Goddess of Vengeance Read Free Page A

.’ And with one swift movement he flipped her so she was trapped beneath him. ‘Soft lips and a hard cock,’ he joked. ‘How female is that? ’
    ‘Bobby!’ she exclaimed.
    Then the banter stopped and the passion began. He had a way of making love to her that forced her to lose every inhibition she’d ever possessed. One moment he was slowly caressing her, the next he was all hard driving action. The combination drove her nuts. She wanted more and more and more . . .
    After it was over, they were spent, wrapped up in each other’s arms, sleepy and content.
    Denver often wished that those precious times would last for ever. Just the two of them. No outside world to interfere.
    But the outside world was a big presence, and they both lived in it. Tomorrow Bobby was driving to Vegas before flying to New York for a few meetings. And she had her job as a Deputy D.A. to attend to, which right now was especially exciting and challenging since she was transferring to the Drug Unit. Once more they would be separated.
    The good news was that she loved her job. It was extremely gruelling work, but the end results were incredibly rewarding. She was so glad she’d changed tracks. From working at a high-powered law firm as a defence attorney, she’d scored a job as a Deputy D.A. prosecuting people, and she was thrilled with the switch. One of her high-profile cases was a movie star who’d arranged his wife’s murder – then walked. He was the catalyst for her change of plan. Why defend the probably guilty when she could be doing meaningful work – such as putting the bad guys behind bars? How rewarding to go after the dregs who distributed drugs and got kids hooked at an early age. Talk about job satisfaction!
    ‘Hey,’ Bobby said, ‘wanna catch a movie and grab a pizza?’
    Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted to do. Normal activities with her man.
    If only things could stay that way.
    Somehow she had a strong suspicion that this was not the case.

Chapter Two
    P rince Armand Mohamed Jordan rarely used his full title, only when he visited the country of his birth, Akramshar – a small but lucrative Middle Eastern country located somewhere between Syria and Lebanon.
    As a naturalized American, and a mega-successful businessman, he felt it more prudent to keep his title to himself, deciding it wasn’t business savvy to advertise his heritage.
    Most of the people he dealt with knew him only as Armand Jordan, a sometimes ruthless and extremely powerful man who expected everything to go his way, and usually it did. None of his business associates were aware that his father was King Emir Amin Mohamed Jordan, a man who ruled his small oil-rich country with a stern fist. A man with six current wives and sixteen children.
    Armand was suspicious of friendship. The only person he trusted was Fouad Khan, the right-hand man whom he’d imported from Akramshar many years previously. Fouad knew all his secrets and kept them to himself. He was Armand’s sounding board and confidant, always there to do his bidding.
    Fortunately or unfortunately for Armand, he was the King’s ninth son, and therefore considered not at all important. So when his American mother – Peggy – a former Las Vegas dancer – had begged to take her son back to America at the age of eight, the King had offered no objections. King Emir was bored with the leggy American redhead and her strident accent. Happy to see her go. And much as Peggy had enjoyed the adventure of living in a harem and being lavished with expensive gifts – enough was enough, and she knew it was time to return to civilization. At twenty-six, the rest of her life was ahead of her, and she planned to live it. The King’s only request was that the boy be returned every September to Akramshar so that young Armand could celebrate the King’s birthday – the most important day of the year in Akramshar.
    Peggy complied. The cash pay-off she received was compensation enough for her to do