Hotter Than Wildfire Read Online Free PDF Page B

moment, though.
    Have to get your jollies where you can.
    Five minutes, fifty thousand dollars. Not bad. And twenty-five thousand of that fifty was going into their Lost Ones Fund, their own personal Underground Railroad.
    Twenty-five thousand dollars from London’s trust fund would not be used to buy a fur or a week at a fancy spa or luxury rehab or a couple of Rolexes. That money would be spent on some abused woman who was running for her life. Most of the women who came to them left home under cover of darkness with nothing but the clothes on their backs, sometimes—tragically—with their kids. They did that because if they stayed they’d be beaten to death.
    Harry and his brothers gave them a new life and enough money to start that life.
    Great, great feeling. Maybe he should have charged London triple their usual fee. Buy some safety for a lot of little kids, that would.
    He was frowning over that when Marisa announced the next client, a Ms. Nora Charles.
    She’d had an appointment with Sam, but Sam had called to say that Nicole was having bad morning sickness and he’d come in when she was better.
    Harry knew his brother Sam. Not even the threat of nuclear war would keep Sam from Nicole’s side when she wasn’t feeling well. Sam would stay by her side until she felt better. That was the bottom line.
    Harry respected that. He liked Nicole, a lot. And he liked it that she made Sam so happy. Well, happy…Sam seemed really happy with her when he wasn’t panicking about some imaginary danger to Nicole around every corner. And now that there was a kid on the way, whoa.
    Sam was going to have to dial down his crazy overprotective-ness, though Harry doubted he could. Sam Reston, big, huge, tough guy, good with a rifle, good with his fists, was a total wuss when it came to his wife. And the little girl on the way? Sam would probably keep her under armed guard throughout her childhood and let her date when she turned thirty. Maybe.
    Mike was out on a recon for a jeweler who had received death threats.
    So today Harry was it.
    Nora Charles, huh? Did she think no one could remember the Thin Man movies? He sent up a little prayer. Please, God, not another heiress under a fake name. Harry had had his heiress quotient for the year with London even though it was still April.
    He was bracing himself for more nonsense as his door slid open.
    And then Marisa clicked twice on the intercom—their code—and he thought, Oh shit. Nora Charles had called on their special hotline, the underground railroad.
    And then the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen walked in to his office.
    Women were rarely clients of RBK Security, the mainstream, overground part of it, anyway. Mostly the clientele was corporate—something was leaking money and they wanted it stopped. Or they wanted their security system upgraded. He and Sam and Mike mostly dealt with their opposite corporate numbers, heads of security, or with the Big Guy himself—the CEO. Mostly men. And, of course, the odd heiress.
    But the woman walking in to his office was definitely not an heiress. Not with those plain, nondescript clothes that were so rumpled they looked as if she’d slept in them. Not with those nails bitten down to the quick. Not with that glorious red hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders. Not with those dark circles under beautiful green eyes that were revealed when she pulled off her big sunglasses.
    No, Harry thought sadly as he rose to greet her. She wasn’t a pampered heiress. She was one of the Lost Ones.
     

 

     
     

Chapter 2
     

 

     
     

     
      Ellen walked in to the office warily. Her friend Kerry had had dealings with the R of RBK, Sam Reston. So this was the B. Harry Bolt.
    Kerry had talked about Sam Reston and hadn’t said anything at all about the other two partners. Maybe Ellen was making a big mistake. Maybe this Bolt would turn her in to Gerald. Maybe she was signing her death warrant right now, she thought, as the door behind