Rules of Engagement

After being shot three times in the chest and left for dead by his last lover, Jake Duquesne decides the middle of nowhere is a good place to recuperate. And it’s perfect, until someone tries to sneak up on him, gun drawn and cocked. Unfortunately for his would-be assailant, Jake is not one to wait around while someone tries to kill him.

Waking up handcuffed to a strange bed is not part of Katarzyna Delaney’s plans after being jilted at the altar for the third time. Looking at Jake, however, makes her realize her plans should be flexible. With a few simple rules, she can have her long-awaited honeymoon—and without a battery-operated device.

Then people following no rules but their own join in.

• Copyright
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• About the Author
  
• Other Titles
  
• Excerpt from
  A Naughty Noelle
  
• Excerpt from
  Before Dawn
  
• Excerpt from
  Deadly Fall
  

Rules of Engagement

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright © 2008 Ann Bruce
Excerpt from
A Naughty Noelle
© 2007 Ann Bruce
Excerpt from
Before Dawn
© 2008 Ann Bruce
Excerpt from
Deadly Fall
© 2005, 2011 Ann Bruce
Cover design by Croco Designs

Electronic book Publication: November 2011

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Ann Bruce.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Jake Duquesne was on that razor-thin edge between consciousness and sleep. He could almost feel himself about to fall on the side of the latter. Just a few more moments and he would be dead to the world.

He shifted lazily on the bed, enjoying the cool breeze that wafted in through the open window just above him and moved over his bare skin. He was holed up in a cabin nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, with civilization, in the form of a small North Carolina town of a few thousand or so inhabitants, some twenty miles away. The most strenuous thing he had done since arriving yesterday morning was scale the side of a cliff.

He was going to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

He exhaled audibly, feeling a wonderfully relaxing sensation settle over him. There was nothing here but Mother Nature and himself.

Jake hastily corrected himself about two seconds later when instinct snapped him to instant alertness. From years of practice, his entire frame was tense but utterly still as he waited patiently for that sound that didn’t fit in with the rest.

It was several long, silent moments before he heard it again—footsteps. Someone was outside, taking slow, measured steps toward the front of the cabin. A well-meaning stranger would not be taking such care to be quiet.

Without a second thought, Jake grabbed the Beretta under his pillow and rolled noiselessly over the side of the bed and onto the floor. He landed on his palm and toes and quickly rolled again onto his back. Jake put the gun down beside him and blindly groped for the faded blue jeans he had discarded earlier on a nearby chair. His palm passed over something rough and he closed his fingers around it. Thankful he didn’t have a penchant for skin-tight clothing, Jake pulled on his jeans and zipped them up. The footsteps stopped, but he wasn’t taking any chances. His unexpected visitor was probably just standing outside, weighing his options.

Knowing he didn’t have time to pull on his hiking boots and lace them up, Jake snagged the thick socks from inside the boots and pulled them on. His heart thudding heavily in his chest, he retrieved his gun, flicked off the safety and started bear-crawling on his hands and toes toward the back of the five-room cabin. He hoped and prayed his unknown visitor didn’t have a partner lying in wait for him to leave through the back door. Since the door was relatively well hidden by overgrown shrubs and bushes, Jake knew it was a good probability someone unfamiliar with the cabin would miss it.

Still flat on the floor and lengthwise against the wall, he reached out and carefully, quietly eased the back door open an inch. When no stirring from outside met his movement, Jake got up into a low crouch, widened the opening and scanned about. Satisfied an ambush wasn’t waiting for him, he gingerly pushed some of the vegetation out of the way and slipped stealthily out into the darkness.

The moonlight was filtered by wisps of clouds, but Jake was thankful for even that much light. Heart working madly to pump adrenaline through his veins, he swiftly made his way around to the front of the cabin, taking care not to snap any twigs or branches on the ground, unmindful of the nicks and scratches from the rough exterior walls of the cabin on his back and arms.

Jake, pressed flat against the side of the cabin, his breathing low and even, peered around the corner and into the night. His pupils had adjusted to the darkness and he could just make out the shadowy outline of the intruder as he stepped onto the porch. Wood squeaked. The intruder froze. Something glinted dully in the moonlight.

Fuck, who the hell was after him? He nearly snorted. Now that was a stupid question. After a decade in his previous line of work, it was safer to ask who
wasn’t
after him. Retirement or not. His enemies didn’t forgive just because he’d decided to take himself out of the field.

He stayed there for a few moments, wanting to make doubly sure his uninvited guest didn’t have a partner before he made his move.

Seconds passed, seeming like an eternity, but Jake couldn’t pick out any more forms in the dark stillness. Slowly, ever so slowly, he flicked on the safety of the Beretta and tucked it securely in the back of his jeans.

The intruder pushed open the door, the well-oiled hinges silent, and made to step inside the cabin. Thankful the front porch didn’t have a railing, Jake fished a coin out of his front pocket and tossed it into the bushes on the other side of the front porch. A split second later, he launched into a low dive, catching his target’s knees with his right shoulder and knocking him down like a bowling pin. Jake heard a dull thud, followed by muffled swearing. He hoped the other guy had one hell of a concussion. Not giving his opponent a chance to recover, he moved up and manacled the surprisingly small wrist of the hand holding the gun and pounded it into the wooden porch floor. Jake flinched when an explosion went off in his ear, but he continued tightening his grip and kept on pounding the captured hand until the gun clattered onto the floor and skidded away. Relentless, Jake soon had his exhausted assailant pinned under his own barely heaving frame.

And he nearly jumped back up again when he felt the unmistakable softness of round, female breasts crushed beneath his naked chest.

“Fuck! You’re a woman!”

His surprised exclamation only seemed to enrage her even more and she renewed her struggles. Jake, however, was a good deal heavier and much, much stronger. With little effort, he had both her arms stretched above her head with one hand. The other he plunged into her hair to hold her head still so he could see her face.

“Lady, stop it!”

Useless. Jake released her hair, drew back his arm and cuffed her on the jaw. A soft sound escaped her and she was out cold.

Ah, hell.

* * * * *

“Katarzyna Delaney,” Jake read off the authentic-looking police identification card and the accompanying gold badge. Supposedly, she was a homicide detective. If the ID was real, she was well out of her jurisdiction. Was it just a coincidence she was from his hometown?

He glanced at the unconscious woman handcuffed to his bed.

“Wonderful, just fucking wonderful,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in the words.

Jake blew out a breath and fell into the wooden chair at the foot of the bed. He closed the wallet with an audible snap. There wasn’t much he could do until Katarzyna Delaney regained consciousness and shared with him the reason she had been trespassing on his property in the dead of night with her gun drawn and cocked.

Noting the fashionably worn blue jeans and long-sleeved V-neck shirt, Jake wondered if she had acted upon impulse. She had worn a tan corduroy jacket over the green shirt, but it still wouldn’t have been his first choice for a covert mission. And the thin-soled sneakers that were neatly arranged at the foot of the bed were not made for mountainous terrain.

Her little operation hadn’t been planned in advance.

That thought did little to mollify him.

Calling the local law enforcement and reporting the attempt on his life had occurred to him and been summarily dismissed. He was used to handling these sorts of issues personally.

A soft moan drew his attention. His clear gaze returned to the figure shifting on the bed. Katarzyna Delaney, according to her North Carolina driver’s license, was five-eight and one hundred thirty-five pounds. She didn’t look like she was one hundred thirty-five pounds. She looked trim and athletic. But what woman added extra pounds when lying about her weight?

“How are you feeling?”

A low groan answered him, but her lashes remained resting on her pale cheeks. She gingerly turned her head this way and that, as if testing to see if it was still on her shoulders. Jake frowned. He didn’t think he had hit her that hard. Then again, the bruise darkening her jaw was ugly. And he couldn’t forget how she’d banged her head on the porch when he’d tackled her. Thick, dark lashes fluttered and lifted, and Jake was pinned by whiskey-colored eyes. She blinked once, seeming to clear her head. “Who are you?”

Her voice was low and a little rough with sleep, and Jake’s body responded accordingly. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, which was understandable since the last one he’d slept with had tried to kill him, scarring him for life. Literally.

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and inhaled deeply through his nostrils, as if it would help the sudden tightness in his jeans.

Her eyes widened and Jake knew she’d just discovered the lovely bracelets shackling her to the headboard and the climbing rope that fastened her feet together and kept them tethered to the footboard.

“What—” She pulled and jerked on the handcuffs and the rope, but the bed frame was surprisingly sturdy. Her gaze narrowed on him and shot off sparks. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded furiously.

Jake leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression closed. She had tried to sneak up on him last night and now was trying to play innocent? She was either one hell of an actress or—

“You don’t remember what happened?”

Confusion swamped her features. “What happened when?”

Jake lifted a brow, his expression sardonic. “When you were attempting to enter this cabin,” he reminded her dryly. Then, with emphasis, he added, “Illegally.”

The confusion didn’t disappear.

“As in, without the owner’s consent.”

“But…” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned. “Oh God.” She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath. “That can’t be right.”

He mentally crossed out amnesia and drawled very sarcastically, “Oh, it’s very right. I assure you, Katarzyna Delaney.”

Her eyes flew open at his harsh, humorless tone, or maybe it was his pronunciation of her name. KAHT-ah-ZHEE-nah. Perhaps she wasn’t used to people who didn’t butcher her name on the first attempt. Luckily, he’d had plenty of practice with non-Anglicized names. All part and parcel of his previous job.

“My cabin has the bullet hole and the bullet from your weapon to prove it.” Even with the faint Southern accent softening his words, they still had bite.

His captive looked as if she hoped the bed would open up and put her out of her misery. “
Your
cabin?” Her lashes lowered as she bit down on the corner of her lip. “That can’t be right,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.