Escaping from her abusive fiancé, Alexa O’Brien pulls into a gas station only to walk in on an execution. She’s in protective custody until she can identify Nicoli Zabat, Montreal’s mob boss, at his trial. But her safe house has been compromised, setting in motion a dangerous cat-and-mouse game.
Lieutenant Mike Delorme on the Sûreté Du Québec has spent the last eighteen months undercover in narcotics to take down Zabat, the man he blames for the death of his wife and unborn child. He doesn’t have the interest or patience to babysit a woman whose memory isn’t clear—but he’ll carry out his assignment to show the brass he’s a team player.
As Mike and Alexa dodge danger, it appears she’s in deeper than merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When the mafia hit she witnessed is revealed to be just the tip of an international terrorist’s plot, they must rely on each other to survive—but only if they can learn to trust their instincts and let love map out their next move.
by Susanne Matthews
Sensuality Level: Behind Closed Doors
A former high school teacher, Susanne Matthews lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, the inspiration for all her heroes. When she’s not writing, she enjoys camping in summer, and romantic getaways in winter. Find Susanne Matthews at www.mhsusannematthews.ca/, on Facebook, and on Twitter @jandsmatt.
An excerpt from No Good Deed:
Alexa O’Brien white-knuckled the steering wheel, her foot barely touching the accelerator as she followed the taillights of the pickup truck ahead of her. She didn’t dare stay any farther back. If she did, she wouldn’t see the guiding lights at all and would end up in the ditch. Of course, if the truck went off the road, she would be up Shit Creek without a paddle.
She snorted, fluttering her lips. “Damn you, Mother Nature. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
The tires on the old wreck she’d bought were almost as bald as her stepfather had been. What a lecture he would give her if he could see her now. Another man who’d claimed he knew what was best for her. In this case, he was probably right, but he’d been wrong too many times to count. It was her life—her mistakes to make—and while some of them had been doozies, she’d taken control once more.
Pray God she didn’t have to brake suddenly.
She’d planned her escape so carefully, timed it to coincide with Richard’s trip to Africa, and now this. Where the hell had a foot of snow come from? It was the middle of April. Even in Canada, that meant spring.
The distance between her car and the vehicle ahead shortened. Alexa eased up on the accelerator. What was she doing? Twenty miles per hour? Maybe twenty-five?
The lights ahead turned a deeper red. She was coming up on the truck too fast.
She moved her foot from the gas pedal to the brake, pumping the pedal twice, but it didn’t help. She screeched. Like Bambi on ice, the car swerved, spun around twice, and then skidded to the right. Time stood still—the car didn’t.
Think, Alexa, think. What did you learn in that damn defensive driving course?
Heart pounding, stomach roiling, she took her foot off the brake and slowly turned the steering wheel until the tires of the car pointed into the skid, praying the damn things would grip.
Donuts in a parking lot were one thing, but they weren’t quite so much fun at night, on an unfamiliar road, during a frigging snowstorm.
She trembled, holding the steering wheel so tightly she was sure her fingerprints were embedded in the plastic. All she could see were the trees coming at her, but ever so slightly, the car slowed, straightened to face the direction she wanted it to, and stopped less than three feet from the pickup’s tailgate.
Her heart thundered in her ears, and she exhaled heavily. While she wasn’t directly behind the small truck, she was back on the road, no worse for the wear, even if she did feel like a cat who’d just lost another life. Shaking so badly that she had trouble shifting the car into park, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, waiting for her heart to slow.
Someone tapped on her window, and she jumped.
Who the hell would be walking on the road in this weather?
A second tap, harder and more urgent than before, gave her no choice. Scraping away the frost on the inside of the window, she was blinded by the sudden brief flash of light in her face. Bile rose in her throat, and her heart resumed its frantic pace. Hand trembling, she rolled down the window.