The Marines trained me to set my sights and wait for the shot. For eight years, I guarded my brothers and defended my country. Now I protect my clients. My personal security firm is the best in the business because I leave nothing to chance… until a dark-haired, hazel-eyed spitfire crosses my path.
She and her sexy-as-hell striptease were supposed to be a one-night distraction. But too late I noticed the branding on her back and my blood ran cold. This woman wasn’t a distraction—she was a death sentence.
Knowing who she was left me no choice. I took her on as my client. But running from her past wasn’t an option.
The Marines didn’t train me to retreat. They taught me to engage.
One shot. One kill.
“Kendall,” I whispered, half in disbelief, half in fucking horror.
“You can’t save me.” No intonation in her voice, her statement was pure resignation.
I asked the only question that seemed relevant. “Who else knows?”
“Candle.”
“No handler?”
She shook her head. “No. No witness protection. I refused.”
It was probably the only thing that’d kept her alive. Anyone knowing where or who she was would’ve been a target. Adrenaline pumping, my pulse Mach one, I stared at her in complete fucking shock. This woman had just signed my death warrant.
My nostrils flared with an inhale. “Chica—”
“Walk away, AndrĂ©.”
I opened my mouth to say something I’d regret, but she beat me to it.
“You can’t stop this,” she warned. “Go back to work. Pretend you never met me. Deny everything.” She picked up her dress. “I’ll be gone before you get home.”
I ran a hand over my face. “I don’t even know what to call you.”
“If you say my real name, you’ll be dead before you utter the last syllable.”
“You can’t save me.” No intonation in her voice, her statement was pure resignation.
I asked the only question that seemed relevant. “Who else knows?”
“Candle.”
“No handler?”
She shook her head. “No. No witness protection. I refused.”
It was probably the only thing that’d kept her alive. Anyone knowing where or who she was would’ve been a target. Adrenaline pumping, my pulse Mach one, I stared at her in complete fucking shock. This woman had just signed my death warrant.
My nostrils flared with an inhale. “Chica—”
“Walk away, AndrĂ©.”
I opened my mouth to say something I’d regret, but she beat me to it.
“You can’t stop this,” she warned. “Go back to work. Pretend you never met me. Deny everything.” She picked up her dress. “I’ll be gone before you get home.”
I ran a hand over my face. “I don’t even know what to call you.”
“If you say my real name, you’ll be dead before you utter the last syllable.”
Sybil now resides in Southern Florida and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?
Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.
She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaks her out. Her favorite word is desperate…or dirty, or both—she can’t decide. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never reply on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week—don’t tell her husband.
To find out more about Sybil Bartel, be sure to follow her on Twitter (she loves to hear about your favorite book boyfriend!), visit her website, like her on Facebook or join her Facebook group Book Boyfriend Heroes for exclusive excerpts and giveaways.
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ReplyDeleteSounds good.
ReplyDeleteSounds like an amazing read.
ReplyDeleteOh my, this sounds so good! I love the bodyguard romances! I cannot wait to read more and find out all about her past, and what will happen as he tries to protect her!
ReplyDeleteI would like to give thanks for all your really great writings, including André. I wish the best in keeping up the good work in the future.
ReplyDelete