After Agent Kendall Frasier’s partner is shot in “friendly fire” during a drug bust, she agrees to take a week’s vacation on a tropical island as part of her psychiatric evaluation. Sand, sun, sea—what could be better to help her work through her guilt? Even if the presence of the man responsible for the shooting, Agent Zane Vincent, seems counterproductive to her mental health.
As Kendall gets to know Zane, and realizes he feels worse about what happened than she does, it becomes impossible to hate him. And their mutual attraction becomes impossible to deny.
Kendall and Zane soon agree to put the event that brought them together in the past—and spend the present exploring their most erotic desires. Do they have a future in the real world when their week in paradise is over?
Previously published; newly revised by author.
Read an Excerpt
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just making conversation.”
She sighed and turned to face him. “Don’t, okay?”
“Okay.” He shrugged and backed off.
Seeing Vincent stabbed the truth closer to home: she’d failed her partner in the worst way possible. It had been her job—her duty—to protect him, and instead she’d watched him die in front of her while she did nothing. Vincent had been there. Seen it. Kendall didn’t want conversation with him when every word only reminded her of what had happened. She was saved from talking by the appearance of Stella and Steve, who galumphed along the shell path, giggling.
The moment—whatever it had been—passed. Vincent stepped back. Kendall let herself be swept up by Stella’s infectious, “C’mon, let’s get this orientation over with so we can party!”
The conference room was well appointed and comfortable, with enough chairs and table space for everyone. It was the only place so far where Kendall had seen any evidence of high-tech equipment and, once again, she was reminded this had once been home to a very wealthy man who’d done very bad things. She took a seat at the end of the table. Vincent didn’t bother sitting next to her. He didn’t even bother looking at her, which made Kendall feel odd.
She didn’t have time to ponder why that should be because the leader of the group called everyone’s attention.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Doctor Marge Hastings. You can call me Doctor Marge or Doctor Hastings. Just don’t call me late to dinner.” The thin, angular woman let out a hearty guffaw completely at odds with her appearance.
The rest of the group let out a semi-appreciative chuckle at the timeworn joke. It was vacation, even if the circumstances for most of them being there hadn’t been too great. People were more inclined to be forgiving on vacation.
Vincent apparently wasn’t one of them. Dr. Marge’s joke hadn’t even lifted a smile from him. He sat with his arms folded across his massive chest, his expression as blank as a chalkboard on Saturday. Well, maybe not quite blank. He frowned, just a little, and the corners of his eyes turned down just a bit…
“Agent Frasier?”
Kendall jumped. She’d been so caught up in studying Vincent’s face she hadn’t been paying attention to Dr. Marge. “Sorry. What did you say?”
Dr. Marge’s face clearly betrayed her sympathy for Kendall’s distracted state. “Don’t be sorry, Kendall. We’re all here to get through these things together.”
Dr. Marge was obviously of the touchy-feely school of psychiatry. She rounded the table to pat Kendall’s shoulder. “I just asked you to introduce yourself to the group.”
Heat burned her cheeks. “Kendall Frasier. I’m with a special DEA sub-unit that’s been focusing on rousting dealers from nontraditional profiles.”
“You got the horse-and-buggy freaks,” spoke up one man.
The rest of the room murmured.
Kendall lifted her chin, thinking of the Yoder brothers, who’d never imagined what trouble they were getting themselves into. She and her partner, Dan Whitney, had been undercover for more than six months on the case. At sixteen and eighteen, Amish brothers Amos and Samuel Yoder had been the age at which their community allowed them to test the outside world before committing themselves to the church. They’d done a little too much experimenting, in Kendall’s opinion. The brothers had been linked to a well-known but third-rate biker gang, the Scorpions of Satan. The Scorpions were suspected of supplying methamphetamine at wholesale rates to the brothers, who then turned around and sold it to local high school and college students. The Yoders had the perfect cover in their religious affiliation. It had taken over six months, but by working closely with their local contacts in the college, Kendall and Dan finally negotiated a deal and began to close them down.
Dr. Marge gave another chuckle and patted Kendall again. “Your case was big news for quite a while, Kendall. I’m sure we’ll be talking a lot about it. Agent Vincent was also involved with that case, I believe.”
Before the day her partner died, Kendall had seen Vincent around at conventions, training sessions and staff meetings. He was hard to forget with his muscular build, shaved head and striking, full features. He fit right in with the Scorpions, whose trust he’d earned while undercover. Too bad he’d underestimated the lengths they’d go to escape being caught.
The showdown had occurred on a frigid January afternoon in a barn larger than Kendall’s house. They’d gotten word Amos and Samuel were supposed to be meeting some of the “English” in the barn. A team of fourteen agents had been strung out over the entire Yoder family farm. Amos and Samuel had appeared on schedule between the barn’s big double doors. A few minutes later, Vincent and the three members of the Scorpions who’d ridden up from Philadelphia for the deal arrived on their sputtering, roaring motorcycles.
Nobody was expecting resistance from the Yoder brothers, but the Scorpions had taken the authorities by surprise. They’d all opened fire, killing their Amish contacts and three DEA agents.
Vincent, in an attempt to bring the situation under control, had fired a warning shot at his biker buddies. Despite Kendall’s warnings to stay down, Dan kept trying to get closer to the leader of the gang. He’d stepped in the way of Vincent’s bullet and gone down.
They called it friendly fire. Kendall called it stupid.
Everyone was looking at her. Almost everyone. Kendall cleared her throat. “Yeah. You could say that.”
Thankfully, the woman moved back to the front of the room. Kendall felt as though all eyes were upon her…all but one set. A deep chocolate-brown pair of eyes that were studiously looking everywhere else but at her.
