Book one in the highly anticipated L.O.S.T. series.
Pocket Star, May 25, 2010
It’s Jax Cassidy’s first mission for L.O.S.T.—one that will give the former cop who went rogue a chance to prove herself. Her assignment: gain the trust of assassin Marcus Cross . . . eliminate him . . . then take down Marcus’s mentor, Joseph Lazarus, a man with a bold eye on the White House. But the woman who’s known by her team for being a femme fatale succumbs to passion, only to discover Cross’s deadly secret. He’s a vampire, and Joseph Lazarus is his creator.
Left for dead by his platoon in the violent hills of Afghanistan, special ops sniper Marcus Cross was given a second chance at life. His newly heightened skills make him the perfect killing machine, and as Lazarus's right hand man, he’s quickly rising to the top of his dark empire, purging enemies with speed and precision. Only when dangerous beauty Jax Cassidy is sent to bring him in does he begin to question Lazarus’s motives and his own actions. But when Jax’s life is threatened by the one thing that can destroy them both, Marcus must make a bitter choice—her death or his.
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ISBN: 10: 1439109826
Beauty meets the beast
“Come at me again, I’m going to hurt you,” he growled low.
Collecting herself and her thoughts, Jax considered her current tactics. They weren’t working. She was strong. He was stronger. She eyed him covertly from beneath her long dark lashes. Power radiated off him in waves. He reminded her of a big, sleek, predatory panther. From his stylishly cut, jet-black hair, his arresting, predatory face, and full mocking lips, to his impeccable black suit and the way it hung effortlessly from his big muscular body, down to his custom black leather Italian shoes, she didn’t miss a thing. Most especially the harsh glint of his unusual blue eyes.
She nodded, mentally shifting gears, then pushed off the wall.
In total op mode, Jax slowly stalked her nemesis. She smiled slightly. His eyes burned with anger, but he couldn’t hide the heat flickering behind them. She shook her head and was rewarded with his gaze raking her from her naturally thick, mahogany-colored hair, to her fitted black turtleneck to her short black leather skirt down to the tips of her black, thigh-high stiletto jackboots that clicked on the hardwood floor.
She stopped two steps from him, planted her feet wide, and set her hands on her hips. “What if I like it to hurt?”