Ali Atwood's Place: First Chapters

Is she a pawn in a complicated game, devised by the men fueling her illicit fantasies?

Remy Adara has been waiting for a chance to even the score with Jett Vega—he’s the hotter than hot ex-lover who hung her out to dry, causing her to lose her dream job with Starfleet Galactic.

Fate takes a surprise swing when Vega contacts Remy and wants to talk. While she journeys to confront Vega, Remy runs into Bric Rayder, a Starfleet instructor she’s lusted after for years. It turns out that Jett and Bric know each other, and there’s more to the hunks than meets the eye…

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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

Three to Tango

ISBN: 978-1-77111-ARC

Cover art by ARTIST Scott Carpenter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books

Look for us online at:

www.eXtasybooks.com

Chapter One

First Shasta Boc System, Orbital Station 54

15 June 2126

Remy Adara was not sure what would happen when she came face-to-face with Jett Vega again. His brief message had offered no clues. If you come to my home on Corvus, you will learn more about past events. He’d signed it JV and included an access link for prepaid transport.

Remy’s first instinct was to tell him to go to hell, but she was curious. Why, after eighteen months of silence, had he decided to talk to her now? She considered it might be a ploy, but figured if Jett Vega had wanted to harm her, he would have done so long before now. The deciding factor was closure. She needed to put the painful episode behind her—

“Approaching station five,” the monorail’s address system announced. “Passengers for out world departures please disembark here.”

Jerking her thoughts back to the present, Remy stood as the pressurized monorail slowed and stopped. She retrieved her small duffle bag from the stowage compartment and waited for a woman with two small children to move ahead of her to the exit.

Stepping onto the concourse, Remy paused to glance up at the large status screen, noting that her connecting flight to Corvus, on the Gala Ventura Liner, was listed as on time, due to depart at 1030, two hours from now. Weaving her way through the crowds of travelers, jabbering in a dozen different languages while flight information came through the public address system, Remy hurried toward the boarding area to be met by a smiling crewmember wearing a blue tunic over gray trousers.

“Good morning, madam. Thank you for choosing Gala Transport for your journey today. May I please see your documentation?”

Remy handed him her travelpak containing her ID card. He ran it through a reader, returning it with a bright smile. “You’re on B deck, madam Adara, compartment eighty-three. And your transferred luggage…” He tapped the reader screen. “…is already in your cabin. I just need your fingerprint for key surety.”

Remy moved toward the square unit he held out and placed her forefinger on the red-lit porthole. “Are we still on schedule?” she wanted to know.

He gave her another bright smile. “Yes, traffic control has cleared us for an on time departure. Enjoy your journey.” As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the passengers queuing up behind Remy.

Stepping onto the walkway to board the ship, Remy saw a small non-human form droid waiting at the entrance. The air jets beneath the droid’s rectangular form kept it hovering a few centimeters off the floor, allowing for speed about the ship. “Welcome aboard,” it greeted in its hollow techno voice. “I’m here to guide you to your cabin. Please follow me.”

Ten minutes later, on B deck, Remy placed her forefinger in the security porthole outside her compartment while the droid waited behind her, making humming and clicking sounds as if assessing new data from its controller. As soon as the entrance panel swished open, the droid zoomed away on hissing air jets.

Walking into her cabin, Remy dropped her duffel bag and looked around the spacious compartment, decorated in steel gray and blue. She judged it to be three times the size of the quarters she’d occupied when she was a communications officer with Starfleet. When she crossed to look in the bathroom, she noted it contained both sonic and wet freshener-cubicles. Bathing with water in deep space was a real treat. So far, the vessel had certainly lived up to its luxury liner rating—meaning Vega hadn’t skimped on the transport he’d booked for her. When her pulse quickened at the thought of seeing him again, she blocked his mental image and moved to unpack, reminding herself that he had probably given her as little thought as possible since the incident.

Two hours later, after she’d showered and dressed in a burgundy-colored outfit that went well with her fair coloring, Remy stood in front of the full length mirror, turning sideways as she adjusted the top’s gathered waistline. She was always worried in case she looked like a fat ass. No matter how much she dieted or exercised, her backside refused to decrease in size. In her teens, her younger brother had teased her mercilessly, saying her butt must have been born first and the rest of her had grown around it. On the other hand, nature had given her a good set of boobs to compensate. Looking down at them, she adjusted the scoop neckline, so she didn’t show too much cleavage. Then she moved closer to the mirror to fluff her freshly washed hair and check that she hadn’t applied too much shadow to accent her blue eyes. Normally, she never spent more than ten minutes on hair and makeup, but she’d taken over an hour to make herself look as good as possible. As much as she hated to admit it, the debacle with Vega had undercut her confidence as a woman. Even though she wouldn’t reach Corvus for many more hours, she felt that if she made the best of herself now, it would put her in the right frame of mind to face her nemesis.

As she picked up her perfume to spritz, the public address system chimed in, “Ladies and gentlemen, the ship is about to cast off. On behalf of the entire crew, I would like to welcome you aboard the Gala Ventura. Our estimated flying time to Corvus is nineteen hours and forty-five minutes. You are free to move about the spacecraft at any time during the flight. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to make your journey more enjoyable.”

Remy knew it would take an hour or so for the tugs to tow the ship out to the required distance where the craft’s thrusters could power up safely. She’d flown through this system many times during her Starfleet service, so she knew the craft would reach the first jump point and switch to superlight speed in roughly six hours. As large and steady as this ship was, the passengers would barely notice the increase in speed.

Now, since Remy had missed breakfast, she left the cabin and took the elevator up to the dining area on A deck. The large room took up the entire floor, featuring a starlit ceiling.

“Good day, madam,” a female steward greeted. “Are you part of a group?”

“No. I’m dining alone.”

“Uh, a single.” The young brunette offered a quick smile before she frowned down at her reader, making Remy feel as if she should be pitied for not having a man on her arm. It made her think of Vega again, and the romantic dinners they had once shared. Don’t go there, damn it.

“You’re in luck,” the steward said. “I can seat you by a window.” She ushered Remy halfway across the dining room to a small square table fashioned from quartz with rose-colored chairs.

An hour later, after Remy had indulged in a delicious brunch with real eggs and meats, she was savoring her second cup of genuine coffee—another reason for this ship’s luxury rating. On most planets, you could only get the simulated stuff.

“Hello, Remy.”

At the sound of the deep voice, Remy jolted, almost spilling her coffee as her gaze snapped upward. The eyes that stared back at her were the color of old gold. She put down her coffee cup and sat up straighter. “Well, Captain Rayder, fancy meeting you here.” Her tone was sarcastic because his appearance here was predictable. Bric Rayder had not only taught the evidentiary class she’d taken at the Starfleet academy, he’d been part of the intelligence team that had investigated her. “I assume this isn’t a random meeting?”

“Correct.”

So Starfleet was still watching her, and apparently monitoring her communications, if Rayder knew she would be on this ship. “Just for the record,” she let him know, “if you’re trailing me to get to Vega, I couldn’t care less. I assume there’s still an arrest warrant with his name on it.”

“Can I sit?”

She waved toward the opposite chair, studying his wide shouldered frame as he sat down. He was dressed casually in tan pants and a collarless white shirt that was unbuttoned at the neck and rolled to his elbows, displaying tanned muscular forearms. The least he could do, Remy thought, was look less attractive, but no, he was as dreamy as she remembered, with that thick mane of black hair and a shadow beard that enhanced his masculine appeal, while his mouth was almost too softly curved to belong to a man. She had fantasized about kissing that mouth on many occasions.

“The warrant for Vega is worthless,” he told. “He now resides in a system of planets that doesn’t have extradition treaties with the coalition worlds.” He waved a hand. “That’s immaterial. I’m here because I’ve been going through the case files again.” He paused to signal to a passing male steward, who hurried forward.

“Yes, sir?”

“A pot of coffee please.”

As the steward walked back to the service area, Remy caught Rayder giving her an appraising look that took in the swell of her breasts. “Going off topic,” he said. “I have to tell you that you’re looking very well out of uniform, great in fact.”

The quick change of direction and unexpected compliment caught Remy off guard. “Um, well, thanks.” She wondered if he was playing her. He had to know he had a devastating effect on women. During the year she’d taken his class at the academy he’d featured heavily in the sexual fantasies that had her tossing and turning in bed. Maybe she hadn’t concealed her lust as well as she’d thought and he was hoping he could get her to trip herself up and say something that proved she’d been part of the theft. Laughable, really, since she was completely innocent. “Going back on topic,” she said, “would you mind telling me why you’ve decided to look at the case again, and why do I get the feeling you don’t believe Vega is guilty?”

“Tell me first, why you agreed to meet him, since you obviously still believe he is guilty?”

She hesitated, remembering those nightmare days following her dismissal from Starfleet, having to deal with the pain of knowing that everything that Vega had said to her was false. While she’d foolishly believed he was courting her, taking an interest in all aspects of her life, he’d merely been picking her brain. She told Rayder, “While Vega might not have been the masterminded behind the theft, I’m sure he was involved. Unfortunately, at the time, I didn’t see any harm in telling him where the Starfleet ships were being built. I never imagined someone would slip passed security and reprogram the ship’s systems to respond to new codes—”

She broke off when the female steward who’d first greeted her appeared and poured coffee for Rayder. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“No, that’ll do for now, thanks.”

Remy didn’t miss the covetous look in the young steward’s eyes as she smiled at Rayder. Not that Remy could blame her. Despite the serious discussion, she was having difficulty keeping her gaze off the strong line of his throat and the V of his white shirt, where a patch of dark hair was visible. She waited until the steward was out of earshot and continued, “So are you going to tell me why you don’t think Vega is guilty?”

Rayder paused to take a mouthful of coffee. “The more I’ve studied the case files, it’s clear that somebody got to somebody. Unfortunately, the lead investigator on the case at the time was convinced that you and Vega were guilty, and you’d worked as a team.”

That part annoyed her the most.

“For the record, Remy, I never believed that you were involved in any way.”

That surprised her. “Well, thank you for that.”

“Unfortunately, you were the coms officer with access—”

Remy curled her lip. “Which made me the perfect patsy.”

Rayder drank coffee and studied her over the rim of his cup. “I have to ask if you’re planning some sort of revenge on Jett?”

Remy huffed. “Believe me, I considered it, but it’s not my style. I simply want to know the whys of it, and look Vega in the eye when I tell him what I think of him.”

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of Rayder’s mouth. “It might interest to know that Jett said the same thing. That you’re as straight-arrow as they come.”

Remy was surprised that they had discussed her, and she didn’t miss his use of Vega’s first name, warning herself not to take any of this on trust. Vega could have gotten to Rayder somehow and twisted him around. “What more do you hope to learn from him?” she pressed.

“I won’t know until I speak to him.” He glanced away for a moment and twiddled with a fork, as if tossing up whether to divulge something or not. He inhaled. “That’s enough of that for the moment. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been doing for the last eighteen months? How do you occupy your time when you’re not working? How’s your social life?”

The last thing she wanted to discuss with Bric Rayder was her virtually nonexistent love life. She’d had two dates in the past eighteen months, and both had turned out to be unsatisfactory dead ends. “I socialize,” she told him, “but there’s no one special. And I’m sure you know the rest of it.”

He shook his head as he refilled his coffee cup. “Whatever you think, Remy, I haven’t been shadowing you, nor has anyone else from Starfleet, as far as I know. Jett told me he’d messaged you, and it’s no secret that you’re living back on Earth, using your multilingual skills to teach language classes at a local university.”

“It pays the bills.”

“Meaning you’d like to get back into the military?”

The question triggered a bitter laugh. “There’s no chance of that. Even the merc outfits won’t hire a disgraced officer, not the decent ones anyway.”

He leaned over and patted her arm. “Don’t give up hope. Things might change for the better.”

Remy caught her breath at her body’s quick response to a normal touch. His face was close to hers and for the first time she noticed there were green lights around the pupils of his eyes. She couldn’t stop looking at them. She’d seen the same green splashes in Vega’s eyes. She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her before how closely the two men resembled each other, enough that they could be kin. They both had masses of wavy black hair together with the similar eye color. Was that why she was attracted to both of them? She’d never put that together before. Maybe because she’d met Vega when she was already a commissioned officer with Starfleet, and Rayder was no longer part of her life—her fantasy life, that was.

“Do you still have feelings for Vega?”

Remy whipped her mind back. “What?”

“Despite your belief in his guilt, I thought you might—”

“I don’t.” Admittedly, she was nervous about seeing him, and she was still at loose emotional ends because of what she’d been through, but her heart didn’t ache for him anymore—so she told herself.

Rayder sat back in his chair and studied her. “Well, I’d say that just about covers it until we speak to Jett, and it’s still a long way to Corvus. What do you say we keep each other company for the rest of the journey?”

As their eyes met again, there was a gleam in his that sent a ripple of awareness streaming through her. Was it possible he was coming on to her? In your dreams, Adara, he means hang out and eat meals together. She nodded. “Keeping each other company sounds good. I don’t like to eat alone.”

“Me neither, but I was thinking of getting to know you in other ways.”

There was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes this time. Her heart started to pound in heavy beats. However, as much as she’d lusted after Rayder at the academy, she’d never fooled herself that she was his style of woman. So either he was doing what most single men might do with time to spare—look to bed the closest woman at hand with the minimum of romance—or he had a hidden agenda. She decided she didn’t care if she was a convenient fuck, and the rest would take care of itself. If fate was giving her the chance to have sex with Bric Rayder, she was taking it, but in case she’d misread the situation she asked him to confirm, “Does getting to know me involve taking our clothes off?”

The question drew slow sensual smile from him, his teeth looking very white against his bronzed skin. “Your cabin or mine?”

She moistened her lips as she imagined being crushed in his embrace. “Mine,” she said, “in thirty minutes.” With that, she rose on slightly shaky legs and headed for the exit, only to realize she hadn’t given him her cabin number. She turned, but couldn’t shout it across the room, so she walked quickly back to the table, leaning down to whisper, “I’m in cabin eighty-three.”

His golden eyes held hers as he whispered back, “Yes, I know, B deck.”

Was that laughter flickering in his gaze? She glanced around self-consciously. “Right, then, see you there.”

* * * *

Bric watched her duck her head as she hurried to the exit, charmed to see she had a shy side. When he dropped his gaze to admire the sway of her rounded backside, his mouth watered as he imagined the soft texture of her skin. He knew this shouldn’t be happening. Bedding Remy Adara was last thing he’d intended when he boarded the liner, but he didn’t seem to have any self-control where she was concerned, and he’d never been able to explain his novel susceptibly to her. She wasn’t beautiful by traditional standards, but she was sexy as hell with that silky blonde hair and a body that wouldn’t quit.

While they were both at the Academy, he’d wondered if she had picked up on his sensual vibes, if she’d guessed how much he wanted her. Though he had never violated Starfleet’s code of conduct regarding female cadets, he’d been sorely tested in Remy’s case. Now, all he could think of was driving himself into her with long hard strokes. When his sex twitched, he wondered if he should take the edge off before he went to her—return to his cabin and use his own hand on his cock.

Buy Links:

Extasy Books

Amazon

Huntress for Hire

CAPA nominee in Best Sci-fi category

Huntress for Hire (Huntress Chronicles #1)

What’s better than a gorgeous, time traveling supercop? Two of them.

Private Investigator, Kat Monroe, is a woman to be reckoned with, an inborn huntress with predatory speed and lightning fast reflexes. Now a sadistic killer has her in his sights. Aiming to take her forward in time, where she’ll be forced to fight in a gladiatorial arena.

Enter Max and Brett Jericho, time traveling supercops on assignment to bring the killer to justice. Even as her world becomes deadlier, Kat is blown away by the gorgeous, future cops. When they all end up in bed together, each man fulfills Kat’s long suppressed desires.

Determined to beat the killer at his own game, Kat opts to travel to the future and set herself up as bait. With her shifter supercops watching her back, what could possibly go wrong?

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Huntress For Hire

ISBN: 978-1-77111-110-2

Cover art by Angela Waters

Published by eXtasy Books

Look for us online at:

www.eXtasybooks.com

Huntress For Hire

Huntress Chronicles One

Ali Atwood

Chapter One

Boston Massachusetts.

Present day

“Hey, I’m back. Flew the redeye in from LA and met a great guy on the plane.”

The words came through Kat Monroe’s earpiece as she gunned her SUV through an orange traffic light. Steel-belted radials screeched as she edged her way between a belching metro bus and a suicidal bike messenger.

Finding humor in the madness, Kat’s husky laughter rippled through the cell link. “Hey, bestie, welcome home. I’m battling a traffic jam from hell here. Did you say you’d met a new guy?”

* * * *

“Yes, he’s a freelance photojournalist who lives here in Boston. Hold on…” Switching her cell phone to her other ear, Lora Harrison retrieved her luggage from the carousel and walked from the terminal building to wait for the airport limo. “I gave him my number and we’ll see if he calls.” She sat on a bench, stretching out her shapely legs. “So dish, Monroe. What’s happening with you?”

* * * *

Kat blew out a breath. “Same old, working my ass off trying to sign new clients.”

The women had hooked-up in college and stayed best friends, despite the fact that they were polar opposites in looks and temperament. Kat, an ex-cop turned private investigator, verged on Amazonian proportions, standing a little over six feet. She had silvery-gray eyes accentuated by her dark, sable hair. She was feminine enough to wear it long though she normally braided it for work. Since she’d been forced to conceal a large part of herself from an early age, she could appear aloof at times.

Lora Harrison, an executive chef for a large, catering company, had just returned from a short, business trip to Southern California. A petite, blue-eyed blonde with a bubbling personality and boundless energy, she was nothing if not forthright.

“Stopping stalling, Monroe, I want deets. Have you done the naked deed with anyone since you dumped Josh?”

Passing a high-sided truck, Kat slowed for red light. Her expressive face moving into grimace. “Nada on the sex.”

“Huh. So what is it now, four months?”

“Closer to six and a half.”

Prior to resigning from the Boston PD to open her own investigation agency, Kat had dated Josh Harper, a fellow homicide detective. Though he was fifteen years older than Kat with craggy features that couldn’t be called handsome, he kept his tall, rangy body in good shape and Kat enjoyed his keen sense of humor. Three months into the relationship, Kat walked into the supply room early one morning to find Nancy Murphy, from human resources, on her knees with Josh’s dick in her mouth.

The episode hadn’t been a heartbreaker, since Kat’s heart hadn’t been on the line. Still, she had expected the affair to remain exclusive for as long as it lasted. Since she couldn’t avoid running into Harper on the job, she’d put up a good front. But the incident had played on her insecurities. Lately, she’d begun to wonder if there were any men out there worth shaving her legs for.

“What you need now, girl, is a well-hung guy to erase the memory of that asshole. And since I’ll be in town for a while, I can help you prowl for a likely candidate.”

Kat released a heavy sigh. “Truthfully, Lora, the only thing I want to pursue at present are my career goals.” Her outgoings in the last few months had done some serious damage to her bank account. She needed to pull in some lucrative contracts. “You know as well as I do that a woman trying to build a reputation in a male dominated profession has to work twice as hard to win even a modicum of respect.”

Lora made sympathetic noises. “I hear you, hon. I really do. But mmm, mmm, male dominated. Summons all kinds of erotic images.”

Kat rolled her eyes. “Is there anything that doesn’t summon erotic images for you?”

Lora chuckled. “Nope, I’m a simple woman. My mind undresses every man I meet.” She paused. “Look, sweetie, you know I love you to bits, but the truth is, you’re driven to a fault and it can’t be healthy. You need to lighten up. Forget about work and come clubbing with me tonight. We can analyze the benefits of hot sex over a pitcher of cold Margaritas. With luck we’ll find a couple of guys to help us follow our line of investigation.”

Kat hesitated, thinking about her upcoming appointment with the client that she was hoping to sign. A Mr. Dawson who was keen to find his missing wife and, the large sum of money Mrs. Dawson had lifted from the couple’s joint savings account. To give Dawson confidence in her abilities, Kat had planned to do some preliminary research this evening. “The thing is…I’d envisioned a quick, nuked dinner before I pull an all-nighter for a prospective case.”

There was a short silence. “All right, I want you to be straight with me, are you, A-genuinely bogged down with urgent investigation work, B-determined to hide from men because you’re secretly nursing a broken heart over Josh Harper, or C-avoiding my company because I’ve inadvertently done something to piss you off?”

“What! No. God, Lora, no, it’s got nothing to do with you. You’re my best girl pal forever.” In truth, Kat would like nothing more than to confide in Lora about her sudden fear of sleeping. But she didn’t dare, in case her friend thought she’d gone loopy. Instead, she offered a half-truth, “If I’ve seemed a little off, it’s because I’ve been suffering with insomnia for a couple of weeks. It makes it difficult to concentrate during working hours.”

Lora made a relieved sound. “Okay, well that’s not so bad. So you’ll do a few hours of office work this afternoon, have a night on the town with me, where you might possibly meet someone you want to take home for an uncomplicated fuck. Hey, presto! You’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

Kat had to laugh. Lora never failed to lift her spirits. “Alright, done, I’m yours to command for the evening.”

“There you go again, conjuring those sexy, bondage images.”

Kat pulled a comical face to herself. “Tie me up, tie me down. I suppose you want to have dinner first?”

Lora chuckled. “I’ll see if I can get us a table overlooking the harbor at our favorite restaurant.” Lora’s cousin owned the seafood restaurant. “What time should I book?”

“Hmm. Eight o’clock, that’ll give me time to get some of the work done.”

There was silence and then a damn from Lora. “Gotta go, hon, the new pastry chef I hired just texted me a nine-one-one. See you at the restaurant.”

Lora hung up as Kat pulled her four-wheel-drive vehicle into the wide, shrubbery-edged driveway leading to her redbrick fixer-upper. Turning off the engine, she popped the trunk, grabbed her briefcase off the passenger seat and walked to the rear of the vehicle for her groceries. As she cast a fond eye over her garden, she noticed the rhododendron bushes were covered with deep, pink blossoms. To her mind, their blooming always marked the transition from winter to spring. She paused to savor the perfect day, lifting her face to let the May sunshine warm it, the spring breeze snagging wisps free from her braid.

Simultaneously, she felt a sudden stirring in the air as her inner wavelengths signaled that something unforeseen was at hand. Turning on her heel, Kat looked back along the length of her gravel driveway, watching a tall man in a long, black coat walk through the entrance.

Thanks to her special abilities, which Kat kept hidden, she didn’t fear strangers the way the average woman might. All the same, she watched the newcomer speculatively until she saw a large, black dog running to catch up with the man who paused to attach a leash to the dog’s collar. With that, Kat assumed the stranger was one of the townies who regularly scouted this area, looking to buy one of the older properties that sat on a large plot. Most of the buyers, like Kat, had reconstruction in mind. Perhaps this guy had walked too far and lost his bearings.

As man and dog approached through the tree-dappled sunlight, the stranger’s features were obscured, but it was clear he was youngish. With a professional eye, Kat logged the rest of his details—height around six feet, weight in the region of one eighty, dark, longish hair and his black coat appeared to be made of leather. Since it was unbuttoned and flapping in the breeze, it reminded Kat of something a cowboy might wear. She almost expected to see a pistol strapped to his hip.

Her gaze drifted down to his canine companion. A large dog with a glossy, black coat that looked to be a cross between a Labrador and a German Shepherd. She was amused to see it had a doggie version of a backpack strapped around its middle.

The stranger waved a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon. A lovely day, is it not?” His voice drifted across to her like a soft rumble of thunder. It was strangely accented, not quite American.

Kat offered a politely enquiring smile. “Yes, a beautiful day.”

She was distracted when the dog started to pull on its leash, making excited, snuffling sounds, obviously eager to greet someone new. Kat loved dogs and hoped to adopt one when she wasn’t working quite so many hours. Now she gazed down into an appealing, canine face, dominated by large, intelligent, brown eyes. The dog wagged its tail in apparent response to her instinctive smile.

“Hello there, sweetie.” She bent to stoke its satiny, black head while the dog licked her fingers. Then it looked up into her eyes and woofed softly, completely charming Kat. “Well aren’t you a darling—” she glanced at its genitals— “boy?” She stroked its head a couple more times before she came upright to speak to the man. Finding her gaze level with the strong column of his throat inside the neckline of his black sweater, she amended his height to six-six or -seven. Plus he was bigger framed than he looked from a distance with an impressive width of shoulders that all but filled her vision

When she swept her gaze upward, she felt as if the air had been knocked out of her. The eyes watching her with piercing intensity looked as though they’d been fashioned from molten gold, emphasized by inky lashes. His hair was blue-black, waving as it wished in sexy disarray. A quick study of the rest of his face with its smooth, bronzed skin and beautifully sculptured mouth showed there wasn’t anything about him not attractive. Even the small scar running along the right side of his jaw added to his appeal. Kat could almost hear Lora shouting from the other side of town, Seize the moment, girl. Don’t let this one get away.

Mentally Kat shook her head. He was way too beautiful for her or any average-looking woman’s peace of mind. While she had never had occasion to use the term eye-candy, this guy was confection to die for—a creamy chocolate type you could become addicted to, if you were lucky enough to get a taste in the first place. Doubtless, he dated the type of star-spangled women you saw in the glossy magazines.

She spoke in a neutral, neighborly tone, as if she wasn’t affected by his looks, “Since you don’t look like somebody selling magazine subscriptions, I’m guessing you’re new to the area, in need of directions.”

For a second her mysterious visitor looked puzzled, supporting the theory that English was not his first language. Then his eyes filled with laughter, his mouth curving into a smile that upped his appeal quotient from hot to sizzling. “No, I’m not a door-to-door salesman and Mrs. Patel, at the corner store, pointed me in this direction. I’m looking for Kathryn Monroe.” His gaze steadied on her face. “Would that be you?”

Staring into his extraordinary eyes, the woman in Kat lost her train of thought, but the ex-cop picked up the threads. “Yes, I’m Kat Monroe. And you are…?”

This time his smile was quick and apologetic. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself straight away. I’m Max…Jericho.”

He held out a large hand and Kat shook it. It was callused and felt like rock. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jericho, I’m curious why Mrs. Patel would send you to me. This house isn’t for rent or sale. As you can see, I’m still renovating.” She indicated to the builder’s scaffolding covering the side of the house where the brickwork was undergoing repointing.

Jericho flicked his gaze to her house. “And I’m sure it’ll look splendid when finished. However, that’s not why I’m here. I need your professional help.”

She blinked. “You want to hire me?”

“Yes.” He watched her face. “I’m hoping you can start right away.”

Off balance, she quickly considered. Mr. Dawson was coming to see her the day after tomorrow. It was hard to estimate how much time it would take to track down the errant Mrs. Dawson. But she had juggled two or more cases before. “I’m sure I can find the time to help you.” She was curious. “How did you hear about me?”

Jericho hesitated. “I found you online, but somehow misplaced your office address on the way here.” He gave an elegant shrug.

He didn’t strike Kat as a man who would misplace anything.

“Fortunately, Mrs. Patel was able to help.” His eyes twinkled. “She considers you to be an asset to the neighborhood by the way.”

Listening to his rich rumbling voice that made everything he said sound fascinating, Kat did what she usually did with prospective clients, opened her para-senses to probe his chi. She found his emotional levels were deep and inconsistent, making it hard to get a fix on him. But since she didn’t get any red warning signals, she relaxed, as much as any woman could relax when faced with so much masculine beauty. If it crossed her mind to have a word with Mrs. Patel regarding privacy issues, she dismissed it. The woman had done her a service after all.

“In what area do you need my help, Mr. Jericho?” Recently she’d been involved with a couple of industrial espionage cases. However, the vast majority of her work dealt with missing persons the police had failed to find.

“I’d like you to help me locate a thief who made off with four-point-five million in uncut diamonds.”

Kat blinked slowly. “Well, that’s certainly out of the ordinary.” Not many PIs were offered sexy cases tied to millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds, let alone a sexy client to go with it, even if all she could do was look. The Josh Harper disaster had cured her of mixing business and pleasure. “I’m assuming you’re an insurance investigator, since law enforcement is not in the habit of hiring PIs.”

“No, they’re not, but I’m foreign law enforcement without jurisdiction. I come from a small European country called Baltrania. And the victim is a Baltranian diplomat.”

Kat had never heard of the place. And she had to wonder why a foreign diplomat would be carrying millions in uncut diamonds.

“The local police are looking into it,” Jericho continued. “But since there are no leads so far, I decided to add an outside investigator with local knowledge.”

His melodious voice flowed through Kat’s senses like warm honey. She was curious to know why he’d chosen her when there were three male PIs with offices in the vicinity. “If the Boston PD can’t find your felon, what makes you think I can?”

“I liked what I heard about you from my contacts in the department. The word is you handled yourself flawlessly while you were on the job, showing an exceptional talent for tracking criminals.”

Kat didn’t respond to that particular comment. “What makes you think your perp is in the Boston area?”

Something flickered in his eyes and was gone. “The man we’re after has ties to this location. We’re certain he’ll be drawn to here. To that end, I have an appointment with a realtor shortly in regards to renting a property for a long-term stakeout.”

Kat knew from her years on the force that family ties had led to the arrest of many a criminal.

“I’d like to give you a report to read and we’ll go from there.”

While he looked down and dug around in a deep coat pocket, Kat couldn’t help but dart another look at his fine mouth, wondering how it might feel moving against hers, kissing her breathless.

“Here you go.”

She whipped her attention down to the plastic-covered disk he was offering. She took it carefully, avoiding contact with his hands so as not to think about how they might feel on her skin. Now that Jericho was a client, he was strictly off-limits. And not just because of her determination never to mix business and pleasure. The PI profession had a very efficient grapevine, as you might expect. If it got around that Kat Monroe slept with clients, she would lose all credibility. And that was the main issue in her mind. Her livelihood had to be sufficient to support her and her sisters until they graduated from college and embarked on their chosen careers.

Kat read the name written on the disk’s plastic cover, “Viktor Kalsiak. That definitely sounds European, but your name doesn’t.”

“I have American heritage. My knowledge of the US is the reason I was given this assignment.” His gaze rested on her mouth for a moment before he glanced down at his watch. “I have to go meet with that realtor. So I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“I may not get back to you until tomorrow.”

“No problem—hold still!” His hand snaked out and brushed against the skin behind her left ear, sending a thrill racing up her spine.

“You had a little beetle on your hair.”

She gave a breathless laugh. “I guess it is that time of year.” Lord, I really do need to get laid.

“Before you go, I’d like to give you this.”

Her jittery gaze darted up to his and then dropped to the sealed envelope he was offering her.

“It’s a thousand dollars, as a consultation fee.”

As much as Kat’s dwindling bank account badly needed an infusion, she shook her head. “It’s too much. My normal consultation fee is two hundred dollars.” The fact that he was offering so much made her suddenly question if he was legit. For all she knew, he could be a con man using her to find a double-dealing partner.

“Please take the money,” he urged. “I can afford it.”

That increased her suspicions, but common sense told her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she settled for, “All right, I’ll use the extra as a retainer. But if I decide for any reason not to take the case, I’ll refund your money, minus two hundred dollars.”

“Very well.” He handed her the envelope. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. My contact’s listed on the first page.” He glanced down at the dog, sitting perfectly still all this time. “Okay, Bowwow, it’s time for your run in the park.”

Kat looked down at the sleek, black dog in bemusement. It wagged its tail, its mouth opening in a doggy grin. “You named him Bowwow?” It seemed disrespectful to give such a beautiful animal a ridiculous name.

When Kat looked back at Jericho, the corners of his mouth lifted in another beguiling smile. “I did warn him people would remark on the name, but he wouldn’t listen.” With that, the pair turned and walked away.

Kat had always appreciated a quirky sense of humor. And studying Jericho’s fluid stride, she wondered what his backside looked like. “You’ll never know, Monroe.” Slipping the disk into her jacket pocket, she managed her grocery bag and briefcase as she walked to unlock her front door.

Stepping into her wood, tiled-floor foyer, she tossed her keys and purse onto the small mahogany table by her staircase, crossing to punch in her passcode, disarming the security system. She shrugged out of her navy jacket and hung it on the coat stand, leaving the disk in her pocket for later.

She carried the grocery bag into the kitchen, setting it on the counter. Her first step, as always when she came home, was to fill the kettle to make tea or coffee. Once she set the water on the stove to boil, she opened kitchen cabinets and quickly put away the groceries, her thoughts returning to the alluring Mr. Jericho.

She was still feeling slightly dazed by the encounter and curious to see what was on his disk. At the same time, she warned herself not to dwell on her reactions to him. Though maturity had moved her from the gawky group into the attractive set, men, even ordinary looking ones, didn’t exactly fall over themselves to get to her. Some were put off by her height and attitude—she had plenty of it. And, of course, she was in the law and order business, which intimidated many men. Her biggest problem was the under-the-radar existence she’d been forced to live, never being able let her guard down. More than anything, she wished there was someone she could open her heart to.

With the thought, she touched the intricately, detailed, gold pedant her mother had given her on her twelfth birthday—supposedly an old Celtic design. Kat still grieved for her beautiful mother, Davina, who was tragically taken from her two years ago in a car accident. Davina had made a living as a fine artist while she’d trained as a downhill skier for the Olympics. She was a brilliant champion who’d won five, gold medals.

Kat had never known her father who supposedly died shortly after she was born. Kat suspected she was the result of a brief affair. But it didn’t matter. Her mother had been a warm and generous woman who had cherished Kat along with her half-sisters, Brigitta and Lexine, twins, who were born when Kat was seven. The twins’ father, Malcolm, sustained a serious head injury in the same accident that killed Davina. Fortunately, Malcolm had come out of his coma and was improving daily, able to be part of his daughters’ lives again.

It was shortly after her half-sisters were born that Kat began to notice she was feeling and sensing things differently, scents and sounds suddenly seemed sharper. When she was in school or out in public, she was more aware of movement around her and she sometimes heard whispered words in her head.

Of course, she was still too young to comprehend what her new sensitivity signified. When she finally mentioned it at home, her mother sat her down to gently explain that she wasn’t an ordinary child. She’d descended from a long line of females endowed with powerful psychic skills and the ability to move at great speed.

At that time, Davina did not consider her daughter needed to be shown what was written in her great grandmother’s journal. She simply told Kat she was experiencing the inception of a gift that would strengthen at puberty.

Kat was thrilled. “So I’m kinda like a supergirl?” She visualized herself fending off bullets like Wonder Woman. She couldn’t wait to tell her school friends and see the amazement on their faces.

“I’m afraid your legacy must remain a secret.” Doubtless Davina had feared the authorities might step in and take her daughter away to be tested.

The little girl had cried. “But what’s the point in having special powers if I can’t show them off to my friends?”

Davina took hold of Kat’s hands to make her point. “Because your gift comes with responsibly, Kathryn, it must never be used for personal gain, only to help and defend others.”

As Kat grew from girl to teenager, she would have died rather than reveal the truth about her herself. Her gift had become the bane of her existence. At fifteen, she was biologically taller and more powerfully built than the rest of the girls her age, feeling little better than a bull in a china shop. She safeguarded her secret by pretending to be a fitness fanatic who spent a lot of time in the gym. At the same time, she was careful to keep her physical abilities in check when she played sports, especially in front of boys. It wasn’t until she was into her senior year of college that she could risk wearing high heels to social events. By that time, she didn’t tower over the majority of males on campus. Not that it helped much. Not once in all her years of wishing had she found a man she felt she could trust with her secret, one that wouldn’t consider her a freak. Now that her mother was gone, Kat had no one to confide in. She wished she had asked more questions when her mother was alive. Maybe huntresses weren’t supposed to fall in love. Perhaps that’s why her mother hadn’t kept a permanent man in her life.

With her mother’s death, Kat had become the family leader, helping to support her sisters. That’s why she needed to pull in some profitable contracts to offset the cost of tuition and the renovation to the house.

Kat sighed heavily. As much as she needed someone to confide in, her sisters were dealing with the usual teenage tribulations, starting college and their own burgeoning powers. She wasn’t about to burden them with her sudden fear of sleeping.

When the kettle started to whistle, she shut off her detour of self-pity and focused on the work she had to get through plus the report from Jericho. She opted to make a pot of tea.

Ali Atwood's Place

Website

First Chapters

2 comments:

About Me