In their race for the truth, love must prove more powerful than America’s worst enemy…
When a gorgeous, bleeding woman on the run falls into the arms of Sean “Metal” O’Brien, the former SEAL medic knows just what he can do. Heal her. Tend to her. Keep her safe.
What he can’t seem to do is keep his guard up. Something about the haunted, hunted beauty knocks down all his defenses.
Felicity Ward is no stranger to secrets. Raised in the Witness Protection Program, her whole childhood was a lie. But she couldn’t have known that her family’s secrets—secrets she didn’t even know she was keeping—could spark a nuclear war.
And nothing could have prepared her for the tough, sexy warrior who first saves her life and then vows to protect it, no matter what.
“No hospital!” she gasped, the tiny spurt of energy coming straight from her terror at the idea of going back to the hospital and being found by her attacker. “Please. He’s after me! He was waiting for me at the airport. He’ll find me in a hospital. I just escaped from one and he—” She coughed, felt fresh blood flow from the wound. “He was there,” she finished weakly.
Lauren was kneeling down next to her and removed her gloves and took her hand. Lauren’s hand felt warm and vital, too. Felicity stared up at her, at this friend she’d never seen before. That she was a friend was unmistakable. She looked so concerned, so distraught. Her eyes were filled with kindness and sorrow. “Honey—” She stopped, took a deep breath. “Honey, we need to get you to a doctor.”
Felicity knew that but also knew that medical care would leave a trace her attacker could easily follow. The doctor would save her life, only to have her attacker take it later.
Felicity let go of the man and reached for Lauren’s warm hand with both of hers. Her hands were slick with sweat and blood but Lauren didn’t seem to notice. She curled her fingers around Felicity’s hands. Felicity gave Lauren’s hand a little shake, looking up into her friend’s pretty face and pleaded with everything in her. “Please,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please. He’ll kill me if he finds me.”
Lisa Marie Rice is eternally 30 years old and will never age. She is tall and willowy and beautiful. Men drop at her feet like ripe pears. She has won every major book prize in the world. She is a black belt with advanced degrees in archaeology, nuclear physics, and Tibetan literature. She is a concert pianist. Did I mention her Nobel Prize? Of course, Lisa Marie Rice is a virtual woman and exists only at the keyboard when writing erotic romance. She disappears when the monitor winks off.