Ruby Jane: The Montana Marshalls - An Inspirational Romantic Suspense Family Series by Warren Susan May

Author:Warren, Susan May [Warren, Susan May]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SDG Publishing
Published: 2019-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

York did not want to be a man who harbored murder in his heart. Who let anger and vengeance seep in and lurk in the dark corners of his mind. But his dreams—oh his dreams. They woke him with such ferocity and then settled like residue until the only thing he could think of was the feelings they left behind.

Like grief. And fury. And an insatiable need for justice.

People in his life had been murdered, and it left an urge to…well, pay back in kind.

But, no. He didn’t want to be that man anymore.

He still couldn’t look at RJ. Not after the memories flooded back—at least the ones with RJ, from watching her run after the near assassination of General Stanislov, to rescuing her in an alleyway in Moscow, to falling for her as they tried to escape the FSB, then finally following her to America where, for a fraction of a moment, he’d actually thought they could have a happy ending.

She was right. He should have stayed dead—at least then his past wouldn’t have tracked him down and suddenly put her in danger again.

As soon as he found Damien Gustov, as soon as he ended it, York would walk away from her again, and this time without a trace. Because how else was he supposed to protect her from whatever demons decided to rise from the past to haunt him?

Knowing RJ, she wouldn’t give up until she found him. The woman was as stubborn as her annoying brother Tate, who was laser focused on finding this man Sloan whom he was sure had murdered the woman York and RJ had found in Seattle.

Sophia Randall, RJ’s boss.

Which meant it could have just as easily been RJ, and that thought kept York awake staring at the ceiling or pacing the balcony in Wyatt’s apartment. York had never been so happy to get on a plane to Vegas.

Good thing Coco, aka Coco, his go-to hacker, still knew how to contact the right people. She’d snagged him a new ID. Twenty-four hours in Seattle and by Wednesday he was officially, illegally Mack Jones.

He hadn’t a memory of Vegas, but the place seemed too shiny, too bright, and way too hot, even in October. Tate booked them into a two-bedroom suite with an adjoining room in a downtown hotel—Tate and RJ in the suite, York next door. Apparently, big brother wasn’t about to let RJ out of his sight either.

“This place has a shark tank,” RJ said now as she came down the stairs from her bedroom in the loft upstairs.

“You can stay behind and hit the pool,” Tate said, coming in off the balcony overlooking a banana-shaped pool curled around a large aquarium.

The place smelled slightly of cigarette smoke, and York didn’t want to imagine the parties that had gone down in this place. It made him long for the tiny bedroom at Jethro’s, despite the short amount of time he’d spent there.

Tate wore a suit, so York had purchased a pair of dress pants and a jacket.

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