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Authors: Christy Reece

Last Chance

BOOK: Last Chance
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Christy Reece

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

A

cknowledg m

ents

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

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Christy Reece

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

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Christy Reece

ALSO BY CHRISTY REECE
No Chance
Second Chance

Rescue Me

Return to Me

Run to Me

4

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5

Christy Reece

Last Chance
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely

coincidental.

A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original

Copyright (c) 2010 by Christy Reece

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The

Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New

York.

BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random

House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-345-51775-3

www.ballantinebooks.com

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Christy Reece

To my mom

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Christy Reece

Acknowledgments

It's with enormous gratitude that I say thank you to the following:

My husband, Jim, whose love and belief in me has made all the

difference in my life. And to the darling little creatures who sleep at my feet

and bark excitedly at everything and nothing while I work.

My mom, sisters, and aunts for their support and encouragement.

Danny Agan for his help with guns and knives, and Kerry Holder for

her assistance with all things British. Any mistakes are entirely my own.

Darah Lace, brainstormer extraordinaire, who always asks the right

questions at the right time.

Kate Collins, my kind and talented editor, who had a vision for this

book and made it so much better with her insight. And to all the talented and

wonderful people at Ballantine who made this book possible, with special

thanks to Kelli Fillingim, Beth Pearson, and Sue Warga.

Kim Whalen, my spectacular agent, for her enthusiasm and

encouragement.

To the readers of the Last Chance Rescue books, thank you for

making the hard work so much fun.

8

Christy Reece

Prologue

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Lucas Kane knew he'd been in more critical situations, but coolheaded

logic had always saved his ass. This time he was too furious to be either cool

or logical. After living a once dangerous life and surviving with only a

couple of insignificant scars to show for his efforts, how ironic to be held

captive and beaten profusely just for having some extra money in the bank.

If he weren't so infuriated with himself, he'd be laughing his ass off.

Bastards had taken him from his bed. Thankfully he'd been alone at

the time. Though if he was going to die, the memory of mind-blowing sex

would've been a nice send-off. Unfortunately, if he died today, it would be

with the unpleasant memory of yakking his guts up. He'd thought it was food

poisoning, and while the poisoning part of it was likely correct, it hadn't

been the food's fault. Someone had arranged the situation. Food poisoning

and an abduction on the same night? Not bloody likely.

That knowledge made him even more determined to live. Damned if

the bastards would get away with it.

Shifting to try to find a comfortable spot, Lucas cursed. Hell, there

was no comfortable spot. The mattress beneath him could have been used as

a torture device in the Spanish Inquisition. Felt old enough.

The ropes around his wrists gnawed into his skin every time he

moved; the burlap bag over his head scratched his face. And his throbbing

nose felt like it was the size of Buckingham Palace. The crunching sound

he'd heard when one of the bastards hit him assured him it was swollen for a

damn good reason. It was broken.

He'd been lying here for at least half a day now without anyone even

checking on him. Not that he had much of an ego about his fame, but if these

idiots had thought he was worth kidnapping, the least they could do was

check and make sure he hadn't escaped. Did he look like he couldn't or

something? He had finally recovered from his bout of sickness and was

ready to kick some ass. Now someone just needed to present him with the

opportunity.

A noise hit his ear. Good. Somebody was coming. Hopefully someone

other than that Victor asshole, who was apparently in charge. The guy got on

his nerves, throwing around all sorts of dire threats like some sort of

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Christy Reece

gangster from a bad movie. Lucas had kept up with him for the first few

hours and then got bored. Would've been best if he hadn't told Victor.

Bastard had damned near kicked him to death.

The door opened and closed. Footsteps came closer. Since he couldn't

see, he relied on his other senses. The footsteps were light...so Victor had a

woman working with him. She smelled nice, too--soap and water were

powerful aphrodisiacs to a man who hadn't had a bath in days.

A soft hand touched his arm and Lucas froze.
What the...?
Goose

bumps ran down his spine and arousal surged. All from one small touch?

Something was definitely off with him. Maybe lying in the same position for

hours caused some sort of odd erotic reaction he'd never heard of.

What the hell. If he was going to get turned on by the woman, the

least he could do was get her name. "What's your name, love?"

A soft, breathless gasp was her reply and he hardened more. Damn, if

he kept this up, he'd be proposing before he even saw her.

When she didn't answer, he tried a more conversational tone. "Would

it be too much trouble to take the sack off my head? My nose is itching."

"Shh. Be quiet," she whispered.

A nice voice, too. Soft, husky...American...midwestern, most likely.

Twentyish. Judging from the distance she spoke from, he was guessing she

was about five foot four. Hard to tell weight, but the hand had felt small,

delicate. Frissons of sensation raced up his skin; arousal surged harder. No

doubt about it, if she weren't working for a psychotic kidnapper, they

might've had something.

More footsteps, heavier. The loud clomp sounded all too familiar.

Great, psycho man is back
.

"You ready to have some fun?" Victor asked in heavily accented

English.

The woman giggled. Damn, there went his arousal; he'd never cared

for gigglers.

"Are you going to let me get in the first slice?" she asked.

That didn't sound good. First slice of what?

"You tell me why I should," Victor said.

A giggle again--high-pitched and a bit nervous-sounding. Or perhaps

maniacal?

"Didn't you say you wanted to film it? You know I can't work the

camera like you can. Cutting's the easy part."

"Yeah...you'd only fuck it up."

The heavy footsteps sounded as though Victor was walking away.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked.

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Christy Reece

"Oscar said he wanted to watch."

"Oh yeah. He likes stuff like this, too." Another strained-sounding

laugh, then she said, "Umm, do you think it's safe? I mean, since somebody

stole that woman from us...do you think he should stay with Jeffrey and be

on the lookout and stuff?"

A heavy, disgusted sigh. "Yeah, I guess he can watch it before I mail

it. That'll have to do."

The footsteps headed back toward Lucas. "Take off the bag and let's

get started," Victor said.

The bag ripped away from his head. Lucas squinted as he looked up

into soft, guileless gray-blue eyes. Now how the hell could someone who

looked as innocent as an angel be wanting to slice something off?

McKenna Sloan swallowed a horrified moan at her first live glimpse

of Lucas Kane. If the hideous bruises on his handsome face were any

indication, Victor had lost his temper more than once with his hostage.

Though she was no longer shallow enough to be attracted to a man because

of his looks, Lucas Kane had blurred those beliefs. But Victor's wrath had

taken its toll, and while he would heal, McKenna had a hard time not turning

around and giving the bastard a little of his own medicine. The creep would

pay for this.

"Okay, camera's ready," Victor said.

McKenna pulled the knife from the sheath at her waist. Ignoring

Kane's swollen eyes and his obviously broken nose, she took a breath. This

would take some careful timing.

"Open your mouth, Kane," she demanded.

He didn't react the way he should have...or at least the way she needed

him to react. He laughed, showing off an incredibly beautiful smile, which

was completely incongruent with the rest of his battered, bloody face.

"I have to admit to being a bit of idiot in some respects, but opening

my mouth on your say-so goes even beyond what
I'm
willing to do for a

beautiful woman."

He thinks I'm beautiful
.

Oh hell, stuff like that meant nothing to her. She glared down at him

with her meanest expression. "Do it, or I'll chop off your fingers."

"Actually, if you're going to chop anything off, I'd prefer that...and if

it's not too much trouble, the right hand, please."

More than a little stunned, McKenna turned her startled gaze to

Victor, who was holding the camera and smirking.

"Told you he had a smart mouth," Victor said.

Quickly regrouping, McKenna whirled back around to Kane and

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snarled, "Fine. But I'm taking all five fingers."

"Good, that'll make it easier to make a fist. Thanks."

Resisting the urge to stomp her foot and demand he act at least a little

scared, she pulled at his shoulders to turn him slightly toward her. It would

be easier to get to him this way, anyway. He just had her so off-kilter, she

was having trouble staying in character.

"Are you really going to cut his fingers off?" Victor asked.

McKenna shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't

tell if the freak was excited about it or disapproved.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because five fingers will be harder to get through the postal service

than a tongue."

She dared a look at Kane's face. Though both his eyes were swollen,

she could have sworn she saw amusement glinting in them. It was all she

could do not to laugh herself. Just what kind of freaky life did she lead that

mailing cut-off fingers and tongues was even a topic for discussion?

BOOK: Last Chance
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