Nick of Time
Elle James
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
2004 Golden Heart Winner for Best Paranormal Romance, Elle James started writing when her sister issued the Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas hill country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you, what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in Information Technology Management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.
This book is dedicated to my daughters, Courtney
and Megan, who love reading as much as I do, and
to my son, Adam, who shares my love of fast-paced,
action-packed adventures. I love you all.
Nerves prickled on the back of his neck as Nick St. Claire climbed the steps in the Brooklyn apartment building two at a time. The heavy smell of garlic and onion filled the air in front of apartment 12-C, masking any other scents. His stomach growled, but he kept moving down the hallway to 12-H. He hadn’t eaten in twelve hours, but now wasn’t the time to remember unnecessary details.
His boss and friend, Royce Fontaine, moved on silent feet behind him. As a Stealth Operations Specialist, trained in all forms of warfare, including military operations in urban terrain, Nick understood the necessity of speed and surprise.
This mission wasn’t dictated by the government as usual with the SOS agency. The unauthorized, late-night flight on the SOS private Learjet had been in response to an e-mail message from Royce’s old Army buddy. Need your help. Life or death. Come now.
Royce had dropped everything, including an important case regarding death threats against a U.S. senator. He’d grabbed Nick on his way out the door of the SOS offices in downtown D.C., shouting for Tazer, one of the very capable female SOS agents, to cover for him while he flew to New York.
When Nick arrived at the door to 12-H, splintered wood didn’t bode well for what might be inside. He pulled the SIG-Sauer from the shoulder holster beneath his leather jacket and nodded to Royce. Then he plastered his body against the wall and pushed the door open wider.
Every piece of furniture was turned over or ripped; the room was a shambles. Nothing stirred in the living space, but a noise from a back room alerted Nick that they weren’t alone.
He slipped in first, followed by Royce. In a low crouch, Nick swept the room with his gaze for bogeys before he entered the hallway.
A weak moan echoed off the walls in the bathroom to the right.
Glass shattered, followed by a metallic clanging in the room to the left.
Nick pointed at Royce and then to the bathroom. He then pointed at himself and the room with the clanging noise. Without waiting for his boss’s response, Nick leaped over scattered clothing, books and tables and burst into a bedroom, weapon at the ready. Whoever had broken the window was probably down the fire escape by now.
“Not without backup, St. Claire!” Royce hissed behind him.
Nick ignored Royce, not stopping until he reached the window. He paused