For the Sake of Their Son. Catherine Mann
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m completely serious.” Elliot’s fingers twisted in Lucy Ann’s ponytail.
“Let. Go. Now,” she said, barely able to keep herself from hauling him in for a kiss. “Sex will only complicate matters.”
“Or it could simplify things.” He released her hair slowly, his stroke tantalizing all the way down her arm.
“Lucy Ann?” His bourbon-smooth tones intoxicated her parched senses. “What are you thinking?”
“My aunt said the same thing about the bonus of friends becoming … more.”
He laughed softly, the heat of his breath broadcasting how close he’d moved to her. “Your aunt has always been a smart woman. Although, I sure as hell didn’t talk to her about you and I becoming lovers.”
“You need to quit saying things like that. You and I need boundaries for this to work.”
His gaze fell to her mouth for an instant that stretched to eternity. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
* * *
For the Sake of Their Son is part of The Alpha Brotherhood series: Bound by an oath to make amends, these billionaires can conquer anything … but love.
For the Sake
of Their Son
Catherine Mann
USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN lives on a sunny Florida beach with her flyboy husband and their four children. With more than forty books in print in over twenty countries, she has also celebrated wins for both a RITA® Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. Catherine enjoys chatting with readers online—thanks to the wonders of the internet, which allows her to network with her laptop by the water! Contact Catherine through her website, www.catherinemann.com, find her on Facebook and Twitter (@CatherineMann1) or reach her by snail mail at PO Box 6065, Navarre, FL 32566, USA.
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For my children.
Contents
One
Elliot Starc had faced danger his whole life. First at the hands of his heavy-fisted father. Later as a Formula One race car driver who used his world travels to feed information to Interpol.
But he’d never expected to be kidnapped. Especially not in the middle of his best friend’s bachelor party.
Mad as hell, Elliot struggled back to consciousness, only to realize his wrists were cuffed. Numb. He struggled against the restraints while trying to get his bearings, but his brain was still disoriented. Last he remembered, he’d been in Atlanta, Georgia, at a bachelor party and now he was cuffed and blindfolded, for God’s sake. What the hell? He only knew that he was in the back of a vehicle that smelled of leather and luxury. Noise offered him little to go on. Just the purr of a finely tuned engine. The pop of an opening soda can. A low hum of music so faint it must be on a headset.
“He’s awake,” a deep voice whispered softly, too softly to be identified.
“Damn it,” another voice hissed.
“Hey,” Elliot shouted, except it wasn’t a shout. More of a hoarse croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Whatever the hell is going on here, we can talk ransom—”
A long buzz sounded. Unmistakable. The closing of a privacy window. Then silence. Solitude, no chance of shouting jack to anyone in this...
A limo, perhaps? Who kidnapped someone using a limousine?
Once they stopped, he would be ready, though. The second he could see, he wouldn’t even need his hands. He was trained in seven different forms of self-defense. He could use his feet, his shoulders and his body weight.
He would be damned before he let himself ever be helpless in a fight.
They’d pulled off an interstate at least twenty minutes ago, driving into the country as best he could tell. He had no way of judging north, south or west. He could be anywhere from Florida to Mississippi to South Carolina, and God knows he had enemies in every part of the world from his work with Interpol and his triumphs over competitors in the racing world.
And he had plenty of pissed-off ex-girlfriends.... He winced at the thought of females and Carolina so close together. Home. Too many memories. Bad ones—with just a single bright spot in the form of Lucy Ann Joyner, but he’d wrecked even that.
Crap.
Back to the present. Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the blindfold, sparking behind his eyes like shards of glinting glass.
One thing was certain. This car had good shock absorbers. Otherwise the rutted road they were traveling would have rattled his teeth.
Although his teeth were clenched mighty damn tight right now.
Even now, he still couldn’t figure out how he’d been blindsided near the end of Rowan Boothe’s bachelor party in an Atlanta casino. Elliot had