Caught In A Game
Secrets are what drive billionaire security expert Davros Gianakopulos to succeed. And no one intrigues him more than striking art gallery owner Carrie McCray. But when a vengeful enemy traps Dav and Carrie in a ruthless battle of wits, the only thing he can trust is desire. . .
Carrie has faced down trouble before-betrayal taught her how. But staying one step ahead of those hunting her and Dav is as dangerous as her urgent feelings for him. Each move brings them closer to disaster, just as Dav's every searching kiss challenges Carrie's hard-won reserve. And he'll do whatever it takes to protect her. . .even putting their last chance at love on the line. . .
Praise for Deadly Little Secrets
". . .fast-paced, riveting. . ." -Carla Neggers
"An evocative and explosive thriller!" -Roxanne St. Claire
"One of the best Romantic Suspense novels of the year!"-Romantic Times
"An edge-of-your-seat read." -New York Times bestselling author Dianna Love
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September 06, 2011
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Excerpt from Deadly Little Lies by Jeanne Adams
It's hard to retire when you're an assassin.
Jurgens's latest assignment, a very inconvenient therapist who had learned far too much about certain clients, twitched and died as blood pooled on the highly polished, trendy concrete floor of the office loft. As he slipped out the man's wallet and retrieved an ID--not the driver's license, that was too obvious--he contemplated how best to extricate himself from the job.
"Too many targets," he muttered, "so little time." His beloved Caroline had laughed when he'd said that to her. His German accent faint but still with him after decades of living in the United States.
"There will always be someone willing to kill for hire," Caroline had reminded him as she made him breakfast before they left for Boston to execute this contract. It was true, of course. Many enjoyed killing. Few did it as effectively as he did. Fewer still kept at it as long.
Still, with the boy and Caroline now permanently in his life, and hopefully more children once they wed, it was time to give it up.
He frowned as he covered his tweed jacket with a chunky canvas coat. There was a new call waiting for an answer. A request for services with a very large paycheck attached. It was one to ponder, however. One did not lightly accept a contract to kill a billionaire, especially when that billionaire was Davros Gianikopolis.
Always keep moving, he reminded himself as he tucked his trousers into work boots and affected a slouching, limping walk. He pulled a cap over his close-cropped hair as he slipped out of the warm brick building through the service entrance. It emptied into an alley with no surveillance, not even a nearby ATM camera.
Boston in March was a bonus on a job like this. The clothes let him blend in with construction workers in the area, returning to various job sites from early breaks. Most people were just arriving at work, so there was a bustle of foot traffic on the sidewalk, despite the wind. Jurgens walked with them, pretending to bob his head in time with music from an MP3 player.
As he crossed the street and turned in a new direction, he changed his gate, striding rather than strolling, head up rather than down, music player tucked away. Within blocks he had tugged his pants from his boots, removed his cap and tucked it inside his coat. Inside a coffee shop, he removed the heavy canvas coat, returning to the slightly rumpled sport coat.
It was cold in Boston. No one batted an eye at his attire. "You still offer the grounds, for the garden, yes?" he asked the young girl behind the coffee counter as he ordered and paid. She nodded vigorously and called for the manager to fetch coffee grounds. He sipped his latte and thought about Dav, as many called him, and whether or not to take the job.
In a convoluted way, Dav was responsible for his current happiness, for the chance to court Caroline as if he were a legitimate businessman who had met her through her late husband. No one need ever know that Jurgens was the assassin who'd killed her husband, nor that Caroline had known the plan all along.
As the manager bagged the coffee grounds, she offered a coupon for a free drink. "Sorry you had to wait. That's the second request I had today," she said, handing him the bag.
A short cab ride later, he used his hotel key to enter the back stairwell of the elegant Luxe Inn near Nob Hill. Out of range of the security cameras, he cleaned the rest of the therapist's blood from the gardener's all-purpose knife with the coffee grounds. He was careful to remove all trace of skin and blood from the blade and wiped it once more for prints, even though he'd worn gloves.
Earlier he'd tucked a garden cart into the stairwell; now he dropped the knife and coffee grounds in a bin that held a mix of grounds and soil, which the Luxe used in their atrium lobby. When and if the blade was found, it would be returned to use, with no hint of the assassination Jurgens had performed. Nor was it likely the police would ever find a knife half a city away, buried in coffee grounds in a garden cart.
He moved the cart to the hall so it would quickly be reclaimed for use, then went to his room. He cleaned up and changed, then took a moment to comb and part his hair a different way and add wire-rimmed glasses before leaving with his briefcase. The bed, mussed as if he'd slept there, the dampened towels on the floor as if he'd showered, all said one-night stay for a businessman. The key card he'd used for the outer door and the one he left on the dresser bore no connection to him whatsoever.
Back outside, he changed his walk, his very persona, and joined his beloved at the Boston Children's Museum.
"Caroline," he breathed her name, spotting her lovely face in the crowd. She saw him as well, and her smile was joyful.
Later, he would get her advice on the matter of killing Dav Gianikopolis.