Sky's Lark Read Free Page A

gently coaxing and encouraging, without a hint of aggression or demand. But this whisper and tease of affection slipped through her barriers, muddling her brain, even as it dawned on her that she actually liked his brand of kissing. In stunned silence, she found herself giving back, pressing closer, and actually sharing the brief interlude.
    He pulled back first, flashing a mischievous grin that popped a dimple in his cheek, even as his hold loosened. "Damn."
    "You can say that again." Lark groaned when she realized the words slipped out before she could bite them back. Giving men that kind of ammunition only inflated their egos, made them all the more difficult to bear, and set a woman on an all-too-familiar path of continually attempting to please the man in order to keep him at her side so he didn't stray. Something she absolutely refused to do.
    He began to backpedal into the shadows once more. "Go on, dove. You're free." In between blinks, he disappeared, his tall, sturdy frame vanishing into the darkness.
    Lark shook her head, still off balance from the encounter. He called her dove. Pretty close guess at her name. Dang lucky on his part.
    Her fingers brushed over her slightly puffy lips. Definitely a talented kisser. She couldn't recall a single man that knocked her off her feet with a mere chaste meeting of lips. Too bad he was a jerk and a thug. The former she could deal with, the latter meant hasta la vista in her list of relationship rules. All the sexual prowess and abilities in the world couldn't stand up to a man with honor and courage. In her dreams, all those qualities combined into a single hunky Adonis of a male specimen, while reality fell short time and time again. Pretty faces covered not-so-nice inner workings more often than not. She fell into that trap once and promised herself to never play in muck again, especially where her heart was concerned.
    Shoving the sobering thought aside, she trotted up the stairs, eager to hit the hot water spray and turn into a mush of pudding for the rest of the night.

Chapter 3
     
    "I want her found. Immediately," Santora snarled at the agent dressed in a charcoal gray suit as he slammed his fist on the table. His face pinched in fury, his nostrils flared as he sucked in air.
    Instead of going straight to jail after his abduction, a DEA van had transported him to his present holding cell, a small room surrounded by glass windows with a sole locked door. A wooden table sat in the center of the area with three metal chairs. An interrogation chamber if he ever saw one, better than a torture room, but duller and full of limitations with the stark exception of the man presently sharing the space.
    "You've got bigger problems than a dumb chit." The blond man known as Thomas shook his head. "Someone wants you either put away for life or dead."
    Santora threw up his hands in agitation. "Someone always wants me dead. The price you pay for doing business. That's why I hire men, men like you, to protect me and ensure I remain alive to make money."
    "If it's another drug lord, we haven't found the connection. This order came from higher up, someone with power and the ability to make heads roll." Refusing to sit, Thomas stood against one wall, his face devoid of expression.
    "I don't give a fuck if it came from the Pope himself. No one double crosses me and no fucking puta gets away with crushing my nuts." He turned to fix the American with a stare. "Find her. I don't care how you do it or how much money you put on her head. She must be brought to me alive as we have unfinished business to attend to."
    "Bring her to you? You're in the middle of the DEA office. I suppose one of your gang will simply march her in with a red bow around her neck like a Christmas puppy?"
    "My lawyer will have me out today. They will bring her to the compound. Offer up a million for her unharmed return." He patted his lips with long, thin fingers.
    "I'm not sure even your lawyer has the ability to get