THE CONSPIRACY
Harper Winston’s brother has
disappeared. Desperate, Harper turns to
P.I. and owner of Maximum Security, Chase Garrett. But dealing with the Winston
crime family won’t be easy. Time is running out. Chase must keep Harper safe…and
both of them alive.
When family ambition turns deadly Chase
Garrett must keep Harper safe and both of them alive.
EXCERPT
In
the throes of wild monkey sex with Harper Winston, Chase awoke covered in a
film of perspiration, an unwelcome throbbing beneath the sheet. Cursing, he sat up in bed and ran a hand over
his face. Only a dream. Or in this case, a nightmare.
He
shoved his fingers through his sweat-damp hair.
Jesus God, he couldn't remember a dream that had felt more real. Or ever being more aroused.
Swearing
foully, he rolled out of bed. His
brother Bran would get an I-told-you-so laugh out of his misery, but Chase didn't
find his unwanted attraction to a Winston the least bit funny.
Not
when Harper's father ran his world much like a Mafia don, a highly successful
criminal enterprise that allowed him to get away with murder--literally. Everyone in the Dallas underworld knew that
to cross Knox Winston might get you dead.
The DA's office turned a blind eye, along with the dirty cops on Knox's
payroll.
Aside
from the legitimate businesses Knox now ran--from motels, restaurants, and
laundries, to larger enterprises like hotel chains, no one really seemed to
know how Knox had actually amassed his fortune.
Since his son had once been Chase's best friend, Chase didn't want to
know, either.
He
wondered how much Harper knew about her father's activities. Not much, he would guess, since Knox had gone
to great lengths to keep his children under the illusion he was just a
mega-successful businessman. And Harper
had been gone from Dallas for years.
Chase
had a hunch Michael had suspected, that it was part of the reason he had turned
to alcohol and drugs, but they had never talked about it.
Padding
naked into the bathroom, he reached into the shower and turned on the water,
setting the temperature a little colder than he liked. He wanted to wash Harper's beautiful face out
of his head, the memory of her small, perfect breasts that--thank God--he had
never actually seen.
Pulling
on his jeans and a short-sleeved yellow Oxford shirt, he was ready to meet with
Dutch, who had arranged a boat to Curacao.
They could have gone by plane, but he wanted the flexibility to check,
if necessary, other spots around the island once they got there.
He
wished he was going by himself instead of dragging a woman into what might turn
out to be a bad situation. But as he
walked into the living room, Harper came out of the other bedroom, straw hat in
hand, dressed and ready to go. His mind
flashed back to the hot, erotic dream, and a shot of lust hit him like a fist.
Chase
dragged in a lungful of air and forced himself to think of something else. Palm trees might have worked if she hadn't
walked close enough for him to catch a whiff of her soft perfume.
"Good
morning," she said. "Sleep
okay?"
Jesus
God, help him. He didn't want to think
of the dream, refused to allow his mind to slide back into the gutter. Chase had never been more grateful to hear
his iPhone ring.
Pulling
his cell out of his pocket, he recognized Tabby's number and pressed the phone
against his ear. "What have you got
for me, Tab?"
"Pia's
phone pinged at the Zee Winden Marina in Curacao, same as Michael's. Both phones are now inactive."
Not
good. He could contact the authorities
in Curacao, but he could probably be there before the investigation--such as it
would likely be--actually got underway.
And once he got the police involved it would limit what he would be able
to do.
"Anything
else?"
"Not
at the moment. If I get something I'll
call."
"Thanks,
Tab. You're the best." Chase hung up the phone, his mind back on the
case. In his business, the job had to
come first. People's lives depended on
it.
"What
did she say?" Harper asked.
"Zee
Winden Marina in Curacao, same as your brother.
Call Christy and tell her, then pack an overnight bag. We might not get back tonight."
So
saying, he grabbed the duffle, now packed, he had brought empty in his carryon,
something smaller, a little easier to manage.
Just a dupe kit, clean underwear, a dress shirt and slacks, high-topped
boots and cargo pants, things that might be useful as they moved into uncharted
territory, where his search for Michael might lead.
A
few minutes later, Harper walked back into the living room carrying the
colorful oversized canvas bag she had carried onto the plane. It was stuffed full and zipped shut ready to
go. She had pulled her hair into a pony
tail, but flyaway pale blond strands floated around her face, gleaming like
pale spun gold.
The
heat returned to his groin. Dammit, what
was there about her?
PURCHASE LINKS
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New York Times bestselling author Kat Martin is a graduate of the
University of California at Santa Barbara where she majored in Anthropology and
also studied History. Currently residing in Missoula, Montana with her
Western-author husband, L. J. Martin, Kat has written sixty-five Historical and
Contemporary Romantic Suspense novels. More than sixteen million copies of her
books are in print and she has been published in twenty foreign countries. Her
last novel, BEYOND CONTROL, hit both
big lists … NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER LIST as well as the USA TODAY
BEST-SELLING BOOKS LIST. Kat is currently at work on her next Romantic
Suspense.
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