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Gabriel West: Still The One. Fiona BrandЧитать онлайн книгу.

Gabriel West: Still The One - Fiona Brand


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      Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning briefly lit the gloom as she walked toward the stairwell of her apartment.

      A footfall registered, out of sync with hers. She paused to listen, but almost instantly shook off the paranoia that gripped her. What she’d heard was probably an echo.

      Another footfall sounded, this time sharply distinct. A raw flash of alarm went through her. A hand snaked out of the darkness and closed on her arm, wrenching her to a halt. Her arm jerked in automatic reflex as she spun, teeth bared, and stepped into her attacker, throwing him off balance as she snapped her elbow into a face eerily blacked out by a balaclava. He grunted with pain and released his hold.

      In that instant she flung herself toward the elevator. A hand snagged at her jacket. Gritting her teeth, she jerked free. Relief flooded her as light flared across the bare expanse of concrete, spotlighting her in its beam. Gabriel West’s startled gaze locked with hers, then white light exploded in her head.

      Dear Reader,

      Our exciting month of May begins with another of bestselling author and reader favorite Fiona Brand’s Australian Alpha heroes. In Gabriel West: Still the One, we learn that former agent Gabriel West and his ex-wife have spent their years apart wishing they were back together again. And their wish is about to come true, but only because Tyler needs protection from whoever is trying to kill her—and Gabriel is just the man for the job.

      Marie Ferrarella’s crossline continuity, THE MOM SQUAD, continues, and this month it’s Intimate Moments’ turn. In The Baby Mission, a pregnant special agent and her partner develop an interest in each other that extends beyond police matters. Kylie Brant goes on with THE TREMAINE TRADITION with Entrapment, in which wickedly handsome Sam Tremaine needs the heroine to use the less-than-savory parts of her past to help him capture an international criminal. Marilyn Tracy offers another story set on her Rancho Milagro, or Ranch of Miracles, with At Close Range, featuring a man scarred—inside and out—and the lovely rancher who can help heal him. And in Vickie Taylor’s The Last Honorable Man, a mother-to-be seeks protection from the man she’d been taught to view as the enemy—and finds a brand-new life for herself and her child in the process. In addition, Brenda Harlan makes her debut with McIver’s Mission, in which a beautiful attorney who’s spent her life protecting families now finds that she is in danger—and the handsome man who’s designated himself as her guardian poses the greatest threat of all.

      Enjoy! And be sure to come back next month for more of the best romantic reading around, right here in Intimate Moments.

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      Leslie J. Wainger

      Executive Senior Editor

      Gabriel West: Still the One

      Fiona Brand

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      FIONA BRAND

      has always wanted to write. After working eight years for the New Zealand Forest Service as a clerk, she decided she could spend at least that much time tying to get a romance novel published. Luckily, it only took five years, not eight. Fiona lives in a subtropical fishing and diving paradise called the Bay of Islands with her two children.

      For Crazy Horse—

       for the magic of who he is, his courage and spirit,

       his uncanny immunity during battle. He’s my inspiration

       for Gabriel West and one of my all-time heroes.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea

      The man walked out of the night, moving without haste, yet not dawdling, his gait fluid, smooth. He was big and sleek with muscle, his broad shoulders stretching his black T-shirt tight so that it clung like a second skin. The subtle arrogance to the tilt of his head, the gleam of light sliding over the taut swell of biceps, warned anyone who gave him so much as a passing glance that he wasn’t an easy mark. He carried no discernable firearm, but then he didn’t need an overt display of firepower; the body itself was a weapon.

      The yellowish glare of a streetlamp slid over deceptively sleepy amber eyes and exotic cheekbones, a full, beautiful mouth framed by a square, stubbled jaw. A dark, masculine mane hung loose about his shoulders, accentuating the impression of danger.

      The man was beautiful in the mesmerizing way of a fallen angel; the looks were a rare gift and a curse that had taught him early on to defend himself, then later, to assert enough dominance to ensure that he was left alone. The fact that his name was Gabriel was pure chance, a whim on the part of a mother who wasn’t sure which one of her paying customers had fathered him, or what had possessed her to carry the child to full term in the first place. Whichever way you looked at it, Gabriel West considered himself to have little in common with angels, fallen or otherwise.

      Ahead, light slicked along metal as a car door swung open. West’s head came up, nostrils flaring, drinking in the steamy tropical scents of city and night as he deliberately let his mind drift, picking up on peripherals. A flicker of movement across the street signaled the presence of one of Renwick’s mercenaries. The inky darkness off to the left was a dead-end alley. Renwick would have placed another man there.

      His lips barely moved as he relayed the information to the mobile unit that had shadowed him as far as the street corner, the dull black van blending with the night and the shabby conglomeration of buildings that lined the docks and signaled the edge of what passed for the red-light district in this town. The tiny state-of-the-art communication device masquerading as a stud in his ear gave two bursts of static in response, indicating that McKee, Sawyer and Lambert were in place.

      He strolled from light into shadow, then back into light again, his gait unaltered as he passed the point of no return. He was committed.

      Ahead, Renwick uncurled himself from the low-slung curves of a late-model Maserati. The door swung closed with an expensive thunk. The arms dealer was lean, dapper, ostensibly relaxed—on target for another profitable night. Everything was going to plan. Something was wrong.

      Adrenaline pumped: West’s gut clenched in reflex. Renwick was alone; the absence of visible support was wrong. Somehow, in the few hours that had passed since their preliminary meeting in Renwick’s drab downtown office, the deal had gone sour.

      He relayed the warning, knowing as he did so that the team would move in, poised to get him out if they could. Not that a clean rescue was probable now; he was well within Renwick’s circle of influence.

      His options weren’t good. He could go for cover, and risk being pinned down, maybe even shot before the other team members could get to him, or he could keep his cool, get in close, use the car as a shield and Renwick for collateral to negotiate his ass out


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