Read Online Savage Secrets (Titan #6) by Cristin Harber - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cristin Harber
Tags: sexy, Contemporary Romance, London, romantic suspense, Erotic, Spain, Alpha, military romance, Savage Secrets, Cristin Harber
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Life advice from Bear would be something like survive the wild, and get out alive. All very pertinent to the woman and the job occupying his thoughts. He would order room service. Sounded like a plan. He also sounded like a freakin’ chick. Christ.
“I can help you with that, if you like.”
He raised his eyebrows. Still distrustful, he would’ve put his hand on his sidearm, but it wasn’t there. “How’s that?”
"If I could get your name, sir?" He unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt. "I can confirm with the concierge and let you in.” He looked at the hotel room door then at Rocco. “You look like you need a break tonight.”
A break? Yeah, one of those would be handy. What was the name Caterina had used to make the reservation? Something Spanish… something she said she’d never forget. What was it? Bingo . “Last name de Campoamor. First name Dehesa.”
A minute later, he said thanks and walked into a very quiet hotel room. “Cat?”
Nothing. She wasn’t there. Guess it was easier for her to walk out then bother waiting for him to return. Knowing that crazy lady, she’d stalked down El Mateperros and was reading him the riot act, in Spanish. Then she’d string him up to a metal bar and pull out her electrical wires. She seemed to have a hard-on for taking it to Team Bad Dudes. The woman had become his definition of ideal.
He did a lap around the room. His bags weren’t packed and waiting. Not that he had any personal effects, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. A pink dress lay crumpled on the floor next to an empty beer bottle. Somehow, that made him miss her even more. Damn it. He’d left an ex-girlfriend at home who wanted nothing more than to create some cohabited life together. That’d been all wrong. Settling down hadn’t been for him. Rocco tried. Didn’t work. But now Caterina’s dress was abandoned on the floor, and he’d give his left nut if she’d walk back in and finish this job with him, if she’d pretend to want to spend the night with him, if she could just lay down in his arms and fall asleep.
Rocco had several options. He could sit alone in room five twenty-one. He could go for a walk. Both of those gave him the option to map out a strategic response for when he saw Caterina. Or he could visit the hotel bar. Throwing a couple back seemed like the best idea. He hit the shower and then sulked downstairs to the bar because the mini-bar wasn’t going to do it. On the way to the first floor, he passed the guy who’d let him in his room. Dude gave him a knowing glance, one that said sorry about trouble in paradise. You have no idea .
He rounded the corner toward the hotel’s bar and grill and came up short. Closed glass doors and a “closed sign” just about tore his heart out. Couldn’t even grab a beer. It was the second time tonight that he’d been hanging on a closed door. The hotel guy meandered over. Rocco didn’t trust him, turned, and walked away, this time more comfortable that he did have a sidearm.
“Excuse me, Mr. de Campoamor?”
Right. That was him. Undercover work seriously wasn’t his thing, and Rocco really didn’t want a conversation. He stopped and stared back at the closed doors, willing the guy to walk away.
“I believe your wife is still in there. She closed the place down.”
That got his attention. Rocco changed tactics, from ignore to inquire. “My wife?” He looked through the glass into the darkened room, and turned back. “Is in there?”
The man nodded, and Rocco couldn’t figure out his MO. “Seemed like she was having a bad night too. Asked the bartender if she could stick around for a little bit.”
Who was this guy? Some kind of hotel concierge couples counselor? Rocco was always ready for a setup, but the more he didn’t want to trust it, the more it was too obvious not to trust. What was the likelihood that enemy combatants were waiting for him on the other side of the door? Probably nil.
There
Life advice from Bear would be something like survive the wild, and get out alive. All very pertinent to the woman and the job occupying his thoughts. He would order room service. Sounded like a plan. He also sounded like a freakin’ chick. Christ.
“I can help you with that, if you like.”
He raised his eyebrows. Still distrustful, he would’ve put his hand on his sidearm, but it wasn’t there. “How’s that?”
"If I could get your name, sir?" He unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt. "I can confirm with the concierge and let you in.” He looked at the hotel room door then at Rocco. “You look like you need a break tonight.”
A break? Yeah, one of those would be handy. What was the name Caterina had used to make the reservation? Something Spanish… something she said she’d never forget. What was it? Bingo . “Last name de Campoamor. First name Dehesa.”
A minute later, he said thanks and walked into a very quiet hotel room. “Cat?”
Nothing. She wasn’t there. Guess it was easier for her to walk out then bother waiting for him to return. Knowing that crazy lady, she’d stalked down El Mateperros and was reading him the riot act, in Spanish. Then she’d string him up to a metal bar and pull out her electrical wires. She seemed to have a hard-on for taking it to Team Bad Dudes. The woman had become his definition of ideal.
He did a lap around the room. His bags weren’t packed and waiting. Not that he had any personal effects, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. A pink dress lay crumpled on the floor next to an empty beer bottle. Somehow, that made him miss her even more. Damn it. He’d left an ex-girlfriend at home who wanted nothing more than to create some cohabited life together. That’d been all wrong. Settling down hadn’t been for him. Rocco tried. Didn’t work. But now Caterina’s dress was abandoned on the floor, and he’d give his left nut if she’d walk back in and finish this job with him, if she’d pretend to want to spend the night with him, if she could just lay down in his arms and fall asleep.
Rocco had several options. He could sit alone in room five twenty-one. He could go for a walk. Both of those gave him the option to map out a strategic response for when he saw Caterina. Or he could visit the hotel bar. Throwing a couple back seemed like the best idea. He hit the shower and then sulked downstairs to the bar because the mini-bar wasn’t going to do it. On the way to the first floor, he passed the guy who’d let him in his room. Dude gave him a knowing glance, one that said sorry about trouble in paradise. You have no idea .
He rounded the corner toward the hotel’s bar and grill and came up short. Closed glass doors and a “closed sign” just about tore his heart out. Couldn’t even grab a beer. It was the second time tonight that he’d been hanging on a closed door. The hotel guy meandered over. Rocco didn’t trust him, turned, and walked away, this time more comfortable that he did have a sidearm.
“Excuse me, Mr. de Campoamor?”
Right. That was him. Undercover work seriously wasn’t his thing, and Rocco really didn’t want a conversation. He stopped and stared back at the closed doors, willing the guy to walk away.
“I believe your wife is still in there. She closed the place down.”
That got his attention. Rocco changed tactics, from ignore to inquire. “My wife?” He looked through the glass into the darkened room, and turned back. “Is in there?”
The man nodded, and Rocco couldn’t figure out his MO. “Seemed like she was having a bad night too. Asked the bartender if she could stick around for a little bit.”
Who was this guy? Some kind of hotel concierge couples counselor? Rocco was always ready for a setup, but the more he didn’t want to trust it, the more it was too obvious not to trust. What was the likelihood that enemy combatants were waiting for him on the other side of the door? Probably nil.
There
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