Some
Black Op missions are too dark—even for him.
HARD TO PROTECT
Black Ops Heroes #3
Incy Black
Releasing March 20, 2017
Entangled Ignite
Some
Black Op missions are too dark—even for him.
Volcanic hot and ambitious Special Agent Will Berwick doesn’t give a damn what his orders are, he’s not taking the enemy—the lovely, but arctic Dr. Angel Treherne—to bed. Nor will she die on his watch, most certainly not by his hand. Oh, he’ll root out her secrets. But his own way—teaching her a much-deserved lesson while he’s at it: that no one messes with his career plan just because they’re a little peeved with him.
Volcanic hot and ambitious Special Agent Will Berwick doesn’t give a damn what his orders are, he’s not taking the enemy—the lovely, but arctic Dr. Angel Treherne—to bed. Nor will she die on his watch, most certainly not by his hand. Oh, he’ll root out her secrets. But his own way—teaching her a much-deserved lesson while he’s at it: that no one messes with his career plan just because they’re a little peeved with him.
Caught up
in a tangled web of deceit and betrayal, psychotherapist Angel trusts no one—certainly
not alpha-cocky, cunning Will Berwick. First he’s hostile, then he’s charming,
now he wants to protect her? Why? What’s he hiding? With her life—and heart—on
the line, she needs to know.
With the
risks high and personal, can Will and Angel agree the dangerous choices they
must make?
What he
wanted was an explanation as to why she’d nixed his return to active duty. He grinned,
instead. “You seem more piqued than usual by my silence, Doc. Pre-menstrual
tension?”
No flinch.
No sharp intake of breath. She didn’t even blink. But the sudden chill she
threw damn near caused his balls to retract.
Then, like
an assassin’s blade in the dark, she sliced. “Suffered any symptoms of
impotency since your injury, Berwick?”
Perversely,
his groin heated. Well, apparently, if he wasn’t going to dignify her
surprising and utterly unprofessional
counter-challenge with a response, his dick would. Odd, when to-date, this
woman hadn’t stirred so much as an extra pulse-throb from him.
Not that
she was unattractive. On the contrary, her classical beauty could launch ships.
Flawless bone-structure. Complexion creamy, lustrous as a pearl. Fathomless
grey eyes intent enough to make a man’s soul hum. Wide mouth. Generous lips,
blush-pink and ripe. Hinting at dirty.
Her demeanor though—do-not-touch
frigid.
Jesus, if
someone had told him a Nordic God had carved her out of ice and then had second
thoughts about getting close enough to breathe some warmth into her for fear of
forevermore ejaculating snowflakes, he wouldn’t have argued.
Without
breaking eye contact, he vaguely imagined what she might look like with that
tight French braid of hers loosened, the tips of her breasts peeking through
the untidy fall of blond tresses, as she lay naked, writhing beneath his hands.
And gave
himself a mental slap.
Never going
to happen. No way would he take this female to bed. Even if he survived the
encounter, he doubted she would. Someone, or something, had damaged her. No
woman wrapped herself in that many layers of frost without good reason. She may
have crossed him, and for that she would pay, but he didn’t want to break her,
for Christ’s sake.
He’d
shattered Diana, and in return her death—suicide—had shattered him. A joyride
through hell he preferred not to repeat.
No, he’d
cajole the whereabouts of Treherne’s brother from her in a way that didn’t
require physical contact or, at least, not deep
physical contact. The odd affectionate caress he’d allow, purely as a sign of
friendship. He had a feeling she could do with an ally. “What would have to
happen for you to agree to have dinner with me?”
“Both ice caps would have to melt.”
He choked
back, Well, you would know, and
widened his grin. To hell with his reservations. This wintery beauty shared
none of Diana’s frailty. The Doc could take care of herself.
Game on.
To
escape the frenzy of three children aged under 4 years, two mad dogs and four
very odd cats, Incy Black committed to a law degree
(University College, London), first to piss off those who said she didn’t stand
a chance, and second, because she’s never learned to walk a hill when there are
mountains to be climbed.
When
not fighting injustice and righting wrongs on ‘Planet Incy’ via her love of
writing romantic action adventures, she works as a Marketing Director…also
cook, cleaner and homemaker.
Living
in the UK’s West Country, her (now five) children are well versed in what
scares her (most things) and delight in pushing her neurotic buttons—at their
peril.
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