Don’t Let Go by Skye Warren
Genre: Dark Erotica
Release Date: November 12, 2013
Available at Barnes & Nobles / Amazon
Junior FBI Agent Samantha Holmes is assigned the case of a
lifetime, along with an enigmatic new partner, Ian Hennessy. She's determined
to prove herself to the bureau legend, but late nights and stolen moments lead
to more than respect. They lead to desire, and soon she's fallen for the one
man forbidden.
Together they hunt for the FBI’s most wanted man. A
criminal. A psychopath. But when they get close, Samantha may end up prey
instead. She must face her dark past to stay alive—and to protect the man she
loves.
Excerpt:
There were lies people told you. Like when the case worker
said, You’re going to love your new home,
Samantha.
Then there are lies you tell other people. My father passed away. That was what I
told people, even though he’d just turned fifty-two in a supermax prison. It
was easier that way. Lies smoothed the way so we could go on pretending. They
were the lube of life, and we all got a little messy in the process.
But the darkest lies were the ones you told yourself. They
lurked in the shadows of your subconscious, undermining you and twisting your
perceptions. They hid the answers in plain sight, right when you needed them
most.
Spread out on my desk were piles of surveillance photos and
notes taken over the past twelve months. I found it impossible to imagine that
countless field workers and researchers had managed to miss his completely.
Which meant this muddled collection of reports contained the information we
needed. Hiding in plain sight.
Every image, from airport security cameras to public
transportation cams to satellite imagery, showed a man with his head bent,
facing down or away. As if he knew exactly where the cameras were, eluding us
once again. The man looking the other direction, he could have been anyone. He
probably was anyone, considering the
pattern of times and locations didn’t add up. Carlos Laguardia wasn’t in a Chicago
eatery known for mob connections one day, and then a Paris
subway the next, and then a Florida University
after that. We were grasping at straws—carefully planted straws designed to
misdirect.
Only one image was different. A grainy black-and-white
photograph showed a man standing still with people milling about him. Blurs
brushing past a dangerous criminal. A monster. They’d run screaming if they
knew all the things he’d done. I had chills just reading about it in this
air-conditioned cubicle at the highly-secure FBI office.
Money laundering. Extortion. Murder. If there was a law
against it, he’d done it. A wave of old pain washed over me. Men like that
didn’t care who they hurt, whether it was the victims of their crimes or
collateral damage.
I had been collateral damage once. Twelve years ago, I’d
huddled under the coffee table when my father came home late, hands crusted
with blood. I should have been grateful he hadn’t ever touched me, raped me,
killed me. He did that to other little girls. And boys—he was an equal
opportunity creep.
Until he finally made a mistake. A boy from my street had
disappeared, and even at ten years old, I knew what it meant. I still
remembered the heat of that August day and the cold bite of the chair beneath
my legs. Static from the plastic seat zapped my skin while I waited in the police
station. Horror and pity flickered over the policeman’s face as I told him my
story.
I learned an important lesson then: criminals always make a
mistake. Always.
If I could figure out Laguardia’s mistake, I’d have him. If
I could find the little man with blue pants and a red striped shirt in this
real life Where’s Waldo, he’d be
mine. Unfortunately, the heavy stack of papers on my desk wasn’t talking.
This was the only image where he looked at the camera, but
the resolution was too low for facial recognition software. I got the
impression of patrician features—a broad forehead, a strong nose. Dark, curly
hair peeked from beneath a thick skullcap. A bulky jacket obscured what looked
to be a large frame of a man. Tall, compared to the people walking around him.
Well, we’d always known he’d be physically fit and capable of fighting. But
beneath his brawn was a mastermind who had run a global organization and eluded
hundreds of trained law enforcement officers.
Not for much longer, though. The director had held an
all-hands meeting last week.
“Laguardia has made a mockery of this organization,” he’d
said, and at the back of the room, I’d silently agreed.
“Our ideals,” he’d continued, practically frothing at the
mouth. “Our effectiveness. Even our dignity. A single man has turned us into a
joke. That ends now. The time to get a gold star for effort has passed. It’s
not good enough to look for him. You’re going to damn well find him. Use all
the goddamn resources you need. I will find a way to get funding and support
from legal, but you are the agents.
You’ve got your eyes on the ground. It’s up to you to bring him in.”
That little speech had flashed me back over a decade, when
I’d had my eyes on the ground. When I’d been the only one at the right time and
place to capture a criminal, even if it had been my own father. Yes, I
understood. Yes, I was on board, ready to catch him. Of course, as a junior
agent, that would mostly involve getting coffee and making copies, but hey,
that would be my contribution to bringing him down.
About the Author
Skye Warren writes unapologetic erotica,
where pain and sex and love collide. The Forbidden Bookshelf called her “a true
mistress of dark and twisted erotica.” Her dark erotica books have reached the
erotica bestseller lists on Amazon and have been Top Picks at such sites as
Night Owl Reviews and The Romance Reviews.
"Dark,
disturbing, haunting, and beautiful, Skye Warren will take you into the depths
of depravity but bring you home, safe in the end." - Kitty Thomas,
author of Comfort Food
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1 comment:
would love to win and read
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