Fifteen minutes early. The appointment is at nine-thirty.”
“Yes, it is. I expected worse traffic driving up to Valley Center from Coronado.”
“You should’ve called,” he snapped.
She bristled at his rudeness. “I apologize if my timing is inconvenient. I can wait in my car for fifteen minutes, if you prefer.”
“Too late. You’ve already interrupted.”
A flurry of activity behind the man caught Angela’s eye. A moment later, a nubile young woman materialized beside him. She wore skin-tight denim shorts and a white tank top that exposed a large expanse of cleavage. A straw basket filled with several small, colorful bottles hung from her arm.
“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t take time to clean up the room. Try not to get so stressed out this week. It was hell getting the knots out of your neck and shoulders this morning.” She stretched up on her tiptoes, leaned into him, and slid her tongue between his lips. Her hand caressed the curly black hair on his bare chest. The man pulled her body tightly against him and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts. When he released her, she flipped her auburn hair back over her shoulders. “See ya Thursday, hunk. And remember, no stress.”
“Right, sugar, no stress.”
Sugar spun away, flashed a catty smile at Angela, and scampered to a silver Eclipse.
Not bothering to hide her disgust, Angela gaped at the woman until the car sped out of sight down the long winding driveway. When she turned back to the doorway, the gray eyes were studying her.
“My masseuse,” he said nonchalantly.
She raised her chin. “Perhaps I should come back at another time,” she said, her tone tight with repugnance and reserve.
“No. You’re already here.” He motioned her to follow him inside.
“Fine.” Angela frowned as she bent to pick up the decorator samples. “Would you be kind enough to help me with these?”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up to find she was talking to an empty doorway. She sighed and shook her head.
With the unwieldy pinwheel of paint color strips tucked under her arm, she grasped the handles of the two heavy catalogues of wallpaper and fabric samples. After lugging the items inside, she scowled at the man, who was already halfway up a curved staircase.
“I presume you are Mr. Stone,” she called to him.
He stopped, turned only his head, and peered down at her. “You presume correctly. Close the door.”
She pushed the massive, carved-wood door shut with her hip and shoulder. “Where would you like me to wait?”
A sly grin spread across his face. “Bring your stuff up here. The master bedroom is one of the rooms I may have you redecorate.” He resumed his climb without waiting for a response.
Angela drew a slow, deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. She rolled her head to the left and then to the right, trying to loosen the tension squeezing the back of her neck. It had taken only a few minutes to dislike Jake Stone. If he chose to retain Heavenly Interiors, she would pass his design work over to her assistant, who’d set up the appointment a few days ago. A wave of relief accompanied that decision.
She glanced up the stairs. Bedroom. Dread quickly replaced relief. A shiver raced across her skin. She swallowed hard and steeled herself. This is a business meeting. I can do this.
Finding renewed resolve, she climbed the long staircase. The samples seemed to grow heavier with each step. Finally at the top, she set everything down on the plush, gray carpet. While flexing her fingers, Angela surveyed the portion of the house visible from her vantage point.
A contemporary chandelier was suspended on a long chain from the ceiling of the cavernous, two-story foyer. She noticed the intricate illumination pattern it cast on the pearl ceiling and walls and on the black marble floor far below.
Her gaze moved upstairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a dramatic view of hills covered with granite boulders, but no houses. Across from the spacious, airy landing where she stood, a small alcove was furnished as a cozy library. To her left stretched a hallway with five closed doors. In the opposite direction, a short hallway ended at the open, double-door entrance to what she guessed was the master bedroom.
A voice emanated from that room. “To your right, Ms. Reardon.”
“I’m coming, Mr. Stone. I was just admiring your lovely home.”
No answer.
Angela heaved an exasperated sigh and lifted her burdens again. She marched through the doorway but halted abruptly. Her eyes widened.
The master bedroom was enormous, one of the largest she had ever seen. A partially open door revealed a peek into a luxurious bathroom. Across the room, an archway framed the entrance to a walk-in closet. Another arched opening led into an adjoining space containing a massage table and several pieces of weight-lifting and exercise equipment.
A variety of smells invaded her nostrils: spicy, pungent, musky. Her eyes searched for the sources. Two small colorful bottles lay on top of a towel draped across the massage table.
Her gaze traveled the room, stopping at the huge bed. She sniffed. One specific odor assaulted her senses.
Her throat tightened.
A black and tan comforter lay on the floor at the end of the bed. Black silk sheets and four oversized pillows were jumbled in disarray. On the nightstand lay three torn condom wrappers.
Angela’s breath caught. She shuddered. Her heart thumped and echoed in her ears.
The scars from her past burned in the present.
Tiny beads of moisture strung themselves across her upper lip. The memories swirled inside her as the room spun around her. The catalogues dropped from her hands.
Black silk sheets. Black creeping into her vision.
Her eyelids and head drooped. That hideous smell. The smell of sex.
Oh God, no!
* * *
Uptight bitch. Jake had seen the disgust on the woman’s face as she’d watched his masseuse leave. Well, to hell with her. Angela Reardon was a traitor who’d gotten an operative killed, possibly someone he’d known during his time with the Agency. He already resented being pulled out of retirement to kill a woman, so maybe he’d complete the contract quicker than originally planned. Perhaps her personality would even make his job easier.
But damn, he was pissed. And it was affecting his work. Acting like a jerk wouldn’t lure her into his deadly web of deception. He needed to play nice with the bitch so he could finish the job as soon as possible.
Jake slipped off the towel and hurled it across the dressing area of the walk-in closet. He looked down critically at his tense, naked body. His masseuse was right. He was stressed, coiled. He had really needed the third climax that Ms. Reardon had interrupted. Shaking his head with frustration, he swore silently.
He stepped into a pair of khaki shorts, sans underwear. While flipping through the mass of hangers for a shirt, he paused when he heard an odd one-two thud from the bedroom. A louder thump followed a few seconds later.
Puzzled, Jake walked around the closet’s center divider and peered out the opening.
“Ms. Reardon?” he called.
No answer.
Despite his instructions, had she refused to come to his bedroom? Was the arrogant snob too prudish to enter a bachelor’s personal space?
With a devilish smirk, he strolled across the room toward the door. But when he rounded
the foot of the bed, he froze.
Angela Reardon lay sprawled on the carpet.
“Shit.”
Two long strides and he knelt beside her. Instinctively, he checked for a pulse. Had nature done the job for him? No. The woman’s pulse was fine. A cursory examination revealed no signs of injury so he scooped up her petite body and laid her on the bed.
He returned quickly from the bathroom with a cold, wet washcloth and smelling salts from a first-aid kit. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jake leaned over the unconscious woman.
While he wiped the sheen of perspiration from her delicate features, he admired her flawless complexion, warmed by a light tan. High cheekbones. Full, tempting lips. He brushed the blond hair off her face and rubbed a few silky strands between his fingertips. The shoulder-length hair encircled her head like an aura on the black pillowcase. He appraised the feminine figure hidden beneath the ivory-colored, linen business suit: ample breasts, thin waist, and slender hips. Damn, why couldn’t she be an ugly traitor?
He wanted to touch but didn’t. She was too vulnerable. He shook his head vigorously to clear it of thoughts that shouldn’t have been there.
Finally, he forced himself to wave the smelling salts under her nose. She groaned and turned her head away. Another pass of the acrid substance and Angela’s eyes fluttered open. Jake stared into pools of dark chocolate.
For only a second her eyes reflected confusion. Then her gaze dipped to Jake’s naked chest. Terror replaced confusion.
Her scream shattered the silence.
Her palm stung his cheek. He recoiled and blocked the next slap. Changing targets, she pummeled his chest with her fists.
Only Obsession (Rogue Security Book 3) Page 29