Her Sister's Secret (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) Read Free Page A

teeth, she shook her head.
    “Afraid?”
    Hell, yes! Whitney squared her shoulders. “No,” she fired back. “But I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you.”
    He looked down, cracking gloved knuckles, one hand in the other.
    Shit. Had she blown it? Was he actually being nice? Or was he testing her to see if her story was for real? “I mean, you are a stranger...”
    Silence. Interminable silence.
    “It’s almost dark,” he said at last, “and the place is hard to find. If you’ll get on, I’ll show you.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “And if you really want to know about motorcycles, you’ll need firsthand experience.”
    Another pause.
    “I’ll bring you back to your car.” He thrust out his hand again. “I promise.”
    Her stomach tumbled. Damn. Was he testing her? If she didn’t get on, he could easily disappear and then she’d have to start the search all over again. Besides, if she went, maybe she could get him to talk enough so she’d know where to look for her niece.
    SaraJane’s safety was at stake.
    She’d told him she was here on a job, and under any other circumstance, on any other assignment, she’d jump at the chance to go along. She would’ve been the one suggesting it. He couldn’t possibly know why she was really here…and…maybe he was thinking he could make some money if she photographed his bike for the book; guys like Gannon always needed money, didn’t they?
    “C’mon, you’ll like it,” he urged, his tone cajoling, yet firm enough to let her know he didn’t want to take no for an answer.
    Adrenaline coursed through her veins. How dangerous could it be? If he believed her story about the book, she should be safe.
    And, as far as she knew, even as evil as Morgan had said he was, he hadn’t killed anyone.
    Yet .

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
     
    THE ACRID TASTE of fear rose in the back of Whitney’s throat as she flexed her fingers, deciding. Gannon could have other motives, and once he got her out of town… She swallowed, her throat tight and dry. Anything could happen. He could take her anywhere, do anything he wanted to her…rape…murder…
    She shivered at the ugly thought. But the image of a golden-haired child flashed before her. A child whose life could well depend on her.
    Gritting her teeth, Whitney took his hand. Her stomach muscles clenched. She was so tense her nerves zapped like live wires under her skin. And yet, a strange weakness flooded her limbs as she threw one leg over the seat behind him.
    The seat was smaller than it looked, and so slick that she slipped forward, her body practically touching his. She inched back, but kept sliding. He shifted around, checked her position, then pointed to his helmet.
    Was he offering her his helmet?
    Right now, all she wanted was to get the ride over with ASAP. No sooner had she shaken her head no, than the motorcycle jerked forward, and she threw both arms around his waist to steady herself.
    They sped down the switchbacks, heading in the same direction as the gang. When she saw the town was just a smudge on the hillside behind them, a dark foreboding washed over her. They were completely alone, tearing down a desolate mountain road so fast there was no turning back.
    Between gulps of wind, she decided it was better to concentrate on her next step. She’d take mental note of her surroundings and memorize any significant markers—just in case she had to get back to town on her own.
    In the waning light of dusk, they sped by emerald trees, with branches jutting from gnarled and twisted trunks of silver gray, dotting the craggy vermillion rock of the canyon.
    She clung to Gannon’s solid body, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He was strong and sure in his movements, yet flexible enough to anticipate changes in the winding road. As she caught the rhythm and sway of the bike, she molded herself against him for protection from the wind and the threat of falling off. She pressed her