Seth the Cop's voice penetrated her brain at the same time the normally delicious aroma of sandalwood battered her senses.
Years ago, he'd been a legend in his own mind, never less than an hour late for any appointment, intent in impatiently interrupting patients as they related their tales of woe.
"You have to help me find the Firebird locket, the one Colonel Azarenko took from you."
"Someone-I think it might have been Dottie Hemmings-made a comment that Maybelle wasn't the type who liked to share what was hers."
"He's a lot more important to this whole thing than I am. That feels like an unacceptable risk to me."
Cal pounded on the door, suddenly too angry to think straight. She would not lock him out.
You didn't drug and kidnap someone, then lock them into a dark room and leave them there for no reason.
"Frenchie, huh?" she said, once they were on their way again, the laughter in her tone welcome.
"I really need to strangle him. Surely, my folks wouldn't notice one less son."
Good thing the yakuza enforcer was on my side.
Apparently, he knew where I lived.
The man standing on the other side was almost an anti-climax. He was barefoot, and his pants were unfastened, like he had been in the process of getting undressed when his thoughts became scrambled and unclear.
Gangs had never been part of his privileged existence-other than what he saw on the news reports on TV-and he resented that Rex hadn't led the same kind of uncomplicated, pristine life.
"Really?" She unleashed a brilliant smile and his breath caught. The feeling in his chest when she smiled at him had to be more than simple lust. He shook his head a little to clear it.
Truth Be Told, part of the bestselling Jane Ryland and Jake Brogan series by Agatha, Anthony, Mary Higgins Clark, and Macavity Award-winning author Hank Phillippi Ryan, begins with tragedy: a middle-class family evicted from their suburban home. In digging up the facts on this heartbreaking story—and on other foreclosures— reporter Ryland soon learns the truth behind a big-bucks scheme and the surprising players who will stop at nothing, including murder, to keep their goal a secret. Turns out, there’s more than one way to rob a bank.
Boston police detective Jake Brogan has a liar on his hands. A man has just confessed to the famous twenty-year-old Lilac Sunday killing, and while Jake’s colleagues take him at his word, Jake is not so sure. But he has personal reasons for hoping they’ve finally solved the cold case.
Financial manipulation, the terror of foreclosures, the power of numbers, the primal need for home and family and love. What happens when what you believe is true turns out to be a lie?
By the time he did come down to talk to me, I wasn't in the mood for any foolishness. But that's what I was going to get.
She snapped her gaze up to find Chris-blond, built, and hotter than hot. She'd known him most of her life, his family being Order supporters just as hers was. Young, early twenties, he was part of her and her sister's cohort of Hunter/Huntress hopefuls, training together at times, socializing together often. He was a trusted family friend-someone she could count on to watch her back.
Alex's legs burned, his lungs struggled for air, and sweat ran down his back between his shoulder blades. He preferred exercise the old-fashioned way-either riding his horse across the miles of Texas pasture, or slugging away on the ranch. The exercise room in Benedict Towers came in a distant third in preferences, but the workout had value despite that.
"So where's Amanda?"
"At the hotel. She was feeling all wrung out from the stress of worrying about me, taking care of me...you know. Anyway, I told her to take some time today. Get herself a massage. She'll be around later tonight. She's anxious to see you."
It didn't take long for me to ready myself to go. I did not need a pack, just boots and a good woolen cloak. I should have changed forms because the wolf would have made the journey quicker. But I had only just regained my humanity and was loath to lose it. I stepped outside to put on my boots so the dirt on the soles wouldn't drop on the floor. The door opened again behind me.
