fbicoverandblurb

The Hero:
Lane’s out for justice. He witnessed a horrible crime, the murder of Devin’s parents. So, he agrees to pretend to go into the Federal Witness Protection Program to set up and capture a mole within the ranks of the FBI. In the process, he finds himself captured…and captivated.

The mole. He wants revenge, too, but for a different reason. Lane captured a hit on film, one his father arranged, and now the mole wants to make sure Lane never makes it to the witness stand to testify. Even if he has to kill Devin, too.

Devin found herself itching to touch Lane, the man who intrigued her, the man she only planned to use for revenge last, bait first.

She had no right, or time, to use him for anything else, no matter how much she wanted to kiss him senseless. She found an excuse for doing just that. It’d be a good way to hide his face, of course, and those eyes, those incredible eyes…

She plastered her body flush against his hard, masculine one, heard him gasp, and felt his large empty hand land on her hip. She noted he nearly dropped the beer he held in the other.

Absently, she ran her fingertips down the side of his firm jaw, which twitched at her slightest touch. She’d wondered just what it’d feel like to kiss him, deeply, those kissable lips he kept licking, as if his strong, inviting mouth had suddenly become incurably dry.

Neither spoke, or even moved. They barely breathed. They simply stared at each other, unflinching and silent. They took each other in. Tested. Waited. Absorbed each other.

Lane looked incredibly handsome, Devin decided. He had from the first photo she’d seen of him. Masculine to the hilt. He’d gone from long dark brown hair to a lighter shade, a subtle but intriguing and believable disguise. One she liked very much.

She badly wanted to run her fingers through all that silky, shiny hair. So she did, and, yes, she approved of his new hair style, as well as the chest muscles that bulged under his T-shirt and flexed involuntarily when he lifted his beer by rote, turned his head slightly, and drank, shielding his lips from her prying eyes and wetting his dry throat.

He swallowed, hard, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob. She wanted to kiss that, too.

He moved slightly, adjusting his position, and his thigh muscles bunched and tightened. He shifted, anchoring his foot tighter and higher against the wall, a nervous, fidgety reaction if she ever saw one.

She smirked again. Good. She could get to him, then, just as he could get to her.

She might enjoy this, this little flirtation she’d decided to engage in. She was only hiding him after all. So it was her duty. The most enjoyable part of her job so far, she decided, leaning back to look at him, noting his already tight, clinging jeans, which stretched over his sculpted body, moved nicely against her leather-coated thighs.

They fit. Their bodies matched perfectly, and the gently worn material of his jeans allowed for his easy, casual, somewhat feline movements, as did her pliable leather.

Good. He knew how to dress for the occasion. He might need to be able to move, to escape, quickly, lithely, especially if she was right about the two slugs she’d seen enter the bar. O~~And o~~f course she was right. She was seldom wrong about such things.

She spoke. He blinked. “I like your new look. You know how to blend. Shows you’re street smart. You’ll need to be, if you want to live.”

“I’ll see it through, and you know it. Or you wouldn’t be here. Don must’ve convinced you of that.”

So, they knew how to dress and knew they’d not give up the task, but did they know what to do about this…this thing they felt? The heat.

She studied him a moment. He looked dangerous and powerful in his own right, his beautiful hair much longer than it’d been in the pictures she’d acquired from Don the day after her parents had been killed, the day after she’d vowed to avenge them, the day after she’d had to identify their bloody bodies at the morgue.

She shuddered at the memory and glanced without turning her head at the men who still stood, searching. They’d just have to wait and look. She doubted they were smart enough to recognize Lane disguised as he was.

Good. It meant she could focus her attention on the man in front of her for a little while longer and play. Better to think of him and keep her mind on her job, than to focus on the hatred seething, writhing and growing within her.

Up close they were even more devastating, more penetrating, more piercing than she’d thought they’d be. Devin had stared at his dark, fathomless eyes for so long that she nearly lost herself in them, and that’d only been in photographs. Eye to eye and face to face, all she could do was drown in their depths.

A mistake, she knew. She was, admittedly, getting way too involved with her witness, too involved to be objective, too involved for comfort. She knew she’d better get a grip, quit staring, and do what she needed to do.

“Let’s see what we can do about hiding that face of yours, shall we?” Her breath left her lungs in a slow burn, and she wondered if she’d lost her mind. Dazed and not much caring about her sanity or lack thereof, she pinned him against the wall and took advantage of him by planting her lips on his and kissing him for all she was worth, wanting her fill of him. She’d been dreaming of doing this for longer than was advisable.

So much for moral standards, honor, faithfulness, the all-important-in-her-line-of-work professionalism, and protection from the crooks chasing Lane. This was pure, greedy indulgence, and just for her. It was just a kiss after all, between two consenting adults. They could handle it, then get the hell out of there and head for safety.

This didn’t feel like just a kiss. It felt like a volcano erupting, and it felt dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than the rookie hit men the mob had sent to take out Lane. It also felt good enough that Devin didn’t want to stop. Not just yet.

But then, suddenly, she did stop. She tore her lips from Lane’s, drew back abruptly and broke the connection, except for her two hands, which she kept fisted in Lane’s T-shirt.

Her voice was breathy and coming in gasps when she told him, “Don’t look now, but the two thugs that just walked in here are looking for you. I can feel it. So, to hide you, we need to make this assignation look real. Think you can do that?”

His expression didn’t change. He looked shocked, but she doubted it was because of the two men after him. She figured she’d surprised him, and maybe she’d meant to. She liked to keep men on their toes. They deserved it. Make things too easy for them, and the woman loses her edge. Devin always liked to keep her edge.