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Sam Meadows was furious. The FBI, as well as the CIA, were closing in. Already, they’d arrested some of the people he had working on the inside. Key people. Some were talking and taking plea deals. But most knew better.
Still, that wouldn’t save his ass if any connection was made to him. He had no choice but to take care of any and all loose ends. The organization he’d been building foralmost ten years was just reaching its full potential. His international buyers were demanding more girls--young ones, preferably virgins—and his goal was to make sure they got them.
And for things to move forward, he had to find, and eliminate, Dr. Lennox Roswell—immediately. Meadows knew that he should have taken care of her long ago. She’d always been a liability. But instead of trusting his gut, he’d made the mistake of listening to Dr. Steven Owens. The ME had assured him that Lennox Roswell was no threat, that she would have no reason to question whether or not her fiancé’s death had been an accident.
Besides, Owens had stressed that it might look suspicious if something had happened to both Bellamy and Roswell--a couple who were engaged to be married. And when she’d left Boston to start a new life in Virginia, he’d thought it had been the right call. She’d been out of sight and out of mind. But not anymore.
Two weeks ago, they’d learned that she might be a liability after all. If there was anything in her fiancé’s box of belongings to incriminate any of them, he was in major trouble. Although he had no idea if there was, he wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted to see for himself.
Owens had crossed him…and now he was dead. And Dr. Roswell was on the run, hiding out somewhere. He wasn’t sure if she had the box with her, but if she didn’t, she’d know where it was.
“Meadows?”
Damn, he’d forgotten Clearwater was on the phone. “What do you have?” He’d told Clearwater last week notto call him unless it was to tell him Dr. Roswell had been found.
“There’s been no sign of her, but we’re still looking.”
That wasn’t good enough. “I want her found. Call in your friends in law enforcement and the FBI. Somebody must know something.”
“I understand Dr. Roswell has hired someone to protect her--the same man who killed the guy we sent to take her out almost two weeks ago.”
“I don’t care who’s protecting her. I just want her and that damn box. If you don’t find her, Clearwater, I’ll have to go looking for her myself. And if I do, that means you’re no longer of any value to me. Think about that.”
Meadows then disconnected the call.
• • •
Feeling a little panicky, Greg Clearwater dropped his cell phone as he considered the implications of Meadows’s words. His life was now on the line--all because of one bitch.
He had sent one of his best men—his own brother--to her place to silence her. Now his brother was dead and Greg hadn’t been able to claim the body for fear of being connected.
So now, he not only wanted to get his hands on Dr. Roswell, but also her neighbor—the man who’d killed his brother. The same man who was now protecting her.
It didn’t matter to him that the guy was a professional bodyguard. A bullet could bring him down as easily as it could anyone else.
But right now, the more pressing issue for Greg was to keep breathing. And if he wanted to stay that way, and avoid Meadows’s wrath, he’d have to find the woman first. Or die trying.
LENNOX MOVED AROUND HERbedroom, still feeling the after-effects of the kiss she’d shared with Roland. She’d never felt this way before. It had been just a kiss, but somehow, it was so much more. She and DeWalt had kissed often, but never before had her body reacted this way. It was as if desire was driving her, even now warming her very core.
She and Roland had always had a strong attraction to each other. It had been obvious, right from the start that they desired each other. So maybe, that kiss had been meant to be?
The big question now was…could they get beyond it?
Maybe he’d manage to do it. After all, nobody had self-discipline like Roland Summers but she had a feeling that it wouldn’t be so easy for her. She was an inquisitive person by nature, someone who liked to explore, investigate and inspect.
So now, she had some questions. First of all, why would she feel so much more desire for Roland--a man she didn’tlove—than she’d felt for DeWalt—the man she was going to marry?
During that kiss, she’d felt passion--honest to goodness passion—and it had blown her away. She had enjoyed DeWalt’s kisses and had looked forward to each time he took her into his arms. But that kiss today was something totally different. Everywhere Roland had touched--her mouth, her backside, her entire body--had burned. Even now, fire was still licking its way through her.
If his phone hadn’t rung, there was no telling where they’d be right now or what they’d be doing. How far would they have taken things? God knew she hadn’t had a mind to stop and she had a feeling he hadn’t either.
In fact, all she had to do was close her eyes to relive the kiss…and then imagine taking it further--lifting his shirt and gliding her hands over his sculpted abdomen. Moving those hands lower, and cupping him. She knew the human body, though she dealt mostly with dead ones. Lucky for her, Roland’s was very much alive. She’d felt every pulsating inch of him.
She heard the door close, telling her he’d gone outside. She moved to the window and discreetly moved the curtain aside. Someone had pulled up in a pickup and figured it was Byron. It was. He and Roland were standing by the truck talking. She thought Byron was a handsome man, but not as handsome as Roland was.
Lennox continued to watch the two men, though really, she only had eyes for Roland. Then, as if he’d felt her watching him, he glanced over her way. She quickly dropped the curtain. Just then, her watch beeped, which meant it was time for her to take the cookies out of the oven. She wasglad Roland was outside and hoped he would remain there until she finished up in the kitchen.
With any luck, when she saw him again at dinner, she would have gotten her libido in check…though that seemed next to impossible where Roland was concerned. Today he had given her a taste of something she’d never had before. A taste of him.
