Riding the Storm (ACRO World, Band 1) - Softcover

Buch 1 von 6: ACRO World

Croft, Sydney

 
9780385340809: Riding the Storm (ACRO World, Band 1)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 038534080X ISBN 13: 9780385340809
Verlag: Random House Publishing Group, 2007

Inhaltsangabe

A storm’s rage. A woman’s desire.

A man with the power to set them both free.

He can summon lightning at will. Emerge unscathed from the center of a tornado. Strip a woman down to her barest defenses through the sheer force of his sexuality. He’s gorgeous, dangerous, and the target of parameteorologist Haley Holmes’s latest mission. Haley has been dispatched to the Louisiana bayous to investigate the phenomenon known as Remy Begnaud–a man with a gift he never wanted: the ability to control a storm’s fury. But even a woman trained in bizarre weather phenomena has no defense against the electrifying power of the ex—Navy SEAL...a power his enemies would kill to control.

With her agency monitoring their every move, Haley’s job is to seduce Remy, gain his trust–and help him harness his extraordinary gift. But who will protect her from this voracious lover who’s introducing her to a new world of erotic thrills—a man who grows increasingly insatiable with each new weather event? Haley knows a big storm is approaching—and with it will come unexpected delights. But so, too, will the storm unleash her greatest fears: an enemy bent on destroying Remy. And her worst fear of all—falling in love with this magnificent man, then having to betray him.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Sydney Croft is the pseudonym for two other authors who each write under their own names. This is their first novel together.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One


T-Remy, where you at? Sa va mal.

"So what else is new, Dad?" Remy muttered, squinting through the darkness and rain the windshield wipers couldn't keep up with as he struggled to stay on the muddy road and redial his cell phone at the same time.

For his old man to say things were bad meant one of two things: Either everything was business as usual and he was being dramatic, or the world was coming to an end. There was only black or white with his father, which is why Remy found himself comfortably in the gray most of the time.

And really, things were always going badly for Remy Senior, and calling T-Remy, as he was known affectionately around these parts, was like calling in his own personal cavalry. Navy style. Except that Remy had resigned his commission last month and had taken his final leave from his SEAL team seven days earlier, something he was not looking forward to telling his father.

Following in the old man's footsteps, Remy Senior had told him proudly eight years earlier, then signed the papers allowing his son to enlist on his seventeenth birthday, right after he graduated high school.

The Navy had been T-Remy's way out of the bayou, and joining the SEAL teams had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Leaving them had been as well, but he'd always known, on every level, that he wasn't meant to be a team player.

So really, there was no excuse on God's green bayou not to visit and check on his father. Family was family, and all that crap, even though this was the last thing he wanted to do.

Still no answer. Not even a damned machine on the other end of either the house or cell line a full three days and seven hours since Remy senior's last call. He threw the phone down and pushed his truck forward on the muddy road leading to his old man's house. Hurricane season had hit the bayou hard this year, and he couldn't be sure if that's why his father had called.

Last night, Remy had been drawing again in his sleep–the same picture he'd been drawing since he was six years old, the same picture he'd been drawing every single night for the past six months, the fist against a background of clouds, clutching a handful of lightning bolts in a firm grasp–and he knew the hurricane that stirred from nowhere late last night was going to follow him inland from the coast. He'd always been a lure for storms. A human weather vane. Rumor held he'd been born during a hurricane, born and then left on the church's doorstep while the night winds howled around him.

There was no denying that there was something about him and weather. He could predict it, ride it out, always knew when Mother Nature was going to piss on his parade. His former teammates called him Storm, as more of a joke than anything and mainly when he wasn't around to hear it, because Remy never did take well to jokes.

Lately, Mother Nature had been working her magic overtime on him, necessitating the early retirement, and today was no exception. Especially when the bridge started falling away behind his truck. He tried not to look back in fascination as the heavy logs that had been there for as long as he could remember broke like matchsticks under the wailing wind.

Yeah, this couldn't be good. He didn't feel like taking a swim in the murky water below. Or losing his truck. Never mind his aching ribs, freshly injured from an attempted mugging when he'd left his apartment in Norfolk for the bayou.

He urged the accelerator slow and steady, not wanting to encourage the bridge to fall directly underneath him. Five more endless feet and he'd be crossed over into no-man's-land and he could worry about getting back out later.

Part of him wanted to stop the truck right then and there, stand in the middle of nature's fury and let her try to kick his ass. But his feeling of responsibility nagged at him harder.
No time for play, T-Remy.

But that didn't mean Mother Nature couldn't play with him in the worst possible way, and his cock hardened in painful reminder. He'd tried to ignore the urges that started last night while he slept, the ones that would normally drive him from his bed, hot, restless and prowling for anything to scratch his itch.

That wasn't going to happen tonight, and he forced himself to tamp it down, turn it off and, within fifteen minutes, his truck turned up the dirt path and pulled in front of the house he'd grown up in.
The place was still a shithole.

Three years away and a storm that split the heavens wide open over the bayou hadn't softened the memories, and he was glad he'd made the drive at night. Broad daylight wasn't going to be any kinder and he hadn't been expecting much anyway.

His truck moved easily over the pitted driveway and stopped just short of the ancient garage that had long since lost its door. He strapped his knife onto his left biceps with a black band of Velcro, because the local gators tended to get riled up during a storm, especially when they were displaced from their bayou home. More than a few times during his youth he'd been surprised by one or two lost ones that were just as pissed to see him as he was them. He'd learned how to alligator wrestle the hard way, a necessary survival skill around here.

He got out, grabbed his bag and went toward the back door before he lost nerve and turned tail. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he got, until it balled in his gut and hung there as he reached the door.

He'd lost the keys to the house, and tried to lose his way back too, years earlier. Of course, his father never locked the door. Hell, he couldn't pay a thief to come through this place.

The first thing he noticed when he flipped on the light was that it worked. Admittedly, he'd flipped it on out of habit, but he'd figured it was a sure bet the electric, and other bills, hadn't been paid in months. The only thing he knew for sure was that his father had called him from the house and now there was no sign of the guy to be found.

The next thing he noticed was that the kitchen was clean. Scrubbed clean. No dishes anywhere but in the cabinets, and there was even a cheerful yellow dish towel hanging on the stove handle.

The third thing he noticed was the sound of water running. His thoughts immediately went along the lines of a broken pipe or a leak in the roof. He dropped the bag and moved toward the bathroom.
A simultaneous burst of lightning and crack of thunder made the power flicker and then putter out as he reached the bathroom doorway. The storm illuminated the small bathroom briefly, just long enough for him to get a very good look at the beautiful naked woman in the shower.

Beautiful and naked, but not friendly. Screaming like a swamp cat caught in a coon trap, she hurled a bottle of shampoo at him. He ducked a split second before it could hit him, and it bounced off the wall behind his head.

Welcome home, Remy. This was going to be worse than he thought.

Haley Marie Holmes loved surprises. She did not, however, love strange men surprising her in the shower. In the dark. That she'd been expecting the strange man at some point didn't matter. He could have knocked.

"Get out of my bathroom!" she shouted as she pulled the cheap plastic shower curtain around her. The clear cheap plastic shower curtain.

"Your bathroom? This is my goddamned house, so I think you're a little mixed up, lady."

The voice was a low, controlled drawl, the sentiment behind the words anything but, and the man she hoped was Little Remy stood outlined in the light from the storm, dripping wet in the middle of the small bathroom, wearing a T-shirt, cargo pants and flip-flops, like he was coming in from a day at the beach instead of the outer bands of a hurricane. Except she'd never seen any man wear...

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Verlag
Random House Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2007
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
038534080X
ISBN 13 
9780385340809
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
353
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Universal Japan
https://www.universal-music.co.jp/

Jingumae Tower Bldg.
Tokyo
Tokyo
Japan
Verantwortliche Person
S.P.V. Schallplatten, Produktion & Vertrieb GmbH
martina_rimatzki@spv.de

Boulevard der EU 8
Hannover
30539
Deutschland

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