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Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Angelica Thaddeus
Pages: 281
Copyright: November 5, 2013
ISBN-13: 9780991088706
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
After wickedly seductive Gabriel rescues Anika, she receives a note urging her to 'Stop the Murders.' Clueless as to who is about to be killed, she accepts Gabriel's help to unravel the mysterious message. As the death toll mounts, the two refuse to deny their erotic compulsion for each other. Their obsession to be together will either save or destroy them as well as hundreds about to be killed.
While investigating patient complaints as the hospital’s compliance officer, Anika is attacked by a man claiming she murdered his wife. After wickedly seductive Gabriel rescues her, she knows she isn’t quite dead when all she thinks about are his eyes devouring her in a single glance.
As Anika recovers, she receives a note urging her to ‘Stop the Murders.’ But she’s clueless as to who is about to be killed. Bewildered, she accepts Gabriel’s offer to unravel the mystery behind the message.
With the death toll rising, Gabriel refuses to deny his erotic compulsion for Anika while tracking down the murderer. Equally consumed by her own insatiable passions, Anika leaves them both vulnerable to life-threatening dangers. Their obsession to be together will either save or destroy them as well as hundreds about to be killed.
Excerpt
“You bitch, you killed her,” Vinny growled at me in a throaty half-whisper. He seized my cringing shoulders and barricaded me beside his dead wife’s hospital bed. His vise-like fingers were wrapped around my neck. I gasped for air as he crushed my throat.
Aiming to break free, I kneed my elderly attacker in the groin. My retaliation was short-lived as he pummeled my head into the wallboard. I was a bobble-head, and unless someone came to the rescue fast, I’d be a dead bobble-head.
I poked at Vinny’s pinprick eyes, and he slapped my hands away. He grabbed the call button cord and lassoed my neck.
In sync with my desperation, the patient in the next bed shrieked with a fury capable of waking Vinny’s wife from her permanent slumber.
“Security to room 306, security to room 306,” blasted over Honore Hospital’s P-A system.
A pencil-thin man in a white coat stormed in, wielding a dangling stethoscope. My on-call champion struggled to loosen the improvised garrote. Crotchety Vinny began punching with the strength of a super villain. He landed more than a few left jabs on my nose and cheek.
Within seconds, a stranger charged in and snagged Vinny off of me. Crumbling against a hobbling nightstand, I squinted at my Herculean hero from the floor up. His ankle boots yielded to black biker jeans that hugged his powerhouse thighs and hips as if he were born in them. Beneath his open suede jacket, a muscle shirt clung to his bench-pressed pecs. A baseball cap with ‘Savage’ embroidered across the crown rested on his dark chocolate hair that curled around his ears. Savage seemed to fit as a nickname; his five o’clock shadow hinted he was bad-boy sumptuous. The right side of his neck sported a quarter-sized, port-wine birthmark, partially hidden by his jawbone. Overlooking the meager imperfection, I zeroed in on his heavy-lidded eyes piercing Vinny with laser precision. I sensed my rescuer had witnessed more than most men experience in a lifetime.
Savage attentively handed Vinny over to the security guards. Without saying a word, he eased me up, his big-knuckled hands firmly around my waist. I slumped against his chest and savored the natural scent of his skin. He pressed the back of my skull to ease the bloodletting. Only then did I realize the attack had seriously screwed with my head. I should’ve been panicked about bleeding out, but instead was infatuated with this maverick who rescued me without hesitation.
A gurney squealed in to whisk me to the emergency room. Surrounded by gawkers, Savage effortlessly lifted me onto the cart. His fingers danced up my bared thighs. Exhibiting a proprietary interest, he straightened my skirt over my knees.
As the orderly disengaged the brakes, Savage traced my lips and said in a polished voice, “I want in.” His three words rippled through me, and my imagination kicked into high gear. Did his body ache to be deep within me? An unlikely interpretation since Fate had thrown us together only minutes before. I studied his face to interpret his message. His eyes, igniting my soul, followed me as I vanished into the sterile coldness of the corridor. Regrets about being left alone overwhelmed me. Savage had disappeared just as quickly as he had strolled into my life.
While I desperately wanted to cry out after him, my throat felt scraped from the inside out. I struggled to understand how I found myself in this predicament. Less than three months ago, I had become the newly minted Regional Compliance Officer for Premier Health, a twelve billion dollar health management organization, which owned and operated fifty-two hospitals and three hundred thirty-six skilled nursing facilities in the United States. After a four-year stint as the dead-ended Risk Manager, I’d been promoted to a position vacated seven times in the last five years. Gradually, I’d become accustomed to the day-to-day complaints being dumped on me, but my on-the-job training had never included hand-to-hand combat.
Today’s outing to investigate patient grievances had started with Vinny’s wife, Giovanna Raffa. Vinny was sure Premier was killing her because it was too expensive to keep her alive. Her mind had evaporated and her muscles twitched uncontrollably. Vinny was convinced Premier was responsible for the holes in her brain. He wanted Giovanna examined by Dr. Glenn Hightower, one of the best neurologists in the country, who coincidentally charged the highest fees for his services. By the time I’d arranged the consult, it was too late. Within seconds of Giovanna’s dying, Vinny went berserk, and Honore Hospital, Buffalo’s blue-ribbon medical institute, became my own house of horrors.
After my gurney was wheeled over to ER Bay #5, I peeled off my stained cashmere sweater and skirt. I tied on a hospital gown covered with bleached-out pinwheels. My hands shook, and I took a deep breath to try to find the calm I’d had earlier that morning. Blotches of angry red hives began erupting over my skin. I gave in to the urge to cry, caving at this final blow to my control.
Even though self-sufficient at twenty-eight, I needed consolation in the worst way. Tommy, my twin brother, would make it all right. Born five minutes and seventeen seconds before me, he was older, but arguably not wiser. While we both were blessed with rich cerulean eyes which could shame a summer sky, our personalities were a study in contrasts. He was the ultimate sweet talker and jokester, possessing a bewitching charisma that made him the number one realtor in Erie County. When any type of disaster hit, he’d reassure me with humorous anecdotes that I was far better off, except for the natives of some bizarre-sounding island floating in his left cerebral hemisphere. Seizing on my affinity for sweets, he’d bolster me with Bundt cakes until I was ready to tackle the world again.
I dug through my purse and hit my smartphone’s speed dial, only to learn Tommy’s mailbox was full. My rock of support had temporarily rolled away. I glared at my watch and waited for someone, anyone, to circle back. Human contact was eventually re-established when a buxom aide chauffeured me in a wheelchair to the radiology holding area. While I waited for a CT scan, the service elevator doors opened and two orderlies guided a stretcher into the lift. “The body’s in 319,” one said to the other. “Slit his throat, trying to commit suicide.”
“Suicide, my ass,” the other replied. “He was practically decapitated.”
I craned my neck around the doorframe, but my name was called just as the elevator slammed shut. The possibility that a patient had been murdered was beyond my realm of experience, but anything was possible, given the volume of patients treated at Premier’s hospitals. After an aide wheeled me over to the technician, I was instructed to lie down and rode the slow moving shelf toward the doughnut-shaped CT scanner ring. Feeling ambushed by the tube’s blanched radiance, I conjured up a fantasy of Savage, my White Knight, whisking me away to indulge in my every repressed, sensual pleasure. I flashed back to his eyes. They simultaneously exuded confidence and compassion and could devour me in a single glance. But as the table shifted into reverse, I remembered the ill-fated ending of Guinevere’s scorching love affair with Lancelot. The end of my head trip left me feeling as if I’d been whacked with a cleaver.
I was returned to the ER where a lanky resident stapled the gash on my head’s backside. “Anika, head wounds bleed a lot and the bruising on your face will fade,” he said calmly. “But you’ve got a concussion and a broken nose. We’d like to keep you a few days for observation. I’ll have a nurse bring you something for the pain.”
“Thanks for everything.” I reached for his arm, seeking the comfort of hands-on contact.
“You should really thank that guy who busted in. He called, but we couldn’t say much. Patient confidentiality.”
“Do you know his name?”
“I’ve seen him around, but I’ll have to ask the nurses.”
He pulled the privacy curtain around my bed as he left, and I stretched out flat on my back. After a nurse came with the painkiller, I floated in and out of a light sleep. I was slightly loopy, and despite the medication, my head still felt like a pincushion targeted by incoming needles. Since endorphins, the happy hormones released after sex, could ease pain and stress, I opted for additional relief. While I definitely wasn’t ready to actually be Savage’s lover, I certainly could fantasize about it.
Savage sneaks back to my bedside shortly after midnight. I sense he’s looking to score more than pillow talk. His athletic physique is packed with sensual innuendo, even in the dim obscurity surrounding him. He’s taller than I remember and muscular like Michelangelo’s David. I focus on the bulge under his fly. It’s obvious he’s well-hung. I’m ready to surrender unconditionally, even before shifting my attention above his beltline.
I yearn to rip off his shirt and run my hands over his toned, naked chest as he kneels beside me and glides his tongue across his lips. “Couldn’t stay away,” he whispers into my ear, peeling back the covers.
He entwines my arms around his neck and helps me sit. His massive hands slip under the slit of my hospital gown and slowly skim my naked back. He teases me with his fingers leisurely brushing the sides of my breasts. It takes every ounce of my will-power not to tear off the gown and tempt him with my already fired-up nipples.
Savage collects my hair, drapes it across my left shoulder, and slides a pillow behind me. He presses his sinfully bold lips into the side of my neck. His open mouth glides up and down my skin while he gives a long lick with the tip of his tongue. Instinctively, I flex my shoulders, and tremors of delight shoot through me. He begins gently sucking his way over to my ear. His tongue pokes inside, sending shivers down my spine. “U-mm,” I murmur.
His fingers dance across my shoulders, and his lips nibble over to my cheek. He slips an index finger inside my mouth. Impulsively, I begin to suck as his eyes lock on mine. My body craves his touch, writhing with expectations of his next move.
“I have something special for you.” Savage takes in a deep breath while pulling his finger out of my mouth. He reaches down to the floor and hands me a thin box laced with gold ribbon. I slip off the ribbon and unwrap the rose-patterned paper. A white, see-through chemise is tucked inside.
“Should I model this for you?”
The corners of his mouth slide into a slight uptick. His domineering hands explore my bare thighs with masterful strokes as I slide them apart. Tracing imaginary lines up and down each leg, his touches are deliberately slow. I savor each insanely intense tingle. Savage’s eyes widen, and he tempts me out of bed. Standing behind me, he unties my hospital gown, eases it off my shoulders, and tosses it into the corner. My inhibitions are gone as I stand there in complete nudity. He reaches around and tweaks my nipples, which are already standing at attention. I arch my back against his chest. His erection pokes through his jeans. “Take me,” I beg. “Take me now.”
“Beautiful.” He lashes his tongue across my shoulders and forcefully grinds his hips into me.
Savage turns me around, and he sits on the edge of the mattress. His eyes are playing with me as they dance up and down my body. There is little time to think how I can pleasure him as he draws me in, spreads my legs apart with his knee, and holds the small of my back with one hand. Reaching down with his other hand, he catches hold of my pubic tendrils, twirling them and then parting my outer lips. He glides two fingers inside me, penetrating with slow methodical thrusts. I’m getting loose, every inch of me throbbing from the increasing intensity.
“Don’t’ stop,” I plead as he pokes around the folds of my warm, moist pleasure box, hitting spots never explored by another man. I claw his shoulders while my hips respond to the mad, whirling sensations in my pussy.
Still maneuvering his fingers inside me, he buries his face in my cleavage. Savage pinches a nipple with his teeth, and I grab his head, pulling him in closer. He slides his fingers out and shoves me onto the bed. A raw hunger rages through me. He strips off his jeans and t-shirt and buries me under his massive torso. He groans through gritted teeth.
Dominated by his weight, I curl my legs around his back. I desperately want him in me. His tongue explores the contours of my face and teases open my lips. His mouth feasts on mine as we kiss, our tongues taunting each other.
I moan quietly as we playfully wrestle. I flip Savage on his back and kneel between his outstretched legs. His muscular thighs capture me. I massage his groin and gently squeeze his balls. His erection is larger than I had imagined. I flitter my fingers down the shaft before grabbing firmly. I encircle the tip with my tongue, poking under the ridge. My tongue flicks back and forth, and I begin sucking as he glides deeper down my throat. I feel a fullness—
Damn! On the brink of pushing Savage into ecstasy, I woke with the urgent need to pee. Crushed by the realization my vivid fantasy was just that—a pipedream—I crept to the restroom. Upon returning, I stumbled over my purse and found a note wrapped around its handle. I winced at its scribbled message: ‘STOP THE MURDERS.’
Even though I knew nothing about Savage, I wondered if he’d know what to do. Destiny had dropped him into my life for some reason. Call it a gut feeling or a woman’s intuition, I knew that any teeny buzz floating up from my subconscious should never be ignored. I had to find him. I had to stop the murders.
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