Jan Hambright - Relentless

He blinked and Kate’s hand trembled as she started to push his jacket aside and pull his T-shirt out of his waistband. Under his clothing, he was muscular, taut and seething. She sucked in a breath.

A trail of blood crisscrossed his chest. “You must have taken some buckshot when you were in the trunk.” She looked into his face for confirmation.

Again he blinked.

“It looks bad.” She still hadn’t found the source of the blood trail. Pushing his shirt higher, she brushed his bare skin with her fingertips and he groaned.

A wave of warmth burst inside of her and rushed to her cheeks. She let out a labored breath and stared at the spot just above his heart, marring his perfect chest.

“I’m dialing 911.” She stood up, rifling through the stuff on the table for her phone. She reached for it at the same time his hand wrapped around her ankle, pleading for her to stop.

Hot…relentless…inescapable.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Summer’s winding down, but Harlequin Intrigue is as hot as ever with six spine-tingling reads for you this month!

* Our new BIG SKY BOUNTY HUNTERS promotion debuts with Amanda Stevens’s Going to Extremes. In the coming months, look for more titles from Jessica Andersen, Cassie Miles and Julie Miller.

* We have some great miniseries for you. Rita Herron is back with Mysterious Circumstances, the latest in her NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series. Mallory Kane’s Seeking Asylum is the third book in her ULTIMATE AGENTS series. And Sylvie Kurtz has another tale in THE SEEKERS series—Eye of a Hunter.

* No month would be complete without a chilling gothic romance. This month’s ECLIPSE title is Debra Webb’s Urban Sensation.

* Jan Hambright, a fabulous new author, makes her debut with Relentless. Sparks fly when a feisty repo agent repossesses a BMW with an ex-homicide detective in the trunk!

Don’t miss a single book this month and every month!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Jan Hambright penned her first novel at seventeen, but claims it was pure rubbish. However, it did open the door on her love for storytelling. Born in Idaho, she resides there with her husband, three of their five children, a three-legged watchdog and a spoiled horse named Texas, who always has time to listen to her next story idea while they gallop along.

Jan can be reached at P.O. Box 2537, McCall, Idaho 83638.

Mick Jacoby—A relentless ex-homicide cop, who now works the auto theft division hunting for a hit-and-run killer, rumored to be a car thief in the Robear family.

Kate Robear—An ex-car thief trying to get her life together and live down her family’s reputation by working as a legitimate repo agent, or so she thinks.

Cody Talbot—Kate’s four-year-old son.

Otis Whittley—An unfortunate murder victim who knew too much and used the information as blackmail.

David Copeland—Kate’s mysterious boss, who’s implicated in the Whittley murder.

Dylan Talbot—A man from Kate’s past, who holds her responsible for his brother’s accident.

Jake Talbot—Dylan’s little brother and Cody’s father. A man Kate once loved and feels responsible for putting in a wheelchair.

Bret Byer—Mick’s ex-partner from Homicide. Unfortunately they were in love with the same woman at one time and he still carries a grudge.

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

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

The fat cigar pinched between his gloved fingers glowed orange as he puffed it and stared into the night. The backdrop of the bayou made him feel invisible.

He exhaled his last drag and sucked in a breath of mossy air. The eerie hum of the swamp’s carnivorous inhabitants droned in his eardrums. Here in the bayou the cycle of life played out in deadly turnabout. It was his kind of game.

Tearing the soggy end off of the butt, he shoved it into his shirt pocket and flicked the half-finished smoke into the nearby water. It hissed as it extinguished in the brackish muck near the boat he’d pulled ashore. He flexed his hands into fists and felt the leather tighten across his knuckles.

She would be here soon. He’d seen the glow of car lights flicker through the trees on the road to the north. His nerves pulled taut with excitement, anticipation. Like a drug it chased through his body bringing him to arousal.

Beautiful, predictable Kate. He’d chosen well. Caution coiled around his thoughts and constricted his ego. She was a down payment on a bigger prize.

The crush of gravel warned of her approach. He melted into the cocoon of foliage around him, picking up the trail of her movements in the shadows.

KATE ROBEAR COVERED the last ten feet of the road and ducked behind a tree. She leaned against the moss-tangled trunk and peered at the house across the narrow strip of real estate.

A whisper of breeze, heavy with humidity, licked her hair and chased a shiver through her body. Nothing like a late night in a Louisiana bayou to make her skin crawl.

Digging in her backpack, she pulled out her notepad and penlight to study the information her boss had given her on tonight’s repo job. Silver BMW 540i, owner of record Otis Whittley. She checked the address scribbled on her pad. It matched the string of black house numbers tacked on the wall next to the front door, where a naked bulb dangled from a couple of bare wires.

The house, if she could call it that, was little more than a shack. Its once-white coat of paint had long ago melted in the Saint Charles Parish humidity, leaving only flakes as a testament. There wasn’t anything wonderful about its location, either. Bayou Gauche. The end of the universe.

She released the button on the light, drew in a breath and tried to avoid thinking about what slithered behind her in the stagnant water. She’d never been afraid of the dark, but bayou dark had teeth.

Half-light radiated from the lightbulb and pierced the shadows around the house. Massive oaks dressed in long tresses of Spanish moss swayed in the breeze, mimicking the rhythm of a dancer.

Scanning the dappled landscape, she suppressed her apprehension. She was being paranoid, letting her over-active imagination scare her, but the sooner she got out of here the better she’d feel. Besides, the driveway was empty. She couldn’t take what wasn’t there.

Frustrated, she shoved her notepad and light into her pocket. Her ride out of this hole was a cell phone call away. Maybe she should abandon her hopes of snagging the car tonight and come back tomorrow.