He had the look of a man who could turn a woman inside out, and Kaitlyns stomach fluttered with awareness when their gazes met
A dozen images flitted through her head. His blue eyes staring intently into hers. His deep voice commanding her not to panic as she clung to the edge of the cliff. His calloused hands moving skillfully over her bare skin to warm her up.
Kaitlynare you up to answering a few questions?
The sound of her name on his lips sent another shiver up her spine. You sound like a cop.
He shrugged. Im just curious as to what you were doing out in the middle of nowhere alone in a rainstorm.
I cant remember what happened after the storm hit, Kaitlyn muttered. I only have a vague recollection of the rescue. If you hadnt come along when you did
Actually, we were already out there searching for fugitives when we got the call that a woman was missing
Kaitlyn frowned. Butyou said youre not a cop.
Im not. His gaze met hers. Im a bounty hunter.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
Summers winding down, but Harlequin Intrigue is as hot as ever with six spine-tingling reads for you this month!
* Our new BIG SKY BOUNTY HUNTERS promotion debuts with Amanda Stevenss Going to Extremes. In the coming months, look for more titles from Jessica Andersen, Cassie Miles and Julie Miller.
* We have some great miniseries for you. Rita Herron is back with Mysterious Circumstances, the latest in her NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series. Mallory Kanes Seeking Asylum is the third book in her ULTIMATE AGENTS series. And Sylvie Kurtz has another tale in THE SEEKERS seriesEye of a Hunter.
* No month would be complete without a chilling gothic romance. This months ECLIPSE title is Debra Webbs Urban Sensation.
* Jan Hambright, a fabulous new author, makes her debut with Relentless. Sparks fly when a feisty repo agent repossesses a BMW with an ex-homicide detective in the trunk!
Dont miss a single book this month and every month!
Sincerely,
Denise OSullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
Going to Extremes
Amanda Stevens
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amanda Stevens is the bestselling author of over thirty novels of romantic suspense. In addition to being a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, she is also the recipient of awards in Career Achievement in Romantic/Mystery and Career Achievement in Romantic/Suspense from Romantic Times magazine. She currently resides in Texas. To find out more about past, present and future projects, please visit her Web site at www.amandastevens.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Kaitlyn WilsonAn ambitious reporter who unwittingly stumbles upon the story of a lifetime.
Aidan CampbellAn adrenaline junkie with a savior complex.
Colonel Cameron MurphyHe intends to get Boone Fowler by using any means necessary.
Boone FowlerAn escaped convict who has a new bossand a new agenda.
Dr. Phillip BeckerHis bedside manner could use some work.
Eden McClainKaitlyns childhood friend has important connections and her own ambitions.
Allen CudlowA rival reporter with a chip on his shoulder.
Governor Peter GilbertA charming man with big plans for his political future.
Prince Nicholai PetrovRebuking his father on a world stage has turned him into a rock star.
Big Sky Bounty HuntersTheir search for the fugitives leads them back into the world of international intrigue.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Prologue
It was done.
Hed killed the woman and buried her body in a shallow grave in the Montana wilderness. The wolverines would be at her soon enough, and then the vultures. By the time her body was discovered by some errant backpacker or trapper, her face would be gone, and if luck held, her fingerprints.
A DNA analysis would be required for a positive identification, and that could take dayssometimes weeks in this part of the world. Even if the authorities were able to trace her to the Montana Militia for a Free America, it would be too late. She could not tell them anything now.
Jenny Peltier had paid the ultimate price for her betrayal, and as Boone Fowler followed the stream through the woods back to his encampment, he felt no elation or remorse at what hed done. He didnt particularly enjoy killing, although he was good at it.
In war, people died. It was as simple as that.
And they were at war. A war to take back the country from the corrupt bureaucrats who contaminated the American way of life as surely as the pathetic junkies who infested the American street.
They would all be dealt with in time, those soft, greedy ingrates who knew not the meaning of honor and sacrifice. They would have to learn the hard way.
The bombing of a government building by the MMFAFA had shocked the nation, but that would be only one of the many shots that would soon be heard around the world.
The day of deliverance had dawned over Montana, and the winds of liberty would sweep down in triumph across the prairie states and march, like Shermans army, through the South, conquering nearly sixty years of malaise, apathy and moral decay. The avenging angel of freedom would stand victorious on the squalid doorsteps of the eastern cities and level, in God-like fury, the modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah to the West.
Fowler drew a deep, quivering breath. No matter how many times he delivered that sermon to the faithful, the message never failed to stir him. He had a gift and he knew how to use it. His mother used to say that when he spoke with such passion, he could make people follow him to the ends of the earth. He was counting on that.
Pausing, he knelt at the edge of the stream to wash the blade of the hunting knife hed used to slit the womans throat, and then he scrubbed his hands, even though they were already clean. His soul was clean, too. Virtuous.
He was so caught up in the righteousness of his mission that he almost missed the telltale rustle of dead leaves upstream and to his right. The sound was slight, a mere whisper in the wind, but it sent a chill up his spine just the same.
And then Fowler realized that hed been vaguely uneasy for the last quarter of a mile or so. Even though his mind was preoccupied, his instincts had been warning him of danger.
He should have listened. Whoever was behind him had managed to get the jump on him, so that meant that the tracker was good. A professional. Someone who knew the Montana wilderness as well as Fowler.
He continued to rinse the knife as his senses came fully alert and his mind raced with possibilities. He had a semiautomatic tucked in his belt, but hed have to wait for the right moment to draw it. A sudden move and the tracker might open fire on him.
From the corner of his eye, he scouted the terrain. When the sound came again, still to his right, Fowler pulled his gun and began firing in that direction as he simultaneously rolled to his left. Seeking cover behind a boulder, he unloaded his weapon without pause and then grabbed a fresh cartridge.
Drop the weapon!
Fowler froze. The voice hadnt come from his right at all. Instead, the tracker was downstream and to his left. Hed circled his quarry and now he had Fowler trapped. The rustle of leaves had been a diversion. Pebbles tossed over his head perhaps. A trick as old as time itself, and Fowler had fallen for it.
It wasnt like him to be so careless. While his guard had been down, the man who hunted him had moved in surprisingly close. So close Fowler could practically feel the bastard breathing down his neck.
Drop the weapon or Ill put a bullet through your brain. The voice was deep, fearless, commanding. A man used to barking orders and having them obeyed.
To prove his point, he fired off a round, blasting to kingdom come a pinecone that had fallen not ten feet from where Fowler hunkered.
Fowler threw down his weapon.
The man came out of the woods then, a tall, powerfully built warrior with the darkest gaze Fowler had ever looked into. Hed killed before. It was there in his eyes. In the steadiness of his hand on his weapon. Hed kill again, too, if he had to. Without hesitation.
He was a military man. His bearing gave him away, and his tracking skills suggested someone with a Special Forces background.
Who are you? Fowler asked. What do you want?
I want justice, you son of a bitch. As he walked toward Fowler, rage contorted the mans features, and in the split second it took for him to get his emotions under control, Fowler whipped the pistol out of his ankle holster and fired.
The punch of the bullet knocked the man backward, and he fell with a hard thud to the ground.
A clean shot, right through the heart.
His muscles began to twitch, and Fowler walked over to put another bullet in his head to finish him off. Kicking the mans weapon aside, he lifted his own gun and took aim.
For the Cause! he cried in triumph.
Montana State Penitentiary
Monday, 0400 hours
BOONE FOWLER CAME AWAKE slowly. For a moment, he thought he was back in the Montana wilderness, facing off against an old nemesis, but as his mind began to clear, he realized that it had been nothing more than a dream. A recurring nightmare of being hunted. The scenery and the enemy sometimes changed, but the outcome was always the same. It was he who stood victorious under a clear Montana skynot the hunter.
In reality, it hadnt gone down that way, and now Fowler found himself confined to a six-by-eight prison cell. As he swung his legs over the cot and sat, head in hands, everything came rushing back to him. His capture. The trial. The past five years of his life spent in a hellhole called the Fortress. A maximum-security prison from which no one had ever escaped.
And all because of a man named Cameron Murphy.
While Fowler had rotted in prison for the past half decade, Murphy had recruited what was left of a Special Forces team hed once commanded and turned them into the most successful bounty-hunter organization in the country. Although Murphy was the only one Fowler had met face-to-face, hed made a point of finding out the other mens names. He knew their backgrounds, their specialties, what made them tick.
But it was Murphy alone that Fowler still saw in his nightmares at night. Murphys face he saw when hed beat another inmate almost beyond recognition.
His hatred of Cameron Murphy had helped him survive nearly nine months of solitary confinement in the Dungeon, and his thirst for revenge had kept his rage in check when hed been placed back into the general population of the prison.
Hed kept his nose clean all these years because he had a plan, and for that, he needed his friends, contacts with the outside world. He needed money for bribes and favors he could call in. He needed all the help he could muster in order to accomplish what had never been done before: escape from the Fortress.
And thanks to a generous benefactor with an ambitious agenda, the moment was finally at hand. Tonight, at lights out, he would instigate a riot, the likes of which the prison guards had never before seen. During the pandemonium, Fowler and his compatriots would be led off to the Dungeon, where they would lay low until the plan could be set in motion.
If all went well, they would soon be free men.
And Cameron Murphy would soon be a dead one.
God help anyone who got in the way.
For the Cause! Fowler whispered as adrenaline surged through his veins.
Chapter One
Tuesday, 1400 hours
Ken, youre breaking up! I can barely hear you! Pressing the cell phone to her ear, Kaitlyn Wilson tried not to panic. Rain beat like a war drum on the roof of her SUV as she slowly made her way west on Route 9. Shed turned the windshield wipers on high speed, but she still couldnt see a damn thing. Are you still there? she asked desperately.
Major floodinghighway closed
Static crackled in Kaitlyns ear. Should I turn back? Dammit! The phone went dead and she swore again as she frantically tried to call her boss back. But it was no use. Shed lost the signal.
Okay, situation not good, she summarized as she tossed the cell phone onto the seat and clutched the steering wheel with both hands.
Since shed set out for the prison less than an hour earlier, Route 9 had been transformed into a lake. Kaitlyn could no longer even see the pavement. It was only by instinct and sheer dumb luck that she hadnt yet driven off the road.
She could feel the swirling water sucking at the tires as she slowed the vehicle to a crawl, trying to decide what to do. Keep goingor turn back?
Did she really have a choice?
With near-zero visibility, turning the vehicle around without sliding into a ditch would be no easy feat, and besides, she had no way of judging whether the road conditions behind her were any better.
She was in the notorious dead zone on Route 9 where cell-phone signals from the nearest tower were blocked by the mountains. And now static had overpowered the radio so that she couldnt even pick up a weather forecast. She was, in effect, cut off from the rest of the world.
And the water continued to rise.
Why, oh why, hadnt she listened to Ken when hed cautioned her not to start off alone in the downpour?
Are you crazy? hed shouted. In case you havent been paying attention, the entire county is under a flash-flood warning.