Carnal Urges by J.T. Geissinger EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: J.T. Geissinger
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
SLOANE
I open my eyes to find a man leaning over me.
He’s dressed in a black Armani suit. He has jet black hair, a
hard jaw, and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re
surrounded by a thicket of lashes, long and curving, as dense and dark as
his hair.
I’m intrigued by this handsome stranger for about two seconds, until I
remember that he kidnapped me.
I should’ve known. The hotter a man is, the faster you should run away
from him. A beautiful man is a bottomless pit your self-worth can disappear
into and never be seen again.
His deep voice softened by a lilting Irish accent, my captor says,
“You’re awake.”
“You sound disappointed.”
The faintest of smiles curves his full lips. I’m amusing him. But the
smile disappears as fast as it came, and he withdraws, settling his muscular
frame in a chair opposite me.
He regards me with a look that could freeze molten lava. “Sit up. Let’s
talk.”
I’m lying down. Sprawled on a cream-colored leather sofa in a narrow
room with a rounded ceiling, my bare legs and feet chilled by the dry, cool
air.
I have no recollection how I got here and no knowledge of where “here”
is.
I remember only that I was going to visit my best friend, Natalie, in
New York City, and the moment I stepped out of the car in the parking
garage of her building, a half dozen black SUVs with tinted windows roared
up, and this blue-eyed devil jumped out of one of them and snatched me.
There was also gunfire. I do recall that. The burnt smell of gunpowder
in the air, the deafening roar of the shots…
I sit up abruptly. The room starts to spin. There’s a sharp ache in my
right shoulder, as if I were hit there. Fighting nausea, I take several deep
breaths, one hand pressed to my churning stomach and the other to my
clammy forehead.
I feel sick.
“That’ll be the ketamine,” says my captor, watching me.
His name swims into memory: Declan. He told me that right after he
shoved me into his SUV. His name and that he was taking me to speak to
his boss…in Boston.
Now I remember. I’m on an airplane headed to see the leader of the
Irish mafia to answer some questions about how I might have started a war
between his family and the Russians. And everyone else.
So much for my fun New York vacation.
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