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Waves of power and danger had emanated from him and washed over her like some seductive potion.
Their eyes had met across the room and an electric current had zapped her down to her toes. Just like now.
The rough pad of his thumb trailed across her cheek and over her lips, which throbbed at his touch. She dropped her lashes, avoiding the fire in his eyes, afraid of getting scorched once again.
It didn’t work.
His palm cradled the side of her head. His lips touched hers, and her bones melted.
She huffed out a breath against his mouth as she hooked an arm around his neck to stay vertical.
God help her. She’d fallen under his spell as quickly as she had in Zurich.
But now she had responsibilities. She planted her palms against his chest, and her fingers tingled to explore the hard slabs of muscle that shifted beneath his flannel shirt.
She pushed him away even as her lips kept contact with his.
Catch, Release
Carol Ericson
CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”
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For all the strong women in my life
who keep it all together.
Contents
Chapter One
Deb’s eye twitched along with her trigger finger, but she wasn’t packing. They’d know. Somehow they knew everything, and they’d warned her if she didn’t come alone and unarmed they’d hurt Bobby.
She believed them. Nico Zendaris had made good on every threat so far. Why would she start doubting him now?
Her gaze darted among the faces surging around the frosty Boston street corner. Would someone give her a sign? She clutched her cell phone in the pocket of her coat. She didn’t know how they planned to contact her.
One if by land, two if by sea? She was in the right place for signals.
Someone bumped her and mumbled an apology. She stared at the stranger’s back, his broad shoulders encased in a puffy down jacket, as he lumbered down the sidewalk. Was that the sign?
She took a few uncertain steps after him, but he turned a corner and disappeared. Stumbling to a stop, she bit her lip. Should she go after him?
The message had ordered her to stand in this spot until further instructions. Was the bump an instruction? Or was the man just a clumsy pedestrian hurrying to his next appointment?
She no longer trusted her instincts since she’d allowed them to snatch Bobby. She should’ve known. She should’ve done more.
With a halting gait, she retraced her steps to the lamppost on the corner. If she did everything they asked of her, she’d get Bobby back. Zendaris had promised.
She ground her teeth against the sour bile rising from her gut. She knew better than to trust that man, but what choice did she have?
She’d have to trust him up to the moment he put a bullet in her head. Or she put one in his.
