The best laid plans can still go awry…in the most terrifying way. Shanice Lawrence is hiding, but she soon learns that everything she’s been told has been a lie. After she and Cruz finally reunite, she’s happy and content in the life they’ve built together. A normal life, far from the turmoil of the past. But then the unthinkable happens, and she’s thrust into a nightmare she didn’t see coming. When Cruz Cordoba finds Shanice alive, he vows to never leave her again, and for a while, life is good—a far cry from the violence and chaos he’s used to as a Plan B assassin. Unfortunately, a deadly force won’t leave the couple alone.
In the end, Cruz has no choice. Kill, or be killed.
WHERE TO BUY
Predawn, her soft body pressed against his under the covers. She moaned, and he took that sound as an invitation. Pushing up against her backside, he spread his fingers over her soft tummy, and she giggled and slapped his hand.
“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You’ve already worn me out for the morning.”
Cruz pressed his lips against the curve at the side of her neck. “I have a lot of energy,” he whispered.
“I know. That’s why I’m warning you.”
He heard the smile in her voice and smiled, too. Then he pulled her tighter against his body, enjoying the closeness they shared—the sweet, enticing scent of her skin and hair, and the comfort of having someone to wake up to in the morning. He simulated sex against her bottom by thrusting his hips forward and backward. She started laughing, and because she laughed he continued to do it, because her happiness was more important to him than anything else in the world.
But then the laughter faded, and she faded. He stopped thrusting as his arms became empty. He could no longer feel her, and his heart started beating fast. He grabbed at her but clutched empty air. Why couldn’t he feel her anymore? As panic grabbed him by the throat, he stretched his arms in vain to hold onto her. She was disappearing right before his eyes, the laughter distant and the sight of her almost gone.
He couldn’t get the word out. It lodged at the base of his throat, like a wayward golf ball, shutting off his air and choking the life from him.
He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t.
His heart battered his ribs and his grasping hands became more frantic, but he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t hold onto her.
She was fading, fading…
Cruz’s eyes flew open. Every muscle in his body was clenched tight, the thin sheets wrapped around his thighs, and the fingers of his right hand curled into the mattress beside him. He hauled air into his lungs and tried to calm his racing heart.
The phone ringing had pulled him from his nightmare. It rang two more times but he didn’t answer, letting it go to voicemail because he already knew who was calling by the unique ring tone. Miles. And he didn’t want to talk to him.
Cruz stared up at the ceiling in the dark room. The last time he’d been in this apartment had been with Shanice, when she’d told him everything she knew about the missing data and the death of her friend. She’d taken the chance and shared the information with him, despite her original fears that he could no more be trusted than the deadly assassins who were after her.
With stark wakefulness, he faced the grim reality that Shanice wasn’t there. The nightmare was not a dream, but his present. Someone had removed her from his life, the best thing that had happened to him…ever. The spot where she should be sleeping beside him on the bed was cold and empty, because she was gone for good.
Cruz relaxed his tense body and ran a hand over his hard, aching dick and groaned.
The past four weeks had been difficult—with the agony of loss consuming him—but his mission had made them bearable. Nancy Cheng, the director of Plan B, had offered the agency’s services to help him find out who’d blown up his house and killed Shanice, but he’d turned her down. They’d done enough by confirming through DNA analysis that the fragments of human remains uncovered at the scene had been her. Focusing on retribution kept him driven and energized. All of his hard work would pay off tonight, and if he didn’t get the answers he wanted, he’d simply dispose of the men and keep searching until he got the answers to his questions.
He tossed aside the sheet and rolled out of bed. Dropping to the floor, he brought his heart rate back up and primed his muscles by doing fifty one-handed pushups on each arm. Then he dressed in silence, tugging on a pair of jeans and a vintage blue T-shirt with a skull and crossbones on the front. He slipped heavy boots onto his feet and then washed his face in the bathroom.
When he finished, he checked his appearance in the mirror and passed a comb through his too long black hair and the whiskers on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved or had a haircut in weeks, caring little about his appearance for the time being.
He then stepped out of the bathroom and picked up a small duffel bag on the desk against the wall, casting a cursory glance over the interior of the studio apartment because he didn’t know when he’d be back. Satisfied, he grabbed his keys and left.
Time to get to work.