Carol Ericson - Catch, Release

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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROL ERICSONlives 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

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

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

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.

Her cell phone chirped, and she dragged it from her pocket with a hand shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone. She studied the blank display as the phone chirped again. She’d set her phone to vibrate.

She swiveled her head from side to side. Plenty of people with cell phones walked by, but nobody had stopped near her.

The phone chirped again. Gasping, she plunged her hand in her other coat pocket, her fingers colliding with another phone. Not hers.

She grabbed the cell and pulled it from her pocket. It continued its insistent trilling, so she hit the talk button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Deb. For being a crack Prospero agent, it sure took you long enough to figure out you had a ringing phone in your pocket.”

The smooth mocking voice stirred her blood, thick with rage. “That was one of your little minions who bumped into me?”

He chuckled. “Very astute of you—finally.”

She didn’t even know if the man on the phone was Zendaris. She’d never heard his voice even though Prospero Team Three had disrupted one of his biggest arms deals four years ago.

She growled low in her throat. “I should’ve dropped him in his tracks.”

“Tough talk from the first and only female Prospero agent.” He clicked his tongue. “But you wouldn’t do that now, would you, Deb? Not while we have Bobby.”

His words twisted a knife in her belly and she bit back a sob. She refused to show this scum any sign of weakness. “Let me talk to him. I’m not going to do anything more until you do. I have to know he’s okay.”

“Deb, Deb, Deb. He’s not with me, or I’d gladly put him on the phone. Rest assured he’s safe and comfortable. We’ll give you proof of life soon enough.”

His phrase proof of life had her sagging against the lamppost. He’d better show her proof of Bobby’s life, or she’d hand Zendaris proof of his own death.

“When? I need something now.”

“You have my word, Deb. That’s all I can give you at the present time—that and the phone you’re using.”

She had an urge to toss the thing and the slick voice coming from it into oncoming traffic. But it represented her only connection to Bobby.

She crushed it against her ear. “What’s the significance of this phone?”

“It will be our way of communicating with you. It’s secure, untraceable, a very special phone. Carry it with you everywhere.”

“So what is it, Zendaris? If that’s who you really are.” Despite the chill in the air, sweat dampened her hairline. She brushed a bead of it away. “What do you want me to do?”

“You Americans, so impatient. You just keep the phone by your side, Deb, and we’ll tell you what to do next.”

“Why the delay? Tell me what to do now so we can end this game.” Silence greeted her plea and she was almost glad of it. A whining, desperate tone had crept into her voice—a tone she didn’t want Zendaris to hear.

She examined the phone and pushed a few buttons. There were no contacts, no phone numbers appeared and it didn’t seem as if she could make an outgoing call. What other special features did it have? A GPS tracking device? A camera? Were they watching her right now?

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the cold metal of the lamppost and dropped the phone in her coat pocket. What was Zendaris after? What did he want her to do?

She swallowed. Why was she kidding herself? He wanted the plans to the anti-drone. He’d had them first, lost them to her Prospero teammate, Cade Stark, and then the plans had been stolen from Cade.