Countdown to Zero Hour Read Online Free PDF

into each other a few times since the breakup but hadn’t spoken more than a cupful of words. This felt different. Charged. Did he see that she was part criminal now? She tried to deny how much she embraced that darkness, when confronted with someone she wanted to intimidate. It was too intoxicating.
    “Trouble?” A man’s voice at her shoulder startled Hayley. She twisted to face Art, whose focus remained down the aisle at Burton. That ready violence lurked dangerously close to the surface.
    It was a shock to see him there, so out of context, in her world. “No trouble,” she reassured him. But she had to wonder what he was doing there.
    Art loosened his shoulders and relaxed. “Looked like a standoff.”
    She glared at Burton again. “That battle’s over.”
    Her ex glanced from her to Art and back again. Slowly, Burton stepped up the aisle until he disappeared beyond a stall selling roasted nuts.
    Was this how it would work from now on—she’d think felonious thoughts, and Art would show up out of nowhere, bringing his menace? Her head spun a bit from the criminal cocktail. So much potential. If they were outside the rules, they could do anything together.
    She pulled her wallet from her purse and peeled out a few bills. “Tell me this is a coincidence and you’re out here looking for the perfect basil for your pesto recipe.” The money went over to Carol, who made change and deliberately eyed Art quizzically.
    He was out of place at the farmer’s market. Rough around the edges, wearing his light jacket in the warm day. Dark sunglasses obscured his expression, making his intent more mysterious. Her skin prickled, aware of how close he was. And how close she was to touching all that potential motion and energy.
    Hayley managed to answer Carol with a quick shrug. Whatever information she did have about Art wasn’t something she’d give willingly without implicating herself. Carol waggled her eyebrows before Hayley and Art moved away from the stall.
    Yeah, Art was sexy. She was sure Carol and everyone else at the market saw it. Even Burton must’ve recognized Art’s potency. But none of them knew about his job the way she did. And they hadn’t seen his efficient violence the way she had.
    He walked beside her while she continued on her rounds. Daytime Art was much looser than she’d seen him by the club. His shoulders swung slightly and his lower body turned like he had his own theme song, thumping with a heavy beat. It would be easy to match that rhythm. Her body wanted to, rocking her own hips.
    She tried to examine his expression, but the sunglasses were too dark.
    “Do I have any secrets anymore?” she asked. “Did you use your...contacts to find me?”
    He stopped walking and took off his sunglasses so she could see his serious eyes. “I don’t want your secrets. You don’t want mine. I found you all by myself. Where better to find a great chef than near great food, right?”
    “You’re a smart guy, Art.” And sensual. And rough. And brutal.
    He held up a warning finger. “You can’t know that about me. I said you didn’t want any of my secrets.” A wry smile twinkled his eyes.
    “I won’t tell a soul.”
    “Bueno.” His accent was authentic.
    “But how are people not supposed to catch on that you have a brain when you speak Russian and Spanish?”
    His fist was held low. “They usually only hear this.”
    She went silent. But she saw hints of sadness and distance in his eyes. Part of her wanted to cover that territory and find out more about the man behind the scarred knuckles.
    He put his sunglasses back on, started walking again then paused for her to catch up. It didn’t feel like she had a choice. They were in the same world together now. She walked at his side. He chewed on thoughts.
    Eventually he spared a few words. “My father was hecho en Mexico . Mother from Mother Russia. She’s the one who raised me.”
    “Makes perfect sense.” She directed them to a stall where