Caterina Cruz has no home. No loyalties. No objection to exacting torturous revenge. Her life’s mission is to destroy the terrorist who murdered her family. Then she steps into an elaborate game of charades alongside a Titan Group operative posing as an arms dealer—and her newlywed husband. The sexy distraction may be more than she can handle.
Attacked with a psychedelic drug weeks before, Rocco Savage is plagued with hallucinations that threaten his new rank as Titan’s second-in-command. No one knows and he wants to keep it that way. Throwing him further off his game, he now has a wife with her own secrets he can’t crack and an agenda he can’t control.
Their mission—an elaborate deception of heated glances and passionate kisses—spins out of control. With Rocco’s mind already compromised, can he keep his secret and his distance? And with Caterina’s tragic past controlling her every move, can she keep the con up long enough to secure her revenge? Or will both go down in flames?
EXCERPT
“Kitten.”
His eyes smoldered, and his body was a testament to the hard work of
his job. He leaned against the door jamb, elbow above his head, forearm
hanging down, so relaxed when everything on his body was perfectly
carved and sculpted.
Deep within her stomach and so much lower, warmth spun and spiraled.
“Hola.”
Hi would have been just as easy without it, but she knew how to make
his eyes dance. His dimple appeared, and she wanted to press her lips to
it. “I was just getting out.”
“Don’t.”
A rush of adrenaline made her heart and lungs teeter-totter. This husband-and-wife routine was becoming much more than an act.
Rocco
shucked his shirt, revealing that pinky, fresh scar and kicked off his
shoes and socks. “Met with Roman. One of El Mateperros’s men made
contact.”
Her
heart raced, partially because his hand rested on the buckle of his
belt and partially because their target had found them, just as they had
found El Mateperros. She
and Rocco were so close, their cover as the Lockes holding up amid the
ACG’s scrutiny. This time she would catch the Dog Killer. They would
find him, then she would kill him. Simple.
“They made contact… and?” She wanted to know more, but her stare was transfixed by his hand. He worked the thick leather belt open, unsnapped his pants, and nothing outside the room mattered.
With
his pants hanging open, precariously clinging to the solid curve of his
buttocks, Rocco took a step toward the tub. “And we have a meeting
scheduled.”
Her eyes shot up. “It’s happening?”
“Tomorrow.”
Too
much hope obscured her thoughts. Too much Rocco skewed her priorities.
She needed to jump out of the bath and plan the next day to the most
microscopic detail. Rocco
took another step forward, hooking his boxers and sliding them over his
solid erection. His clothes dropped to the floor, and she leaned
forward, still reaching for his hand.
He nodded. “It’s happening.”
So much was happening. Her head was spinning. Distracted and focused. Confused and certain. So very soon she could sink her claws into her family’s killer. A smile broke her cheeks. Then her heart crashed, sinking past the bubbles in the oversized tub. When
El Mateperros was dead, after she had killed him, Rocco wouldn’t be
around. The job would be over, and he would be disappointed in her. He
liked rules.
Didn’t he?
At
least she thought he was the kind who frowned upon assassinations.
Murder. He’d never know about her family. Jared would never tell. So
Rocco Savage, all American hero, would think that she pulled the trigger
like a mercenary instead of turning the terrorist over to be tried,
judged, and punished.
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