Former CIA agent Bailey Jones has spent months trying to
forget the one night of passion she shared with mercenary
Sean Reilly. She's an elite, methodical assassin she
should
have no problem not being a MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE for this rule
breaking Irishman. She has worked hard to steer clear of
the bad boy who lured her into his bed under false
pretenses, but when there is trouble she finds she has to
find out what really happened.
When Sean is implicated in a robbery at a Dublin bank,
Bailey knows something isn't right. She might not trust
him, but she knows he would never end up on the wrong side
of the law without a very good reason. When she finds he
is
stuck in the middle of a dark and dirty conspiracy that
could put his twin brother's life at risk, Bailey has no
choice but to agree to help. An offer that is at first
turned down, but she makes him accept her help. Along the
way she finds herself walking a very find line between
danger and desire. And when that line is crossed it takes
more than her killer instinct to survive.
MIDNIGHT CAPTIVE is a fast paced, action packed, highly
compelling read. Author Elle Kennedy certainly knows how
to do a dark and steamy suspense romance. Her varied
characters are a very interesting group of people. Sean
tries to lone wolf it, taking care of business alone, and
doesn't expect Bailey to come and help him. Bailey is
furious with him for lying and tricking her but the spark
is there and cannot be denied ... no matter how hard she
tries.
This is a case of misreads, misunderstandings and a
good bit of confusion on this couples side but makes for a
fantastic read. Bailey makes no bones about what she does
for a living and prefers to work alone. That doesn't mean
she doesn't want the sexy, lying, idiot ... they just have
to
figure out how to get their tempers in check and
communicate.
There were actually a couple of times I
laughed out loud at this couple because I knew they had to
have their HEA coming but wow what a round about way to
get
it. Great job keeping the fires and action going Ms.
Kennedy. I can't wait to see who is next in this Killer
Instincts series.
Former CIA agent Bailey Jones has spent months trying to
forget her night of passion with mercenary Sean Reilly. An
elite and methodical assassin, she has no room in her life
for
a reckless, rule-breaking Irishman, and she’s vowed to
steer
clear of the tempting bad boy who lured her into his bed
under
false pretenses.
When Sean is implicated in the robbery of a Dublin bank,
Bailey knows something isn’t right. So what if she can’t
trust
him? There’s no way Sean would end up on the wrong side of
the
law. In fact, he’s stuck in the middle of a dark and dirty
conspiracy that could put his twin brother’s life at risk
with
one wrong move. And Bailey’s life too when she agrees to
help.
As the stakes are raised and Bailey finds herself torn
between
two brothers, the fine line between danger and desire is
crossed…and it’ll take more than a killer instinct to
survive.
Excerpt
Thwack. Thwack-thwack. Thwack.
Bailey tried to ignore the sounds reverberating on the
other side of the loft, but it was a difficult task. Sean
had been battering that punching bag for the past hour,
fists slamming into leather as Bailey sat on the couch, her
frustration growing by the second. Couch, bed, and punching
bag. Somehow it made sense that those were the main pieces
of furniture in Sean’s loft, because sleeping, fucking, and
fighting were probably the only things Sean Reilly was
interested in. That, and gathering information.
The last thought sent her gaze in the direction of the file
cabinets. She really needed to figure out a way to break
into them. What kind of dirt had Sean unearthed about her?
Thwack. Thwack-thwack.
And why wasn’t O’Hare calling back? It had been three hours
since Sean had texted the man, and Bailey was beginning to
get anxious. O’Hare had to have seen the news, must know by
now that his men were dead. And he definitely knew that
Sean was alive and in possession of the flash drive. So why
wasn’t he making a move? The man had gone to a lot of
trouble to secure that drive, which told Bailey he was
eager to get his hands on it.
Her gaze traveled back to Sean, and her pulse skipped in
the most aggravating way. He’d stripped off his shirt,
which left him in those ill-fitting khakis that rode so low
on his hips they were in danger of falling off.
Despite her better judgment, she focused on his chest. His
very bare chest, which was . . . Fine, it was truly
wonderful. Roped muscles and golden skin assaulted her
vision. He didn’t have much body hair, save for a dusting
between his heavy pecs and the dark line leading to his
groin. He was built like a warrior. Tall, broad, and
deadly.
Before Bailey could stop it, the memory of being underneath
that powerful body flashed in her head, and she almost
moaned out loud.
The sex had been good.
No, it had been more than good.
But so what? Sean had lied to her from the word go. He’d
deceived her. And just because she’d known he was doing it
didn’t excuse his behavior.
What kind of man pretended to be his twin to get a woman
into bed?
She jerked when his gaze suddenly locked with hers. He’d
caught her staring, but he didn’t comment. He simply
released another one-two punch that made the black leather
bag sway wildly. God, he looked . . . feral. Bloody
knuckles, handsome face covered by a sheen of sweat, sleek
muscles coiling from every deadly strike of his fists.
“Haven’t you had enough yet?” Bailey called out, not
bothering to hide how frazzled she was.
He kept on swinging.
“Seriously. You’re going to fuck up your hands.”
Breathing hard, he let his arms fall to the sides. He
slanted his head, watching her with an expression that made
her skin break out in shivers. Feral, all right.
She rolled her eyes. “What, you’re in adrenaline overload?
You need to hit something this bad? Because you’re going to
hurt yourself if you keep it up.”
“What the hell do you care, luv?” But her words must have
penetrated that thick skull of his, because he grabbed a
towel from the workout bench behind him and used it to wipe
his sweaty face.
Then he strolled toward her, slow, predatory. Red blotches
stained the white towel in his hands as he wiped his
knuckles on the terry cloth.
“You got me,” he told her. “It is adrenaline, and you know
why? Because I robbed a bloody bank today, Bailey. And when
I’m feeling this way, there’re only two activities that
calm me down.” He shrugged. “Fighting’s one of them.”
“What’s the other?” she asked, then cursed herself for
opening her stupid mouth.
Because his green eyes were gleaming now, smoldering with
sin. “What do you think, luv?”
Several seconds ticked by as their gazes held.
“It’s fucking,” he drawled. “Pure, hard-core fucking.”
Her breath lodged in her lungs. Sean’s sultry gaze held her
captive, making it impossible to turn away. The man
radiated sexuality. He always had. It heated his eyes and
rippled through his body, and whenever he directed all that
sensual energy her way, her body responded.
“Would you like to help me out with that?” A mocking note
entered his deep voice. “Because I’m more than happy to
stop tearing up my hands and put them to better use.”
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