"They only planned to work together not fall in love."
Reviewed by Annetta Sweetko
Posted November 18, 2013
Romance Suspense
Ricardo Cruz, a D.E.A. agent has spent a long time in
pursuit of El Aguila, the drug-gun smuggling cartel that
killed his older brother. When he gets a lead that sends
him to Maine, he finds his suspect has gone underground and
only the suspect's sister knows where he is. But Rick is
known for his tenacity, he's the one who is known to NEVER
SURRENDER. Juliana Paris is a quick witted woman,
loyal to her brother, and beautiful but Rick cannot get
involved.
Juliana feels the same way. She has seen first hand what
injustice can do to a person and she isn't going to let
that happen to her brother. She will not fall for the sexy
agent, no matter how much she finds his dedication to the
law admirable and he seems to be so honorable. But when the
cartel threatens her to get to her brother, she finds she
has to turn to him. She's pretty sure he will keep her safe
but will her heart survive? The real danger might not be
the cartel at all.
NEVER SURRENDER is filled with action, suspense, romance
and a number of sneaky little twists and turns. I very much
enjoy when an author lets you play along with solving the
mystery by feeding you little bits and pieces. Author Susan
Vaughn seamlessly weaves realism into the storyline, such
as Juliana and Rick's small problem with trust, something
they managed very well to work out. He's the perfect hero
type but I did enjoy Juliana's independence. I applauded it
when she realized she needed someone who had more training
than she, but still didn't let him take over completely. I
think this is a great beginning to a new series.
SUMMARY
In hot pursuit
For years, DEA Agent Ricardo Cruz has pursued El Águila, the
gun–and–drug–smuggling cartel that killed
his older brother. When Rick finally has a lead in Maine,
his suspect goes underground and the sister refuses to
cooperate. Beautiful Juliana Paris's quick wit and loyalty
draw him but he can't afford involvement with his suspect's
sister.
With no way back
Because Juliana's father suffered injustice that led to his
early death, she intends to find her troubled younger
brother and ensure the law treats him fairly. She's
determined not to fall for the sexy agent, even if he is
dedicated and honorable. Threats by the cartel, who plan to
use her to lure out her brother, force her to accept Rick's
protection.
The only choice is . . . surrender.
Juliana wants no charmer like the men her mother keeps
marrying, and Rick wants no strings. Although attraction
sparks between them, the two are at odds and their
personalities are polar opposites, but they must work
together while evading the thugs. Their hunt for the brother
and the cartel's American connection leads them into each
other's arms and into deadly danger.
ExcerptThree knocks rattled the apartment's thin paneled door.
He waited. If it was Wescott or Donovan, they'd call his
name. He held his breath and gripped his nine millimeter.
The doorknob jiggled. A key clinked in the lock. Then the
knob turned, and the door eased open.
In the spill of light into the room, he saw a gloved hand
at the door's edge. A hand holding a small automatic.
Before the intruder could make a move, Rick knocked away
the pistol.
A sharp gasp of shock and surprise. Then the intruder
slammed his chest with something hard, knocking the breath
from his lungs. Before he recovered enough to get a good
hold, the smaller man swung a kick.
Letting his thigh take the blow, Rick flipped his
attacker and slammed on top of him. Darkness prevented a
clear look. He jabbed his gun barrel at the guy's throat.
"Federal agent. Give it up, and you won't get hurt."
The intruder cocked his head in a careful nod.
Easing off his captive, Rick reached inside the unzipped
coat to pat down for weapons. A wool sweater covered a
slight torso with curves and soft, round . . . breasts.
What the hell?
As he lifted his gun from her throat and sat back on his
heels, the woman dragged in a deep breath. "You . . . you,"
she gasped, "Nazi bully. This is what I pay taxes for? To be
crushed and then groped?"
At her outburst, his lips twitched with a smile. The
kid's girlfriend? An accomplice? She sounded irate, but not
street tough. He kept his gun on her and flicked the light
switch.
In the glare of the bare overhead bulb, the woman
blinked. She had a turned–up nose and wide mouth, lips
clamped in displeasure. Her eyes shot green fire at him.
He leaned across her to retrieve her gun, but found
instead a more innocuous item. Chagrinned, he handed her the
small flashlight.
Beside the woman lay a voluminous purse. Her ramming weapon.
He quickly checked the contents. Wallet, zippered day
planner, hairbrush, and various other female junk, but no
weapons other than the leaden bag. "I expected to see bricks
inside."
"I wish." Her chin shot up a notch. It was gently
pointed, emphasizing the heart shape of her face.
"You can get up now." Rising, he offered her a hand. "Who
are you?"
Refusing his help, she scooted backward before leaping to
her feet in an agile motion. Reddish curls threatened to
spring free of a carnivorous–toothed clip. Little
butterfly earrings dangled from her earlobes. "First I want
to see ID. You have a badge, don't you?"
He tucked away his gun and refrained from pointing out
the word POLICE on his raid jacket. "Yes, ma'am, Special
Agent Ricardo Cruz of the U. S. Drug Enforcement
Administration." He held up his ID case.
Juliana Paris's racing heart gradually slowed to a jog.
Gathering poise, she took her time studying the official
card. DEA? For all his self–absorption and
impulsiveness, Jordan was a straight arrow about drugs. It
made no sense.
The agent regarded her with professional suspicion.
Mocking her efforts at cool control, her cheeks burned under
the scrutiny. She made a production of stashing the
flashlight, cracked and probably useless, in her bag.
"I suppose you're who you say you are, but what are you
doing in my brother's apartment—in the dark?"
Straightening to her full five–foot–three, she
folded her arms.
"Your brother." The DEA agent rubbed his knuckles on his
jaw. "Can you prove that Jordan Paris is your brother?"
She would not be reduced to jelly by a good–looking
man with a sexy voice. "Prove? Not really." She rummaged in
her bag. "But here's my driver's license."
Agent Cruz didn't take the license from her, but framed
the hand holding it with his own. "Portsmouth, New
Hampshire? You drove here this afternoon?"
She nodded.
He continued to grip her hand. His tanned fingers
contrasted starkly with her pale redhead's skin. When he
released her, she snatched back her hand as if from a flame.
"Why the flashlight?"
"Sometimes Jordan forgets to pay his electricity bills.
My brother has issues but he's no criminal." For the first
time, the condition of the room registered. Everything
strewn around. One hand flew to her throat. "What's going
on? What have you done?"
"First explain why you're here and what you know about
Jordan's recent activities." He gestured for her to take a seat.
Until he sat, she would stand. She wasn't about to have
him looming over her. "I'm not sure what Jordan's been up to
lately. That's sort of why I came."
"You must know where he works." His gaze concealed
whether he knew the answer.
"Until two months ago, he worked for Vinson Seafood on a
dragger. When the boat went in for repairs, he was laid off.
He's been out of work since."
Juliana wished he wouldn't keep looking at her with such
concentrated focus. It was unnerving. She licked her lower lip.
As if too warm, the agent threw off his windbreaker. His
black flak vest emblazoned with the yellow letters DEA
confirmed his status. His black turtleneck and pants
displayed a trim yet powerful build. With a cape, this man
would make a better Zorro than that Spanish actor. No, she
wouldn't think of him that way. She blinked away the image.
What do you think about this review?
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