Release date: February 16, 2015
Chef Mya Jensen’s plate is already full. She has her job, her motorbike, and her kickboxing and she’s the guardian of her disabled mother. She doesn’t need a man in her life, and she definitely doesn’t need her cocky new neighbor, Detective Luca Patterson, linking her to his latest investigation.
Luca has never crossed a professional line—until he meets Mya. She is sexy, feisty, and so many kinds of wrong, but he can’t stop thinking about her. Maybe because every time he’s onto a lead in his latest jewelry counterfeit case, her name pops up. But is she a victim or a suspect?
When Mya gets targeted by an old foe hell-bent on revenge, her secrets coincide with Luca’s case—and lead to an unexpectedly sizzling interlude in his bed. Will this independent woman try to fight her way out of this one, or finally open up her heart?
by Sandy Vaile
Sandy Vaile is a motorbike-riding daredevil who isn’t content with a story unless there’s a courageous heroine and a dead body.
An excerpt from Inheriting Fear:
Her brown combat boots pounded the bike track as her eyes searched the shadows on either side. Mya had made the same short journey five days a week for eleven years, but at night it still made the back of her neck prickle. She could buy a car and live in fear. Not a chance. Fear could go to hell.
Intermittent puddles of lamplight dripped onto the tarmac. Laughter and evening TV programs carried through the open windows of weatherboard houses along the railway track, and she inhaled a waft of grilled chops with the rail grease. She pushed her chef’s skull-cap into the back pocket of her jeans and wrapped an elastic band around her long hair. On the other side of the tracks, the Croydon Hotel emitted a bass beat that vibrated in the viscous humidity.
She glanced at her watch and picked up the pace. It was supposed to be her night off work, but the sous-chef wanted to leave early for a party, and it was Mya’s responsibility to make sure the kitchen ran smoothly. It wasn’t like she had a social life anyway.
An androgynous shadow ambled from the bushes ahead, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a hooded jacket. She moved to the opposite side of the track. As the shadow solidified it looked taller, broader, with a hairy chin protruding from the obscurity of the hood. A flickering fluorescent streetlight alternated the image of a man and an ominous silhouette.
They passed one another and he looked up. Red, glassy eyes devoured her from head to toe. A shiver ran up the back of Mya’s legs to her scalp. One side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile, so she nodded a greeting but kept walking.
With her eyes ahead and ears trained on his retreating footsteps, she breathed easier as each second passed. Walking the bike track at night certainly had its hazards, but it just wasn’t worth getting the motorbike out of the shed and donning all the gear to go a few hundred metres. Besides, she had as much right as anyone to be there, and she’d made herself a promise a long time ago to never let anything or anyone stop her from doing what she wanted. Fear was just an emotion and she could overcome those with steely resolve.
The footsteps behind her ceased and her heart flip-flopped into her throat.
Mya turned around slowly. The hood guy had turned around too, and his left hand held a beer stubby, but not at the base like he was about to take a swig. His long fingers were wrapped around the neck of the bottle, making it look more like a weapon.
A lump of panic stuck in her throat. Best to get the hell out of there, but it went against her training to leave her back unprotected. Her kick-boxing mentor, Ned, would clip her around the ear if she let anyone get the upper hand on her. When the thug finally took a long draught from the stubby, she hurried in the direction of the Croydon Hotel again.
“Whocha doin’ out ’ere in the dark, Mya?” he slurred.
She spun around and narrowed her eyes at the blackness beneath his hood. “Do I know you?”
He swayed closer. “Nah, but I know you.”