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San Antonio Secret
Robin Perini
A San Antonio rodeo may hold the key to finding the truth behind two missing people! When Sierra Bradford's best friend and goddaughter are abducted, she vows to find them at any cost. Even if that means teaming up with former Green Beret Rafe Vargas, who's come to her aid…and not for the first time. But their powerful attraction is growing out of control!
A San Antonio rodeo may hold the key to finding the truth behind two missing people
When Sierra Bradford’s best friend and goddaughter are abducted, she vows to find them at any cost. Sierra—shot at the scene of their kidnapping—checks in to a motel to treat her wounds. It’s there that she encounters former Green Beret Rafe Vargas, who’s come to her aid…and not for the first time. As his best friend’s sister, Sierra is off-limits. But that hardly stops a powerful attraction from growing as they work together on an undercover sting operation to find her friend’s adbuctors. Under the guise of a rodeo cowboy and his pregnant wife, Rafe and Sierra come to find out that the rodeo may be the key to their investigation—and their possible future.
Her eyelids snapped open, expression foggy with sleep.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice gravelly and deep.
She blinked. Her hand gripped his chest hair. She moved her leg slightly against his hip. Her eyes widened; her cheeks reddened.
The pulse at the base of her throat accelerated. Her pupils dilated.
She didn’t move. She pressed closer.
His heart leaped away. The burn simmering inside his gut exploded. He shook with the effort to maintain control.
He couldn’t look away. She’d captured him with her gaze. He held his breath.
“Rafe,” she whispered. Her tongue dampened her lips.
“You should move.” He cleared his throat. “Or I should.”
She lifted her hand from the bare skin of his chest. She nodded in agreement, tossing a wave of disappointment and resignation through him.
He allowed his hands to fall back to the sheets. All for the best. But right now he had to get away from here. He needed that shower or to dunk himself into a tub of ice. “I think I’d better—”
“Don’t think,” Sierra whispered.
San Antonio Secret
Robin Perini
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Award-winning author ROBIN PERINI’S love of heart-stopping suspense and poignant romance, coupled with her adoration of high-tech weaponry and covert ops, encouraged her secret inner commando to take on the challenge of writing romantic suspense novels. Robin loves to interact with readers. You can catch her on her website, www.robinperini.com (http://www.robinperini.com/), and on several major social-networking sites, or write to her at PO Box 50472, Albuquerque, NM 87181-0472.
For my agent, Jill Marsal, and my editor, Allison Lyons.
I’m blessed to have you in my corner during the good times and the bad.
Thank you. For everything.
Contents
Cover (#ubbe76a21-6800-5074-a50b-b8b45bf54079)
Back Cover Text (#u18931818-d74d-562f-aa16-cff7961521fd)
Introduction (#ucfdb24b3-c38a-51bf-89fc-ac04814decfc)
Title Page (#u875f804b-1ba8-51f5-b3d1-092693509b7b)
About the Author (#ud29886cd-87ae-5cda-b0f9-4c8bcc06b495)
Dedication (#u4af151ba-c734-5c18-a31b-cee3cf2df707)
Prologue (#u171b75e3-2aa4-577b-8a4d-7529fe7a2d7b)
Chapter One (#u9cddf357-1610-5af6-af02-0af2178d8e3c)
Chapter Two (#u38a17bf2-04ad-5899-81bf-08c893956c0e)
Chapter Three (#ub5a6a1a7-0bed-516f-94e8-beb9f93cb6e3)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u74658c77-9505-53bc-8f18-7d7dafc5aec2)
Two months ago, Denver, Colorado
Dreary November clouds hung low and menacing, blocking out the clear blue of the Denver sky. Small pricks of ice laced the air, but Rafe Vargas didn’t feel the cold, even as a puff of visible breath escaped his lips. His focus lasered on the door of the warehouse.
Most of the block was deserted, but orange caution tape and cones peppered the streets. Not surprising. Rafe didn’t have to walk inside the building to know dynamite and detonator cords crisscrossed the location. This entire block of downtown had been scheduled to be dust in a matter of minutes. Covert Technology Confidential’s resident geek, Zane Westin, better be right about the target’s coordinates.
Rafe tugged the stocking cap around his ears to camouflage his identity, bowing his head to avoid providing the surveillance camera a clear image of the patch covering his left eye. That psycho serial killer Archimedes needed to believe the man currently sneaking into the building was Rafe’s best friend and fellow CTC operative, Noah Bradford, otherwise two women might die: the woman Noah guarded and had fallen in love with, and the one Rafe had flown across the country to rescue, Noah’s sister, Sierra.
Archimedes was attempting to use her as leverage to stop Noah’s investigation. Rafe wasn’t about to let that happen, but if he had a prayer of getting her out alive, he had to locate her first.
Then again, if he found Sierra in time to save her life, he might have to kill her. Or kiss her until neither one of them could breathe—the way he’d wanted to from the day they’d met.
Either choice made his gut ache. Best friends’ sisters were off-limits for one. Secondly, and more immediately, Archimedes liked to play deadly games, and he didn’t give a rip about collateral damage. He might just murder Sierra for the satisfaction of proving he could.
Rafe palmed his Kimber 1911 and slipped through the warehouse door. He eyed a camera and ducked behind a large concrete support in a visual dead zone. That ominous and all-too-familiar tingle skittered down Rafe’s spine. He had no doubt Archimedes was watching. The man was a sick voyeur, and the moment Rafe showed himself, the serial killer would know.
“We’re clear,” a worker in a yellow hard hat called across the room to the blaster.
“Then let’s get out of here. This sucker’s going to collapse like a pancake.”
The men hurried out, slamming a metal door behind them. The clang echoed through the empty building.
Rafe checked his GPS and surveyed the open area. Yep. Drilled holes stuffed with dynamite dotted columns throughout the place. No one knew the order was on hold.
They had to keep it that way. Until he found Sierra.
He followed the trail from one of the dynamite cluster’s detonation cables until a second set of wiring caught his attention.
Well, damn and double damn.
Archimedes had been here.
Military grade dets, not used for civilian demolition. No wonder the serial killer had oozed that smug, I-know-more-than-I’m-telling arrogance during their last communication. He’d rigged the existing wire to give him complete control. Even if the demolition expert didn’t set off the charge, Archimedes could. And would.
Sierra.
Rafe’s heart thudded hard against his chest. He glanced at his watch. Hell, no. Five minutes.
If he shot out the cameras, Archimedes might detonate early. Rafe tapped his earpiece. “Zane, you’re sure about those coordinates?”
“Unless Archimedes spoofed them. And he could have. I’d give it fifty-fifty.”
“Not good enough.” CTC’s surveillance expert was the best Rafe had ever worked with. There had to be a way. “If the place doesn’t blow, Archimedes is going to set off the dynamite. Can you jam the detonation signal?”
“I don’t have the time to crack his encryption.” A curse erupted from Zane. “He’s one step ahead of us. Again.”
“What about the cameras?”
“If I disrupt them, he’ll know.” A drumming sounded through the phone. “Maybe...okay, it’ll just be a minute, but I have an idea.”
“You don’t have a minute,” Rafe snapped.
A blur of tapping sounded through the phone. “If I loop the camera feed—”
“He won’t know I’m here. Very Hollywood thriller of you.”
“I try. It’s not going to be pretty, though. If he’s watching closely enough, he’ll be able to tell.”
“Do it.”
“I already started,” Zane said. “A half minute more.”
The seconds ticked by. Rafe studied the path to Sierra’s coordinates, timing it in his head.
“That’s as good as it’ll get,” Zane said. “Go.”
Rafe catapulted from his hiding place and raced across the large concrete building. He skidded to a halt in front of a closed metal door and turned the knob. Locked. “Sierra. I’m coming for you,” he shouted.
He backed up and slammed his foot against the barrier with all his weight behind him. The door bent, but didn’t open. Another kick. A third. A fourth. It wouldn’t give way.
A loud ticking echoed in his head, his internal clock counting down the seconds. This wasn’t working, and Archimedes could discover the deception at any moment.
A large spread of debris littered the floor nearby. A piece of rusted rebar stuck out from one heap. Rafe clutched it in his hand and wedged the end in a small crack created by his assault. With a loud groan he pried the door open.
“Sierra?”
He peered through the opening.
Empty. A mound of wiring and debris filled the small room.
What the hell?
“She’s not here, Zane. Am I even in the right warehouse?”
“According to my data, she has to be within a few feet,” he said.
Ninety seconds.
Normally Rafe’s body grew ultracalm the more perilous the operation, but this was Sierra. His palms grew damp, a bead of sweat trailed down his temple. Where the hell was she?
He rounded a corner and on the opposite wall facing the room he’d just entered, he found another door. The metal was bent, slightly off center.
He jammed in the rebar and pried it open. Sierra lay in the small, cramped closet, feet bound, mouth duct-taped, her shirt splayed open, and blood trickling from a carving of the infinity symbol on her upper left breast.
Her eyes widened.
“Got her,” he said into his comm. He knelt beside her, tugging her shirt closed and slicing through her bindings with his Bowie. “You’re one tough woman to find.”
Her body trembled, and she shrank from his touch.
“Easy does it.” As carefully as he could, he pulled off the tape. “Can you walk?”
“I can try,” her husky voice croaked. She swiped at her eyes and fought to sit up.
