Angel Nicholas - Sweet Deception - HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense

Why had she left the safety of her comfy couch?

The metallic screech of gears made her jump. The roller coaster lurched forward. Their “special” car shuddered before accelerating smoothly down the track. Despite the restraints, the first sharp turn flung her into Surfer Dude’s rock-hard body. Apparently, there were a few benefits to a shiftless lifestyle. Pressed against him from shoulder to knee, she met his gaze. A wave of heat surged into her cheeks. Was the guy perpetually amused, or what?

“Sorry.” She straightened with effort as the car went into another loop.

Holy crap, he smells good.

They wound in and out of tunnels, faster and faster until the ride slowed, click-clacking up a steep grade. Ally white-knuckled the hem of her shorts.

Crisp masculine hair chased tingles up the side of her arm, distracting her from imminent death. Surfer Dude’s golden thigh pressed against her hand. His thigh moved, doing a slow slide over her wrist. She glanced up. The heat in his expression made a mockery of all her internal cracks about easy-going. He was about as relaxed as a hungry lion crouched in tall grass, eyeing the plump lines of a grazing gazelle. Licking her lip, ultra-sensitive to every inch of skin he touched, she tried to scoot away. The ride went into a free fall.

The bottom of her stomach disappeared and she lost her breath. Jerking free of Surfer Dude’s gaze, her eyes widened as they screamed down the track, slammed around a corner and into a building. In the dark and shadowy interior, fog machines worked overtime. They shot in and out of clouds of the stuff. Moist air whooshed past her ear; severe claustrophobia kicked in.

She fought to remain calm as she breathed the thick, weird-smelling fog. Squeezing her eyes shut only worsened her panic. She bit her lip, holding in a moan of pure agony.

The girl behind her let out an odd squeak. People yelled. Ally snapped her eyes open. The clinging mist lent a dreamlike quality to the scene as the coaster flew high above the ground. Several cars ahead, two men had removed their seat belts and were wrestling. The fighting men stood and she gasped.

“What the hell?” Surfer Dude leaned forward.

One of the men toppled out and disappeared into the swirling fog. Eyes wide and heart in her throat, Ally gasped. Screams ricocheted off the walls. The second man peered over the side and then sat. Just…sat.

A few heartbeats passed. The ride clattered along the track, the low rumble blending with the muttering of her erstwhile companions; the noises were distant. Surreal. She tightened her grip on her restraints. No one touches my straps.

Her brain ceased functioning.

People shouting, demanding the ride be stopped, finally penetrated her fog of shock. Someone must have heard or seen what happened because the cars slowed as they rounded several more loops. At ground level inside the building they came to a stop.

“What’s going on?” An uneasy mix of teenage belligerence and anxiety threaded the juvenile delinquent’s voice.

The blonde in the rear leaned forward. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”

Ya think?

Surfer Dude twisted around—Ally assumed to comfort his plastic-perfect girlfriend. “It’s okay, honey.”

Ally started to shake. She could barely see through the shifting gloom. Strange men were talking about stuff she only encountered from the safety of her living room while watching TV and, oh yeah, she’d witnessed a man plummet to his death. Would anyone notice if she covered her ears and cowered on the floor of this thing?

Lights bobbed closer, accompanied by the sound of men’s voices. From the fragments she caught, they sounded like the police.

“Hey! Freeze. Police.”

Bile rose in Ally’s throat.

A scuffle and swearing followed. Running feet slapped against the concrete and the bobbing lights disappeared.

“Okay, let’s go.” Surfer Dude took charge, instructing everyone on getting out of the car. They all climbed out, the cool concrete floor of the dark building a small jump down from the raised track.

Ally scrambled to unclip the seat belt and get out. She almost wept when her feet touched solid ground. There might be more to Surfer Dude than good looks after all. Even so, she didn’t plan on ever getting on another roller coaster. Who knew fears could be so sensible?

Escape was in sight.

Well, not sight exactly. Between the poor lighting and the dense artificial fog, she could barely see her hand in front of her face. She leaned against the cool block wall, letting her heartbeat slow, and gradually realized she was completely alone. Apparently, her fellow passengers managed to keep their wits about them and beat a hasty retreat out of this walking nightmare.

“Hello?” she whispered.

The darkness heightened her other senses. The slow drip of water. Low-wattage bulbs flickered here and there, barely penetrating the shifting gloom. Water condensed on the hard gray walls and the scent of moist earth filled her nose. Which was strange since she stood surrounded on all sides by concrete.

Why didn’t someone turn off the fog machines?

More importantly, why was she still standing there?

Hesitant, one hand maintaining contact with the damp wall, she started away from the ride. Some guy had met his maker down here. The last thing she needed was an up-close-and- personal look at death.

Shouts erupted again, commanding yells ordering someone to stop.

Oh, wow. So not good.

The sharp echo of gunshots followed and she dropped to a crouch. Ally wrapped her arms around her bent legs and curled into the smallest ball possible. The scrape of her shoes as she edged closer to the wall seemed overly loud. Huddled against the wall, moisture seeped into her clothes and she shivered.

Gingerly rising to a crouch, she broke into an awkward trot, still hugging the wall. Two heartbeats later, pounding footsteps drew close. Ragged breathing accompanied the thud of shoes on concrete. The hair on her nape rose.

Hand on the wall, she broke into a run. A rough spot tore at her fingers, but she didn’t pull away, praying for a doorway. Or a nook. Really, a cranny or crevice would do. Anything she’d be able to duck into and hide. Please, please, please, please.

The wall ended and she nearly tumbled into the opening.

Yes! She slid inside, the pitch-blackness of her cranny not nearly as scary as what was coming behind her. The heavy footsteps drew closer. She shrank back farther, dormant instincts screaming. Terror wrapped clawed fingers around her throat. A whimper escaped without her permission. So close…

A broad hand clamped over her mouth and a strong arm yanked her back against a warm, hard body. Eyes wide in the dark, her lungs seized. She almost peed her pants. Footsteps and heavy breathing passed within inches of her not-so-empty hidey-hole.

I am so screwed. She parted her lips.

“Quiet,” came a low masculine growl. “Just because he’s passed doesn’t mean he won’t double back.”

His palm caught her gasp as the familiar voice clicked into place. Surfer Dude held her tight against his hard body. She sagged with relief but abruptly stiffened again when he didn’t release her.

What the heck?

Mumbling into his hand accomplished zilch. He didn’t budge. She squirmed in his grasp. Nothing. Out of desperation, she licked his palm.

Soft laughter rumbled in her ear.

She shivered in delicious response. Wait, no. She shivered in revulsion. Yep, revulsion.

“You’re gonna have to do better. Licking only brings to mind all sorts of fun games.” The hand over her mouth moved down. Slowly. More of a caress, actually. He cupped her chin, skimmed his fingers down her throat and over her collarbone…