BOOMERANG - Book two in Judith Rochelle's The Protectors Series
When Katya "Kat" Lombardo wakes up in the den of her partner's palatial home with a gun in her hand and his dead body on the floor beside her, she knows she's in big trouble. She has no recollection of the events leading up to this, or how or why she has this gun. She calls on the only person she feels she can trust, Zak Delaney, her former lover who she broke with after a bitter argument. But can Zak put aside his bitterness to help her? As she runs from the people trying to kill her, people who destroy her home, and her business and definitely want to destroy her, will the chemistry still there between them sizzle to the surface or will it explode and demolish them both?
BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT
"Afraid you'd really killed him?" He shook his head. “Kat, I don’t think you have it in you to just murder someone. Okay, let’s have the rest of it.”
That didn’t take long, because there wasn’t much she knew or remembered. Except for the image of Nate’s blood-drenched body stretched out on the floor.
Zak rubbed his neck again. “Let me see if I understand. You woke up in his den, holding the gun, his body just lying there? Dead?”
Kat nodded, then wished she hadn’t as the movement made her stomach flop. “I’m guessing there was a party and I must have been talking to Nate in his den for some reason. Otherwise why would I have been in there?”
“It’s possible someone put you there to be found with the body,” Zak pointed out. “Anything else?”
“A pounding headache, which still hasn’t gone away, and incredible nausea.” She tried a weak grin. “I hope I don’t throw up in your kitchen.”
“Let’s check something out.” He moved to stand behind her, his fingers gently sliding through her hair as he probed her skull. “No bumps, so nobody hit you. Okay. What did you drink?”
Kat tried to think, but her mind seemed to have taken a vacation. “Just wine, I’m sure. It’s usually the only thing I drink. If you recall.” She rubbed her forehead. “God, Zak, I don’t remember anything. Not anything at all.” She squeezed her eyes hard against the tears starting to leak down her cheeks and raked her hands through her hair, dismantling what was left of her fancy hairdo. She turned her head and looked back at him, the panic rising again. “My brain is like oatmeal. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I remember?”
No comments:
Post a Comment