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Secret Agent Heiress

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Год написания книги
2019
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“What is it with you and dead bodies, anyway?” Whitney didn’t know which way to move. She was crunched in the cab of a truck between a killer and a corpse.

And the dead man was driving.

Vincent leaned across her and grabbed Carl by the shoulder. When he pulled him back, the body’s limp fingers released the steering wheel.

“His foot’s still on the accelerator. Grab the wheel.”

Grab the wheel?

She understood what he wanted her to do. She just wasn’t sure she had the desire to do it.

“Whitney.”

Fine. Nothing like an order in that crisp, low-pitched voice to make her kick it into gear. Her father had that same kind of voice. He never asked, either. He just expected her to do whatever he commanded.

She wedged her shoulder between Carl and the steering wheel and took hold. Vincent threw his considerable weight across her lap and reached beneath the dashboard. The engine whirred in protest and the truck immediately dropped speed.

“What are you doing?”

He grabbed her left ankle and placed it on the accelerator. “Drive.”

For a few awkward moments, she simply acted on instinct. She pressed down on the accelerator and tried to gauge the upcoming curve in the road from her vantage point. With Vincent pinning her legs, she couldn’t sit up any higher. And with Carl’s weight on her shoulder, she stooped beside the wheel, looking between the wheel and the top of the dash to guide them along the dark road.

When she entered the curve, the headlights picked up a stand of boulders that had claimed that particular spot for untold millennia. Whitney moved her foot to hit the brake and slow them down, but Vincent moved it back to the accelerator.

“Don’t stop.”

“But—”

“Drive.”

And then she realized what he was doing. He reached across her and opened the driver’s-side door. The ground rushed past at an alarming speed. “Oh my God. You can’t do that.”

But he already had. He pulled Carl’s legs from the floor of the truck and shoved them out the door. Then Vincent sat up, latched onto her arm to hold her in place and pushed Carl out from behind her.

The body hit the ground with a horrible thud. She couldn’t help but look in the rearview mirror to see his limp body roll to the side of the road. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Whitney!”

All at once his hands were on the wheel with hers. He cranked it a quarter turn to the left, jerking it from her grasp.

The rocks she’d seen from a distance rushed up in front of them with frightening speed. She stomped on the brake. Vincent turned the wheel.

But with gravel and speed they had few options.

Vincent wrapped his arms around her, turning so his body shielded hers from the impact. The truck spun out and slid madly through clumps of rocks and brush until it slammed with a deafening crunch into the rocks.

Vincent’s body lurched forward, then crushed her against the seat.

And then it was still.

Whitney slumped within the cocoon of Vincent’s body until she could hear something besides the pounding of her heart in her ears.

His weight on her chest didn’t stir. “Romeo?”

She flattened her palms at the front of his chest to push some space between them. She felt the reassuring tattoo of his heartbeat beneath her hand. But she needed to see his face. Find out if he was conscious or injured.

He was a bigger man than she realized. Solid muscle filled out his large frame. She took a deep breath, put her shoulders into it and managed to push him over into the seat next to her.

His eyes were closed.

An instant panic quickened her pulse again. “Romeo?” She touched her fingers to his parted lips. His regular breathing warmed her fingertips, but did little to reassure her. “Romeo?”

She climbed up on her knees in the seat to bring her up to eye level with him. She cupped his face between her hands and shook him gently. “Romeo? C’mon. Wake up.”

The rasp of his beard growth tickled her palms, sending inappropriate shivers of awareness straight up her arms. She might be reacting to his rough brand of charm, but she seemed to be having no effect on him.

For an instant she wondered if Dimitri Chilton had heard the crash. How far behind was he? Did he still pursue them? Her pulse quickened with renewed urgency.

Vincent Romeo was her only ticket off this mountain. The big brute had to be okay.

“Romeo.” She called his name right in his ear and gave him a light smack on the cheek. Nothing. She tapped him again. “Dammit, will you—”

Faster than the panic rising within her, his eyes popped open. He snatched her by the wrists and twisted her flat on her back in the seat with his larger body trapping her there.

Whitney’s breath whooshed out in a startled gasp. She stared helplessly up into eyes that were black. Black as coal and filled with deadly intent.

“Romeo?”

His eyes narrowed between sooty lashes. His gaze traced the shape of her face, lingered on her neck, then seemed to fix on the small jut of her breasts. To her horror, she felt the tips tighten into pebbled beads beneath the intensity of that look. Pinned beneath his crushing weight, she felt more exposed than she had been behind that rock with Rashid.

“Um—” She licked her parched lips. “Are you okay?”

His gaze darted back to her mouth, drawn to the movement there.

And then he blinked.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The raspy groan in his throat told her the movement hurt. He released one of her wrists and touched the back of his skull. The succinct curse he chose revealed just how much it hurt.

“I took a blow to the head. Things were fuzzy for a minute there, but I’ll be all right.”

“Good. Because you’re hurting me.”

As quickly as he had pinned her to the seat, he released her and scooted to the far end of the truck’s cab. It was almost embarrassing to see how quickly he could move away from her. Whitney sat up much more slowly, nursing her wounded pride and massaging her sore wrists.

“Is that where I caught you?”

The ugly purple welts that encircled her wrists were visible, even in the moonlight. Vincent thought he’d done that to her? She found the energy to summon a rusty smile. “No.” He’d probably saved her life.
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