Zigzagging to the sounds of gunfire, Nova sprinted to the helicopter, leaped into the pilotâs seat and shoved the key into the ignition. Blades began to churn.
Leaning out the window, she yelled, âNow, Joe.â
He stood, and then twisted and fell, his right leg collapsing under him. She couldnât tell how badly he was hit, but he needed help. She opened the door, but before she could jump out, the three remaining thugs charged toward Joe.
The moment seemed to stretch out forever as she realized she must either take off without Joe, or all of them could be taken captive again.
He looked back at her. âGo!â he yelled.
I canât leave you! she mouthed back.
âGo!â he yelled again.
Discipline took overâfear for the people in her care. She slammed the door and lifted the bird to get it out of the line of fire as fast as possible. All the while thinking, Theyâll kill Joe. And I canât imagine the world without him.
Dear Reader,
To be able to write and share with you this series of Nova Blair books has been a lifelong dream come true. For that, Iâm grateful to Silhouette.
As a child I adored Wonder WomanâI wanted so much to be her. As an adult, Iâve created Nova, a modern-day Wonder Woman of beauty and courage. Iâve loved getting into Novaâs skin as she lays it all on the line to right wrongs and save good folks from evildoers. Iâve loved imagining that Iâve got her looks and talent. Iâve loved living her romance with her hero. I hope you find this latest adventure as exciting and fun as I did when writing it.
And as always, Iâd love to have you visit my Web site, www.jhand.com, and find out about my other books and perhaps even send me an e-mail.
Cheers,
Judith
JUDITH LEON
has made the transition from left-brained scientist to right-brained novelist. Before she began writing fiction some twelve years ago, she was teaching animal behavior and ornithology in the UCLA biology department.
She is the author of several novels and two screenplays. Her epic of the Minoan civilization, Voice of the Goddess, published under her married name, Judith Hand, has won numerous awards. Her second epic historical, The Amazon and the Warrior, is based on the life of Penthesilea, an Amazon who fought the warrior Achilles in the Trojan War. In all of her stories she writes of strong, bold women; women who are doers and leaders.
An avid camper, classical music fan and birdwatcher, she currently lives in Rancho Bernardo, California. For more information about the author and her books, see her Web site at www.jhand.com.
I am deeply indebted to my friends and writing colleagues who read all or part of this story and whose comments and criticisms were vital to making me work to write the best story I could. I extend to all of them my grateful thanks: Chet Cunningham, Arline Curtiss, Barry Friedman, Donna Erickson, Pete Johnson, Al Kramer, Peggy Lang, Judith Levine, Bev Miller, Ellen Perkins and Tom Utts.
Special thanks go to two others as well. My agent Richard Curtis has been both friend and guide to the world of publishing. And gratitude goes as well to my talented Silhouette editor Julie Barrett. Without Julieâs appreciation for my work and her championing of it, none of my Nova Blair and Joe Cardone adventures would ever have seen the light of publishing day. I will always be profoundly grateful.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
N ova Blair drew in a breath of Colorado Rocky Mountain air, savoring its cold, pristine edge, wishing she could stop time. She was thirty-four. Staying thirty-four forever in beautiful Steamboat Springs could be fun.
But tomorrow, after six days of skiing, hot mulled wine, fabulous dinners, dancing, and good sex, she and David, who was skiing next to her, had to leave. Time did not stand still. In fact, only eight shopping days stood between her and Christmas and she still hadnât found perfect gifts for the loved ones on her remarkably short list.
Dead ahead, the Storm Peak chairlift would drop the two of them at almost 10,400 feet at the top of this last run of their Steamboat Springs getaway. Every tree hunkered under the weight of glittering white crystals, soon to turn pink in the sunâs fading glow. Nothing here, at least in this moment, hinted at the dark side of human existence. How perfect it would be to remain in this moment, never doing a lick of work for the CIA again. Maybe the next time Smitty called, she would say no to him.
But go back to San Diego she must, to a tight schedule that would delay gift shopping still longer before flying out the next morning to New York to make an appearance at the latest showing of her photographs.