CROSSING THE LINE EPUB

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Crossing The Line Epub

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And she was tired of giving. Waverly swooped off of Sunset and wound her way through a neighborhood of dust-colored townhomes with orange tile roofs. Two careful turns later, she was on a lonely highway that climbed through desert and hills. The motorcycle stuck with her and, on a straightaway, swerved out around her to speed alongside her car.

As much as she hated giving this crap sandwich a shot he could use, it would be worse to see his body splattered all over the road. She gripped the leather wheel a little tighter and slowed down. The idiot shoved his camera at her and snapped away. He was wearing a half helmet with a scarred visor that looked more appropriate for bicycle use.

Stringy brown hair curled limply around his face. His Pantera t-shirt and black denim shorts had both seen better days. He was grinning like the winner at a cock fight.

Reluctantly Waverly slowed to a crawl as they crested another hill. He flipped her the bird and swung his bike in front of her car, cutting her off.

Waverly jammed on the brakes and swerved across the double line narrowly missing him. Her fingers gripped the wheel in a rigor mortis grip.

Death Wish wasn't just going for pictures, he was trying to create a story. One where she got hit head-on. Her heartbeat was thudding in her ears as adrenaline surged through her system.

She made sure the world's stupidest man was still upright before stomping on the accelerator. The second she was clear of the photographer, she cut the wheel to the right, squeaking back into her lane just as a silver Range Rover sped around the turn. The driver laid on the horn as she narrowly avoided his shiny bumper of death.

Holy shit. Oh my God," Waverly chanted. This guy was trying to get her killed. She hit the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel and, through clenched teeth, called What is your emergency? She saw the glint of a gold tooth.

He didn't see the pick-up truck coming down the hill, but Waverly did. She cut her wheel to the right and hit the brakes as Death Wish lost control of the bike and went into a slide.

She heard the scraping of metal on metal as the Mercedes met guardrail and felt a small sense of relief when there was no sickening thump of a human speed bump.

Send an ambulance. She hurried around the front of her car, her flip-flops echoing on the asphalt.

Crossing the Line by Simone Elkeles

Death Wish was facedown and motionless. His bike was a tangled mess wrapped around the guardrail.

The pick-up truck had come to a harmless stop on the opposite side of the road. Waverly nodded. Are you? I'm gonna move my truck back to the other side of the hill to control the traffic," he told her. Waverly nodded and returned her attention to Death Wish. She tiptoed her way through glass and metal to kneel down next to his unmoving body. Blood trickled from a dozen shallow scrapes on his legs, but it was the nasty gash on his forearm that looked dangerous. Blood was pumping out of the jagged tear at an alarming-and disgusting-rate.

They were miles from the closest hospital, which meant Death Wish might just get what he wanted if she didn't do something. She yanked her tank top off over her head and wrapped it around the wound. When she applied pressure, Death Wish flinched. At least he wasn't already dead. When he started to move his legs in a bid to sit up, she shoved him back down.

She flipped up the half visor on his helmet. Waverly glanced around the debris field and then grinned. It looks like your camera went over the cliff. I've got Waverly Sinner involved in a car accident doing first aid with her shirt off and no god damn camera. A shaggy stick figure in jeans and a camo t-shirt picked his way around Waverly's car, fancy camera in hand. I'll give you a thousand bucks for your camera. Gotta get this bitch doing first aid," Douchebag Joe said, reaching a road-rashed arm toward the other photographer.

Arnie," he corrected himself, kicking at the bike's front fender. So if you can back your car down around the turn and leave the four ways on so oncoming traffic doesn't turn us into a guardrail sandwich, you can take all the pictures you want. His friend and partner, Micah Ross, shifted his rangy, six-foot five-inch frame next to him.

The joke’s on me

The butler, house manager, majordomo-whatever he was-had stoically led them into "Mrs. Sinner's private sitting room" where they had been waiting amongst cream-colored leather, ivory cashmere throws, and dizzying wallpaper that glinted like gold in the late afternoon sun.

The ceiling was draped with billowing fabric that gathered above a gilt chandelier decked out with about a thousand crystals. It was nothing like the tents Xavier and Micah had grown used to. After a long stint in Afghanistan with Army intelligence, Xavier had been recruited by the Defense Clandestine Service. There he met Micah when they spent a week crouched in a frozen ditch watching for a particularly slippery Taliban leader in Tikrit.

Many missions later and Xavier and Micah were disillusioned alumni of the intelligence world with a wealth of security knowledge. They'd put that expertise to work on the West Coast with Invictus Security, a private security firm that provided military-grade protection to those who could afford their services.

Two years out, and Xavier was still getting used to Hollywood mansions and diamond-studded clients. Micah had transitioned to the management side of things, while Xavier continued to chase the adrenaline out in the field and train new personnel. They earned their astronomical fees by offering security services that ran the gamut from protecting high-level executives from kidnapping and ransom threats all the way down to Xavier's personal nightmare, baby-sitting heiresses whose worst enemies were themselves.

Xavier had a feeling about this job. Through training and experience and well-honed instincts, his gut was practically clairvoyant. And his gut told him this job was trouble. He glanced out the wall of windows that overlooked a freeform pool bigger than most waterparks and checked his watch. The man's patience knew no bounds at work or home, where a hobby-of-the-month wife and three daughters-each with his dark hair and bronze skin that spoke of their Colombian ancestors-waited for him nightly.

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They'd been waiting for twenty-two minutes for the "emergency" that had required them to drop everything and fight their way through mid-day freeway traffic. Xavier didn't trust people who threw around the word emergency. Finally, one of the ornately carved French doors across the room opened.

A woman he'd seen on screens large and small glided in. She was a tiny figure in a billowing kimono over what looked like a silk and lace nightgown. Her blonde hair was pinned up in an artful twist and her face glowed with painted on color and contour. It was four-thirty on a Wednesday, and the woman was lounging in a nighty and fake eyelashes. His gut was never wrong.

Crossing the Line by Brianna Sinclair

A meeting ran terribly late. Forgive me? Judging from the slick look of her raspberry fingernails and the faint odor of acetone, Xavier was fairly certain what kind of "meeting" it had been.

She was on the early side of forty-five but could easily pass for younger. Even this close, Xavier couldn't tell if it was good genes or the steady hands of a very talented plastic surgeon. Sinner," Micah said, extending his hand. We understand you have a delicate situation. She brought a hand to the swell of her breasts in a practiced flirtation. The woman was used to having an audience. And please, both of you call me Sylvia. He wasn't about to start off a business relationship with a kiss.

Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Epilogue Author Anchored Chapter One Take Your Time Read Online Swipe version. Read Online Continuous version. Download now. download a paper book.

Crossing the Line by Riley Knight. Crossing the Line by K.

Crossing the Line by Simone Elkeles. Crossing the Line by Jen Katemi. Crossing the Line by Kimberly Kincaid. Be My Swan by Sophie Stern. Alien Dragon by Sophie Stern. Roses in the Dark by Sophie Stern. Wild by Sophie Stern.I remember, sign in. He needed to tell the woman—Marley—she was wrong. Even through the window, the velvety-black canvas stretched infinitely overhead, littered with stars ranging from faint smudges to brilliant bursts of light.

Chris Werner and Melody Guy, truly, there are no finer editors than you. Now that she finally had a bit of daylight on her side, Scarlett took advantage of her brief respite on the sidelines to check out her surroundings. Was that the first thought could take the direct path to hell, because Scarlett felt fucking flawless in his arms.

Cursing, Eli tossed the covers from his legs and plodded toward the bathroom.

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