Fire in the Knight

by Louise Dawn

Overview

She's getting lost… 

When Charlotte Quinn's father passes away, she escapes her small town life. Taking a break from running their Wyoming farm, Charlie travels to Europe and Northern Africa with her dance group. But when an assault in Malta leaves her injured and scared, she turns to a fierce-looking family friend, a man who seems to despise her.

He's finding her… 

Dave "Donnie" Wilson knows all too well what it's like to lose a loved one, and he can't stop thinking about the farm girl who raises his blood pressure. When Donnie discovers the attack, the MIT2 Intelligence Specialist digs further and what he finds has him running to Charlie's side.

With a ruthless assassin and hired killers chasing them across Morocco, will Donnie be able to exfil her in time? And will the lethal analyst be able to preserve the walls around his weary heart?

Product Details

BN ID:	2940156270613
Publisher:	Louise Dawn
Publication date:	01/18/2019
Sold by:	Draft2Digital
Format:	eBook
Sales rank:	735,001
File size:	665 KB

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Valletta, Republic of Malta. Four months later.

Ruzar Comino watched the woman take a sip of her red wine as she leaned over the wooden railing — gazing down at the streets below. He started down the steps, slowly winding his way through seated tourists and standing partygoers. On a Friday night, the Bridge Bar offered a casual experience for travelers on the wide candlelit steps just above the Victoria Gate. Jazz musicians played live music on the terrace, and the audience lounged on red pillows dotting the steps or they sat at one of the small tables decorating the streets.

Tourists loved Malta — the island country that sat just fifty miles below Italy in the Mediterranean. Overcrowded streets and heavy traffic defined the Summer months. Mid-October meant that Malta's cobbled avenues had calmed after the recent populous season.

There was still enough of a crowd to cloak his interest in the fiery redhead. Her hair fell in silky, thick tresses down her back. That glowing red color couldn't be natural, yet he had a burning need to know. Compared to the rowdy revelers, she seemed sad — pensive. It was their destiny to meet. Her tall, blonde, female sidekick walked inside the pub with one of the bartenders, and within half a minute, a man sidled up to the lonely scarlet beauty. In contrast, his hair shone unnaturally under the street light. Oil-slicked hair weighed down enough to sink an island of penguins.

With barely a glance, she turned her back on the drunk stranger. His greasy friend approached, and they both stepped closer, insisting on buying her a drink. She refused. They asked again. She stepped sideways. The slick bastard reached out for her arm and Ruzar stepped in.

He spoke rapidly in Maltese with the two locals. Two well-placed sentences later, and they apologized to her in English before retreating.

Ruzar turned, addressing her in English. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Not all Maltese men behave like imbeciles around beautiful tourists."

She gave him a considering look. "How do you know I'm a tourist?"

"Honey, with hair like that, you wouldn't have been hidden for long. Malta is a small republic, and you would have been famous in a heartbeat."

She smiled.

"Plus, the American accent gives you away."

Sighing dramatically, she swayed against the railing. "I concede defeat. My damn hair and mid-western accent paint a giant target on my jet-setting ass."

Ruzar raised his brows. "Jet-setting ass?"

"Maybe jet-setting is the wrong word. After all, this is my first trip out of the States. It's a big deal." She took a sip of her wine and gave him a wink.

Her warm brown eyes sparkled, and he couldn't help grinning at the sweet picture she made. The wine had stained her full lips, the color matching her maroon dress. A scattering of freckles traced her pert nose. He felt himself relaxing around her, and he leaned against the railing mirroring her open stance. Her eyes ran over him, and Ruzar couldn't help but inwardly preen. Thanks to a strict diet and fitness regimen, he was all wide shoulders and roped muscle. His hair — worn longer than most — was pulled back into a low pony. The trim goatee and beard gave him a dangerous edge, one that worked against him as he registered a flicker of uncertainty in her honest eyes. Before she could retreat, he stepped closer and presented his hand.

"Ruzar Comino, at your service. Use me however you need, as a friend, or a tour guide or a bodyguard for the occasional drunk ass that dares to step in your sweet shadow."

"Wow. Ruzar Comino, you know how to chat up the ladies."

He kept his hand extended and waited.

She bit her top lip as she considered her next move, then took his hand in hers.

"Charlotte Quinn. Only ever a friend. Might enjoy having a local tour guide. Can take care of drunk asses on my own, but thanks for the offer."

Laughing, Ruzar gestured her towards the pub. "In that case, let's go and find your blonde friend you were with earlier. I'll buy you both a drink. No strings, you know."

Turning, she said, "My blonde friend, huh? Sorry to break it to you, but we're not into threesomes. And we're not looking to hook up. We're here to work."

"I can accept that," he said as he opened the door for her. "What kind of work?"

"Fire dancing, baby. ... we play with fire and get paid to do it."

* * *

Her words stopped Ruzar in his tracks and Charlie wanted to laugh at his flummoxed expression. She slipped past, ignoring his expensive cologne or the way the jeans molded to his muscled legs. His shirt whispered against her skin as he escorted her inside the quiet bar. All the patrons sat outdoors. A hand stroked her back; her stomach did a small flip. Not because of an attraction to a rough-looking stranger, but because it reminded her of another capable man. One that occupied too much space in her head. Considering that she consumed hardly any space in his, now wasn't the time to moon over Donnie Wilson. A man that despised her and a man who'd seen her at her most vulnerable. His hawkish face kept intruding on her thoughts. The way those green eyes rimmed with dark lashes would watch her from the shadows. Squinting and sizing her up under slashing brows as he threw quiet jabs her way. He was a handsome man if you were into the mysterious, arrogant vibe. All she knew was that he worked with her friend Jamie, loved to ride motorbikes and embraced the loner vibe. Pity that they had nothing in common. Charlie had no space in her world for high maintenance men.

The last four weeks meant significant changes in her life. She'd lost her dad, and although she'd known that day would come, it hurt so damn much. Charlie had lost a father, a best friend, her mentor and her confidant, all in one devastating moment. A week before he'd died, her father had told her to live out her dream. To dance, and see the world, to get lost and to forget. Then, when she'd healed, and the time was right, to return and re-shoulder her responsibilities.

After the funeral, she'd chosen to run from the black dresses, the familiar faces, and sweet memories. Along with her dancing colleagues, leaping into the wide world, spelled fresh anonymity for a small-town farm girl. Her invisibility now held peace, and it could also mean fun, she thought while admiring Ruzar's muscular physique.

His natural confidence drew her in, and she smiled at him over her shoulder as she made her way to her friend's side. Elana, however, did not smile his way, as he extended a hand in greeting. Instead, she frowned at Charlie.

"I leave you for five minutes, and you get picked up by a smooth-talking local?"

"He rescued me from a pair of drunk idiots."

"Oh, I'm sure he did."

Charlie loved Elana like a sister. They'd grown up together in Wyoming. Elana's first day of middle school was also her first day of school in America. Elana spent her younger years in Turkey. At eleven years of age, her parents decided to move to her mother's hometown of Jackson Hole. It took time for her Turkish Muslim father to acclimate to small-town life. He threw himself into the real estate industry and at the same time spent years decking out their farm property — which he transformed into a modern stone and glass mansion with a massive infinity pool, overlooking the Tetons.

Unlike Charlie, Elana spent a great deal of her life traveling. She spoke four languages and thanks to her over-protective parents, Elana was an all-around self-defense expert who held wary regard for strangers.

Charlie could see why they'd be overprotective. Their daughter was stunning. Tall with long, honey-blonde hair and light green, slanted eyes. Her super model looks were a honey trap for slathering men. Except she always kept the boys at arm's length.

Elana was the woman that Charlie wished she could be. Sophisticated and worldly.

Confidence came easily to Charlie when it concerned the farm or her studies. She knew what she was capable of and was damn proud of who'd she become, but she was a small-town girl of average height. The girl next door who smelled like fresh farm and horse. The girl who had no clue how to apply eyeshadow or how to even ride the subway. Hell, Lizzy, had only just taught Charlie to flat iron her hair — she could now contain the frizzy mess. This trip was about challenging herself to learn new things, experiencing new cultures and meeting new people.

"Elana, don't be rude. Say hello to Ruzar. He's been nothing but a gentleman."

Elana leaned against the bar while staring at the Maltese man. She then chatted with the bartender in Arabic — obviously asking his opinion. Ruzar chose a barstool and folded his arms.

Once they were done, Ruzar addressed them both in what Charlie assumed was also Arabic. Elana's surprise registered. Charlie wasn't sure what the conversation entailed but she tired of being the outsider.

"English, please? Someone?" Charlie grumbled while taking a seat.

"I just ordered you a drink. A local beer called a Cisk in Malta," Ruzar said.

"Impressive — that you speak Arabic, although it's the origin of Maltese. You look Maltese — from the Italian side?" Elana asked.

"I am. My family has Sicilian roots. But I also have some Arabic friends on the island."

Elana raised her brows. "So, you speak ..."

"Maltese, Italian, and a little Arabic —"

"And English," Charlie supplied.

He laughed. "That too."

"To seduce naive travelers?" Elana said.

"To meet wonderful new friends. Besides, most locals speak English. It is an official language — we were under British protection until 1964."

"Fair enough. What do you want with my friend?" Elana asked as she took a sip of her beer.

"Friendship, ma'am. And to show you some of the local sights. How long are you girls here for?"

"Three days," Charlie said. She saw Elana scowling from the corner of her eye.

"And how did the fire dancing thing come about?" Ruzar seemed fascinated.

Charlie answered, "Elana learned to belly dance through her relatives in Turkey. I wanted to learn, and she taught me. A good friend of ours — Zach — taught himself to juggle fire from online videos. We all joined forces and the rest is history."

"That's damn cool, but why Malta?"

"I've always dreamt of visiting Malta. We've already visited the Three Cities and Fort St. Angelo and St. John's Co-Cathedral."

Ruzar ran a finger along the rim of his beer mug. "Excellent, since you've already hit some of the typical tourist hotspots, I'll rent a couple of mopeds in the morning and take you to Marsaxlokk. It's a small fishing village to the south. They sell the best seafood on the island."

Elana scowled. "I don't know about —"

Charlie scowled back. "Don't be a shitty stick in the mud. I'm going with or without you."

Ruzar and Charlie exchanged numbers. Elana relented like Charlie knew she would. Elana protected her friend like a lion would her cub. Charlie couldn't wait to start new adventures. She adored the main island. Malta was everything she'd dreamt it would be — magical, mysterious and breathtaking.

* * *

Marsaxlokk, Malta.

He wanted to be that peach, so fucking badly. Ruzar watched Charlotte take another bite of the juicy fruit. Her full lips caressed the fuzzy skin as her straight, white teeth sank into its flesh. Unaware of the riot she'd caused in his pants, Charlotte leaned over to examine a silver bracelet — one of many on display. She licked her lower lip before chewing and Ruzar almost groaned. She traced a finger over the Maltese cross dangling off the delicate silver chain.

"You want it?"

Charlotte looked at him with wide eyes. "You're not buying that for me. I can pay for it myself." She turned to wander off.

"Come here, you." He grabbed her hand. "It's nothing, and it will look pretty on your wrist."

Wandering through the market, they'd bought freshly cooked fish. After moans of delight from the ladies, they'd bought peaches at a fruit stand before strolling past the silverware on display. It wasn't an expensive or well-made bracelet by any means, but Charlotte liked it, so he'd buy it. The more time Ruzar spent with her, the more he wanted her. Her direct humor and refreshing honesty were like nothing he'd experienced. She looked at everything with open wonder. Before the market, they'd stopped at St. Peter's Pool — a natural pool located near the village.

The still chilly morning air meant that they had the clear azure pool to themselves. Elana sunbathed on the rocks as Ruzar splashed in the cool water. With his encouragement, he got Charlotte to slip in while holding onto the edge. He was surprised to learn she couldn't swim. Ruzar held her tight as he paddled in the cove. Once they'd dried off, her hair dried into a thick curly mass. Each ringlet shimmered like fire as she moved and Ruzar had no problem trailing behind her as he gazed at the glowing tresses.

After spending most of the day exploring the area and surrounding cafes, he drove them to Pretty Bay, a sandy cove decorated with palm trees and surrounded by holiday apartments. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the bay. Elana walked off to call her parents and Charlotte sat beside him, staring at the horizon.

"I wish my father was here. He loved this time of the day."

She'd told him that morning about her father's recent passing.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Charlotte continued as if she hadn't heard him. "He'd pour a whiskey and sit on the porch, not moving 'til night had fallen. He said it was a magical time when day creatures went to sleep and night creatures woke."

"It does sound magical." Ruzar rubbed sand through his fingers.

"He'd tell me stories as we watched the sun fall from the sky. Every evening. Stories of his youth, of growing up in the mid-west. Of buying the farm and starting with nothing. Now we have over five thousand head of sheep."

"It sounds like hard work."

"It is. I'm considering ..." Charlotte paused, then sighed.

"Considering what?"

"Selling. While I'm away, I have a foreman running things, but I want a life outside of sheep and cattle and endless chores."

Ruzar reached up and tried to tuck her hair behind her ear. The tresses caught on his hand and he studied the fiery strands falling through his fingers. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he pulled her towards him.

"My Firefly," he said before crushing her mouth to his.

She smelled like flowers and salt water. Ruzar ravaged, moaning as he melded his tongue with hers, angling her head and licking deeper.

* * *

This had to be the most romantic setting on earth. Charlie sat on a Mediterranean beach, being thoroughly kissed by a man who looked like a swarthy pirate. This was what she'd hoped for — adventure and romance in a foreign land — except all she could think of was Donnie. His stubbled, sarcastic mouth haunted her dreams. Sitting on a beach next to a strange man suddenly felt all wrong and Charlie placed a hand on Ruzar's chest.

"I can't do this."

"I know ... you'll be leaving soon. I don't expect anything, one night together. Let me spoil you and give you everything you deserve. Let me touch you, baby."

His hand ran down her side and Charlie leaned away. She opened her mouth to say something as his phone rang.

"One second ..."

He answered in another language. Maltese, she presumed. The conversation started casually, then he turned angry — words rapid-firing from his lips. He stood and paced before hanging up and staring out at sea.

"Everything okay?"

He offered her a forced smile. "Fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"My father can be challenging. I wish I had the same relationship you've had with yours, but he pushes all my buttons."

"What does he want you to do?"

"Play a larger role in the family business. He wants me to mentor my cousin, who's an idiot — to work on a contract with him. I told them all to fuck off. I'm taking a break. I'm always fucking working to line his pockets. I don't like where the business is going."

"In what way?"

"My family is wealthy, and they used to care about the Maltese people. They'd invest in the economy. It's a great place to stay. You could easily come and live here. Low taxes, free healthcare, good job opportunities, genuine and hardworking people. Malta deserves loyalty but my father only cares about extending his business empire. He'll work his staff, including me, to the bone. I deserve happiness."

"Looks like we're in the same boat. Happiness isn't that lofty a goal." She winked as he pulled her up, then spoke again. "Ruzar. I like you, but I'm not ready for more than friendship."

He considered her words. "Okay, little Firefly, how about we take it slow. I will be your friend for the moment. Tomorrow we can drive to Golden Bay; I'll show you the north part of the island."

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Fire in the Knight"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Louise Dawn.
Excerpted by permission of Louise Dawn.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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