Collision Course

In
Trouble in Cowboy Boots,
once
again, storyteller Desiree Holt displays her talents by delighting readers with
a story that is wicked, wild, playful and so darn hot readers will be hard pressed
to put this story down! Right from the very first page, Ms. Holt creates an
enticing edge of action and adventure blending them perfectly with a
captivating erotic romance that leaves the reader a whole lot hot and bothered.

The Romance Studio

If you enjoy
hot, steamy sex and fast paced action, then the Night Seekers series by Desiree
Holt is not to be missed.

Happily Ever After

The rain
and the gloomy atmosphere it produced were a match for the heavy weight of
depression settling on Trey Haggerty’s shoulders.

Stupid
fucking report.

If
Charles Bennett hadn’t demanded it on his desk waiting for him the minute his private
jet touched down, Tate Jordan Haggerty III would have been home, kicked back
with a beer, watching television. But his boss, CEO of Bennett Global
Enterprises, was due to return from an unexpected trip to Bahrain no later than
four in the morning. As usual, he would stop by the office before heading home,
so the report damn well better be there.

“Have it
on my desk when I get there,” he ordered. “No excuses. And print it out. I want
to take it home with me and I don’t want to have to go hunting through the
computer for it.”

So Trey
had stayed to put the damn thing together long after everyone else had left. He
wanted the report to be meticulous for a number of reasons. Lately he’d been
puzzled by certain vague things he’d come across, things that teased at his
brain and didn’t make sense, and he wondered what to do. There was always the
chance he misinterpreted what he saw but a lot of the dots on subsidiaries and
major accounts didn’t seem to connect in a straight line. The more he
suspected, the more he wondered what the visible layer of Bennett Global
covered up.

Maybe
he’d just had a knee-jerk reaction. After all, Charles Bennett was a friend to
presidents, kings, world leaders. A respected businessman and philanthropist.

I
think I’m watching too many late movies and letting my imagination run away
with me.

In any
event, he’d keep his nose clean, do his job and make sure everything with his
name on it would stand up to any scrutiny.

Which
was why, at two o’clock in the morning, he’d been standing in Bennett’s office,
glancing through the pages one last time, his mind focused on the numbers. And
why, when the fucking phone rang, he forgot he wasn’t in his own office,
automatically reached for the receiver and picked it up, then froze when he
realized what he’d done.

No
one is to answer this phone. Ever. The calls are confidential.

How many
times had Bennett emphasized the message in staff meetings as well as his
one-on-ones with Trey? Beneath his words lurked an implied threat—if someone
answered a call on it there would be definite consequences. Trey had always
brushed it off. After all, what kind of dire steps could a businessman take in
retaliation? Fire someone? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Trey
started to put the receiver in its cradle the minute he realized what he’d
done, but before he could do so a voice on the other end growled at him. And
what he heard shocked the hell out of him.

“Bennett.”
The voice was harsh and heavily accented. “Good. You’re early. We have trouble.
The numbers from Funda are lower than expected, and more money needs to be
transferred at once. We have shipments to pay for and the cartel is all over
me. We don’t want more trouble. I know you don’t want them showing up at your
office, but my hands are tied. Promises were made. You’d better take care of it
now or there will be severe consequences.”

The
receiver suddenly burned a hole in Trey’s hand as the words penetrated his
consciousness.

Cartel?
What does he mean by the cartel? Which one? What the fuck? What is going on
here?

“Well?”
the voice prompted. “No answer?”

Trey had
to swallow twice before he could get any words out. “I-I’m not…What I mean to
say is…”

“Who are
you?” Sharp and threatening. “Where is Bennett? Why are you answering this
phone?”

Trey was
incapable of speech, the words hammering like spikes in his brain.

“I want
your name,” the man on the other end of the conversation demanded. “Right now.”

Trey had
slammed the receiver down, his hand shaking, his stomach roiling. He’d always
wondered why in the hell Bennett had installed the additional phone and why it
required so much secrecy. Now he’d gotten a hint of its purpose and he was
shocked Bennett had actually left it out. He wished he could wipe the
conversation he’d heard. It sent his mind racing in a hundred directions at
once.

“The
cartel is not pleased,” the heavily accented voice had said. “There will be
severe consequences.”

Cartel?
What cartel? What was Charles Bennett doing being involved with one? Of course,
there were oil cartels, and Bennett did business with some of them. But they
wouldn’t be calling on the “do-not-touch” phone. A dozen scenarios raced
through his brain, none of them good. Scenarios now making all the little hints
he’d come across appear in a new light. He didn’t need someone to tell him he’d
stepped into a huge pile of shit. If he could erase what he’d heard from his
mind, he would, but it seemed to be flashing at him in big red neon letters.

Dropping
the report on Bennett’s desk, he’d gotten the hell out of there as fast as he could.

How soon
before his boss found out what happened? Before he realized Trey had stumbled
into something that was none of his business? And the voice on the phone. What
actions would he put in place? If he wasn’t afraid to threaten a man like
Charles Bennett then Trey Haggerty would be merely a bug to be squashed.

What if
they’d already spoken?

No, no,
no. There hadn’t been time for them to connect.

Had
there? The stranger might have tried to contact Bennett on the plane.

A steady
mist made the streets slick and fogged the windshield. He paused at the exit to
the garage, checking to see if any car might be idling, its driver waiting for
him. Maybe someone already had been sent to follow him, trap him somewhere away
from the building.

Stupid.
It’s been less than an hour. Breathe. Just breathe.

But the
unfamiliar, gut-wrenching fear had him in a tight grip and he was taking no
chances with anything. Even as he concentrated on driving through the nasty
weather and keeping his eye out for anyone trailing him, he thought again about
the brief phone conversation.

The man
had mentioned Funda, no doubt referring to the Nicholas Funda Foundation. Trey
only knew Nicholas Funda had been a longtime friend of Bennett’s who’d passed
away a few years ago. The Foundation remained active but it happened to be one
of the accounts with
Hands Off
written all over it. No one touched it
except Bennett. Of course, no one else had the code or password. Its stated
purpose was to provide medical care and education in Third World countries.
Trey didn’t even know where the funding came from or if a board oversaw its
activities. He knew his boss managed it personally through Bennett
Philanthropic Associates.

Now a
million questions raced through his mind. Was the Foundation somehow hooked
into a drug cartel? More than one? Anyone watching the news knew cartels today
did more than deal in drugs. They facilitated illegal arms shipments and even
carried out assassination contracts. And he’d read enough about what they did
to people they considered threats.