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Sweet Deception: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense
Angel Nicholas
Ally Thompson’s life is perfect. Calm, quiet, some might even say boring. The sole survivor of a tragic accident, she’s not the adventurous type—something she’s decided to change.One roller-coaster ride…A murder and a detective in disguise shatter Ally’s first attempt at “fun.” Detective Greg Marsing is everything Ally knows better than to want. The gun-totting, tattooed scumbags trying to kill her are almost a welcome distraction from her pointless attraction.Blows her world wide open…A contract on Ally has every lowlife for miles gunning for her. Sparks fly while she and her unlikely hero scramble to unravel clues. As the deadly game escalates, Greg has to decide if self-preservation rates higher than a love worth dying for.
Sweet Deception
ANGEL NICHOLAS
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014
Copyright © Angel Nicholas 2014
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Angel Nicholas asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or
stored in or introduced into any information storage and
retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or
hereinafter invented, without the express
written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © December 2014
ISBN: 9780008126254
Version 2014-12-09
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
To my darling munchkins, for their tolerance of late dinners, forgotten events, a less than immaculate house, and my general distraction. I love you!
Contents
Cover (#u4dca6f05-f952-54df-bead-4208dbc881db)
Title Page (#u6ce8a407-4144-5ea3-8b0a-da6d02b9531f)
Copyright (#u31e87e19-6989-5b3f-834e-7fe32621a05b)
Dedication (#u7c264d1a-0652-5054-927b-14bb5727bfbb)
Chapter One (#u3b5019b4-748b-52c6-be35-2fcd0fe44652)
Chapter Two (#ue820b28f-3a35-586f-89a0-ef358e403b9a)
Chapter Three (#u7dc8746e-48e5-50b9-9fb0-1ab8137958c3)
Chapter Four (#uf0999d64-63b8-5d2c-865b-ae440f1e0a89)
Chapter Five (#u577fdd0a-bc09-5f02-9880-f4c5ec7f1292)
Chapter Six (#u325e1376-1536-5c0f-93a2-16bb665ccbef)
Chapter Seven (#u38d548c0-335f-57fd-b4d6-024ad0d1f6a6)
Chapter Eight (#u4474038c-0c70-5ae7-a05f-0336dc881ee6)
Chapter Nine (#u9584614e-acb3-574c-9e34-7f6e55dfac51)
Chapter Ten (#u9875644a-684b-54f0-9845-51960945c1db)
Chapter Eleven (#u4a950814-a7d7-5428-9a34-ac010510d4a3)
Chapter Twelve (#u0cdd8bd0-7563-584b-8c86-ce337e93e2d5)
Chapter Thirteen (#u58e1c3ec-1683-59b7-b3cc-2db86ab0dd89)
Chapter Fourteen (#ufacdf8f1-226a-5eef-9b9f-1d7850c23dc9)
Chapter Fifteen (#uebb63d26-2bef-5edb-8f0c-1bfc9cf07e71)
Chapter Sixteen (#u819f4ec4-2f85-5b8b-ae28-f0b602ab7d24)
Chapter Seventeen (#u1fdc56bc-a013-5439-9df5-067eaa328a9e)
Chapter Eighteen (#ue75b39c3-7cde-5333-878d-de6e7aacb2ae)
Chapter Nineteen (#u8ad9f6ba-93db-59df-8d19-8ef074123232)
Chapter Twenty (#u7fabc765-1f56-551d-a60a-944c83b34d20)
Chapter Twenty-One (#u8e820985-bc30-53e0-907b-a42598f7a93b)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u4df8b6dd-ba94-5952-a209-c27fe88aa3b9)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#u78b38d96-4e44-56f5-b289-15261637ca65)
Epilogue (#u7e1018e8-4520-5754-920b-ab6a86aba716)
If You Like Angel Nicholas You’ll Love Dani-Lyn Alexander… (#u9d583dc8-997b-5e19-8580-7352a6f9e671)
Angel Nicholas (#uca8feae4-30b2-5536-93b3-f255cab37bb7)
About HarperImpulse (#uee62ad4a-9741-5e9b-995f-d2f56568a453)
About the Publisher (#u28621c99-6341-576a-865c-3df1f402bd43)
Chapter One (#u5d116a4c-96a4-5193-83be-cd7ad6ac17da)
Nausea churned as the Roller Coaster of Death plummeted to the ground.
“I can do this.” Ally’s short fingernails bit into her palms.
The ride blew past her, blowing her hair back, the screaming of its occupants piercing her tender eardrums. Cold sweat popped up across her skin.
“Why am I doing this?” Oh, right. She’d gotten tired of listening to everyone else on the entire planet, or just her office, talk about the fun they were having while she went home to a glass of wine and a book. An excellent book, but still.
The ginormous roller coaster drew her gaze skyward. Some demented creator had produced a horrific edifice with tracks climbing high into the clouds before dropping to the earth and disappearing inside a concrete building filled with fog and general creepiness. The mechanical roar and screech of the amusement park almost drowned out the heckling of her inner coward.
The line for the ride emerged from the crowd, bringing her hesitant approach to an abrupt halt. People lined up behind her and milled around on either side, boxing her in. The cold sweat from earlier spread and she shivered. Fenced in, blocked, no immediate avenue of escape. She swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth.
A sweaty hand grabbed her arm and she jumped.
“Hey. You, you and you two come with me. You’ve been chosen for the best seat on the coaster.” The guy’s grin about split his pimpled face as he ushered them away from the disappointed crowd.
Ally followed in a daze, misty visions of dashing for the nearest exit tempting her. The best seat? She didn’t want any seat, let alone the best.
Arriving at their destination, the guy stopped and turned to face them. Pimple face, aka Mr. Obnoxious, gestured to the side with a flourish worthy of a grand ringmaster. Her jaw dropped. Surely not that seat.
Mr. Obnoxious grabbed her arm again.
Gritting her teeth, she yanked free and scrambled in on her own.
A juvenile delinquent, by the look of his saggy clothes and scruffy appearance, climbed in behind her and a blonde sat beside him.
The thump of a sneaker-clad foot on her seat made her swing around. Her gaze traveled up, skating over thick muscles, golden hair and bronzed skin; something clenched deep in her belly.
Ally swallowed thickly and averted her gaze as the leg’s owner dropped into the seat with casual grace. His leg grazed hers, the coarse feel of tiny hairs against her smooth skin foreign. Self-consciously trying to make her plump curves smaller, she glanced up through her lashes at the newest addition to the suicide machine. Shaggy blonde hair, the shadow of a beard darkening his square jaw, his raw masculinity short-circuited every one of her nerve endings. He had the kind of good looks guaranteed to bring women by the droves and fit her image of a typical California Surfer Dude. Her lips flat-lined.
“Alright, folks. Let’s get you all buckled in, safe and secure.”
Safe? Secure? Was this an issue?
Mr. Obnoxious grabbed the seat belts and buckled them around her before she even had a chance to lift a finger.
Narrowing her eyes, she turned to give the jerk a piece of her mind and encountered the amused, blue-green gaze of her surfer neighbor. She clamped her jaw shut and faced forward. What fun.
After instructing everyone on proper safety protocol, Mr. Obnoxious stepped away. The other passengers chatted, clearly looking forward to the ride and all very much insane. Waiting for the rest of the ride to be loaded, Ally glowered out the front of the death-by-idiocy car and eavesdropped on her companions. Apparently, the hot guy to her right belonged with the woman in the rear seat and the juvie was riding solo.
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.
