Playing His Dangerous Game. Tina Duncan. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Tina Duncan
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon Modern
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781408926383
Скачать книгу
your so-called expertise has just made the situation one hundred times worse. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you’re one of my father’s paid minions. From now on keep out of my way—or there will be hell to pay!’

      Satisfied that she’d told him exactly what she thought of him, Shara spun on her heel and stormed out of the lounge room.

      She stomped up the stairs to her bedroom and snatched up her handbag and car keys. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to get out of here.

      How dare’d Royce put her down that way?

      Frankly, she thought she’d done one hell of a job.

      She was proud of the way she’d gathered enough courage to leave Steve. She was equally proud of the way she was ignoring his harassment.

      It wasn’t easy.

      Turning the other cheek was damned difficult at times, but she was trying to let his behaviour bounce off her.

      So Mr Just Plain Royce could put that in his pipe and smoke it!

      Exiting the house via the back staircase, Shara breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the garage undetected. She slid the key in the car’s ignition and was halfway down the driveway when she gave a victorious pump of her fist in the air.

      She was no more than half a kilometre from the house when she stopped smiling. A glance in her rear vision mirror turned her smile into a frown.

      There was a black sedan four or five cars back.

      The same kind of black sedan that Steve drove.

      Every time she made a turn the black sedan made a turn.

      Every time she changed lanes so too did the other car.

      Which, of course, could mean only one thing: Steve was following her.

      Her teeth came together with an audible snap, and a shiver of fear snaked serpent-like down her spine.

      ‘Oh, no,’ she said.

      Another quick glance in the mirror showed that the black sedan had closed the distance between them. It was now only three cars back, and getting closer all the time.

      Her hands clenched on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

      ‘You stupid fool,’ she muttered out loud.

      When was she going to learn that making decisions in the heat of the moment always backfired on her? When was she going to learn that when she was emotionally upset she almost always made the wrong decision?

      She’d accused Royce of making the situation worse not twenty minutes ago, and then what had she done?

      Stayed in the house where she was safe?

      Oh, no—not her.

      She’d had to try and prove a point by sneaking out.

      Had she thought of the possible consequences?

      No.

      Had she waited until she’d calmed down before deciding what her next step should be?

      No again.

      She hadn’t just landed on the snake’s head by accident this time; she’d jumped on it all by herself.

      ‘Damn it. When will I ever learn?’

      Royce peered through the front windscreen.

      He’d been quite content to follow Shara at a distance. Close enough to intervene at the first sign of trouble, but far enough back to let Shara think she’d made a clean getaway.

      It could prove interesting.

      Where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do?

      The more he knew about her patterns of movement, her routine, the better prepared he’d be to deal with whatever the future held.

      Information was power.

      That wasn’t supposition; it was fact.

      But that attitude belonged to five minutes ago.

      He’d abandoned the hang-back strategy thirty seconds ago.

      For one simple reason.

      Shara was being followed.

      There was no doubt about it.

      Every time Shara made a turn the black sedan several cars behind her also made a turn.

      Every time she changed lanes the black sedan changed lanes.

      Logic suggested this wasn’t a random incident. Logic suggested that Brady had been watching the house and when Shara had left he’d followed her.

      Cursing under his breath, Royce pressed the accelerator flat to the floor. The large 4WD leapt forward like a giant predator, gobbling up the grey ribbon of road beneath its tyres.

      Thoughts whirred through his head at lightning speed.

      Possibilities. Probabilities.

      He assessed them all and came up with a strategy to counter each one.

      Mixed in amongst all the analysing was a good dose of blinding fury. Not co-operating was one thing, but an outright attempt to evade him was quite another—and completely unacceptable.

      The stunt Shara had just pulled reaffirmed his opinion of her.

      Her actions were thoughtless and selfish, and he wouldn’t put up with such spoilt, self-absorbed behaviour—a fact that he’d make quite clear when he caught up with her.

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4RqeRXhpZgAATU0AKgAAAAgADAEAAAMAAAABAfQAAAEBAAMAAAABAx4AAAECAAMAAAADAAAA ngEGAAMAAAABAAIAAAESAAMAAAABAAEAAAEVAAMAAAABAAMAAAEaAAUAAAABAAAApAEbAAUAAAAB AAAArAEoAAMAAAABAAIAAAExAAIAAAAgAAAAtAEyAAIAAAAUAAAA1IdpAAQAAAABAAAA6AAAASAA CAAIAAgADqYAAAAnEAAOpgAAACcQQWRvYmUgUGhvdG9zaG9wIENTNiAoTWFjaW50b3NoKQAyMDE1 OjA4OjEyIDE3OjA3OjU0AAAEkAAABwAAAAQwMjIxoAEAAwAAAAH//wAAoAIABAAAAAEAAAXcoAMA BAAAAAEAAAlaAAAAAAAAAAYBAwADAAAAAQAGAAABGgAFAAAAAQAAAW4BGwAFAAAAAQAAAXYBKAAD AAAAAQACAAACAQAEAAAAAQAAAX4CAgAEAAAAAQAAGRgAAAAAAAAASAAAAAEAAABIAAAAAf/Y/+0A DEFkb2JlX0NNAAL/7gAOQWRvYmUAZIAAAAAB/9sAhAAMCAgICQgMCQkMEQsKCxEVDwwMDxUYExMV ExMYEQwMDAwMDBEMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMAQ0LCw0ODRAODhAUDg4OFBQO Dg4OFBEMDAwMDBERDAwMDAwMEQwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAwMDAz/wAARCACgAGQD ASIAAhEBAxEB/90ABAAH/8QBPwAAAQUBAQEBAQEAAAAAAAAAAwABAgQFBgcICQoLAQABBQEBAQEB AQAAAAAAAAABAAIDBAUGBwgJCgsQAAEEAQMCBAIFBwYIBQMMMwEAAhEDBCESMQVBUWETInGBMgYU kaGxQiMkFVLBYjM0coLRQwclklPw4fFjczUWorKDJkSTVGRFwqN0NhfSVeJl8rOEw9N14/NGJ5Sk hbSVxNTk9KW1xdXl9VZmdoaWprbG1ub2N0dXZ3eHl6e3x9fn9xEAAgIBAgQEAwQFBgcHBgU1AQAC EQMhMRIEQVFhcSITBTKBkRShsUIjwVLR8DMkYuFygpJDUxVjczTxJQYWorKDByY1wtJEk1SjF2RF VTZ0ZeLys4TD03Xj80aUpIW0lcTU5PSltcXV5fVWZnaGlqa2xtbm9ic3R1dnd4eXp7fH/9oADAMB AAIRAxEAPwDmOqXGrAutaAS0NgHiS5rVzVmbk3Ai21xaY9gMN/zQuh6wJ6ZeBzDf+rYuVU/Mn1jy RFJ6kcCfitTpXSa+o9M6hkh5GViCs00tiH+o704WSG6EkLR6Lk5GJbkPotdU80kENMbmB9Tr2Efn foPUsVeV1oyY64vULGrufVjomM/CGfl0+vY4ksa76LWD2hzmfR9zv312GJV0LrPTMjApfQ25sm2k Boe0t/OfS3Y9zG/6St//AFxVvqtWMFjGNHtIgNHadSFs2Y3T/tNVX2dpfWT