Sweet Deception: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense
Sweet Deception: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense
Angel Nicholas
Ally Thompson’s life is perfect. Calm, quiet, some might even say boring. The sole survivor of a tragic accident, she’s not the adventurous type—something she’s decided to change.One roller-coaster ride…A murder and a detective in disguise shatter Ally’s first attempt at “fun.” Detective Greg Marsing is everything Ally knows better than to want. The gun-totting, tattooed scumbags trying to kill her are almost a welcome distraction from her pointless attraction.Blows her world wide open…A contract on Ally has every lowlife for miles gunning for her. Sparks fly while she and her unlikely hero scramble to unravel clues. As the deadly game escalates, Greg has to decide if self-preservation rates higher than a love worth dying for.
Sweet Deception
ANGEL NICHOLAS
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014
Copyright © Angel Nicholas 2014
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Angel Nicholas asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
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No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
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written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © December 2014
ISBN: 9780008126254
Version 2014-12-09
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
To my darling munchkins, for their tolerance of late dinners, forgotten events, a less than immaculate house, and my general distraction. I love you!
Contents
Cover (#u4dca6f05-f952-54df-bead-4208dbc881db)
Title Page (#u6ce8a407-4144-5ea3-8b0a-da6d02b9531f)
Copyright (#u31e87e19-6989-5b3f-834e-7fe32621a05b)
Dedication (#u7c264d1a-0652-5054-927b-14bb5727bfbb)
Chapter One (#u3b5019b4-748b-52c6-be35-2fcd0fe44652)
Chapter Two (#ue820b28f-3a35-586f-89a0-ef358e403b9a)
Chapter Three (#u7dc8746e-48e5-50b9-9fb0-1ab8137958c3)
Chapter Four (#uf0999d64-63b8-5d2c-865b-ae440f1e0a89)
Chapter Five (#u577fdd0a-bc09-5f02-9880-f4c5ec7f1292)
Chapter Six (#u325e1376-1536-5c0f-93a2-16bb665ccbef)
Chapter Seven (#u38d548c0-335f-57fd-b4d6-024ad0d1f6a6)
Chapter Eight (#u4474038c-0c70-5ae7-a05f-0336dc881ee6)
Chapter Nine (#u9584614e-acb3-574c-9e34-7f6e55dfac51)
Chapter Ten (#u9875644a-684b-54f0-9845-51960945c1db)
Chapter Eleven (#u4a950814-a7d7-5428-9a34-ac010510d4a3)
Chapter Twelve (#u0cdd8bd0-7563-584b-8c86-ce337e93e2d5)
Chapter Thirteen (#u58e1c3ec-1683-59b7-b3cc-2db86ab0dd89)
Chapter Fourteen (#ufacdf8f1-226a-5eef-9b9f-1d7850c23dc9)
Chapter Fifteen (#uebb63d26-2bef-5edb-8f0c-1bfc9cf07e71)
Chapter Sixteen (#u819f4ec4-2f85-5b8b-ae28-f0b602ab7d24)
Chapter Seventeen (#u1fdc56bc-a013-5439-9df5-067eaa328a9e)
Chapter Eighteen (#ue75b39c3-7cde-5333-878d-de6e7aacb2ae)
Chapter Nineteen (#u8ad9f6ba-93db-59df-8d19-8ef074123232)
Chapter Twenty (#u7fabc765-1f56-551d-a60a-944c83b34d20)
Chapter Twenty-One (#u8e820985-bc30-53e0-907b-a42598f7a93b)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u4df8b6dd-ba94-5952-a209-c27fe88aa3b9)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#u78b38d96-4e44-56f5-b289-15261637ca65)
Epilogue (#u7e1018e8-4520-5754-920b-ab6a86aba716)
If You Like Angel Nicholas You’ll Love Dani-Lyn Alexander… (#u9d583dc8-997b-5e19-8580-7352a6f9e671)
Angel Nicholas (#uca8feae4-30b2-5536-93b3-f255cab37bb7)
About HarperImpulse (#uee62ad4a-9741-5e9b-995f-d2f56568a453)
About the Publisher (#u28621c99-6341-576a-865c-3df1f402bd43)
Chapter One (#u5d116a4c-96a4-5193-83be-cd7ad6ac17da)
Nausea churned as the Roller Coaster of Death plummeted to the ground.
“I can do this.” Ally’s short fingernails bit into her palms.
The ride blew past her, blowing her hair back, the screaming of its occupants piercing her tender eardrums. Cold sweat popped up across her skin.
“Why am I doing this?” Oh, right. She’d gotten tired of listening to everyone else on the entire planet, or just her office, talk about the fun they were having while she went home to a glass of wine and a book. An excellent book, but still.
The ginormous roller coaster drew her gaze skyward. Some demented creator had produced a horrific edifice with tracks climbing high into the clouds before dropping to the earth and disappearing inside a concrete building filled with fog and general creepiness. The mechanical roar and screech of the amusement park almost drowned out the heckling of her inner coward.
The line for the ride emerged from the crowd, bringing her hesitant approach to an abrupt halt. People lined up behind her and milled around on either side, boxing her in. The cold sweat from earlier spread and she shivered. Fenced in, blocked, no immediate avenue of escape. She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth.
A sweaty hand grabbed her arm and she jumped.
“Hey. You, you and you two come with me. You’ve been chosen for the best seat on the coaster.” The guy’s grin about split his pimpled face as he ushered them away from the disappointed crowd.
Ally followed in a daze, misty visions of dashing for the nearest exit tempting her. The best seat? She didn’t want any seat, let alone the best.
Arriving at their destination, the guy stopped and turned to face them. Pimple face, aka Mr. Obnoxious, gestured to the side with a flourish worthy of a grand ringmaster. Her jaw dropped. Surely not that seat.
Mr. Obnoxious grabbed her arm again.
Gritting her teeth, she yanked free and scrambled in on her own.
A juvenile delinquent, by the look of his saggy clothes and scruffy appearance, climbed in behind her and a blonde sat beside him.
The thump of a sneaker-clad foot on her seat made her swing around. Her gaze traveled up, skating over thick muscles, golden hair and bronzed skin; something clenched deep in her belly.
Ally swallowed thickly and averted her gaze as the leg’s owner dropped into the seat with casual grace. His leg grazed hers, the coarse feel of tiny hairs against her smooth skin foreign. Self-consciously trying to make her plump curves smaller, she glanced up through her lashes at the newest addition to the suicide machine. Shaggy blonde hair, the shadow of a beard darkening his square jaw, his raw masculinity short-circuited every one of her nerve endings. He had the kind of good looks guaranteed to bring women by the droves and fit her image of a typical California Surfer Dude. Her lips flat-lined.
“Alright, folks. Let’s get you all buckled in, safe and secure.”
Safe? Secure? Was this an issue?
Mr. Obnoxious grabbed the seat belts and buckled them around her before she even had a chance to lift a finger.
Narrowing her eyes, she turned to give the jerk a piece of her mind and encountered the amused, blue-green gaze of her surfer neighbor. She clamped her jaw shut and faced forward. What fun.
After instructing everyone on proper safety protocol, Mr. Obnoxious stepped away. The other passengers chatted, clearly looking forward to the ride and all very much insane. Waiting for the rest of the ride to be loaded, Ally glowered out the front of the death-by-idiocy car and eavesdropped on her companions. Apparently, the hot guy to her right belonged with the woman in the rear seat and the juvie was riding solo.
Why had she left the safety of her comfy couch?
The metallic screech of gears made her jump. The roller coaster lurched forward. Their “special” car shuddered before accelerating smoothly down the track. Despite the restraints, the first sharp turn flung her into Surfer Dude’s rock-hard body. Apparently, there were a few benefits to a shiftless lifestyle. Pressed against him from shoulder to knee, she met his gaze. A wave of heat surged into her cheeks. Was the guy perpetually amused, or what?
“Sorry.” She straightened with effort as the car went into another loop.
Holy crap, he smells good.
They wound in and out of tunnels, faster and faster until the ride slowed, click-clacking up a steep grade. Ally white-knuckled the hem of her shorts.
Crisp masculine hair chased tingles up the side of her arm, distracting her from imminent death. Surfer Dude’s golden thigh pressed against her hand. His thigh moved, doing a slow slide over her wrist. She glanced up. The heat in his expression made a mockery of all her internal cracks about easy-going. He was about as relaxed as a hungry lion crouched in tall grass, eyeing the plump lines of a grazing gazelle. Licking her lip, ultra-sensitive to every inch of skin he touched, she tried to scoot away. The ride went into a free fall.
The bottom of her stomach disappeared and she lost her breath. Jerking free of Surfer Dude’s gaze, her eyes widened as they screamed down the track, slammed around a corner and into a building. In the dark and shadowy interior, fog machines worked overtime. They shot in and out of clouds of the stuff. Moist air whooshed past her ear; severe claustrophobia kicked in.
She fought to remain calm as she breathed the thick, weird-smelling fog. Squeezing her eyes shut only worsened her panic. She bit her lip, holding in a moan of pure agony.
The girl behind her let out an odd squeak. People yelled. Ally snapped her eyes open. The clinging mist lent a dreamlike quality to the scene as the coaster flew high above the ground. Several cars ahead, two men had removed their seat belts and were wrestling. The fighting men stood and she gasped.
“What the hell?” Surfer Dude leaned forward.
One of the men toppled out and disappeared into the swirling fog. Eyes wide and heart in her throat, Ally gasped. Screams ricocheted off the walls. The second man peered over the side and then sat. Just…sat.
A few heartbeats passed. The ride clattered along the track, the low rumble blending with the muttering of her erstwhile companions; the noises were distant. Surreal. She tightened her grip on her restraints. No one touches my straps.
Her brain ceased functioning.
People shouting, demanding the ride be stopped, finally penetrated her fog of shock. Someone must have heard or seen what happened because the cars slowed as they rounded several more loops. At ground level inside the building they came to a stop.
“What’s going on?” An uneasy mix of teenage belligerence and anxiety threaded the juvenile delinquent’s voice.
The blonde in the rear leaned forward. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”
Ya think?
Surfer Dude twisted around—Ally assumed to comfort his plastic-perfect girlfriend. “It’s okay, honey.”
Ally started to shake. She could barely see through the shifting gloom. Strange men were talking about stuff she only encountered from the safety of her living room while watching TV and, oh yeah, she’d witnessed a man plummet to his death. Would anyone notice if she covered her ears and cowered on the floor of this thing?
Lights bobbed closer, accompanied by the sound of men’s voices. From the fragments she caught, they sounded like the police.
“Hey! Freeze. Police.”
Bile rose in Ally’s throat.
A scuffle and swearing followed. Running feet slapped against the concrete and the bobbing lights disappeared.
“Okay, let’s go.” Surfer Dude took charge, instructing everyone on getting out of the car. They all climbed out, the cool concrete floor of the dark building a small jump down from the raised track.
Ally scrambled to unclip the seat belt and get out. She almost wept when her feet touched solid ground. There might be more to Surfer Dude than good looks after all. Even so, she didn’t plan on ever getting on another roller coaster. Who knew fears could be so sensible?
Escape was in sight.
Well, not sight exactly. Between the poor lighting and the dense artificial fog, she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She leaned against the cool block wall, letting her heartbeat slow, and gradually realized she was completely alone. Apparently, her fellow passengers managed to keep their wits about them and beat a hasty retreat out of this walking nightmare.
“Hello?” she whispered.
The darkness heightened her other senses. The slow drip of water. Low-wattage bulbs flickered here and there, barely penetrating the shifting gloom. Water condensed on the hard gray walls and the scent of moist earth filled her nose. Which was strange since she stood surrounded on all sides by concrete.
Why didn’t someone turn off the fog machines?
More importantly, why was she still standing there?
Hesitant, one hand maintaining contact with the damp wall, she started away from the ride. Some guy had met his maker down here. The last thing she needed was an up-close-and- personal look at death.
Shouts erupted again, commanding yells ordering someone to stop.
Oh, wow. So not good.
The sharp echo of gunshots followed and she dropped to a crouch. Ally wrapped her arms around her bent legs and curled into the smallest ball possible. The scrape of her shoes as she edged closer to the wall seemed overly loud. Huddled against the wall, moisture seeped into her clothes and she shivered.
Gingerly rising to a crouch, she broke into an awkward trot, still hugging the wall. Two heartbeats later, pounding footsteps drew close. Ragged breathing accompanied the thud of shoes on concrete. The hair on her nape rose.
Hand on the wall, she broke into a run. A rough spot tore at her fingers, but she didn’t pull away, praying for a doorway. Or a nook. Really, a cranny or crevice would do. Anything she’d be able to duck into and hide. Please, please, please, please.
The wall ended and she nearly tumbled into the opening.
Yes! She slid inside, the pitch-blackness of her cranny not nearly as scary as what was coming behind her. The heavy footsteps drew closer. She shrank back farther, dormant instincts screaming. Terror wrapped clawed fingers around her throat. A whimper escaped without her permission. So close…
A broad hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm yanked her back against a warm, hard body. Eyes wide in the dark, her lungs seized. She almost peed her pants. Footsteps and heavy breathing passed within inches of her not-so-empty hidey-hole.
I am so screwed. She parted her lips.
“Quiet,” came a low masculine growl. “Just because he’s passed doesn’t mean he won’t double back.”
His palm caught her gasp as the familiar voice clicked into place. Surfer Dude held her tight against his hard body. She sagged with relief but abruptly stiffened again when he didn’t release her.
What the heck?
Mumbling into his hand accomplished zilch. He didn’t budge. She squirmed in his grasp. Nothing. Out of desperation, she licked his palm.
Soft laughter rumbled in her ear.
She shivered in delicious response. Wait, no. She shivered in revulsion. Yep, revulsion.
“You’re gonna have to do better. Licking only brings to mind all sorts of fun games.” The hand over her mouth moved down. Slowly. More of a caress, actually. He cupped her chin, skimmed his fingers down her throat and over her collarbone…
Whoa. She smacked his hand away. No way was he hitting second base when she didn’t even know his name. Oh, for crying out…No way was he hitting second base period.
He chuckled again. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
She rolled her eyes. As if. A scuff of sound in the distance grounded her. Was Surfer Dude intentionally trying to distract her from the danger of their situation? Where was his girlfriend?
“I think it’s safe now.” His whisper reminded her they stood cuddled together like lovers.
She pulled free, her face burning. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“Who?”
“The gorgeous blonde on the ride. You remember her, right?” Okay, that might have sounded more snotty than she intended.
She leaned forward to peer around the wall, but his hand on her abdomen stopped her. All her nerve endings fired in response.
“That was my sister, Celia,” he whispered low in her ear. “After I got her out of the building, I came back for you. You went the wrong way.” She started to respond, but he cut her off. “Now step back while I see if the coast is clear.”
Setting aside the whole girlfriend issue for the moment, she straightened her spine and stood there like a delicate flower of womanhood while the big manly man peered around the wall. Hey, if he wanted to play hero, far be it for her to stand in his way.
He snagged her hand, dragging her along behind him as he stepped out of their hiding spot and down the tunnel. Did the guy have spidey-sense? How had he unerringly found her hand in the dark?
Returning to the main part of the building brought relief mixed liberally with trepidation. After hanging out in the pitch black, dim light was a drastic improvement. Even so, a deranged psychopath was running around inside with them.
She added a little more enthusiasm to her step. Walking behind Surfer Dude and admiring the broad expanse of his back distracted her from imminent danger. Okay, so the muscle she was admiring was a little farther south.
He stopped and she smacked face-first into his shirt. And lingered. Good Lord, he smells good. Voices drifted down the building, rudely distracting her from olfactory bliss.
“You sure you haven’t seen anything, MacAfee?”
“Nah, he didn’t come my way, Sarge.”
Her hormone-induced bubble burst. She peeked around Surfer Dude. Two uniformed police officers stood in a doorway with a man in street clothes. Probably a detective or something. Luxurious, beautiful sunlight shone beyond the door.
Intent on the freedom the swatch of sunshine represented, Ally sidled around Surfer Dude. He pulled her back into his chest and covered her mouth. She sighed into his hand and crossed her arms. This was getting old. Maybe she should stomp on his foot. Kick him in the shin. Elbow him in the ribs. Or just bite him.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, his low voice barely reaching her ears.
Annoying man. He could read minds too?
“See the dark shadow against the wall there? Between us and the door?”
Squinting, she strained to separate the subtle differences in the shadows. A soft sound reached her, like the shift of a foot in dirt. Her eyes widened as the silhouette of a man pressed into the corner became clear.
A reflection glinted, like a deer’s eyes in the middle of the night as you flashed by in your car. He was looking their way. She pressed back into her human wall, shaking. She belatedly sensed the alert edge in Surfer Dude’s stiffened muscles.
Slow and easy, hugging the wall beside them, he moved backward. The rough block wall scraped her bare arm. She didn’t care. The closer they were to something solid, the safer she felt. A sense of impending disaster filled her.
A muffled thump and whoosh of furnace-hot air creased the air beside her face. Surfer Dude jerked her into another dark hole in the wall. Burning pain lit her cheek as a dull thud smacked into the wall, raining chunks of debris on them.
His whisper-soft expletive blistered her ears. He unerringly found her hand again, tugged her out of the hole and jogged into the darkness—away from the door. Left with no choice, she followed. Her other hand crept up to touch a fiery spot on her cheek and her fingers came away damp and sticky. She wiped the thick substance on her khaki shorts.
Could this day get any worse? She should have stayed in bed.
Running up the metal steps, she did her best to keep quiet. The light improved as they climbed. His well-muscled butt distracted her from the burn of her thigh muscles and what felt like a gigantic bull’s eye on her backside.
Finally—thank you, God—they arrived at the top of the unending staircase. Sucking air, legs shaking like wet noodles, she gratefully sagged against the nearest wall. Oblivious to her state of near-collapse, Surfer Dude leaned over the stairwell, staring down into the inky black below. How he could see anything, she didn’t know. Neither did she particularly care.
Eyeing his hunky rear end, she touched her cheek. Wincing, she traced the throbbing, damp line of skin. Surfer Dude straightened and turned. His eyes narrowed on her. Two big steps brought him toe to toe. Sucking in a breath at his nearness, she tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go.
“Damn.” His sigh feathered across her skin. With gentle fingers, he pulled her hand away and tilted her face toward the light. “I didn’t realize.”
His face came closer. Close enough to count eyelashes. Totally unfair; they were longer than hers.
“It’s not bad,” he murmured. “Just a graze. If I’d realized sooner he had a gun…I’m sorry, Sugar Lips.”
She lifted her fingers in a shaft of brilliant sunlight and stared at the glistening blood on the tips. Her vision dimmed.
“Oh no you don’t.”
His voice came through a tunnel. Everything went dark.
Chapter Two (#u5d116a4c-96a4-5193-83be-cd7ad6ac17da)
Bright sunshine penetrated her closed lids. Ally rolled her head away before forcing them open. Squinting, she contemplated the bare leg an inch from her face. Tan and muscled, with a sprinkling of blonde hair. Nice.
“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”
The smooth velvet baritone washed over her, the slight roughness making her hormones sit up and pant. His voice made her think of naughty whispers in the dark, soft sighs when he kissed a special spot and the husky moans of unhurried lovemaking on satin sheets. She yearned toward it and had to fist her hands to resist temptation. No doubt he made the same unspoken offer to every female who crossed his path.
His words registered.
A snort escaped her lips before she could think better of it. His low chuckle heated her cheeks. Braving the sunlight, she turned to look at him. Up a brilliant white T-shirt, over a well-defined jawline, smiling lips and a straight nose, to focus on amused aqua eyes.
Surfer Dude. And apparently her head currently resided in his lap. The heat in her cheeks ratcheted up to a near-burn.
She sat up. They were on a roof, in a narrow spot of shade provided by the rooftop stairway access. Against her will, her gaze flitted back to where Surfer Dude lounged with impressive nonchalance.
“Feeling better?”
Prim dignity came to the rescue as she smoothed her mousy-brown hair, self-consciousness hidden behind a façade of calm reserve. “Yes, thank you.”
She ached to tug down her too-short shorts and make sure her lacy tank top still kept everything adequately covered. Pride brought her hand back to her lap and she clasped her fingers tight to prevent unlicensed wandering.
“I take it you don’t deal well with blood?”
Tensing, Ally searched his expression for any sign of condescension. Seeing none, she relaxed a little. “Not my own.”
“Yeah, I don’t know many people fond of seeing their own blood.” He shrugged. “No biggie, Sugar Lips. The bullet only nicked you.”
“Would you quit calling me Sugar…” The hot irritation faded alongside her voice. She swallowed and managed a single squeaky word. “Bullet?”
Hunky guys calling her mocking names ranked pretty high on her annoyance scale. Bullets? They’d never made it onto the scale. His shrewd gaze sharpened. Ally lifted her chin. He didn’t intimidate her.
“Yeah. You seem to have a penchant for finding trouble.”
“Me?” Her spine stiffened. “What about you? You were there too.”
“Sure, but you seem to have a way of attracting attention. Not surprising, I guess, with those big eyes and…” His gaze dropped to her lips, which promptly plumped and tingled. “…truly luscious lips.”
“Oh, get real, Surfer Dude.”
Oh. My. Word. I did not say that out loud. Fire burned in her cheeks, growing hotter when he chuckled. So glad I can prove entertaining, at least. Obnoxious jerk. She turned away and ducked her chin so her long hair fell forward to hide her face until the blasted blush faded.
“Surfer Dude?”
The laughter still coloring his voice made her want to crawl into a hole. Why did she always have to humiliate herself in front of attractive men? No wonder she was still single.
“I don’t know your name,” she mumbled into her hair. “I didn’t know what to call you.”
“Hey, whatever works. Name’s Greg.”
“Ally.”
“Sorry?”
He swept aside her hair, long fingers wrapping around her chin to angle her face back toward him. Meeting Surfer…uhm, Greg’s sparkling eyes, she swallowed.
“My name is Ally.”
He stared at her until her stomach tumbled to the hot roof they sat on. Which was beyond silly. No way on this planet a guy like him would want her.
He leaned closer, the heat in his eyes holding her suspended in breathless anticipation. His lips settled on hers with no hesitation, moving with a confidence she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Her lids slid closed against an eruption of butterflies. Deepening the kiss, his tongue glided over the seam of her lips, asking and gaining admission. The taste of him exploded across her tongue like deep, dark chocolate.
Shaken, she jerked back and eyed him. Things like this didn’t happen to girls like her. Girls like her led boring, quiet lives in boring, quiet duplexes. Girls like her sat at home on Friday nights watching romantic movies, eating popcorn, wearing warm pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Alone.
Girls like her did not meet gorgeous men on roller-coaster rides, have hair-raising experiences in dark buildings and make out with said gorgeous man on sun-kissed rooftops.
“That’s really low.” She leapt to her feet.
“Huh?”
At the sound of his footsteps, an unwelcome image of him climbing to his feet with catlike grace filled her mind.
“Did I miss something?”
She spun around, crossing her arms and glaring at all his golden glory shining in the summer sun. Jerk. “What kind of man goes around kissing another woman when he has a girlfriend? A girlfriend I’ve met! Sort of.”
Greg sighed and crossed his arms. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”
Ugh. Even his frown was adorable.
“Well…” Ally snorted and spun away. What kind of idiot did he take her for? Seriously. “Even if she is your sister, you shouldn’t have kissed me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Celia is my baby sister. Why shouldn’t I kiss you?”
She turned back, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Baby sister or not, there was absolutely no way a man like Greg would be interested in her. Gullible was so totally not her middle name and lack of experience didn’t equate stupidity. She had girlfriends. Sort of. Okay, so she eavesdropped while women at work gossiped about the men in their lives.
Ally wrapped her arms around her middle. “Because.”
“Because?” He groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Fine. Whatever.”
Running a hand through his blonde hair, he turned away. Ally snagged her lip between her teeth again. Maybe she had been a little hard on him. So she wasn’t the type of girl to take someone at face value. Sue her.
“Look, I’m sor—”
Several yards away, the rooftop door exploded open. Greg whirled and slammed into her, taking them both down hard on the rough asphalt roofing. The air left her lungs in a gasp. The roof dug into her back. She struggled to suck in air with his heavy weight pinning her in place.
“Shhh,” he said.
About the time her lungs started to burn, he seemed to sense her sincere distress and lifted off her a fraction. Fresh oxygen fueled her brain. They lay behind what looked like an air conditioner, hidden from view. More specifically, hidden from whoever had made such a dramatic and noisy entrance into their sky-high haven.
The door crashed open again. This time, anxiety weighed down her diaphragm.
“Freeze!”
Instinctively obeying, her muscles seized up. The sounds of a scuffle followed. She stared into Greg’s eyes. He winked and her tension eased. Why, she didn’t know.
Footsteps drew near, followed by low laughter. “Off-duty and on top of some woman. Classic Marsing.”
Greg’s heavy weight rolled off her, but he didn’t get up. He lounged on his side, watching her. The plain-clothes detective she’d seen earlier by the building exit stood over them, shaking his head.
Carefully, she sat up, gingerly testing her aching body parts while she eyed the two men. A few yards away, some guy—the deranged psychopath, presumably—was being handcuffed and read his rights.
“Always on top of some woman?” Ally repeated numbly.
Since she’d never been stupid, she easily put together two plus two and came up with a lying jerk. There went her fantasy of believing him about the sister, or believing in a sincere attraction, despite the kiss they’d shared. Acid burning her stomach, Ally crossed her arms and shut her eyes. I am such an idiot.
“Marsing?” She glanced at the detective.
“Didn’t have time for a proper introduction, huh? That’s our Marsing. Quite the ladies’ man right, Detective?” The guy smirked, arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart.
Now nauseated as well, Ally climbed to her feet.
“Shove it up your ass, Hank,” Detective Marsing growled. He smoothly rolled to his feet and offered his hand, which she batted away with sharp irritation. “Don’t tell me you believe this laughing hyena. He’s full of crap.”
Hank hooted with laughter, slapping his thigh. Gritting her teeth, Ally started walking. Several uniformed police officers were escorting a thickly muscled man off the roof. Neck muscles bulging, he turned and met her gaze. His pale-blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine, joined by a river of ice when one side of his thin lips pulled up in a menacing smile. She’d always thought it a dramatic turn of phrase with no basis in reality, but her blood literally ran cold.
A hand on her arm brought her up short. She barely swallowed an undignified screech. Heart racing, she spun to glare at Detective Marsing. “What? Exciting as this has been, I’d like to go home now.”
“Ally.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “Look, ignore Hank. He’s always been an ass. He can’t help it.”
“Which is so sad for Hank, but I don’t see what his being an ass has to do with any of this.” Ally sighed and pushed the hair off her forehead. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t even care anymore. I just want to go home.”
“Okay. Officer Smith will take you—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He was yelling at her now? Her blood began a slow boil. He could take his offer and…Deep breath, Ally. “I’m not your concern.” She rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending you care.”
“I’m not pretending.” He stepped closer, invading her space. Again. “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Are you always such a pain in the ass?”
His words bit into her miniscule self-confidence and she blanched. This day sucked. Who was she kidding? Her life sucked.
She sighed. “Fine, have Officer What’s-His-Name escort me home. But I drove, so he’ll have to follow me. Is that fine with you?”
So she sounded snippy. So what?
His hand firm on her elbow, he practically frog-marched her over to a massive black man leaning against the stairway access. Warm midnight eyes watched their approach. How they’d even found a uniform large enough to fit him boggled the mind.
“Freddy, Ally. Ally, Officer Freddy Smith.” The curt introduction showed his irritation, but she refused to care. “Freddy, follow Ally in your cruiser. I want to make sure she gets home safe. Although, I’m starting to wonder why,” he added, just loud enough for her to hear.
She glared at him. Like she’d asked to witness a murder and almost have a bullet lodged in her brain. Yep, good times.
“Sure thing, Detective Marsing.” Officer Smith grinned.
Before she could do more than turn away, Detective Marsing spoke again. “One more thing….”
Ally glanced back. He stood in the glaring sun wearing an inscrutable expression. Gone was the good ol’ surfer boy and easy sparkling charm.
“Stop by the EMTs on the way out and have them take a look at her cheek.”
Unconsciously, her hand headed for her cheek. Detective Marsing intercepted it. His big hand wrapped around hers, making her feel small and petite for the space of several heartbeats. Until her common sense kicked in.
A flicker of humor returned to his eyes. “Let’s not go there again, Sugar Lips.”
Swallowing a pang of bittersweet longing, regret and any number of other useless feelings, she turned away and followed Officer Smith into the shadowy depths of the building. Memories assailed her and she hesitated before forcing herself to put one foot after the other down the stairs. As if sensing her unease, Officer Smith glanced back.
“How’d a pretty little thing like you get mixed up in today’s ugliness?”
“Just going for a ride, Officer Smith. Against my better judgment, I might add.”
“Don’t like roller coasters?”
“Yeah, you could say that. What happened, anyway?”
“Well, I don’t know that I oughta say. Seeing as how you’re friends with ol’ Marsing, though, I guess it’s okay.”
Ally debated setting him straight, but she wanted to know what had happened. Besides, she’d been shot at! Her fingers itched to inspect her little wound and she made a fist, her short, sensible fingernails biting into her palm.
“As you saw, the lowlife shoved some poor SOB outta the coaster. Of course, I doubt he counted on us being here when he did it. Pretty stupid to not take into consideration all the witnesses.”
“Who was the, uh.” Ally’s belly flipped. She’d tried really hard not to think about the man who’d fallen. “Victim?”
“I’m not allowed to say.”
Ally shut her mouth and followed him out of the building. The silent amusement park sent a shiver racing over her skin.
The EMTs were more than happy to patch up her little boo-boo. She sat inside the ambulance, a first for her, while they did their thing. Some antiseptic and a couple of butterfly bandages later, she climbed into her shiny pale-green Prius.
Officer Smith tailed her all the way to her semi-attached house in the suburbs. She had never been more excited to see her unexciting, drab little home. A tidal wave of relief swamped her as she pulled into her garage.
The black and white cruiser parked directly behind her. In her rearview mirror, the big officer talked on a cell phone. She swung open her door and scrambled out when he disconnected.
The officer’s massive body blocked the fading sunlight as he strolled inside her garage. “You gonna be okay, Miss?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll be fine. Thank you for seeing me home. I hope it didn’t put you too far out of your way.”
“Nah. I always enjoy a pleasant ride through the ’burbs. Nice change from the busy city streets.”
“Yes, it is.”
She shifted uneasily, glancing from him to the door into her house.
“So…” he planted a hand on top of her car. “You live here all alone?”
“Uhm, yes.” Ally swallowed, feeling hemmed in. “Were you talking to your wife? On your cell phone?”
“Not exactly.”
Where had the charming, talkative man gone? She liked that guy. She wanted him back. “Well,” she forced a smile, “thanks again.”
He didn’t move. Something shifted. The air thickened and she struggled to draw a full breath. His dark, unwavering eyes sent a shiver of ice down her spine. She sidled a few steps away. He no longer seemed friendly and easy-going.
“The boss doesn’t like untidy jobs.”
“Uhm…boss? As in, the police chief?”
Of course, he was talking about the police chief. She wanted to laugh at her absurdity, but the sound strangled in her throat.
He shook his head. “Not exactly. I do a little work on the side for this other guy.”
Her stomach bottomed out.
Beyond him, the garage door stood open, but there wasn’t a single person to be seen. The quiet neighborhood where everyone stayed in their houses and bothered no one didn’t seem like such a fabulous thing about now. She backed up a few more steps.
“He gave me a call on the way over. Wants you taken care of.” He herded her backward toward the door into her house.
No way he was referring to massaging her feet or barbecuing a nice steak for her. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had taken on a keen resemblance to the Sahara. “Uh, why me?”
“That’s a need-to-know sorta thing. And you don’t.”
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. This is really bad. I don’t do really bad.
The back of her feet hit the step below the door, forcing her up and inside, with Officer Smith’s massive bulk following. Ally fought back a whimper. This guy was so huge. She didn’t stand a chance.
“Nice place.”
This stranger, police officer gone rogue, who planned to do…something not good, was admiring her home. She had the ridiculous urge to giggle. Giggling involved breathing and she was pretty sure that function had seized up. Shaking her head, disbelief warred with flat-out terror.
How had a simple outing, an attempt to get a bit of a life, turned into this?
Officer Smith shoved her into a chair in her living room. Detective Marsing had insisted on sending her home with an armed escort. Her soon-to-be killer pawed through her belongings and Ally gritted her teeth. This was all Marsing’s fault
Smith picked up a romance novel she’d been reading, snorted and tossed the book over his shoulder. Crossing her trembling arms, she narrowed her eyes. Like it wasn’t bad enough he planned to kill…Her thoughts fractured. Panic beat at her. Dragging in a deep breath, she used sheer force of will to bring her emotions under control.
A porcelain figurine shattered on the floor and she snapped her gaze back to the behemoth pawing through her drawers. Clarifying outrage flowed through her.
He turned his back completely, and Ally had a lightbulb moment. Toeing off her sandals, she eased to her feet. He grunted and shifted his impressive weight. She froze, lightheaded with fear. The temptation of escape whispered in her ear. So very close.
When he didn’t turn, she walked backward on unsteady feet, slipping around the corner into her beautiful, immaculate kitchen. He was so sure she would sit there like a good little girl while he satisfied his curiosity. Fat chance. Steel slid up her spine. Maybe she was boring and terrified of far too many things, but she wasn’t going to sit obediently on her hands and wait to die.
She spun on bare feet, raced through her kitchen and into the garage. The police cruiser in the drive fenced in her car. Tearing around the corner, she dashed across the neighbor’s side lawn. Heart racing, anticipating discovery any moment, she leapt the waist-height fence into their backyard with the agility of a trained athlete.
Grinning over her small feat, she aimed for the back fence.
A bellow from inside her house made her flinch, pulling the plug on her pride. Remembering an old police show, she hunched and ran in a zigzag pattern. Heart pounding, palms clammy, the six-foot privacy fence loomed before her. A zing, a crunch to her left. She stared at a fresh, neatly splintered hole just to the side of her head.
Oh, God! He was shooting at her. Actually shooting. In broad daylight. In her neighbor’s backyard. Didn’t they have rules about that sort of stuff?
Nerves shredded, Ally gritted her teeth. Three more feet. Two. Another crunch. She swore the heat of the bullet singed her shoulder. Arms extended, she jumped for all she was worth. Up, braced her arms and pushed off. She landed with an oomph on the other side, followed by another crunch and a hole in the wood fence.
For a split second, she crouched panting, staring in disbelief at the fence towering over her head. Had she really done that?
Cursing from the other side got her up and moving again. Squealing tires and a revving engine brought her head around. A car tore into the alley and raced toward her. More bad guys? Had he called in reinforcements?
Ally froze.
Did I do something horrible in a past life to deserve this?
Truly, I’ll help the poor. Serve food at the soup kitchen. Go to church every Sunday. Donate money to the shelter. I’ll even babysit my friend’s bratty kids.
Just please, please, please get me out of this alive.
The shiny black Camaro careened to a stop with the driver’s side door facing her. Heavily tinted windows revealed nothing. In a last desperate bid for freedom, she darted past the door. Strong arms encircled her waist and dragged her back toward the idling car.
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Angel Nicholas
Ally Thompson’s life is perfect. Calm, quiet, some might even say boring. The sole survivor of a tragic accident, she’s not the adventurous type—something she’s decided to change.One roller-coaster ride…A murder and a detective in disguise shatter Ally’s first attempt at “fun.” Detective Greg Marsing is everything Ally knows better than to want. The gun-totting, tattooed scumbags trying to kill her are almost a welcome distraction from her pointless attraction.Blows her world wide open…A contract on Ally has every lowlife for miles gunning for her. Sparks fly while she and her unlikely hero scramble to unravel clues. As the deadly game escalates, Greg has to decide if self-preservation rates higher than a love worth dying for.
Sweet Deception
ANGEL NICHOLAS
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014
Copyright © Angel Nicholas 2014
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Angel Nicholas asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or
stored in or introduced into any information storage and
retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or
hereinafter invented, without the express
written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © December 2014
ISBN: 9780008126254
Version 2014-12-09
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
To my darling munchkins, for their tolerance of late dinners, forgotten events, a less than immaculate house, and my general distraction. I love you!
Contents
Cover (#u4dca6f05-f952-54df-bead-4208dbc881db)
Title Page (#u6ce8a407-4144-5ea3-8b0a-da6d02b9531f)
Copyright (#u31e87e19-6989-5b3f-834e-7fe32621a05b)
Dedication (#u7c264d1a-0652-5054-927b-14bb5727bfbb)
Chapter One (#u3b5019b4-748b-52c6-be35-2fcd0fe44652)
Chapter Two (#ue820b28f-3a35-586f-89a0-ef358e403b9a)
Chapter Three (#u7dc8746e-48e5-50b9-9fb0-1ab8137958c3)
Chapter Four (#uf0999d64-63b8-5d2c-865b-ae440f1e0a89)
Chapter Five (#u577fdd0a-bc09-5f02-9880-f4c5ec7f1292)
Chapter Six (#u325e1376-1536-5c0f-93a2-16bb665ccbef)
Chapter Seven (#u38d548c0-335f-57fd-b4d6-024ad0d1f6a6)
Chapter Eight (#u4474038c-0c70-5ae7-a05f-0336dc881ee6)
Chapter Nine (#u9584614e-acb3-574c-9e34-7f6e55dfac51)
Chapter Ten (#u9875644a-684b-54f0-9845-51960945c1db)
Chapter Eleven (#u4a950814-a7d7-5428-9a34-ac010510d4a3)
Chapter Twelve (#u0cdd8bd0-7563-584b-8c86-ce337e93e2d5)
Chapter Thirteen (#u58e1c3ec-1683-59b7-b3cc-2db86ab0dd89)
Chapter Fourteen (#ufacdf8f1-226a-5eef-9b9f-1d7850c23dc9)
Chapter Fifteen (#uebb63d26-2bef-5edb-8f0c-1bfc9cf07e71)
Chapter Sixteen (#u819f4ec4-2f85-5b8b-ae28-f0b602ab7d24)
Chapter Seventeen (#u1fdc56bc-a013-5439-9df5-067eaa328a9e)
Chapter Eighteen (#ue75b39c3-7cde-5333-878d-de6e7aacb2ae)
Chapter Nineteen (#u8ad9f6ba-93db-59df-8d19-8ef074123232)
Chapter Twenty (#u7fabc765-1f56-551d-a60a-944c83b34d20)
Chapter Twenty-One (#u8e820985-bc30-53e0-907b-a42598f7a93b)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u4df8b6dd-ba94-5952-a209-c27fe88aa3b9)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#u78b38d96-4e44-56f5-b289-15261637ca65)
Epilogue (#u7e1018e8-4520-5754-920b-ab6a86aba716)
If You Like Angel Nicholas You’ll Love Dani-Lyn Alexander… (#u9d583dc8-997b-5e19-8580-7352a6f9e671)
Angel Nicholas (#uca8feae4-30b2-5536-93b3-f255cab37bb7)
About HarperImpulse (#uee62ad4a-9741-5e9b-995f-d2f56568a453)
About the Publisher (#u28621c99-6341-576a-865c-3df1f402bd43)
Chapter One (#u5d116a4c-96a4-5193-83be-cd7ad6ac17da)
Nausea churned as the Roller Coaster of Death plummeted to the ground.
“I can do this.” Ally’s short fingernails bit into her palms.
The ride blew past her, blowing her hair back, the screaming of its occupants piercing her tender eardrums. Cold sweat popped up across her skin.
“Why am I doing this?” Oh, right. She’d gotten tired of listening to everyone else on the entire planet, or just her office, talk about the fun they were having while she went home to a glass of wine and a book. An excellent book, but still.
The ginormous roller coaster drew her gaze skyward. Some demented creator had produced a horrific edifice with tracks climbing high into the clouds before dropping to the earth and disappearing inside a concrete building filled with fog and general creepiness. The mechanical roar and screech of the amusement park almost drowned out the heckling of her inner coward.
The line for the ride emerged from the crowd, bringing her hesitant approach to an abrupt halt. People lined up behind her and milled around on either side, boxing her in. The cold sweat from earlier spread and she shivered. Fenced in, blocked, no immediate avenue of escape. She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth.
A sweaty hand grabbed her arm and she jumped.
“Hey. You, you and you two come with me. You’ve been chosen for the best seat on the coaster.” The guy’s grin about split his pimpled face as he ushered them away from the disappointed crowd.
Ally followed in a daze, misty visions of dashing for the nearest exit tempting her. The best seat? She didn’t want any seat, let alone the best.
Arriving at their destination, the guy stopped and turned to face them. Pimple face, aka Mr. Obnoxious, gestured to the side with a flourish worthy of a grand ringmaster. Her jaw dropped. Surely not that seat.
Mr. Obnoxious grabbed her arm again.
Gritting her teeth, she yanked free and scrambled in on her own.
A juvenile delinquent, by the look of his saggy clothes and scruffy appearance, climbed in behind her and a blonde sat beside him.
The thump of a sneaker-clad foot on her seat made her swing around. Her gaze traveled up, skating over thick muscles, golden hair and bronzed skin; something clenched deep in her belly.
Ally swallowed thickly and averted her gaze as the leg’s owner dropped into the seat with casual grace. His leg grazed hers, the coarse feel of tiny hairs against her smooth skin foreign. Self-consciously trying to make her plump curves smaller, she glanced up through her lashes at the newest addition to the suicide machine. Shaggy blonde hair, the shadow of a beard darkening his square jaw, his raw masculinity short-circuited every one of her nerve endings. He had the kind of good looks guaranteed to bring women by the droves and fit her image of a typical California Surfer Dude. Her lips flat-lined.
“Alright, folks. Let’s get you all buckled in, safe and secure.”
Safe? Secure? Was this an issue?
Mr. Obnoxious grabbed the seat belts and buckled them around her before she even had a chance to lift a finger.
Narrowing her eyes, she turned to give the jerk a piece of her mind and encountered the amused, blue-green gaze of her surfer neighbor. She clamped her jaw shut and faced forward. What fun.
After instructing everyone on proper safety protocol, Mr. Obnoxious stepped away. The other passengers chatted, clearly looking forward to the ride and all very much insane. Waiting for the rest of the ride to be loaded, Ally glowered out the front of the death-by-idiocy car and eavesdropped on her companions. Apparently, the hot guy to her right belonged with the woman in the rear seat and the juvie was riding solo.
Why had she left the safety of her comfy couch?
The metallic screech of gears made her jump. The roller coaster lurched forward. Their “special” car shuddered before accelerating smoothly down the track. Despite the restraints, the first sharp turn flung her into Surfer Dude’s rock-hard body. Apparently, there were a few benefits to a shiftless lifestyle. Pressed against him from shoulder to knee, she met his gaze. A wave of heat surged into her cheeks. Was the guy perpetually amused, or what?
“Sorry.” She straightened with effort as the car went into another loop.
Holy crap, he smells good.
They wound in and out of tunnels, faster and faster until the ride slowed, click-clacking up a steep grade. Ally white-knuckled the hem of her shorts.
Crisp masculine hair chased tingles up the side of her arm, distracting her from imminent death. Surfer Dude’s golden thigh pressed against her hand. His thigh moved, doing a slow slide over her wrist. She glanced up. The heat in his expression made a mockery of all her internal cracks about easy-going. He was about as relaxed as a hungry lion crouched in tall grass, eyeing the plump lines of a grazing gazelle. Licking her lip, ultra-sensitive to every inch of skin he touched, she tried to scoot away. The ride went into a free fall.
The bottom of her stomach disappeared and she lost her breath. Jerking free of Surfer Dude’s gaze, her eyes widened as they screamed down the track, slammed around a corner and into a building. In the dark and shadowy interior, fog machines worked overtime. They shot in and out of clouds of the stuff. Moist air whooshed past her ear; severe claustrophobia kicked in.
She fought to remain calm as she breathed the thick, weird-smelling fog. Squeezing her eyes shut only worsened her panic. She bit her lip, holding in a moan of pure agony.
The girl behind her let out an odd squeak. People yelled. Ally snapped her eyes open. The clinging mist lent a dreamlike quality to the scene as the coaster flew high above the ground. Several cars ahead, two men had removed their seat belts and were wrestling. The fighting men stood and she gasped.
“What the hell?” Surfer Dude leaned forward.
One of the men toppled out and disappeared into the swirling fog. Eyes wide and heart in her throat, Ally gasped. Screams ricocheted off the walls. The second man peered over the side and then sat. Just…sat.
A few heartbeats passed. The ride clattered along the track, the low rumble blending with the muttering of her erstwhile companions; the noises were distant. Surreal. She tightened her grip on her restraints. No one touches my straps.
Her brain ceased functioning.
People shouting, demanding the ride be stopped, finally penetrated her fog of shock. Someone must have heard or seen what happened because the cars slowed as they rounded several more loops. At ground level inside the building they came to a stop.
“What’s going on?” An uneasy mix of teenage belligerence and anxiety threaded the juvenile delinquent’s voice.
The blonde in the rear leaned forward. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”
Ya think?
Surfer Dude twisted around—Ally assumed to comfort his plastic-perfect girlfriend. “It’s okay, honey.”
Ally started to shake. She could barely see through the shifting gloom. Strange men were talking about stuff she only encountered from the safety of her living room while watching TV and, oh yeah, she’d witnessed a man plummet to his death. Would anyone notice if she covered her ears and cowered on the floor of this thing?
Lights bobbed closer, accompanied by the sound of men’s voices. From the fragments she caught, they sounded like the police.
“Hey! Freeze. Police.”
Bile rose in Ally’s throat.
A scuffle and swearing followed. Running feet slapped against the concrete and the bobbing lights disappeared.
“Okay, let’s go.” Surfer Dude took charge, instructing everyone on getting out of the car. They all climbed out, the cool concrete floor of the dark building a small jump down from the raised track.
Ally scrambled to unclip the seat belt and get out. She almost wept when her feet touched solid ground. There might be more to Surfer Dude than good looks after all. Even so, she didn’t plan on ever getting on another roller coaster. Who knew fears could be so sensible?
Escape was in sight.
Well, not sight exactly. Between the poor lighting and the dense artificial fog, she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She leaned against the cool block wall, letting her heartbeat slow, and gradually realized she was completely alone. Apparently, her fellow passengers managed to keep their wits about them and beat a hasty retreat out of this walking nightmare.
“Hello?” she whispered.
The darkness heightened her other senses. The slow drip of water. Low-wattage bulbs flickered here and there, barely penetrating the shifting gloom. Water condensed on the hard gray walls and the scent of moist earth filled her nose. Which was strange since she stood surrounded on all sides by concrete.
Why didn’t someone turn off the fog machines?
More importantly, why was she still standing there?
Hesitant, one hand maintaining contact with the damp wall, she started away from the ride. Some guy had met his maker down here. The last thing she needed was an up-close-and- personal look at death.
Shouts erupted again, commanding yells ordering someone to stop.
Oh, wow. So not good.
The sharp echo of gunshots followed and she dropped to a crouch. Ally wrapped her arms around her bent legs and curled into the smallest ball possible. The scrape of her shoes as she edged closer to the wall seemed overly loud. Huddled against the wall, moisture seeped into her clothes and she shivered.
Gingerly rising to a crouch, she broke into an awkward trot, still hugging the wall. Two heartbeats later, pounding footsteps drew close. Ragged breathing accompanied the thud of shoes on concrete. The hair on her nape rose.
Hand on the wall, she broke into a run. A rough spot tore at her fingers, but she didn’t pull away, praying for a doorway. Or a nook. Really, a cranny or crevice would do. Anything she’d be able to duck into and hide. Please, please, please, please.
The wall ended and she nearly tumbled into the opening.
Yes! She slid inside, the pitch-blackness of her cranny not nearly as scary as what was coming behind her. The heavy footsteps drew closer. She shrank back farther, dormant instincts screaming. Terror wrapped clawed fingers around her throat. A whimper escaped without her permission. So close…
A broad hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm yanked her back against a warm, hard body. Eyes wide in the dark, her lungs seized. She almost peed her pants. Footsteps and heavy breathing passed within inches of her not-so-empty hidey-hole.
I am so screwed. She parted her lips.
“Quiet,” came a low masculine growl. “Just because he’s passed doesn’t mean he won’t double back.”
His palm caught her gasp as the familiar voice clicked into place. Surfer Dude held her tight against his hard body. She sagged with relief but abruptly stiffened again when he didn’t release her.
What the heck?
Mumbling into his hand accomplished zilch. He didn’t budge. She squirmed in his grasp. Nothing. Out of desperation, she licked his palm.
Soft laughter rumbled in her ear.
She shivered in delicious response. Wait, no. She shivered in revulsion. Yep, revulsion.
“You’re gonna have to do better. Licking only brings to mind all sorts of fun games.” The hand over her mouth moved down. Slowly. More of a caress, actually. He cupped her chin, skimmed his fingers down her throat and over her collarbone…
Whoa. She smacked his hand away. No way was he hitting second base when she didn’t even know his name. Oh, for crying out…No way was he hitting second base period.
He chuckled again. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
She rolled her eyes. As if. A scuff of sound in the distance grounded her. Was Surfer Dude intentionally trying to distract her from the danger of their situation? Where was his girlfriend?
“I think it’s safe now.” His whisper reminded her they stood cuddled together like lovers.
She pulled free, her face burning. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“Who?”
“The gorgeous blonde on the ride. You remember her, right?” Okay, that might have sounded more snotty than she intended.
She leaned forward to peer around the wall, but his hand on her abdomen stopped her. All her nerve endings fired in response.
“That was my sister, Celia,” he whispered low in her ear. “After I got her out of the building, I came back for you. You went the wrong way.” She started to respond, but he cut her off. “Now step back while I see if the coast is clear.”
Setting aside the whole girlfriend issue for the moment, she straightened her spine and stood there like a delicate flower of womanhood while the big manly man peered around the wall. Hey, if he wanted to play hero, far be it for her to stand in his way.
He snagged her hand, dragging her along behind him as he stepped out of their hiding spot and down the tunnel. Did the guy have spidey-sense? How had he unerringly found her hand in the dark?
Returning to the main part of the building brought relief mixed liberally with trepidation. After hanging out in the pitch black, dim light was a drastic improvement. Even so, a deranged psychopath was running around inside with them.
She added a little more enthusiasm to her step. Walking behind Surfer Dude and admiring the broad expanse of his back distracted her from imminent danger. Okay, so the muscle she was admiring was a little farther south.
He stopped and she smacked face-first into his shirt. And lingered. Good Lord, he smells good. Voices drifted down the building, rudely distracting her from olfactory bliss.
“You sure you haven’t seen anything, MacAfee?”
“Nah, he didn’t come my way, Sarge.”
Her hormone-induced bubble burst. She peeked around Surfer Dude. Two uniformed police officers stood in a doorway with a man in street clothes. Probably a detective or something. Luxurious, beautiful sunlight shone beyond the door.
Intent on the freedom the swatch of sunshine represented, Ally sidled around Surfer Dude. He pulled her back into his chest and covered her mouth. She sighed into his hand and crossed her arms. This was getting old. Maybe she should stomp on his foot. Kick him in the shin. Elbow him in the ribs. Or just bite him.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, his low voice barely reaching her ears.
Annoying man. He could read minds too?
“See the dark shadow against the wall there? Between us and the door?”
Squinting, she strained to separate the subtle differences in the shadows. A soft sound reached her, like the shift of a foot in dirt. Her eyes widened as the silhouette of a man pressed into the corner became clear.
A reflection glinted, like a deer’s eyes in the middle of the night as you flashed by in your car. He was looking their way. She pressed back into her human wall, shaking. She belatedly sensed the alert edge in Surfer Dude’s stiffened muscles.
Slow and easy, hugging the wall beside them, he moved backward. The rough block wall scraped her bare arm. She didn’t care. The closer they were to something solid, the safer she felt. A sense of impending disaster filled her.
A muffled thump and whoosh of furnace-hot air creased the air beside her face. Surfer Dude jerked her into another dark hole in the wall. Burning pain lit her cheek as a dull thud smacked into the wall, raining chunks of debris on them.
His whisper-soft expletive blistered her ears. He unerringly found her hand again, tugged her out of the hole and jogged into the darkness—away from the door. Left with no choice, she followed. Her other hand crept up to touch a fiery spot on her cheek and her fingers came away damp and sticky. She wiped the thick substance on her khaki shorts.
Could this day get any worse? She should have stayed in bed.
Running up the metal steps, she did her best to keep quiet. The light improved as they climbed. His well-muscled butt distracted her from the burn of her thigh muscles and what felt like a gigantic bull’s eye on her backside.
Finally—thank you, God—they arrived at the top of the unending staircase. Sucking air, legs shaking like wet noodles, she gratefully sagged against the nearest wall. Oblivious to her state of near-collapse, Surfer Dude leaned over the stairwell, staring down into the inky black below. How he could see anything, she didn’t know. Neither did she particularly care.
Eyeing his hunky rear end, she touched her cheek. Wincing, she traced the throbbing, damp line of skin. Surfer Dude straightened and turned. His eyes narrowed on her. Two big steps brought him toe to toe. Sucking in a breath at his nearness, she tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go.
“Damn.” His sigh feathered across her skin. With gentle fingers, he pulled her hand away and tilted her face toward the light. “I didn’t realize.”
His face came closer. Close enough to count eyelashes. Totally unfair; they were longer than hers.
“It’s not bad,” he murmured. “Just a graze. If I’d realized sooner he had a gun…I’m sorry, Sugar Lips.”
She lifted her fingers in a shaft of brilliant sunlight and stared at the glistening blood on the tips. Her vision dimmed.
“Oh no you don’t.”
His voice came through a tunnel. Everything went dark.
Chapter Two (#u5d116a4c-96a4-5193-83be-cd7ad6ac17da)
Bright sunshine penetrated her closed lids. Ally rolled her head away before forcing them open. Squinting, she contemplated the bare leg an inch from her face. Tan and muscled, with a sprinkling of blonde hair. Nice.
“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”
The smooth velvet baritone washed over her, the slight roughness making her hormones sit up and pant. His voice made her think of naughty whispers in the dark, soft sighs when he kissed a special spot and the husky moans of unhurried lovemaking on satin sheets. She yearned toward it and had to fist her hands to resist temptation. No doubt he made the same unspoken offer to every female who crossed his path.
His words registered.
A snort escaped her lips before she could think better of it. His low chuckle heated her cheeks. Braving the sunlight, she turned to look at him. Up a brilliant white T-shirt, over a well-defined jawline, smiling lips and a straight nose, to focus on amused aqua eyes.
Surfer Dude. And apparently her head currently resided in his lap. The heat in her cheeks ratcheted up to a near-burn.
She sat up. They were on a roof, in a narrow spot of shade provided by the rooftop stairway access. Against her will, her gaze flitted back to where Surfer Dude lounged with impressive nonchalance.
“Feeling better?”
Prim dignity came to the rescue as she smoothed her mousy-brown hair, self-consciousness hidden behind a façade of calm reserve. “Yes, thank you.”
She ached to tug down her too-short shorts and make sure her lacy tank top still kept everything adequately covered. Pride brought her hand back to her lap and she clasped her fingers tight to prevent unlicensed wandering.
“I take it you don’t deal well with blood?”
Tensing, Ally searched his expression for any sign of condescension. Seeing none, she relaxed a little. “Not my own.”
“Yeah, I don’t know many people fond of seeing their own blood.” He shrugged. “No biggie, Sugar Lips. The bullet only nicked you.”
“Would you quit calling me Sugar…” The hot irritation faded alongside her voice. She swallowed and managed a single squeaky word. “Bullet?”
Hunky guys calling her mocking names ranked pretty high on her annoyance scale. Bullets? They’d never made it onto the scale. His shrewd gaze sharpened. Ally lifted her chin. He didn’t intimidate her.
“Yeah. You seem to have a penchant for finding trouble.”
“Me?” Her spine stiffened. “What about you? You were there too.”
“Sure, but you seem to have a way of attracting attention. Not surprising, I guess, with those big eyes and…” His gaze dropped to her lips, which promptly plumped and tingled. “…truly luscious lips.”
“Oh, get real, Surfer Dude.”
Oh. My. Word. I did not say that out loud. Fire burned in her cheeks, growing hotter when he chuckled. So glad I can prove entertaining, at least. Obnoxious jerk. She turned away and ducked her chin so her long hair fell forward to hide her face until the blasted blush faded.
“Surfer Dude?”
The laughter still coloring his voice made her want to crawl into a hole. Why did she always have to humiliate herself in front of attractive men? No wonder she was still single.
“I don’t know your name,” she mumbled into her hair. “I didn’t know what to call you.”
“Hey, whatever works. Name’s Greg.”
“Ally.”
“Sorry?”
He swept aside her hair, long fingers wrapping around her chin to angle her face back toward him. Meeting Surfer…uhm, Greg’s sparkling eyes, she swallowed.
“My name is Ally.”
He stared at her until her stomach tumbled to the hot roof they sat on. Which was beyond silly. No way on this planet a guy like him would want her.
He leaned closer, the heat in his eyes holding her suspended in breathless anticipation. His lips settled on hers with no hesitation, moving with a confidence she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Her lids slid closed against an eruption of butterflies. Deepening the kiss, his tongue glided over the seam of her lips, asking and gaining admission. The taste of him exploded across her tongue like deep, dark chocolate.
Shaken, she jerked back and eyed him. Things like this didn’t happen to girls like her. Girls like her led boring, quiet lives in boring, quiet duplexes. Girls like her sat at home on Friday nights watching romantic movies, eating popcorn, wearing warm pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Alone.
Girls like her did not meet gorgeous men on roller-coaster rides, have hair-raising experiences in dark buildings and make out with said gorgeous man on sun-kissed rooftops.
“That’s really low.” She leapt to her feet.
“Huh?”
At the sound of his footsteps, an unwelcome image of him climbing to his feet with catlike grace filled her mind.
“Did I miss something?”
She spun around, crossing her arms and glaring at all his golden glory shining in the summer sun. Jerk. “What kind of man goes around kissing another woman when he has a girlfriend? A girlfriend I’ve met! Sort of.”
Greg sighed and crossed his arms. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”
Ugh. Even his frown was adorable.
“Well…” Ally snorted and spun away. What kind of idiot did he take her for? Seriously. “Even if she is your sister, you shouldn’t have kissed me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Celia is my baby sister. Why shouldn’t I kiss you?”
She turned back, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Baby sister or not, there was absolutely no way a man like Greg would be interested in her. Gullible was so totally not her middle name and lack of experience didn’t equate stupidity. She had girlfriends. Sort of. Okay, so she eavesdropped while women at work gossiped about the men in their lives.
Ally wrapped her arms around her middle. “Because.”
“Because?” He groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Fine. Whatever.”
Running a hand through his blonde hair, he turned away. Ally snagged her lip between her teeth again. Maybe she had been a little hard on him. So she wasn’t the type of girl to take someone at face value. Sue her.
“Look, I’m sor—”
Several yards away, the rooftop door exploded open. Greg whirled and slammed into her, taking them both down hard on the rough asphalt roofing. The air left her lungs in a gasp. The roof dug into her back. She struggled to suck in air with his heavy weight pinning her in place.
“Shhh,” he said.
About the time her lungs started to burn, he seemed to sense her sincere distress and lifted off her a fraction. Fresh oxygen fueled her brain. They lay behind what looked like an air conditioner, hidden from view. More specifically, hidden from whoever had made such a dramatic and noisy entrance into their sky-high haven.
The door crashed open again. This time, anxiety weighed down her diaphragm.
“Freeze!”
Instinctively obeying, her muscles seized up. The sounds of a scuffle followed. She stared into Greg’s eyes. He winked and her tension eased. Why, she didn’t know.
Footsteps drew near, followed by low laughter. “Off-duty and on top of some woman. Classic Marsing.”
Greg’s heavy weight rolled off her, but he didn’t get up. He lounged on his side, watching her. The plain-clothes detective she’d seen earlier by the building exit stood over them, shaking his head.
Carefully, she sat up, gingerly testing her aching body parts while she eyed the two men. A few yards away, some guy—the deranged psychopath, presumably—was being handcuffed and read his rights.
“Always on top of some woman?” Ally repeated numbly.
Since she’d never been stupid, she easily put together two plus two and came up with a lying jerk. There went her fantasy of believing him about the sister, or believing in a sincere attraction, despite the kiss they’d shared. Acid burning her stomach, Ally crossed her arms and shut her eyes. I am such an idiot.
“Marsing?” She glanced at the detective.
“Didn’t have time for a proper introduction, huh? That’s our Marsing. Quite the ladies’ man right, Detective?” The guy smirked, arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart.
Now nauseated as well, Ally climbed to her feet.
“Shove it up your ass, Hank,” Detective Marsing growled. He smoothly rolled to his feet and offered his hand, which she batted away with sharp irritation. “Don’t tell me you believe this laughing hyena. He’s full of crap.”
Hank hooted with laughter, slapping his thigh. Gritting her teeth, Ally started walking. Several uniformed police officers were escorting a thickly muscled man off the roof. Neck muscles bulging, he turned and met her gaze. His pale-blue eyes sent a shiver down her spine, joined by a river of ice when one side of his thin lips pulled up in a menacing smile. She’d always thought it a dramatic turn of phrase with no basis in reality, but her blood literally ran cold.
A hand on her arm brought her up short. She barely swallowed an undignified screech. Heart racing, she spun to glare at Detective Marsing. “What? Exciting as this has been, I’d like to go home now.”
“Ally.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “Look, ignore Hank. He’s always been an ass. He can’t help it.”
“Which is so sad for Hank, but I don’t see what his being an ass has to do with any of this.” Ally sighed and pushed the hair off her forehead. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t even care anymore. I just want to go home.”
“Okay. Officer Smith will take you—”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He was yelling at her now? Her blood began a slow boil. He could take his offer and…Deep breath, Ally. “I’m not your concern.” She rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending you care.”
“I’m not pretending.” He stepped closer, invading her space. Again. “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Are you always such a pain in the ass?”
His words bit into her miniscule self-confidence and she blanched. This day sucked. Who was she kidding? Her life sucked.
She sighed. “Fine, have Officer What’s-His-Name escort me home. But I drove, so he’ll have to follow me. Is that fine with you?”
So she sounded snippy. So what?
His hand firm on her elbow, he practically frog-marched her over to a massive black man leaning against the stairway access. Warm midnight eyes watched their approach. How they’d even found a uniform large enough to fit him boggled the mind.
“Freddy, Ally. Ally, Officer Freddy Smith.” The curt introduction showed his irritation, but she refused to care. “Freddy, follow Ally in your cruiser. I want to make sure she gets home safe. Although, I’m starting to wonder why,” he added, just loud enough for her to hear.
She glared at him. Like she’d asked to witness a murder and almost have a bullet lodged in her brain. Yep, good times.
“Sure thing, Detective Marsing.” Officer Smith grinned.
Before she could do more than turn away, Detective Marsing spoke again. “One more thing….”
Ally glanced back. He stood in the glaring sun wearing an inscrutable expression. Gone was the good ol’ surfer boy and easy sparkling charm.
“Stop by the EMTs on the way out and have them take a look at her cheek.”
Unconsciously, her hand headed for her cheek. Detective Marsing intercepted it. His big hand wrapped around hers, making her feel small and petite for the space of several heartbeats. Until her common sense kicked in.
A flicker of humor returned to his eyes. “Let’s not go there again, Sugar Lips.”
Swallowing a pang of bittersweet longing, regret and any number of other useless feelings, she turned away and followed Officer Smith into the shadowy depths of the building. Memories assailed her and she hesitated before forcing herself to put one foot after the other down the stairs. As if sensing her unease, Officer Smith glanced back.
“How’d a pretty little thing like you get mixed up in today’s ugliness?”
“Just going for a ride, Officer Smith. Against my better judgment, I might add.”
“Don’t like roller coasters?”
“Yeah, you could say that. What happened, anyway?”
“Well, I don’t know that I oughta say. Seeing as how you’re friends with ol’ Marsing, though, I guess it’s okay.”
Ally debated setting him straight, but she wanted to know what had happened. Besides, she’d been shot at! Her fingers itched to inspect her little wound and she made a fist, her short, sensible fingernails biting into her palm.
“As you saw, the lowlife shoved some poor SOB outta the coaster. Of course, I doubt he counted on us being here when he did it. Pretty stupid to not take into consideration all the witnesses.”
“Who was the, uh.” Ally’s belly flipped. She’d tried really hard not to think about the man who’d fallen. “Victim?”
“I’m not allowed to say.”
Ally shut her mouth and followed him out of the building. The silent amusement park sent a shiver racing over her skin.
The EMTs were more than happy to patch up her little boo-boo. She sat inside the ambulance, a first for her, while they did their thing. Some antiseptic and a couple of butterfly bandages later, she climbed into her shiny pale-green Prius.
Officer Smith tailed her all the way to her semi-attached house in the suburbs. She had never been more excited to see her unexciting, drab little home. A tidal wave of relief swamped her as she pulled into her garage.
The black and white cruiser parked directly behind her. In her rearview mirror, the big officer talked on a cell phone. She swung open her door and scrambled out when he disconnected.
The officer’s massive body blocked the fading sunlight as he strolled inside her garage. “You gonna be okay, Miss?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll be fine. Thank you for seeing me home. I hope it didn’t put you too far out of your way.”
“Nah. I always enjoy a pleasant ride through the ’burbs. Nice change from the busy city streets.”
“Yes, it is.”
She shifted uneasily, glancing from him to the door into her house.
“So…” he planted a hand on top of her car. “You live here all alone?”
“Uhm, yes.” Ally swallowed, feeling hemmed in. “Were you talking to your wife? On your cell phone?”
“Not exactly.”
Where had the charming, talkative man gone? She liked that guy. She wanted him back. “Well,” she forced a smile, “thanks again.”
He didn’t move. Something shifted. The air thickened and she struggled to draw a full breath. His dark, unwavering eyes sent a shiver of ice down her spine. She sidled a few steps away. He no longer seemed friendly and easy-going.
“The boss doesn’t like untidy jobs.”
“Uhm…boss? As in, the police chief?”
Of course, he was talking about the police chief. She wanted to laugh at her absurdity, but the sound strangled in her throat.
He shook his head. “Not exactly. I do a little work on the side for this other guy.”
Her stomach bottomed out.
Beyond him, the garage door stood open, but there wasn’t a single person to be seen. The quiet neighborhood where everyone stayed in their houses and bothered no one didn’t seem like such a fabulous thing about now. She backed up a few more steps.
“He gave me a call on the way over. Wants you taken care of.” He herded her backward toward the door into her house.
No way he was referring to massaging her feet or barbecuing a nice steak for her. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had taken on a keen resemblance to the Sahara. “Uh, why me?”
“That’s a need-to-know sorta thing. And you don’t.”
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. This is really bad. I don’t do really bad.
The back of her feet hit the step below the door, forcing her up and inside, with Officer Smith’s massive bulk following. Ally fought back a whimper. This guy was so huge. She didn’t stand a chance.
“Nice place.”
This stranger, police officer gone rogue, who planned to do…something not good, was admiring her home. She had the ridiculous urge to giggle. Giggling involved breathing and she was pretty sure that function had seized up. Shaking her head, disbelief warred with flat-out terror.
How had a simple outing, an attempt to get a bit of a life, turned into this?
Officer Smith shoved her into a chair in her living room. Detective Marsing had insisted on sending her home with an armed escort. Her soon-to-be killer pawed through her belongings and Ally gritted her teeth. This was all Marsing’s fault
Smith picked up a romance novel she’d been reading, snorted and tossed the book over his shoulder. Crossing her trembling arms, she narrowed her eyes. Like it wasn’t bad enough he planned to kill…Her thoughts fractured. Panic beat at her. Dragging in a deep breath, she used sheer force of will to bring her emotions under control.
A porcelain figurine shattered on the floor and she snapped her gaze back to the behemoth pawing through her drawers. Clarifying outrage flowed through her.
He turned his back completely, and Ally had a lightbulb moment. Toeing off her sandals, she eased to her feet. He grunted and shifted his impressive weight. She froze, lightheaded with fear. The temptation of escape whispered in her ear. So very close.
When he didn’t turn, she walked backward on unsteady feet, slipping around the corner into her beautiful, immaculate kitchen. He was so sure she would sit there like a good little girl while he satisfied his curiosity. Fat chance. Steel slid up her spine. Maybe she was boring and terrified of far too many things, but she wasn’t going to sit obediently on her hands and wait to die.
She spun on bare feet, raced through her kitchen and into the garage. The police cruiser in the drive fenced in her car. Tearing around the corner, she dashed across the neighbor’s side lawn. Heart racing, anticipating discovery any moment, she leapt the waist-height fence into their backyard with the agility of a trained athlete.
Grinning over her small feat, she aimed for the back fence.
A bellow from inside her house made her flinch, pulling the plug on her pride. Remembering an old police show, she hunched and ran in a zigzag pattern. Heart pounding, palms clammy, the six-foot privacy fence loomed before her. A zing, a crunch to her left. She stared at a fresh, neatly splintered hole just to the side of her head.
Oh, God! He was shooting at her. Actually shooting. In broad daylight. In her neighbor’s backyard. Didn’t they have rules about that sort of stuff?
Nerves shredded, Ally gritted her teeth. Three more feet. Two. Another crunch. She swore the heat of the bullet singed her shoulder. Arms extended, she jumped for all she was worth. Up, braced her arms and pushed off. She landed with an oomph on the other side, followed by another crunch and a hole in the wood fence.
For a split second, she crouched panting, staring in disbelief at the fence towering over her head. Had she really done that?
Cursing from the other side got her up and moving again. Squealing tires and a revving engine brought her head around. A car tore into the alley and raced toward her. More bad guys? Had he called in reinforcements?
Ally froze.
Did I do something horrible in a past life to deserve this?
Truly, I’ll help the poor. Serve food at the soup kitchen. Go to church every Sunday. Donate money to the shelter. I’ll even babysit my friend’s bratty kids.
Just please, please, please get me out of this alive.
The shiny black Camaro careened to a stop with the driver’s side door facing her. Heavily tinted windows revealed nothing. In a last desperate bid for freedom, she darted past the door. Strong arms encircled her waist and dragged her back toward the idling car.
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Angel Nicholas
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Триллеры
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 28.04.2024
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О книге: Ally Thompson’s life is perfect. Calm, quiet, some might even say boring. The sole survivor of a tragic accident, she’s not the adventurous type—something she’s decided to change.One roller-coaster ride…A murder and a detective in disguise shatter Ally’s first attempt at “fun.” Detective Greg Marsing is everything Ally knows better than to want. The gun-totting, tattooed scumbags trying to kill her are almost a welcome distraction from her pointless attraction.Blows her world wide open…A contract on Ally has every lowlife for miles gunning for her. Sparks fly while she and her unlikely hero scramble to unravel clues. As the deadly game escalates, Greg has to decide if self-preservation rates higher than a love worth dying for.