As of right now I don’t have the cover for this but I will updated it when I get it…

Unleashed will release October 2009!

And don’t forget about the contest…

Danny Taggart is the biggest, boldest badass of all the Gemini Men. There’s only one thing a woman can do with a man this hot, hard, and ready for action….

Tall, dark and rippling with muscle, Danny Taggart takes no prisoners. But when his latest case puts him up close and personal with the woman who once left him raw and aching, he’s shell-shocked. Caroline Medford is still hotter than hell. But she’s also got her pretty grip on the truths that have shaped him into the soul-ravaged warrior he is today. Burned once, Danny’s plan is to satisfy his craving for Caroline and walk away. Yet once he has her warm and willing beneath him, he can’t get deep enough—or close enough. Not even when danger threatens to destroy everything he’s ever fought for. Including the only woman he’s ever
loved…

“I’m so sorry.”

Danny was grateful his sunglasses hid his eye roll as he braced himself for another hug. His hand was stiff from endless handshakes, his brain numb from the meaningless condolences.

I’m so sorry. That’s what everyone said. But what were they sorry for? That she was dead? That they’d wasted years searching the globe for her when she was dead and buried practically in their own back yard? That Anne Taggart was in such a state when she disappeared that it was plausible – even probable- to most of the people who knew her that she’d walked out on her family?

Danny was really fucking sick of all these “I’m sorries.”

“At least now you have closure.”

Danny bit back a retort and returned his Aunt Cheryl’s embrace after she uttered the only words more annoying and offensive than “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of closure he was supposed to appreciate when the discovery of his mother’s body raised about a thousand more questions than it answered, like, starting with how did she end up dead in the first place and who the fuck decided an unmarked grave in a redwood forest was an appropriate resting place?

But he didn’t figure his Aunt Cheryl, who they hadn’t seen in over a decade, was up to discussing any of those hard questions.

Cheryl, his mother’s younger sister by two years, pulled back and clasped his right hand in both of hers. A niggling ache clutched his chest as he took in her carefully styled, chin length hair, its sunny blond color no doubt aided by a hairdresser, her lightly lined skin and watery blue eyes. Cheryl looked a lot like her older sister, and Danny knew this was the closest he’d ever get to seeing his own mother age.

He fought the urge to yank his hand away, slam himself into his jeep and haul ass back to his house so he could run for the hills and get good and gone for a few hours, maybe a few days this time.

He stood firm, returning Cheryl’s affectionate squeeze while he fought the blackness threatening to swallow him whole.

“If you need anything, anything at all, let me know, okay? You have our number right?”

Danny nodded, humoring her, bending his head so she could place one last, teary kiss on his cheek. He had no doubt she was sincere. In this moment, right this second, she meant he could call her for anything if he or his brothers were so inclined. But Aunt Cheryl and her husband lived outside Minneapolis, near her own children. Other than birthday cards and Christmas cards, they hadn’t had any contact once the initial stir caused by Anne’s disappearance died down. He didn’t blame her – she needed to get on with her life half a continent away. Still her offer to “be there” – whatever the fuck that meant, rang just as hollow as the endless “I’m sorries.”

Cheryl was followed by an endless stream of mourners, people he’d never met or barely remembered who’d shown up at Menlo Presbyterian today, supposedly to mourn Anne Taggart.

Or to rubberneck and rehash one of the biggest local scandals of the last decade was more like it.

He shook infinite hands, endured endless maternal pats as he watched Cheryl walk over to his father. The grim knot in Danny’s gut tightened as he watched his father woodenly return her hug. God, he hoped Cheryl didn’t say anything about closure horseshit to Joe. This was the last kind of closure Joe needed. The kind of closure that was going to drive his father into an early grave if they didn’t find something, anything, to point them in the right direction.

But this case was so cold it bordered on permafrost, and the police seemed content to leave it that way. Danny, Derek, and Ethan had been working non stop to find something – anything to go on, retracing her last days, going back through every pocket and purse and leftover scrap of paper she left behind.

And Joe had sat by through all of it, saying little, doing less, as he worked his way through a bottle of Ketel One vodka.

Danny was very afraid Joe was going to lose himself in the bottom of a bottle if they didn’t find something soon.

Finally the last of the mourners trailed out, and Danny made his way over to where his father stood with his brothers, along with Toni and Alyssa. Alyssa was doing her best to take one for the team, posing for the cameras and granting interviews to everyone as she tried to deflect the press’ attention away from the family. Danny uttered a curt no comment as he plowed his way through the throng and went to stand at his father’s side.

Like a bunch of good lemmings, the herd of reporters trailed Alyssa out to the parking lot. She threw them a wave over her shoulder, motioning to Derek that she’d call him. As the crowd moved, Danny could see one last mourner exit the dark interior of the church.

He did a double, then a triple take.

No fucking way.

His breath caught and his nostrils flared as he took her in. He knew the thick black waves spilling to her waist, the mouthwatering curves elegantly draped in black wool. Her dress went from neck to wrist to knee and should have been modest, but only served to highlight the lush swell of her breasts, the deep curve of her waist, the sexy flare of her hips. The heels of her black pumps tap tapped their way down the concrete steps and headed in his direction.

He dragged his gaze up to her face. Her luscious mouth was painted red and set in determined lines. Even though the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, like him she wore sunglasses, her oversize frames hiding half her face. As though, like him, she didn’t want to chance anyone getting a peek into her soul.

Caroline fucking Palomares.

No, he reminded himself. Caroline fucking Medford.

Raw emotion spun up inside him, threatening to take him down. Lust. Anger. And a bunch of other crap he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.

As she strode toward him, shoulders back, hips swinging like she had every right to be walking back into his life, today of all days, he struggled to put the lid back on the swirl of emotion struggling to break free. He reminded himself savagely of who she was. Caroline Medford.

Wife of James Medford, rich attorney twenty years her senior. The same James Medford who could give her the affluent lifestyle he hadn’t realized she coveted until it was too late.

The same James Medford she may very well have killed to keep herself in fast cars and high fashion.

She was not the seventeen year old who’d promised she’d never leave him when she gave him her virginity. She was not the twenty year old who’d sobbed when he’d announced his plans to join the Special Forces after he graduated from West Point. She wasn’t even the twenty two year old who’d told him to fuck off one final time before walking out on him without another word.

As she drew closer he focused on those differences. She was thinner, for one, he noticed as she got closer. And older, her mouth bracketed by fine lines that came from stress and age. Not to mention the wardrobe. He bet her outfit topped out at over a grand, even more if you counted the purse. A far cry from the wardrobe of a girl from a working class neighborhood who shopped at discount stores and went to private school on scholarship.

She was nothing like the girl he’d known, and he was nothing like the dumb kid who’d entertained romantic illusions like true love and happily ever after.

He took of his glasses, feeling a smile curl his lips for the first time in several days as she stumbled a little.

She was off center. Just the way he liked it. And he was in perfect control. Because Caroline Medford meant nothing to him.

© Jami Alden. All rights reserved