She’s a distraction he can’t resist…
A spark ignites the moment security specialist, Hamilton Crosby, meets stuntwoman, Dakota Sherrod. She’s like no other woman he’s ever met. But Hamilton never ignores his gut, and his gut tells him to stay clear of the enticing beauty.
Dakota is an adrenaline junkie. Leaping off buildings and running through fire is just another day at the job. Hence when she sets her sights on Hamilton, she goes after him full-force. Their attraction is fierce, but he thwarts her advances at every turn. He’s the strong, silent type who operates by a set of rules, but he’ll soon realize she rarely follows rules.
Falling for Dakota catches Hamilton off guard. So does the fact that she’s attached to part of his past. A past that indicted him with shame and loss. But when Dakota becomes the target of an unknown enemy, Hamilton stops at nothing to protect her. In turn, vindication is his reward, except it comes with complications.
Excerpt
“Shots fired!” he ground into the phone and jerked back to the other side of his truck as the individuals in the vehicle opened fire on Dakota’s building.
He could barely hear Laz calling his name when screams erupted. A car going in the opposite direction slammed on their brakes. People on the sidewalks scattered. Within seconds, the hit car peeled away.
Hamilton took off in a sprint toward the building. He yelled the address to Laz, knowing he’d heard the gunshots.
“A black and white is on the way,” his friend said into his ear. “And I’ll be there shortly.”
A sense of foreboding crawled through Hamilton’s body, unsure of what he would find when he reached the building. Still holding Dakota’s jacket, he pocketed his cell phone and kept his gun at his side as he slowed. Maybe Wesley’s fear for his daughter’s life wasn’t as far-fetched as she thought.
Another scream came from inside the building once he neared the entrance. Shards of glass from the double doors littered the sidewalk, as well as inside the lobby.
Hamilton eased his gun into the back waistband of his pants, making sure his jacket covered the piece as he entered the building. Foreboding inched through him when he spotted a body. The man Dakota had been arguing with lay lifeless, bullet holes in the back and blood painting part of the floor around him.
Some of the neighbors had ventured into the hallway, one with a phone to his ear sounding as if he was talking to a 911 operator, and another woman screaming for someone to do something. Both were standing in the middle of the staircase, keeping their distance.
Hamilton’s heart kicked against his ribcage as his gaze darted around the space, the pressure in his chest mounting.
Where the hell was Dakota?
He quickly checked the unmoving man for a pulse.
“Is he…is he dead?” the frantic woman asked, not as crazed as she’d been a moment ago. The man on the phone looked as if he was waiting for Hamilton’s response as well.
“Yeah. Everyone stay back. I already called this in, and the cops are on the way,” he said. He still had no idea what had happened to Dakota, but he did see blood smudges that started near the victim’s body and got thinner a few feet away.
He eased away from the body while the man and woman standing on the stairs weren’t paying attention and followed the trail. It stopped at the edge of a narrow hallway that curved around.
Hamilton pulled up short and his body tensed.
Hunkered down in a small area beneath the stairs, Dakota sat, blood covering her arms, hands, and the front of her sweater. Before Hamilton could say anything, her gaze shot up. She jerked back and bumped the wall. Her light honey-brown eyes were wide with alarm, and her face paled.
But then she recognized him.
Dakota opened her mouth to speak, but only a slight whimper came out as her chest heaved up and down rapidly. Her bloody hands and sweater stood out like a beacon of fire sitting on a hill.
He swallowed hard, scanning her body as he eased toward her. The sounds of people coming out of their apartments and sirens in the distance faded to the background. At the moment, she was his only concern.
Stooping down he moved his large body closer into the tight space, careful not to hit his head on the low ceiling. He kneeled next to her and set the jacket he’d been holding onto the floor.
“Where are you hit?” he asked quietly.
Copyright © April 2018 Sharon C. Cooper
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