New York Times bestselling author Cindy Dees introduces a brave soldierand the woman who is his toughest challenge
Going undercover in a seedy New Orleans club to find her brother, Eve Hankova knows the dangers. But she isnt prepared for the blazing heat arcing between her and the customer who buys her for his exclusive pleasure. Like wildfire, it burns hot and out of control.
Navy SEAL Ashe Konig knows no other way to protect Eve from the Russian mob shes infiltrated at the club. But for this disillusioned loner, is it a suicide mission? As heavily armed mobsters breathe down their necks, the stubborn woman refuses to quit. Ashe doesnt know who poses the greater dangerthe ruthless killers who threaten their lives or the sweet innocent who threatens his heart.
Sexual tension hung in the air around them.
Thick and hungry.
The lights had gone out in their hotel room; a killer might be making his move against them any minute. But all he could think about was the woman beside him.
She stilled, and he stared down at the shadows wreathing her face, trying and failing to penetrate the dark to see her eyes.
She made a sound of distress.
Are you okay? he asked. He knew she was afraid of the dark, ever since the crash when she was young.
No. A pause. I want to kiss you, but I think it would be a mistake.
His entire being stilled, holding its breath. All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more in the world than for her to kiss him. Even if she was right that it would be a terrible mistake.
They werent meant to be. He sucked at relationships, and she was too damned vulnerable to protect herself from him and his baggage.
Dont kiss me if youre afraid of the dark, he said. Thats all youll find inside me.
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Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting new miniseries, Code: Warrior SEALs: Meet these fierce warriors, who take on the most dangerous secret missions around the world!
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Dear Reader,
It was with great pleasure that I finally got to return to New Orleans this past year for the first time since Hurricane Katrina devastated that lovely city. I was thrilled to see that the Grand Lady of the South has come back strong and that shes as fun and fabulous as ever. And what better way to celebrate the recovery of New Orleans than to write a book set there? My only problem in writing this story was choosing where in the parish to set the book!
Fortunately, my heroine (who announced to me early on that she goes by the improbable nickname Hank) and her navy SEAL hero, Ashe, are both Nawlins natives and knew just where to go to best unfold their story. It turns out that a blend of steamy romance, dark suspense, towering love and simmering danger is pretty darned close to the perfect tale to tell when those hot summer nights come calling in the Big Easy.
So, pour yourself a mint julep, turn on the ceiling fan slow and lazy, put on a little Preservation Hall jazz, and get ready to go undercover with a SEAL in a hot story of love and danger that Im excited to share with you!
Happy reading,
Cindy
Undercover
with a SEAL
Cindy Dees
www.millsandboon.co.uk
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author CINDY DEES started flying airplanes while sitting in her dads lap at the age of three and got a pilots license before she got a drivers license. At age fifteen, she dropped out of high school and left the horse farm in Michigan, where she grew up, to attend the University of Michigan. After earning a degree in Russian and East European studies, she joined the US Air Force and became the youngest female pilot in its history. She flew supersonic jets, VIP airlift and the C-5 Galaxy, the worlds largest airplane. During her military career, she traveled to forty countries on five continents, was detained by the KGB and East German secret police, got shot at, flew in the first Gulf War and amassed a lifetimes worth of war stories.
Her hobbies include medieval reenacting, professional Middle Eastern dancing and Japanese gardening.
This RITA® Awardwinning authors first book was published in 2002 and since then she has published more than twenty-five bestselling and award-winning novels. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at cindydees.com.
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Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Dear Reader
Title Page
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Extract from The Temptation of Dr. Colton by Karen Whiddon
Copyright
Chapter 1
Asher Konig looked around Bourbon Street in the heart of New Orleans as something akin to shock crept into his gut. What was this place? Granted, he hadnt been home in years, but he felt like hed landed on an alien planet.
The buildings were mostly the samepainted bright colors and adorned by elaborate wrought-iron balconies. The sweet smell of beignets still wrestled with the sour smell of vomit. People and music still poured out of bars into the street. But somehow, it was not the same. The vibe was all wrong.
Damn. Hed heard things had changed since Hurricane Katrina, but he hadnt guessed how much.
It wasnt just that so many storefronts and restaurants had new names. Or that the music forming a cacophony in the background was more generic pop now and less jazz or twangy zydeco. Or even that the throngs of people had changed. Even at a glance there were more out-of-towners, fewer locals, less authenticity. Less unapologetic seediness.
The French Quarter had been transformed into a sanitized tourist version of itself.
The whole casual, laissez les bons temps rouler culture was missing. Oh, the tourists were living their cartoon version of it, drinking and laughing and flashing bare breasts for beads. But if he looked closer, he saw hawkers urgently coaxing tourists and their wallets inside their establishments, vendors shoving schlocky souvenirs in peoples faces. It was all hustle, hustle, hustle.
Hell, maybe he was the one whod changed. A decade on the SEAL teams did that to a guy.
Not that he had actually wanted to come home after all this time. But his boss, Commander Cole Perriman, had sent him here with orders to Eff-ing relax and dont come back until you do. Translation: get your head together and stop taking stupid, suicidal risks, or else youre off the teams.
Secretly panicked by the unspoken ultimatum, hed agreed to take this rare vacation in the hope that it actually would help him get his head together. Hed always been all about the job. He was the job. Also, his old man had died nearly six months ago, and he had yet to put his fathers final affairs in order. It was time to get that unpleasant task out of the way.
It had been pure luck that hed been downrange and way deep undercover, unable to get home after his father had his last and fatal heart attack. Hed been relieved not to have to face the people who would have genuinely mourned his old mans passing. Thank God Mom went first. She would never have survived burying her husband.
It wasnt as if Asher would have had anything decent to say to the bastard in farewell. Thanks for sucking as a parent. Thanks for never noticing anything I tried to get your attention and approval. Thanks for being incapable of love. Yup, it was just as well that he hadnt been able to make it home.
But he was home now. Such as it was.
How in the hell was he supposed to relax? Perriman had ordered him to do it as if he actually knew how to wind down. As if he wasnt always walking on the razors edge, always a warrior, always ready to act or react. Even now, wading through the noisy, raucous French Quarter on a Friday night, he scrutinized every person he passed for hostile body language, for darting or furtive looks, for unusual bulges under jackets, anything to indicate a threat.
Frankly, being among this many people was making him more tense, not less. Crowds this dense were the perfect target for a suicide bomber
Wait. United States soil. Lawful, secure, peaceful soil. No terrorists lurking about as a rule. Jeez, he was wired tight. He shook his upper body in an attempt to release the tension across his neck and shoulders. Yeah. Like that worked. He was the goddamn job.
Frustrated, he yanked out his cell phone and texted Commander Perriman, More uptight than ever. I hope youre happy.
Hed known Frosty Perriman for his entire SEAL career. The guy had been one of his BUD/S instructors and had handpicked him to be in a super classified unit Frosty had been in charge of putting together and training. They specialized in rescuing kidnapped American civilians. The rescues themselves hadnt been the tricky bit. The hard part had been staying out of the damned news and keeping the existence of their group secret.
But the task force had run afoul of a congressional investigation a few months back when a journalist theyd been assigned to rescue had been killed before they could get to the guy. Never mind that their team hadnt been given enough intel to actually find the guy, and that they had scoured the mountains in the middle of nowhere for weeks, trying to track down the journalist and his captors. In the end, it had been a colossal CIA failure, but the SEAL team had taken the heat for it and was disbanded.
Of course, it probably had more to do with the current Congress not liking the SEALs doing anything secret and off the books. Meddling politicians. They wanted to poke their fingers into everything. It wasnt like the bastards did anything useful. They just wanted front row seats at the show. To feel like they were part of the Cool Kids Club. And when the navy wouldnt let them randomly interfere, they threw a Congress-sized tantrum.
Bunch of freaking amateurs.
Someone jostled Asher from behind and he whipped around, hands at the ready to take names and break necks. The accosters turned out to be some sort of bachelor party. Plastic cups of beer sloshed, and someone slurred an apology as he bathed his own T-shirt with a generous portion of beer. Shaking his head, Asher stood down and moved on. Relaxing, dammit. He was supposed to be relaxingnot killing drunk kids. The same drunk kids hed sworn an oath to protect and defend, along with the Constitution that gave them a sacred right to act like idiots.
Desperate to get away from the bright lights and sheer noisy wrongness of the place, he ducked down a side street toward a neighborhood that no sane tourist should have ventured into. But then, he was neither entirely sane nor a regular tourist. When the streets had turned into dark, dank alleys and the men lounging in doorways eyed him with as much hostility and suspicion as he eyed them, Asher breathed a sigh of relief. This was more his speed.
Hey, big guy, a raspy female voice crooned from just ahead. Wanna free drink? First ones on the house.
He eyed the hard-looking woman slouching beneath a hanging sign for some joint called the Who Do Voodoo. Strippers or just booze? he asked.