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  Praise for Dee Davis:

  "An Indiana Jones style escapade that will delight those who enjoy the combination of steamy romance and high octane action."

  —CK’s Kwips and Kritiques

  "Ms Davis is at the top of her game…and that, dear readers, is as good as it gets!"

  — Rendezvous

  "Dee Davis is a phenomenal writer. She crafts these intricate, multi-layered stories, and then drags the reader along for the ride to the conclusion."

  — Scribesworld

  "High-stakes action and high-impact romance…Dee Davis leaves me breathless."

  —Roxanne St. Claire, NYT bestselling author

  Hell Fire

  Dee Davis

  Hell Fire 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

  Published by Pocito Press.

  Copyright 2006 by Dee Davis Oberwetter

  All rights reserved.

  Originally published as part of the Anthology, Hell with the Ladies, a mass market paperback in the United States by The Berkeley Publishing Group

  Cover design: Kimberly Killion

  Sure as Hell by Julie Kenner, Copyright ©2006 by Julie Kenner. All rights reserved.

  http://www.deedavis.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please delete it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Dee Davis

  Reader Letter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Sneak Peek at Hell's Fury

  And next in the Devil May Care series and excerpt from Julie Kenner’s Sure as Hell Check out these books by Dee Davis

  About Dee Davis

  Also by Dee Davis:

  Romantic Suspense

  Dark Of The Night

  Dancing In The Dark

  Midnight Rain

  Just Breathe

  After Twilight

  Eye Of The Storm

  Chain Reaction

  Still of the Night (Novella)

  Last Chance Series:

  Endgame

  Enigma

  Exposure

  A-Tac Series:

  Dark Deceptions

  Dangerous Desires

  Desperate Deeds

  Daring (Novella)

  Deep Disclosure

  Deadly Dance

  Double Danger

  Dire Distraction

  Women's Fiction

  A Match Made on Madison

  Set Up In SoHo

  Time Travels

  Everything In Its Time

  The Promise

  Wild Highland Rose

  Devil May Care Series

  Hell Fire

  Hell's Fury

  Dear Reader,

  We began critiquing together in early 1999, back when we were young (sort of), naive (not really), and unpublished (that part's true). Since we were both determined to do something about the unpublished part of the equation, we committed to brutally and honestly reviewing and commenting on each other's work (the brutality and honesty softened by the presence of coffee, tea, chocolate … and often wine).

  Our standard ritual was to share a chapter of an ongoing work each week by email, then take turns critiquing the pages at the weekly in-person meeting. And it wasn't long after this process began that we realized how successful the collaboration was, both on a professional and a personal level. Not only did we soon see our books bought by publishers (and then on the shelves!), but our friendship grew as well, eventually matching and overshadowing the ritual of critiquing (cue heartwarming music).

  For years, we thought it would be fun to work on a book together, but we never had the opportunity or the idea. And then, one day ...

  We were sitting at a table during a conference talking about bad boy heroes. And who better to be the ultimate bad boy than a son of Satan? And if there were brothers … then maybe there were sisters, too, because writing wild child women is just as fun.

  Needless to say we were excited about the idea. And, so Nick, Marcus, Lucia and Jezebel were born and, as such, gave us the chance to work together on a project, just like we'd been wanting to do for years!

  We hope you enjoy reading the stories as much as we enjoyed writing them.

  XXOO

  Julie & Dee

  Chapter One

  Chateau Lavermont, French Riviera

  Danielle Coussy slept soundly, her mouth open slightly, her breath slipping in and out of her body on a soft hiss. Even in repose, she was a beautiful woman. Married four times, she was a bit long in the tooth, but plastic surgery had done wonders for her wear-and- tear-ability. All that to say that screwing her hadn't been too much of a burden. A bit on the tame side perhaps, but considering the end result, well worth the effort.

  Marcus Diablo carefully pulled his arms free and slipped out of the bed, Danielle's only reaction a soft sigh. He stood for a moment, staring down at her, his eyes drinking in the sweet curves of her breasts. Just for a moment, he considered abandoning his goal and sliding back between her legs. It was a tempting thought, but only a passing one.

  After slipping into pants and shirt, he moved on silent feet to the doorway, the rococo frame elaborate even for a French chateau as grand as Lavermont. He actually remembered the place in its heyday— when France was on top of the world, and known for its lavish elegance and decadent society. How he missed those days.

  Still, there were treasures in France. One just had to work a little harder to find them. Smiling, he walked into the hallway, the clock chiming three. The servants would be up in just over an hour. It was time to make his move.

  With a last glance through the door at the still-sleeping woman, Marcus turned to make his way down the main stairway, careful to keep to the left on the fifteenth stair. It had taken weeks to learn everything he needed to know—the habits of not only Lavermont's mistress but her staff as well. He'd also managed to work out the codes for security at both the chateau and the massive gatehouse that protected it.

  Considering the advanced security available, it was woefully out of date. But then this was the French Riviera and everything was more relaxed. He stopped on the second-floor landing, his gaze sweeping right and then left, ascertaining that the coast was still clear. Satisfied, he took the last of the stairs two at a time, excitement building. It was always the same. Centuries passed and still he loved the thrill of the chase, closing in on a thing of beauty with the intent to possess. It mattered not if it was a woman or a priceless work of art. The pay-off was the same.

  He entered the library and shut the massive door behind him, careful to avoid any sound. The room was enormous, all the walls lined with books, most of them ancient, all of them rare, and none of them ever touched by anything other than the occasional duster. A cardinal sin in Marcus's opinion. Although "sin" might not exactly be the right word.

  He grinned and stopped in the middle of the room, forcing himself to ignore a Monet and then a van Gog
h. He was not here for paintings, no matter how exquisite. Perhaps another time. He turned and moved purposefully toward an ornate corner cabinet between a window and the west wall, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he walked.

  The top tier of the structure was designed to look like a separate box. But it was in fact an illusion, and reaching up under the cabinet's top drawer, he triggered the mechanism that opened it.

  For a moment, he simply stood and stared. The tiny gold statue was everything he'd dreamed it might be. Venus in all her glory. Stolen from Louis XVI, the statue had disappeared from public view centuries before. Some experts even thought that the statue had been melted down for the metal.

  But Marcus always persevered when it was something he wanted, and though it had taken nearly a hundred years, he had finally found her.

  And now, she belonged to him.

  Slowly he reached for the tiny Etruscan treasure and stroked the shimmering line of her breast and hip. Now here was a woman to bed. Still smiling, he slipped the statue into his pocket, reveling in the weight of her against his thigh.

  Sad that a statue was more of a turn-on than the woman upstairs, but then six hundred years of love-making was bound to diminish the act a bit. Practice certainly made perfect, and there wasn't anything much he hadn't experienced. Been there, done that was a major understatement.

  His whole life was a bit like that. Same old, same old. Except when he was acquiring something wonderful. Like Venus. He brushed his hand against the statue in his pocket and, after resetting the little box, turned to go.

  All in all it had been an uneventful heist. But then it wasn't over yet. Striding through the main hall, he entered the security code and made his way out the front door. It was a bit brazen, but Danielle was sound asleep and her staff only bleary-eyed, if even that.

  His Jaguar was parked to the side of the circular drive. He'd refused Danielle's offer of parking it in the stable-turned-garage, citing the fact that he must return to Paris early the next morning. Actually he was headed for the Marina Baie des Anges and his yacht anchored nearby. But the lie would serve him well when she realized what he had done.

  He slid into the car, carefully wrapped Venus in a soft cloth, then placed her in a leather pouch, securing the package underneath the false bottom of his glove compartment. Then he started the car, shifting quickly into gear, knowing full well that the noise of the engine might arouse the household. Hopefully they would react as all well-paid servants and turn a deaf ear, by now more than used to Danielle's gentlemen callers and their nocturnal leave- taking.

  The gate loomed ahead of him in the fast coming light of dawn. If things held true to form, the gatekeeper would still be abed, his plump wife warm and willing. All Marcus had to do was enter the code and he was free.

  He slowed the Jag, approaching the gatehouse with caution. No sense in being careless. The keypad was on the left and he rolled down his window, his mind reaching for the proper sequence of numbers.

  A wizened face appeared in front of him. The gatekeeper.

  Blast and damn.

  Marcus forced a pleasant smile, his hand tightening on the pistol in his hand. He hated the thought of injuring the man. He'd spent too much of his life killing. Nowadays he preferred to manage his heists with as little bloodshed as possible. Unfortunately, that wasn't always an option.

  "Bonjour, Francois," Marcus said, his French slightly archaic but perfectly passable even in this day and age. "You're certainly out and about early."

  "One could say the same for you, monsieur." The Frenchman's eyes narrowed as he stared down through the open window. It was only up close that Marcus realized he was carrying a rifle.

  "Out hunting, are you?" Marcus forced a pleasant smile.

  The man's eyes narrowed further. "There are poachers about." The statement might be pointed or Marcus might be anticipating things that did not in fact exist. It had always been a weakness of his—making trouble where there was none.

  "Well, I'm sure you'll keep them all in line." Marcus fingered the steering wheel with his left hand, his right hand beside him, ostensibly to shift gears, but in fact he was holding the gun well out of Francois's sight. No sense tipping the old boy off. "I'm afraid I'm late for a meeting. Danielle gave me the password, but if you'd be kind enough, I'll just let you open the gate. Save me the trouble." He smiled again, waiting to see what the old man would do.

  The Frenchman stood for a moment studying Marcus, his distrust evident, but then with a characteristic shrug, he walked to the keypad and opened the gate. "Au revoir." He nodded his head, and Marcus gunned the car, slipping through the wrought-iron opening before the gate had even completed its motion.

  The road ahead was steep and curved, chasing along the sea toward the private cove where Apollyon was harbored. He pressed on the gas pedal, letting the car have its head. It wasn't as much of a challenge as sailing but there was a certain thrill in speed. And these days he'd take his pleasure where he found it.

  All in all, the entire endeavor had been much too easy. Security systems were not as much fun as rapiers and guardsmen. In the old days looting had been much more pleasureful. Marcus sighed, taking a turn on squealing wheels, the countryside rushing by at dizzying speed.

  Immortality wasn't as seductive as everyone thought. There were definite drawbacks. He sighed again, and took a second turn, this one swinging so close to the rocky cliff he could clearly see the beach below.

  A short straightaway allowed for even more speed. He could see the yacht off to his left. Just a few more kilometers and he'd be there. Unfortunately, he was not traveling alone. Danielle's Ferrari appeared in his rearview mirror, her bodyguard driving. Eduard wasn't the type to take the car out for an idle spin, so Marcus could only assume that he'd been discovered.

  Or maybe Danielle was simply trying to keep tabs on her latest boy toy. Either way, he wasn't about to let the man take him without a chase. Hell, he wasn't about to let the man take him, period. Gunning the Jag, Marcus concentrated on the road now, his senses heightened as he settled into the thrill of the chase.

  True, he preferred to be the hunter, but he'd been on the other side of the coin often enough to relish the rush of being stalked. Besides, Eduard only had a chance as long as Marcus played fair, and Marcus only played fair as long as he was winning.

  Eduard was rapidly closing the distance between them, the Ferrari's powerful engine a seemingly solid match for the Jag. Marcus swerved the car back and forth in a squeal of rubber that stirred up enough dust to momentarily slow his pursuer. Taking advantage of Eduard's setback, Marcus gunned the engine again, the sports car responding with a new burst of speed.

  A few meters later, Marcus spun the wheel left, the car now following a faintly marked track straight down to the cove. Eduard made the turn as well, but not without breaking, which gave Marcus an even greater advantage.

  The road was rutted and strewn with stones making the going bone-jarringly difficult at this speed, but Marcus kept his foot to the floor, ignoring the scraping undercarriage. He could always buy a new car; he could not, however, obtain a new Venus.

  The Ferrari bounced behind him, and then suddenly slid to a halt. Marcus felt a surge of elation as Danielle's car faded from his rearview mirror, but it was instantly replaced with concern. Eduard had given up all too easily. Something was afoot.

  But what?

  Marcus took the final hill of the track full speed, the Jag cresting the top, flying out and landing hard on its axles. But it continued on, finally swerving to a half-crescent stop at the edge of the cove, a spray of pebbles and sand filling the air.

  Reaching over to the glove compartment, Marcus sprang the lock and pulled the leather pouch from its nesting place. Almost there.

  He jumped out of the car, carrying pistol and pouch, his gaze sweeping the track behind him for signs of Eduard. The only sound that broke the silence was the distant moaning of the seagulls. No engine noise, no gunfire. Nothing.

 
Still afraid to relax his guard, Marcus ran for the edge of the water and the dinghy beached there, using the rocks for cover. Once on board, he stowed the statue safely in his coat pocket, and reached back to start the outboard motor.

  Two pulls and the engine sprang to life, the little boat already hurling out toward its bigger sister anchored at the mouth of the tiny harbor. As always, Marcus felt better on the water, in his element so to speak, although his father would no doubt take issue with the idea, never understanding his third son's affinity for water.

  The sea air cleansed his lungs and he began to relax. Danielle had stolen the statue herself, so there was no chance of her turning him in. And once he'd reached open sea, she'd never find the Venus again. It was as simple as that.

  As he neared the rocks that guarded the cove, a new noise broke through the heavy morning stillness. A motor. Marcus's gaze raked the area, trying to find the source, the decibel level indicating something more than a local fisherman, a speedboat perhaps.

  It was too early for tourists, which left only one conclusion— Eduard had called in reinforcements. As if in testimony of the fact, a silver-striped jet boat appeared from just off his starboard side, closing quickly.

  He opened the throttle, physically urging the little dinghy forward. His boat was no match for the monster closing on him, and his only hope was to use his size to his advantage. The opening to the cove was studded with rocks. They thrusted upward like sharp fingers, threatening anyone who dared to enter or exit.

  Marcus had memorized their position before he'd ventured into the cove, knowing that he might need their protection should he be followed. With a sharp right turn, he edged between two monoliths. His pursuer slid into the opening as well, maneuvering his boat with the ease of an experienced sailor.