A Killing Touch

He’s everything she craves. She’s everything he dreads.

Samhain Publishing
Sensory Ops, Book 4
March 5, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-61921-473-6

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The Blurb

Journalist Lana Quinn has a way with hard-hitting news. The story she’s uncovered has potential, but she needs the help of her best friend’s FBI team. She’s been rescued by them, worked with them, and partied with them, but convincing the second in command to believe her theory—that a killer’s touch sets off a lethal allergic reaction—is a frustrating challenge.

Especially since he excites her, body and mind. He’s a danger she shouldn’t indulge.

Aidan Burgess is resistant to helping Lana, but not for the reason she thinks. She has a knack for landing herself in trouble, which means she needs protection. Protecting her means staying near her, a journalist, who like all journalists uses whatever—and whomever—it takes to get her story. It’s a case he wants to refuse.

Especially since she lights a fire in his blood. She’s a danger he can’t afford.

As Lana follows up on lead after deadly lead, learning to trust and rely on each other becomes their only lifesaving hope. If their pride doesn’t become their final pitfall.

The Excerpt

The heavy door banged at Lana Quinn’s back with the dull thud of thick wood. Pulling her sunglasses off, she glanced around the traditionally decorated pub. The last person she wanted to see sat in a back booth with a resigned scowl on his handsome, often arrogant, face.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. Perversely, she always wanted to see him. She simply preferred to know when he was going to be near so she could arm herself.

Damn it, Kieralyn. Mentally shifting her guards into place, hoping they were strong enough since she only had moments to prepare herself, Lana approached.

That the man she’d allowed herself to fall for watched her wasn’t a happy surprise. She’d fallen hard and fast despite his inability to decide if he wanted her or hated her. She’d fallen and settled into a pattern of trying to avoid him. Of trying to avoid an inevitable argument.

“You’re not who I called for.” The snipe in her tone told her she wasn’t well guarded. He would gain the upper hand and they would either argue or land in the nearest bed.

“I’m who you got.” Aidan winked, and with a knowing tap on the table, indicated the seat across from him.

When he looked at her with those secretive eyes her hormones went bat shit. She was never sure if he was keeping a secret or uncovering hers. Then there was his wink. Half invitation and half dare. Her blood pressure rose and awakened her in all the clichéd ways.

Her heart raced. Her knees trembled. Her palms tingled.

He was the man she couldn’t resist and the one she needed to avoid, because he was simply too dangerous.

“Join me, Lana.”

Gaah. The way he said her name, all suave and polite, grated. It was a cover, because he was only suave and polite toward her when Kieralyn made him promise to be. Not even his adoration for his teammate, her best friend, would win Lana the favor she was asking for.

Aidan’s selection of the booth in the back corner was evidence of his bid for control. She may not have the upper hand in this meeting, but she wasn’t ready to be defeated. “Where’s Kieralyn?”

“There was a development on a case that needed her touch.”

Which meant they were likely dealing with someone resistant to their questions. Kieralyn had a knack for getting her way while making others think it was their idea.

“Why’d you agree to meet me when you refuse to acknowledge me in a room full of people?”

“Kieralyn asked.”

“We both know it would take more than that to get you over your hatred of me.”

“She’s very persuasive.” He shrugged, like he wasn’t quite comfortable  with whatever popped into his head. “And I don’t hate you.”

Lana plopped her bag on the table but didn’t sit. Persuasive was an apt description of Kieralyn. It seemed she was using the skill now to set up her best friend with the mighty wolf.

“Your scowl when I’m near says otherwise.” Lana buried her recent wish for more excitement. Things got too exciting when she baited Aidan.

Aidan stretched his long arms across the back of the booth, tapping his strong, narrow fingers on the red leather. “You gonna sit or are we done before we’ve even begun?”

She should ignore the potential double meaning of his question and walk. She could figure the story out on her own and call her dad if she needed Bureau help. She was more resistant to the idea of pulling her dad into one of her cases than she was to working with Aidan.

She’d already faced one serial killer with Aidan and his team at her back. She wanted the truth of the deaths, but not without backup. The cops were good, but the FBI’s Specialized Crimes Unit was better, and if her suspicions were right she wasn’t tracking a run-of-the-mill serial killer. Not that a serial killer was run-of-the-mill.

“Fine.” Slipping into the seat across from him, her knees bumped Aidan’s. A spark shot up her thighs, as electric as the time he’d touched her there with arousing intentions. She pulled closer to her side of the booth, but it didn’t offer enough distance. His butterscotch and coffee scent blended with the leather of his jacket and reached her across the table. Sweet scent. Hard attitude. Aidan Burgess was a contradiction.

He narrowed his dark gaze, intensifying his focus. “What brings us together, Lana?”

We are not together.” And why did he have to use her name so often? The way he said it, with the rumbling roll of his Scottish accent nudging it off his tongue was a seduction she didn’t want. A seduction she didn’t need.

“I don’t see anyone else in this booth.”

Do not argue. Do not take his bait. Do not stray from business. You know where you’ll end up. She angled her head to the left, clenching her back teeth in an effort to obey her own advice.

“What do you need help with, Lana?”

Her jaw twitched. Her tummy flipped. “A story.”

“Sorry.” He straightened and slid toward the end of his seat. “I don’t do stories.”

“You’re not the center of it.” She whipped a foot up beside his leg. Blocking him would be impossible if he really wanted to leave, yet she could slow him down. “It’s not about you or one of your cases.”

He stopped with his thigh pressed against her foot.

“I think it should be though. A case for you and your team. Not about you.” Her brain floundered to keep the focus on the case while trying to win a point. His heat was seeping into her leg.

Aidan glanced from her to her ankle and back to her. His hand dropped and rested heavily over her bare skin. The heat magnified.

“You have two minutes to convince me.”

Convince him to help or to take her to bed?