RELEASE DATE: April 2008

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Excerpt

A short time later Syn joined her in the kitchen.

"What smells so good?" he asked, walking to the counter.

Tyra wanted to answer, but the sight of him cleaned up was the only thing she could focus on. 

His black pants hugged his hips and other parts in a way that was pretty much obscene and left very little to the imagination. Not that she had to imagine, she thought as heat stole over her face. She knew only too well what resided beneath that tight fabric. 

Blood droned in her ears as her body became white-hot.

He had his shirt draped over his muscular shoulder. He reminded her of some mythic god emerging from paradise. Perfect in every way. Never, ever in her life had she seen a man so gorgeous!

When she didn't answer, Syn turned around and stared at her. "Do you mind if I have some?"

Tyra forced herself to swallow. "No, go ahead," she said, diverting her gaze down to her own plate and hoping that he didn't notice the color on her cheeks. 

As he turned his back to her, she couldn't resist another look at his tantalizing form. Without a doubt, he had the nicest, firmest rump she'd ever seen. And for the first time in her adult life, she wouldn't mind a healthy serving of that rump roast. 

Once he had his plate full, he joined her at the table. He took a bite, then made a terrible face. 

Before she could blink, he dodged from the table to the compactor and spat his food out. Upset at his reaction to her cooking, Tyra put her hand on her hip and gave him a chiding glare. "It's not that bad!"

Grabbing a glass of water, he took two long, deep drinks. "No wonder you're so skinny. I'd die of starvation too if I had to eat that."

"Thanks a lot."

He turned contrite. "I'm sorry. But you could have warned me it was deadly."

Rolling her eyes, Tyra took a bite of her eggs. In all honesty she did have to agree with him. The eggs were runny and salty, the bacon burned, and the rolls wouldn't be too bad. Provided you used them as a doorstop. 

"What can I say, Chrysla and Phelix are the cooks in my family, not me." 

Syn grabbed a piece of bread from the glass container on the counter. 

"So what's our agenda?" she asked.

"First thing, I need you to help me tape my ribs."

"The Prinapin didn't work?"

"Prinapin is good for minor injuries, pain and cosmetic fixatives. But it won't do anything for more serious injuries such as cracked ribs."

Nodding her head, she set her fork aside. "Then what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to commit suicide."

She looked at him in shock.

"Not literally. I need to go back to my place for a few things. If I know the Trifs, someone will be there watching for me. So I need to leave you here and go it alone."

"Now wait a min-"

"Don't argue. I was trained from birth to break into buildings without being seen. You on the other hand-"

"Did a remarkable job breaking into your flat without your detecting me."

"Yes, but you did get caught."

She couldn't argue with him there. 

"It won't take me long, then I'll come back for you."

Would he?

She didn't know for sure. And she wasn't sure how much she trusted him on that issue. "Well, I think it's time for my shower," she said, reaching for the clothes she’d placed in the chair beside
her. "That is if you left any hot water."

"Nag, nag, nag."

Tyra just smiled.

"Wait," he said, stopping her before she left the room. "My ribs."

Some wicked buried part of her jumped in delight of being able to touch him so intimately. She couldn't wait. 

Tyra crossed the room and took the white ribbed sterile wrap from his hand. "How do I do this?"

He opened the roll and held a piece just above his navel. "Wind it tightly about my rib cage. But please, make sure it's not so tight that you cut off my circulation."

Tyra did as ordered. She lightly wrapped the bandage around his upper torso, her hands brushing against the hard, firm muscles. As her hand glided over them, she watched as they twitched and jerked in response. 

Her breathing labored, she did her best not to think about the desire throbbing like fire in her most private places. Or the chill bumps that spread over his flesh and hardened his nipples as
her fingers and hands brushed his skin. 

Or her own breasts that tingled and hardened, begging for his touch, his kiss. 

But the worst, most torturous part of it all was the step into his arms she had to take every time she drew the roll around his back. A step that brought her breasts straight up against his hard stomach.

Syn licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched her work. It took every piece of control he possessed not to pull her into his arms and sample the taste of her lips. He put his hands on the edge of the counter and held on so tight that his knuckles cut against his flesh, and the counter bit into his palms. 

This was an even worse torture than anything the Trifs had ever used on him. Hell, a few hours of this and he'd be begging for mercy!

She looked up at him and he saw the desire burning deep in the amber depths. His control shattering, he dipped his head to hers. 

Instead of fleeing, she leaned forward and then, just as he thought he'd have his taste of heaven, she pulled back.

"All done," she said, her voice strained.

His body on fire, he couldn't bring himself to thank her. At the moment, it was all he could do not to curse her. Surely unwrapped cracked ribs would have been a lot less painful than the unsatisfied heat that throbbed in his groin.

She glanced down briefly at his tight pants where he was sure his arousal was standing at full salute, and her face turned bright red. 

Without a word, she spun on her heels and took off for the bathroom.

"Don't take too long," he murmured, trying to shift himself into a more comfortable spot. "I'm definitely going to need a cold shower to stamp out this fire." 

Picking up his glass of water, Syn thought about dumping it inside his pants to help cool his lust. Instead, he took a deep drink and went to the front to look through the backpacks and to
inspect his boots. 

As he searched their gear, he smiled at Digger's thoroughness. There was nothing he'd left out. When it came to thievery, the old man was the best in the business and knew what any good
filch would need to confront any hairy ordeal. 

Grateful for that fact, Syn set the packs aside, then pulled on his boots and shirt. 

The door opened. Digger paused with an armload of groceries. "Nice to see you up and about."

"It's nice to be seen up and about," Syn said, taking the bags from him. 

"I was hoping I'd get back before you got up. Your girlfriend said she didn't know how to cook, so I was thinking I'd get you something solid for your ribs."

Syn laughed. "I'm afraid you're too late. She already poisoned me."

"Well, when a woman looks that good, she don't need to cook, now does she?"

Agreeing with him, Syn set the bags down on the kitchen counter. "Did you hear any talk while you were out?"

"Naw," he said, pulling groceries out of the bags and putting them away. "I put in a few inquiries, but the word so far is silent."

Syn rubbed his neck. "Yeah well, there were two guys on the street yesterday who made me. I figure it's just a matter of time before they gather up enough courage or alcohol to come after
me."

"Damn pity when a man can't even have a minute's peace." Digger looked up at him with an indescribable stare. "But then I guess you're used to that."

Syn nodded, then helped him put the food away.

Silence fell between them until Digger cleared his throat. As Syn turned around, he noted the sudden awkwardness. "What is it?"

Digger pulled out a chopping block and knife. "I know it's been you who's been stuffing my account."

"What account?"

Digger thumped the knife down on to a block of cheese. "Now don't you treat me like a fool, boy. Ain't no one else who would bother. I know it's been you all these years. I want to know
why."

Syn leaned back against the counter. "I owe you."

"You don't owe me nothing."

"That's not true. You got me out of prison."

"Yeah, but I helped put you there. If I'd been a man, I'd have taken you and Talia away from your da when your mom left. I should never have allowed the two of you to stay with Ian."

"You didn't know what he was capable of where we were concerned."

"I should have."

Syn sighed. "Yeah well, if ifs and buts were candy and nuts, then we'd never go hungry."

Applause sounded. Syn looked to the doorway to see Tyra standing there. She wore the same outfit as he, but he had to admit it looked much better on her. 

"I'll have to remember that," she said.

Digger looked up. "Sheridan here tells me that you tried to poison him."

She cast an accusing glare at Syn.

Before he could respond, a buzzer sounded. Digger leaned over and pushed the control button. "Yeah?"

"Digger," the lizard guard rasped. "A group of vigilantes just went up to your place. They found out about your guests and they are coming to get them."

Tyra cast a frantic look at Syn whose face was impassive. "What do we do?" Tyra asked.

Syn ran for the packs and slung one over his shoulder before tossing the other at Tyra. 

Digger locked the front door. "I can hold them off for a few minutes."

Tyra's heart pounded. Digger wouldn't last against young men. They were doomed.

Syn grabbed her hand and started pulling her to the bedroom. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Do you trust me?"

"No," she answered honestly.

"You better learn," he said before releasing her and throwing open the bedroom window.

As he started climbing out, panic took hold of her over what he would want her to do next.
"Oh no."

"C'mon, Tyra," he said, looking back at her. "We have no choice."

"No way," she said emphatically.

"Tyra!"

"I'm terrified of heights!"

He ducked his head back in. "You're what?"

"I get sick, Syn. Really, really sick."

He shook his head. "Great, leave it to me to find the one tracer in the universe afraid of a little height." He clenched his teeth, then looked back at her. "Give me your hand."

"Why?"

A loud thud sounded against the front door. "Open up, old man. Or we're blasting through!"

"It's me or the Trifs, Tyra. Who do you choose?"

That was a choice? "I choose option three," she said, giving him her hand.

Syn pulled her into his arms. "Hold tight and don't look down."

Tyra did as he said. Strong arms wrapped around her in a protective cloak an instant before they shot upward at a dizzying speed. "What the...?"

"It's a spring loaded chord," he said with a huff. He pushed her up over the lip of the roof. 

Trembling, Tyra crawled to safety. "What did this accomplish?" 

"Not much." Syn pulled himself up over the ledge and pressed the button to rewind his chord. He surveyed the surrounding rooftops then pulled a baton from the pocket on the outside of her
backpack. "Grab the one out of mine."

Frowning, she did as ordered.

Syn pressed a button in the center of the twelve inch metal cylinder and the baton expanded to six and a half feet. Before she could ask what it was for, he pole-vaulted over the lip of their
building to the top of another.

"C'mon," he said, looking back at her.

"You're crazy!"

"Certifiable," he answered with a charming smile. "Now move before we get caught."

Holding her breath, she followed. She didn't release her breath until she'd reached the safety of the next roof.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She glared at him.

He skipped over two more roofs like a graceful dancer. Tyra watched with envy. "You make this look so easy," she breathed. "If I fall I swear I'm going to kill you." 

Once she caught up to him again, he retracted the poles. "Remember where this is. It's the best friend a thief ever had."

"I'm not a thief."

"Oh yes you are, baby. You stole me from the Trifs. And I assure you Merjack considers it a worse crime than Grand Larceny."

"I really hate you. And stop calling me baby!"

He pulled her up against his steely chest. His eyes twinkled with merriment and he dipped his face so close to hers that his breath tickled her lips. Again her body throbbed. Her breasts
swelled. Her lips ached with the memory of his, begging for more.

"As long as I evoke some strong emotion from you," he said, rubbing his nose against hers, "I'm happy. Anything beats apathy." He released her and looked around.

Swallowing to dispel her whirling lust that left her dizzy, she stepped away from him. 

There wasn't a door or any other means of leaving the roof. "Where do we go from here?"

He leaned over the side and looked down. "How much do you weigh?" he asked.

"Around a hundred, why?"

He pressed a couple of buttons on the miniature computer terminal he had on his wrist. 

"How are we getting off this roof?" she demanded.

"You don't really want me to answer that question."

A cold chill crept up her spine. "Why?"

He spread his arms wide. "Come to, Papa, darling. We're going to take another ride."

"If you think I'm scaling down the side of this building-"

"We don't have time to scale it."

"Then what are we going to do?"

He spread his arms wider and gave her a devilish grin. A horrible lump grew in her belly. She must have died and been sent to hell, she decided as she moved toward him. 

Once she stood in front of him, he took out a strap.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he wrapped it around her buttocks and secured her to him in a most distracting way.

"Hold tight."

She was beginning to despise that phrase. Dutifully, she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

"Wrap your legs around my waist."

She clenched her teeth. "Hey now."

"It's not sexual. Just do it."

She obeyed, then wished she hadn't. They were locked in such an intimate embrace that it brought fire to her cheeks. Between her legs, touching the very part of her that begged for him, she could feel the tight muscles that lined his stomach. Her breasts were pressed firmly to his chest where they took up a dreadful throb of their own.

What was she doing?

And before she could finish that thought, he put his arms around her waist and stepped over the edge of the building. "Oh my God," she screamed as they plummeted toward the alley far below.

"Don't tip us," he hissed in her ear. "And stop that shrieking before you pierce my eardrum." His arms tightened around her. "Just hold on to me and pray."

Tyra buried her head against his shoulder and locked her limbs tightly around him. 

Suddenly, she heard him curse over the rushing wind. "What is it?"

"We're going to die."

"What!" she shrieked.

"Hold on."

"Hold on," she repeated in stunned disbelief. "What do you mean hold on?" 

Then she felt it. They were slowing down. Tyra closed her eyes and prayed. 

With one last jerk, they stopped falling.

"You can open your eyes now. We're safe," Syn said. "But you can stay in my arms as long as
you like."

Tyra looked up at him. "Good," she whispered. "Because I don't think I can move. And I know I can't walk."

He laughed, causing his stomach muscles to touch her in the most intimate of places. 

Tyra just stared at him. "How can you find this funny? You almost killed us!"

"Me? You're the one who lied about your weight."

"I don't think so. When was the last time you stepped on a scale?"

He cocked a brow. "Good point."

She extracted herself from his arms, then punched him in the arm. "You could have told me you had anti-grav boots. I thought we were dead."

"I didn't want to tell you what I was doing in case you decided not to jump."

"That was mean."

"You'll get over it."

"Only after I kill you."

"There they are!"