Operation Saving Daniel (Entangled Covet)

by Croft, Nina

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Tannis, are you aware that I’ve rigged The Cazador to blow if I don’t input a unique numerical code every twenty-four hours? Come and get me or the whole ship goes up.”

  “Good try, but I don’t believe you. You don’t think that far ahead.”

  He took a deep breath. “Do you remember that time last year?”

  “What time?”

  “The time I saved your worthless life. At great personal risk to myself.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So bloody well reciprocate.”

  A shaft of burning pain shot through his leg and he jumped, then stared down in disbelief at the arrow sticking out of his calf, an inch below the knee. “I’ve been shot,” he said.

  “Shot? By what?”

  “By a big fucking arrow. Get down here. Now.”

  He yanked the arrow from his leg and flung it to the forest floor. “Or you’re fired,” he added and shut off the connection.

  His pursuers were close now, so close he could hear the fierce crackle of flames mixed with the rise and fall of excited voices. He ignored the pain in his leg and took off through the trees again. A few minutes later, he skidded to a halt.

  Straight in front of him, the land fell away abruptly. He peered over the edge. A long way below, water roared. A lot of water. A lot of cold water. He hated cold water. He searched the sky for any sign of Tannis, but a thick layer of cloud obscured the moons and he saw only darkness. He jammed his finger onto the comm unit. “You here yet?”

  “Have a little patience. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Great, just great. The problem is, I might not be here in five minutes.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. Just hold on.”

  He stared over the edge into the dark, turbulent water. “Hold on to what?”

  A low snarl sounded behind him. With a sigh of resignation, he turned to face his pursuers. They emerged from the shadowy tree line, torches held in front of them, before fanning out to form a semi-circle around him.

  One of the hounds crept toward him, belly close to the ground, growling softly. It reminded Rico a little of the dogs back on Earth, probably even had some real dog DNA in there somewhere. Rico growled back, baring his fangs. The animal got the message, turned tail, and ran.

  Now available from Entangled Publishing:

  http://www.entangledpublishing.com/break-out/

  …

  Deadly Pursuit

  A Blood Hunter Novel: Book Two

  A pair of sickle moons hung low in the sky, casting a sullen, blood-red glow insufficient to light the path. High Priest Hezrai Fischer swore under his breath as he tripped over a tree root and only just prevented himself from sprawling on the ground in an undignified heap.

  “How much farther?” he snapped.

  “Not far now, my Lord,” the guide murmured soothingly. He’d been saying the same words for the last hour.

  The procession wound its way up a steep track cut into the side of a mountain, on what had to be the most godforsaken planet in the known universe. Sweat soaked his robes, and every muscle ached from the unusual exercise. “Why here?” he asked the world in general. “Why couldn’t she have been born on some nice, civilized planet?”

  “God works in mysterious ways,” Sister Martha said softly from beside him.

  Sanctimonious bitch.

  He gritted his teeth as the words hovered on his lips. Personally, he would have preferred a little less mystery and a little more common sense from God. Biting back the blasphemous thought, he peered sideways at his companion. She had no trouble maneuvering up the track, seeming to glide in her long, black robes. Her face was serene; only the subdued glow in her eyes hinted at her excitement.

  Left to him, he would have chosen a different companion. Sister Martha always set his teeth on edge, but as the head of the Order of the Sisters of Everlasting Life, it would be her duty to take charge of the new priestess. He hadn’t been able to think of a reasonable excuse to leave her behind.

  The old High Priestess had died a month ago. They had immediately sent out seekers to all the inhabited planets to search for the new vessel; a baby girl born at the exact moment of the old priestess’s death into whom the holy spark would have been transferred.

  “We’re here, my Lord.”

  “Here” appeared to be a tiny hovel. Dull orange light flickered from the single window. He smoothed his robes, raised his fist, and banged on the wooden door.

  It was opened seconds later by one of the brothers. “My Lord.”

  Hezrai nodded brusquely. “They know we are coming? Have they agreed?”

  “Yes, my Lord. For one thousand credits, they will hand over the child.”

  “They should hand her over for the glory of the Church,” he snarled.

  “They are not members, my Lord, but they are poor.”

  Hezrai detected a slight censure in the words; he’d ignore it for now, but made a mental note of the man’s name. “Let’s get this over with.”

  He followed the brother into the house, though “house” was an ambitious word for the single, dingy space he found himself in. The air held a sharp, sour smell, and he wrinkled his nose.

  At the far side of the room, a man and a woman huddled together. The man held a baby in his arms.

  “At last,” Hezrai muttered. Perhaps now they could finish this and get back to civilization. He stepped closer and peered down at the baby. He didn’t know much about babies, and wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but some sense of holiness at the very least.

  “Are we sure?” It was an ugly little thing with a squashed up face, strange gray eyes rimmed with black, and a shock of dark red hair. Hezrai frowned. “Has there ever been a red-haired priestess?”

  “Not that I remember.” Sister Martha sounded dubious. “Can we see the sign?”

  The father parted the robes. A purple birthmark showed clearly on her right thigh in the perfect shape of a cross.

  Hezrai nodded. It was enough for him. “Make the transfer.”

  He waited, tapping his foot on the rough wood floor, trying to ignore the stench of the place. Finally, the transaction was complete. “Right then...Get the girl and let’s go.”

  The parents hadn’t said a word, but now the mother stepped forward. “Please, I don’t—”

  Her husband halted her with a hand on her arm. “Shut up, Lisa. There’ll be other babies.”

  “But—”

  “We discussed this. What sort of life will she have here? With the Church, she’ll have a chance—a future.”

  Hezrai rolled his eyes. Yeah right, they were doing this for the infant, nothing to do with the thousand credits. He really hoped the woman wasn’t going to be difficult. Before she could say another word, the man edged closer to Hezrai and shoved the baby into his arms.

  Hezrai almost dropped it.

  Now he knew where the disgusting smell was coming from. Staring down into its red face, he tried to feel some religious awe. This was the High Priestess returned to them. She blinked at him from intense gray eyes, screwed up her features, and screamed, nearly bursting his eardrums.

  “Quiet, child.” He made an effort to keep his voice even. If he gave in to his natural inclination and screamed back, he suspected it would do more harm than good.

  She shrieked louder.

  “Give her to me.” Sister Martha held out her arms.

  A second ago, he would have gladly handed her over; now that the sister had asked, he tightened his grip and gritted his teeth. “The child belongs to God now. She must learn obedience.”

  The baby quieted, her lips curving into a sweet smile.

  “There, you see, she just needs discipline.”

  She opened her mouth and regurgitated vile smelling, half-digested milk down his pristine black robe.

  That was the moment Hezrai Fischer began to hate the brand new High Priestess of the Church of Everlasting Life.

  N
ow available from Entangled Publishing: http://www.entangledpublishing.com/deadly-pursuit-2

  …

  Bittersweet Blood

  Chapter One

  Rule Number One: Never question the past.

  Tara took a single step into the alleyway and stopped.

  Up ahead, something shifted in the shadows and a waft of warm air carried the stench of dirty smoke and rotten eggs to her nostrils. A prickle of unease shivered across her skin.

  No way was she ending up dead in a dark alley before she had a chance to break Rule Number One. Wrinkling her nose against the smell, she held her breath and backed out into the bright lights of the main street.

  And straight into something solid and unexpected.

  For a second, she thought she must have hit a brick wall. A brick wall that hadn’t been there thirty seconds earlier.

  “Are you okay?”

  A brick wall that talked.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned.

  Her eyes were level with his chest and at first all she registered was his immense size. Taking a slow step back, she forced her gaze upward. In the artificial light, he was leached of color, with black hair pulled into a ponytail, and skin so pale it appeared white. She went still as silver eyes captured hers. For a second, she stared mesmerized, unable to drag her gaze away from the stranger.

  “Are you lost?” He spoke again, breaking the spell.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” She waved the map clutched in her hand. “I was considering a short cut.”

  A short cut to the railway station and a fast train away from here. For the last ten minutes, she’d been dithering. Should she go ahead, break Rule Number One, and perhaps come to a messy and premature end? Or should she run away and try to forget the stupid rules had ever existed?

  “A short cut down a dark alley? Has no one ever told you it’s dangerous to wander down dark alleys alone?”

  Was there some subtle threat beneath his words? Did he look vaguely menacing for a moment? Or was it merely her overactive imagination playing games with her? He was just a man—a tall, powerfully built man, but quite respectable in his sleek, dark business suit and red tie.

  Still, a little voice in her head whispered to her to turn and walk away—though perhaps not down the dark alley.

  But something held her back.

  All her life she’d been afraid. Aunt Kathy had brought her up to fear just about everything, and she’d done a brilliant job. But Aunt Kathy was dead, and Tara refused to live like that anymore.

  “Well?” he murmured and she realized he was waiting for an answer.

  “Actually, yes. I’m quite aware of the dangers. But I have an important meeting and my mind was on other things.” Like running away.

  He considered her for a moment. “Where is this important meeting? Perhaps I can help.”

  “CR International. You know it?”

  His lips curved into a slow smile and suddenly she realized how devastatingly attractive he was. “You mean the CR International building behind you?” A faint trace of amusement tinged his voice.

  She pursed her lips but turned slowly. He wasn’t kidding. It stood directly opposite, on the other side of the street. An immense structure of steel and smoky glass with CR International in big gold letters over the door. How the hell had she missed that? “Oh…thank you.”

  This was it. Either she’d discover the truth, or she’d be blasted by a bolt of divine retribution. Time to find out which.

  She took a few steps but couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder. The man still stood, hands in his pockets, watching her, a strange almost hungry look in his eyes.

  “Overactive imagination,” she muttered and headed across the street.

  Now available at Entangled Publishing: http://www.entangledpublishing.com/bittersweet-blood/

  …

  Bittersweet Magic

  The sharp tang of sulfur burned her nostrils as a portal opened, and Asmodai materialized right in front of her sofa.

  Roz gave a squeak and a jump and spilled her drink.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” She licked scotch from her fingers then took a huge gulp while she gave him a quick once-over. After nearly thirty years, he still looked exactly the same.

  Or maybe not.

  She peered closer. He was smiling. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him smile before.

  Tonight, he was in his human guise. Roz had seen him as both human and demon, and while neither was particularly comforting, at least in this form she could allow herself a small measure of self-delusion. Kid herself she wasn’t entertaining a demon from the Abyss in her living room.

  He was tall, with midnight dark hair pulled into a ponytail and equally dark eyes, stunningly good-looking if you went for the total alpha male look—which strangely she did. Though this particular alpha male no longer had any effect on her hormones—thank God.

  “What do you want, Ash?” she asked.

  “No hello? No how are you?”

  Her brows drew together, and she pursed her lips; he didn’t usually bother with social chit-chat. “What’s with the Mr. Nice Guy act?”

  He chuckled. Another first. “Why, Rosamund, don’t you think I’m nice?”

  “Hell, no.”

  His smile broadened. “Let’s just say I discovered something recently, and it seems things are about to get interesting around here.” He cocked his head to one side and examined her as though she were some sort of specimen of scientific interest. The inspection made her want to squirm, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  After a minute, he shrugged. “Okay, down to business. I want you to find something for me.”

  A wave of excitement washed through her, though she kept her face blank.

  Roz was a Seeker. She hadn’t known that when she first met Asmodai five hundred years ago. In fact, she’d known almost nothing. Only that an angry mob of villagers had just burned her mother at the stake and were piling up the wood, ready to do the same to her.

  Asmodai had offered her a deal—her life in exchange for thirteen tasks. It had seemed an excellent idea at the time, but she’d never expected it to take so long. She glanced at the sigil that wrapped around her upper arm like an intricate tattoo—the mark of her debt to the demon.

  Now, at last, this would be her final task and once completed, she’d be free of the dark contract she’d made all those years ago.

  “What and where?” She didn’t ask why—some things were best not known. Besides, he probably wouldn’t tell her anyway.

  “A Key. As to the where—if I knew that I wouldn’t require you to find it, would I?”

  Sarcastic bastard.

  “I gave it to someone to hide,” he continued. “And they inconveniently died before telling me where.” He reached into his pocket, drew out a small wooden box, and handed it to her. “Here. This once held the Key. It should help you pinpoint the exact location.”

  Roz stroked her fingers over the smooth wood, and a pulse of magic ran along her nerves. “You must have some idea.”

  “Of course. It’s hidden somewhere within the Convent of the Little Sisters of Mercy.” His lips curved into another smile. “Looks like you’re going undercover.”

  For a moment, his words made no sense. Then she frowned. “Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be a nun?”

  “I think you would make an excellent Sister of Mercy, Rosamund.”

  She swallowed the rest of the scotch and slammed the glass on the table. “Yeah, right. Of course I would.”

  Not.

  Coming soon from Entangled Publishing

 

 

 
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