Skin Heat

Table of Contents

 

 

“Ava Gray at her best. Smart, witty, and bursting with memorable characters so real you can practically touch them,
Skin Game
delivers a powerful punch of danger and nonstop adventure . . . Ava Gray is a must read!”

—Larissa Ione,
New York Times
bestselling author

 

“Sexy, clever, and tightly plotted . . . Ava Gray has some serious writing magic.”

—Lauren Dane, national bestselling author

 

“Adds a tiny touch of the psychic to a riveting romantic suspense novel. Strong, nuanced character development adds depth to the danger . . . [The] chemistry sizzles.”

—
Publishers Weekly

 

“Ava Gray has written a very hot romance between two incredibly fascinating characters . . . The characters have a remarkably strong chemistry between them. Gray never skimps on the connection between the two, even as the story barrels along, full of action and excitement . . .
Skin Game
is a fast-paced, exciting story featuring fascinating characters, a terrific romance, and a thrilling conclusion.”

 

“Brilliant . . . The perfect package . . . Fascinating characters, excellent pacing and story line, tons of nail-biting suspense . . . and off-the-charts hot sexual encounters . . . My favorite authors make the characters come alive. And Gray has accomplished this in a truly unique and unexpected fashion.”

 

“Sexy . . . The delicious tension . . . adds spice to the story . . . The romance was particularly well done.”

“Compelling, mind-blowing . . . Raw and candid writing that allowed complicated emotions to come through loud and clear. It’s wonderfully written with a perfect pace, excellent character development, and an intriguing plot . . .
Skin Game
is a very good read for readers who appreciate romantic suspense with paranormal elements and a perfect must read for those of us craving unembellished writing, raw action, and strong characters . . . [Ava Gray] is an admirable storyteller and a most talented writer.”

—
Pearl’s World of Romance

 

SKIN GAME
SKIN TIGHT
SKIN HEAT

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

SKIN HEAT

 

A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / January 2011

Copyright © 2011 by Ann Aguirre.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-47683-3

 

BERKLEY
^®
SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
^®
SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

For Bree and Donna.
Thanks for your support, knowledge,
and your friendship; it means more to me than you know.
Well . . . I guess you know
now
, don’t you?
I’m bad at keeping secrets.

As always, I thank my agent first. Without Laura Bradford, none of this would be possible. She is one of the bravest people I know; she doesn’t hesitate to take chances and I benefit directly from that courage.

I also offer infinite gratitude to Cindy Hwang. These are the romances I dreamed of writing, years ago, when I first started reading the genre, and I will never be able to repay her for believing in me.

Next, I must mention Bree Bridges and Donna Herren. Without these two amazing ladies (and dear friends), this book wouldn’t be finished, let alone half so good. Bree listened to me with endless patience and helped me work through the snarly bits. Donna offered her invaluable expertise regarding forensic information and legal procedures. Halpern County is fictitious, but I did my best to make it feel real. As always, any mistakes or liberties are my own. Both Bree and Donna supported me when I had doubts, cheered me when I was tired, and were my biggest fans while I wrote, making me want to finish so they could read it. Thanks, guys. This book is for both of you since you loved Zeke from the moment I dreamed him up.

Thanks also to my husband, Andres. I broke my foot while on vacation in Acapulco, and though he had to be weary with working, running all errands for the kids, helping out at home, as well as doing all the shopping, he never once complained. He always made me feel like it was something he wanted to do, so I could focus on working and healing. Likewise, both kids pitched in and helped out, even more than I realized they could. I have seldom felt more cherished, despite the pain and inconvenience. So thanks to them all. They are the best family I could ever want. And thanks especially to Alek, who helped me figure out what sadness smelled like.

Here’s a shout to my friend, Ivette. It was wonderful seeing you in Mexico City. I appreciate everything you do; it makes my life much easier. I have made wonderful friends these past few years and you are among the best. Your achievements make me smile: I look at everything you’ve accomplished, and I’m so proud of you! I’m so fortunate to know you.

Thanks to Ashley Whitney, who came up with the name for Neva’s pet clinic. Thanks to all for being there to give me an encouraging word when I had a minute of downtime. Additionally, I’m sending a special thank-you to the Skin Posse, made up of fiction vixens and book chicks who first loved Reyes and couldn’t wait to read about Foster. Here’s hoping you love Zeke as much; he’s a different kind of hero. Many thanks to Stefanie Gostautas, the best proofreader ever. And thanks to the rest of my readers, who make it possible for me to keep writing. You guys are the best, and I love hearing from you.

All the animals
were gone.

Stolen, Zeke guessed. Or he hoped so, at least. He didn’t like to think they might’ve wandered off and died. At one point, he had some chickens and a cow. He’d planted what he could tend and harvest by himself; he’d never been able to afford laborers, not even the migrant kind. He grew most of what he ate. So he’d never had much money, just enough to pay taxes and keep the lights on. It was a simple life, but it had suited him well enough.

But he’d been gone a long time . . . and not by choice, so the farm carried a desolate air, the land bleak with winter. Standing in the drive, he had a clear view of the dead fields and the pine and oak forest that framed them. The earth still showed the last furrows he’d dug and the rotten harvest he hadn’t been here to bring in.

He couldn’t see the road, but he heard vehicles passing now and then. The detail unsettled him. Zeke knew when a car had a loose muffler, what engines needed the timing adjusted, and which ones could use a change of spark plugs. The surety made him sick because it wasn’t right. With a faint sigh, he started toward the steps.

The house, in all its Depression-era glory, had seen better days. Posts supported a sagging porch, and it had been charcoal gray, but the months of neglect and a hot, dry summer had left it looking worse than ever. It was lucky nobody had broken in—not that there was anything worth stealing. Maybe they’d even scouted the place through the windows and come to that conclusion themselves. A few panes were cracked—vandals, most likely, or just bored kids. Those repairs would keep.

His shoes crunched on loose gravel as he went up the drive. He’d walked the last two miles, after being dropped off by a friendly truck driver. The man hadn’t done anything to set off the prickly way Zeke felt about sharing the cab with him, but he hadn’t been able to stop watching him out of the corner of his eye, every muscle tensed. Every time the guy moved, Zeke felt like defending his territory. Stupid, considering he’d occupied the passenger seat in an eighteen-wheeler that didn’t belong to him.

With a tired glance, he took in the filthy gutters and the patchy roof. He didn’t like to think about how long it had taken him to get home. Hitchhiking wasn’t a safe way to travel, and these days sometimes people didn’t stop. It had been a long walk, complicated by the fact that sometimes he had to stop and take odd cash jobs in order to eat. If he’d been willing to steal to buy a bus ticket, he could’ve gotten here faster. But he hadn’t been willing. Robbing other people only compounded the crime done to him, so he’d taken it slow, worked his way home as best he could.

But no wonder things were in such a mess. The place required regular upkeep, and six months ago, before he was taken, he’d put things off because he needed to finish the planting. If he didn’t, then he didn’t eat come winter. It was just that simple.

Too clearly, he remembered going to a bar over in Akerville with a friend. A local band he liked had been playing and he’d had a beer or two while they ran through their sets. When he came out for some fresh air during the intermission, two men had grabbed him. Everything went dark, and when he woke up, it felt like a nightmare—only it had no end. Just pain.