Pursued by a Dangerous Man: By a Dangerous Man, #8

By Cleo Peitsche

PURSUED BY A DANGEROUS MAN (#8) is romantic suspense. ~This is the third book in Season Two.~

Bounty hunter Audrey Stroop returns from her trip to find that disaster has struck the family business… and it’s her fault.

She can’t focus on fixing the mess, not with the vindictive Henry Heigh back on the streets. Corbin has a way to solve the problem and he’s itching to return to his assassin ways.

Audrey’s relationship with the gorgeous billionaire is stronger than ever, but if she can’t stop Corbin from killing, she’ll lose him forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pouch Productions
• Release date: May 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513076874

Cleo Peitsche

If Cleo isn't writing (or reading!) erotica, she's probably sitting on her balcony, watching the wind blow through the trees. She loves snowstorms, piña coladas, horses, and pasta primavera. If she won the lottery, she would hire an assistant to take care of the technical side of e-publishing so that she could write all day.Some random facts about Cleo:1. Thinks life's too short to forgo HEAs and HFNs.2. Sprained an ankle joining the mile-high club. (Never again!)3. Favorite writers include Cormac Mccarthy, Junot Diaz and Rachel Caine.4. Gets weak-kneed for bookish guys who know how to fix things with their hands. *swoons*

Book preview

Chapter 1

Corbin relieved me of my empty champagne glass, sliding it onto the tray of a passing waiter. My hands felt uncomfortably empty.

Do you want anything else? he asked. His deep voice was low, intimate. The museum’s soft lighting couldn’t mute the vividness of his blue-green eyes.

There was nothing suggestive about his question, but the rumbling of his voice made my cheeks warm. He always had that effect on me. He was elegant in his tuxedo, even with that bad-boy stubble darkening his jaw.

I glanced away. No. I think I’ve had enough.

What’s wrong, Audrey?

When I didn’t answer, he moved closer, enveloping me in the heat of his body and his spicy masculine scent. Do you want to go back to the hotel? he asked.

Nope. Pressing my lips together, I tilted my head up. My dark curls fell away from my face.

Above me, the Louvre’s glass pyramid seemed impossibly complex. Pretty, yes, but overwhelming—a fitting symbol of Paris, or at least my vacation there.

Technically, it wasn’t really a vacation. I was tagging along while Corbin reprised his role as a spy. Things had gone wrong, though I didn’t know what.

Ever since the night when armed men had swarmed our luxury hotel suite, Corbin hadn’t left my side. Instead of putting on a disguise and disappearing to question the man who claimed to know about a kidnapping, Corbin had taken me to all his favorite Parisian hideaways. He’d been the perfect host and the perfect boyfriend.

For my part, I’d spent the last few days trying to figure out how to tell him what was bothering me.

I hadn’t been able to get a single word across my reluctant lips. Normally I had no problem speaking my mind, but there wasn’t a gentle way to voice my concerns.

I glanced at him. His gaze seemed to penetrate my soul. He knew I was hiding something, but he wasn’t pressing the issue. At least, not yet.

I didn’t want my news to ruin our final night, especially considering how badly I’d screwed up the first few days. But I also didn’t want to bring it up when we were at home, where it could taint our quotidian life.

Corbin gently caught my face in his hands. His touch was soothing, but my breath quickened.

Audrey, I know you. Tell me what’s wrong. His eyes burned into mine, and even though we were in public, my mind went… places. Dirty places, and my body was willing to follow.

Too many hors d’oeuvres, I blurted, jerking away. I hurried off toward the restrooms. Again.

The bathroom door swung closed behind me with a soft sigh.

Or maybe the sigh had come from me.

Even though I was wearing a fancy-schmanchy dress and heels, I awkwardly squatted down to glance under the stall doors.

I was alone… unless someone was standing on a toilet, which would have been weird behavior at a private function at one of the world’s top art museums. Of course, hiding out in the bathroom certainly qualified as weird behavior, too.

As I walked toward the sinks, my heels clacked loudly and unevenly on the tile bathroom floor. The sound was too loud.

Or maybe it wasn’t loud. Maybe I was just too tense, a little off my game to begin with. Identifying with my job wasn’t healthy, but I’d been born into a family of bounty hunters. My friends had dreamed about their weddings and how many kids they’d have.

My idea of catching a man had been nothing like theirs. I’d obsessed over the Most Wanted lists, the big bounties I would haul in when I was older.

Unfortunately, the reality of the job was much grittier and involved a lot of long stakeouts to catch bail skips.

As such, I was most comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, my hair pulled into a ponytail. I appreciated the occasional slinky dress, but being dolled up, in Paris on a Friday night, at the Louvre… while freaking out about what was waiting for us back in the States and how Corbin might handle it…

It was too much.

The evening had started off pleasantly enough. We’d arrived as the museum was closing to the general public. Corbin had taken me on an abbreviated tour. Just the two of us.

Pressed close to his rock-hard body, I’d found peace for the first time in days. It had felt like we were in a place outside of time, especially when we walked through a hall stuffed with beautiful sculptures.

It was magic.

We’d lingered among the masterpieces. I could have stayed all evening. What’s been bothering you? Corbin had gently asked after a bit of silence, and the timing had felt right, but I struggled with the words. Lover, I know you’re retired from being an assassin, so please don’t be offended, but…

Another couple had caught up to us. Like me, the woman wore an expensive cocktail dress, but she looked confident and in her element. She and the man both radiated wealth and privilege.

The man had said something to Corbin. In French, of course. Corbin’s familiar voice spilled out foreign words. Then the woman said something, and Corbin’s response made her blurt out a laugh. Then everyone laughed—even me, though I had no idea what was going on.

They’d seemed to want to continue to chat, but Corbin led me back to the center of the museum.

Several well-dressed guests had arrived during our tour. Somehow, the night wasn’t magical anymore.

Surrounded by Europe’s elite, I’d felt like a fraud. I didn’t speak French. The designer clothing on my back had been chosen and purchased by Corbin. I didn’t belong.

Soon after, I’d fled to the bathroom for the first time.

And this was the fifth time.

I pulled out my cell phone, provided by Corbin, and dialed the voicemail of my American phone.

One new message. I hoped it was my twin, but instead it was a woman with a British accent. I’m calling on behalf of LuxuryWorld airlines, following up about your lost ring. If you haven’t yet located it, please return my call so that we can investigate in detail.

Ah… the ring.

The one Corbin had given me when things between us were darkest.

The one I’d lost… but Corbin didn’t know that.

So far I’d been inventing excuses as to why I wasn’t wearing it, all in the hopes that it would turn up, that Corbin would never have to know when and why I took it off.

When: In the airport, before getting on a plane to join him in France.

Why: Because I’d just learned that Corbin’s wife—ex-wife, who was also named Audrey—was alive after all, and I’d thought I was doing him a favor by removing myself from the competition. He’d set me straight on that the day I arrived.

I’d done everything I could to find the ring. I’d even tried to replace it, but the cost was prohibitively expensive. And the airline obviously didn’t have it, but I saved the message anyway.

There weren’t any new emails—so nothing from my twin.

I’d been trying to get in touch with Rob for several days. Texts, voicemails, messages at the office… He was ignoring me.

I tapped out a text. I’m coming home tomorrow. You might as well tell me what went wrong.

If it was about work, I was past caring. Our dad was going to kill me when I got home anyway.

But if Rob was avoiding me because of something related to Henry Heigh’s release from prison, then that was a huge deal. Even though Corbin and I hadn’t discussed it, he had to have heard by now.

If I was going to keep Corbin from killing Henry—and I’d almost failed the last time—then I needed to know what the hell Henry was doing with his newfound freedom. My only hope was that the months locked away had motivated him to reorder his priorities.

But knowing Henry, there was a chance he’d left the prison, got into a car and drove to Rob’s condo, where he now waited for me to show up so he could exact his revenge.

It was easy enough to picture; he’d done it before.

I stared at myself in the mirror, at my messy dark curls and my green eyes. But the muscles of my face were tight, pinched. No wonder Corbin kept asking what was wrong.

Maybe I was freaking out over nothing. Maybe it was just bad news at work. A major contract gone bad. A series of bounties sniped by a competitor.

But Rob knew me.

Which meant he knew that his disappearing act would freak me out.

Which meant that the problem was even worse than whatever I could imagine.

And that was scary as hell.

Chapter 2

Leaving the bathroom made me feel cold, naked.

I grabbed a glass of champagne and took a sip while I scanned the area, looking for Corbin.

Eventually I spotted him off to one side, talking to two men who had their backs to me. I headed his way.

Even though I couldn’t see his face, there was no mistaking the breadth of his square shoulders. Everyone in the room was dressed immaculately, but none of them had Corbin’s power. It was evident in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke and moved.

He stood out.

But the two men he was speaking with were more of his mold than the typical billionaire. They were big, and they wore suits instead of tuxedoes.

In other words, they were probably there on official business.

It was enough to make me adjust my trajectory. I hadn’t visited all the open galleries yet, and now seemed like a good time to remedy that.

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of a mummy encased in glass. I wondered if ancient civilizations had bounty hunters. They probably did, and they were probably all men.

I caught the blurred reflection of someone coming up behind me. His smooth walk gave him away, and I found myself smiling as I took another sip from my champagne glass, which was almost empty.

Sorry about that. Corbin came up close behind me. His body felt like a sun-warmed boulder.

"What did