9780312937621: Chosen Prey
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0312937628 ISBN 13: 9780312937621
Verlag: St Martin's Press, 2007

Inhaltsangabe

Five years after escaping from a cult, Lyra Collins has built a new life for herself in a small Arizona artists' colony, until ex-cop Dare Lancaster accidentally leads a group of fanatical cult members to her door, and he is forced to step in to protect her from Neal Barker, who believes that he and Lyra are destined to produce the next Messiah. Original.

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Award-winning author CHEYENNE McCRAY has a passion for sensual romance and a happily-ever after…but always with a twist. Among other accolades, Chey has been presented with the prestigious Romantic Times BOOKreview’s Reviewers’ Choice Award for “Best Erotic Romance of the Year.”
 
Chey has been writing ever since she can remember, back to her kindergarten days when she penned her first poem. She always knew one day she would write novels, hoping her readers would get lost in the worlds she created, as she did when she was lost in a good book. Cheyenne enjoys spending time with her husband and three sons, traveling, and of course writing, writing, writing.
 
Visit Cheyenne’s Web site at: www.cheyennemccray.com


New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cheyenne McCray writes the Night Tracker novels and the Armed and Dangerous series, among others. She grew up on a ranch in southeastern Arizona. She has been writing ever since she can remember, back to her kindergarten days when she penned her first poem. She always knew one day she would write novels—she wanted to create worlds that readers would get lost in, just as she had always gotten lost in her favorite books. “Growing up I read, read, and read,” she says, “and grew up to write, write, write.” She has three sons and two dogs. A true Arizona native, she loves the desert and all of the sunshine and beautiful sunsets that go along with it.

Von der hinteren Coverseite

Cheyenne McCray has enchanted readers with her sensual paranormal romances. Now comes her first novel of steamy romantic suspense--a high-octane thriller about a woman running from her past and her own deepest desires.

PerilLyra Collins has made a life for herself in a sleepy artists' community in Arizona. Having escaped from a cult five years ago, she keeps a low profile, making a living as an artist. But when a mysterious man with a dark, dangerous look appears on her doorstep, she knows it's time to run again.

PassionFormer cop Dare Lancaster didn't mean to lead a bunch of fanatical cult members straight to Lyra's door. But now that he's gotten her into this mess, he's determined to get her out. The frantic heat their bodies generate whenever they're together makes him want to save her

ProphecyNeal Barker's grandfather was the first Prophet Jericho, and Neal now rules the Temple of Light commune unchecked. According to his visions, he and Lyra are destined to produce the new Messiah, so he will stop at nothing to make her his own. But soon Dare will discover just how far he'll go to protect Lyra--and never let her go.

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Chosen Prey
CHAPTER ONE
They'd found her. After all these years they'd found her.
Lyra gripped the plastic grocery bag tight in one fist and swallowed hard as she stood in her doorway and slowly turned to face the tall man on her porch. She hadn't even heard him following her until she'd opened her front door.
He'd called her by her real name. Only The People knew her real name.
"Lyra Collins?" the man repeated in a bass rumble that made her skin tingle. His eyes were shadowed by a Stetson pulled low over his forehead.
Her heart pounded as she took a step backward into her home. Adrenaline surged through her body and she fought a wild urge to run.
And run fast.
The man was frighteningly large, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist leading to lean hips. A black western shirt was tucked into black Wranglers molded to powerful thighs.
She ground her teeth at the thought of the bad guy from the Wild West, dressed all in black, coming togun her down. Any other day, in any other situation, the whole scene might have been funny. Lyra saw no humor in it now. This handsome bastard was probably a Wild West bad guy, modern-religious style, and he might just have a six-gun hidden somewhere she couldn't see.
The People were relentless.
She moved her free hand to the door frame. She clenched it so tight her nails dug into the splintered wood. Over the stranger's shoulder, she saw neighborhood children playing in the July sunshine-bright street, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the fear coursing through her body. Behind the children was the side of the hill where a steep set of concrete steps led down to Main Street. If she had a chance she could make a run for it. Head someplace she could disappear again.
The man frowned. "Are you all right, ma'am?"
Lyra raised her chin. She did her best to gather her composure, battling her fear and more tingles from the rich, deep sound of his voice. She cleared her throat, dismissing his almost hypnotic effect on her. "Who are you?"
"Dare Lancaster." He touched the brim of his hat in a gentlemanly gesture that surprised her--but didn't fool her. "One of your relatives has been trying to get ahold of you, and I thought I'd let you know. A man named Ryan came to my office and said a Neal Barker is trying to find you."
Neal? Oh, my God. So I'm not being foolish or paranoid. I should have known this couldn't last forever!
Blood drained from Lyra's face. She could feel itseeping down her throat and trickling from her body to the stained carpet beneath her feet.
Neal. The Prophet of the Temple of Light.
Her hand crept from the door frame to the canister she kept bracketed there.
"I--I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." She started to push the door shut, but the man stuck his booted foot between the door and the jamb.
Terror ripped through Lyra like an ice-cold wind. She dropped the grocery bag and vaguely heard glass shatter and the thump of the bag of dry cat food hitting the carpet. In a movement so fast she surprised herself, Lyra yanked the can of pepper spray out of the holster beside the door and aimed it at the man.
She pressed down on the release as hard as she could and a fine mist sprayed him full in the face.
"Ah, hell." Instead of dropping and writhing on the porch like she'd expected him to, the man merely pinched the bridge of his nose and moved his boot out of the doorway. "A simple no would've been better."
Lyra slammed the door, locked and bolted it, and slid the chain lock into place. Her body trembled so badly she could hardly stand. Her own eyes stung from a bit of the pepper spray that had floated back to her on the light breeze.
Blinking away hot tears, she peeked out the peephole and watched the intimidating man shake his head, pause, then stride to a large black truck parked across the street.
Odd. The People didn't often travel alone, and they didn't give up so easily. They never gave up, in fact. And the men always wore their hair in a long fishtailbraid and had goatees. This cowboy must be a hired gun, so to speak.
She stared as the man gave his head one more shake and rubbed his eyes. He grabbed the door frame to climb into his truck. She could see the perfect lines of his powerful form and the graceful, decisive way he moved. No distractions for that cowboy. He seemed too sure of himself to belong to the Temple of Light. Too ... in control.
She blew out a ragged breath, coughing against the pepper spray. Just before hauling himself up and into his truck, the man turned and studied her home for a moment and her heart nearly stopped beating. The way his eyes narrowed and focused made her feel like the door wasn't there at all. That he was looking straight into her soul.
Her heart began pounding and her stomach churned, acid rising up in her throat.
But the man just climbed into his truck and slammed its door shut.
Lyra turned and sagged against the door and dropped the can of spray. She slid down the wood to land on her ass next to the ruined groceries.
The truth struck her full force again, erasing the remnants of gooseflesh with clammy waves of dread.
They'd found her.
 
Dare's eyes burned like shit as he sat in his truck. If it weren't for his police academy training years ago, he wouldn't have been able to walk straight after a direct hit.
"Well, hell." That hadn't gone exactly as planned. Obviously the woman was scared to death of this Neal Barker. Looked like he'd just have to contact Ryan Holstead and let him know that Neal Barker's "cousin" didn't want to be contacted--if in fact she was the man's relative.
In most situations Dare didn't contact--hell, in all previous cases he hadn't contacted--the client's relative or friend, just left that up to the client. But this time something in Dare's gut had told him to check out Lyra Collins for himself. Something in the sound of the client's voice had nagged at him.
Apparently his gut had been right.
Just who was Barker, and why did his name scare the woman enough for her to shoot Dare with pepper spray?
The laughter of the children playing in the street would have made him smile if his eyes weren't hurting so damn bad. The two girls and two boys scampered away and into the house next door, then the street was quiet.
Dare turned his attention back to the little house that wasn't much more than a hole in the wall along a street that wound around the mountainside. He figured Lyra Collins was watching him and no doubt she'd be calling the cops if he didn't get his ass out of there.
And he was in no mood to talk to cops. The memory of the reason he'd left the force in Tucson was always like a punch to the gut. He rubbed his right shoulder, remembering the incident from seven years ago when he'd let his partner down.
When his partner had died.
Dare had been a private investigator since and only dealt with the police when he had to.
He brought his attention back to Lyra Collins and blinked again from the burn in his eyes. His PI partner, Nick, would have a heyday--Dare would never live down taking a full-in-the-face from a scared mark.
He ground his teeth and grabbed a couple of the tissues from his glove compartment that his housekeeper always insisted he keep on hand. He rubbed the spray the best he could from the corners of his now-watery eyes. If it didn't normally make the sting worse, he'd stop at Manny's Restaurant and wash the crap out of his eyes.
After tossing the tissues aside, he turned the ignition, put...

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Verlag
St Martin's Press
Erscheinungsdatum
2007
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0312937628
ISBN 13 
9780312937621
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
336
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