One Wicked Night: Nominated for Best I/R-Multicultural book of 2011 by The Romance Reviews
Two strangers. One night of mutual bliss. A lifetime of deadly secrets.
Justice Alexandre kills for a living. A lover of the shadows, he makes no excuses for what he does. Besides, people bore him. He has no use for them…until a hot summer night in a Toronto nightclub. A woman with misery in her eyes whispers three words in his ear, shattering his world like shards of crystal at his feet.
She wants to lose herself—or maybe find herself, Myka Prentiss can’t readily decide. What she does know is the dark stranger hugging the shadows at the back of the club calls to her in ways she can’t explain. Putting fear aside, accepting the heady pull, she makes her move and asks for one nameless night. Nothing between them but hot sweat and tangled sheets.
When they’re done, she walks away, wanting more. Back to an unfulfilled life, she’s comforted only by her memories…until her dark stranger shows up at her door with an announcement.
He’s been hired to kill her.
Myka’s mouth opened and closed twice before she spoke with any semblance of calm. “Wha—what are you doing here?” The words shook and rattled anyway.
Mr. Dark jerked his chin at Stefan, who stood with his mouth open, gaze riveted on their guest.
Stefan dragged his attention back to her. “Hmm?”
Despite the situation, her lips threatened to curve into a smile. “Christian’s waiting.”
Her friend folded his arms. “Well, it’s been ten years. He can certainly wait another hour or—”
Their visitor chuckled.
“No, he can’t. Stef, I need you to leave, now.”
“Fine.” He shuffled out the door. “But I’m not leaving, I’ll be out front,” he yelled back. A door slammed.
They were alone, her and Mr. Dark. He hadn’t moved, remaining only a couple steps away. His presence pulled at her, teased her. Memories flooded back, of him. Of her. Goosebumps broke out on her skin. She ignored it. This man was a stranger who shouldn’t know her name when she didn’t know his.
“I don’t know who you are.” The words came out softer than she intended.
He moved drew closer until their chests touched. Her mouth opened on a gasp, but she snapped it shut. His scent—cigar smoke and him—wrapped her in a familiar embrace.
She stepped back, he came forward.
There it went, shivers down her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. “Don’t say my name,” she whispered in a broken plea.
“Why not?” His peppermint scented breath tickled her forehead. She stayed silent and he lifted her chin with a finger. Her clit pulsed in remembered reverence.
“I don’t know yours.” She licked her lips and stared up at her reflection in his sunglasses. “I don’t who you are.”
His hand moved as if in slow-mo. The sunglasses disappeared and she was staring into the dark eyes of the man who’d made her scream in sexual agony. Who she begged to never stop. Her knees buckled. Blindly, she reached out for support. Stiff fingers closed around the front of his shirt. His warm hand closed over hers, steadied her.
“My name’s Justice Alexandre.”
“Justice.” She liked the way his name tasted on her tongue. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flared. “How did you find me, Justice?”
“I have excellent resources.” The left side of his mouth lifted.
“Do you know who I am?”
He grinned. “Myka Prentiss, daughter of Senator Roger Prentiss. Who, incidentally, is running for a second term.”
“What do you want then? Have you come to blackmail me with what happened between us? Do you want money?” She tried to pull away from him, but he held tighter to her hand. Please let him be a good-for-nothing. While not ideal, at least she’d be able to ignore what was happening with her body at his nearness.
“No, that’s not why I’m here. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His jaw tightened. “Did someone do that to you, Myka?”
“No,” she muttered, “but there’s a first time for everything.” At least, that’s what the Senator always preached. “Tell me why you’re here, please.” She added force behind her words. “I need to know.”
Friend Avril on: http://www.facebook.com/writeravrilashton