Author: Carol Ann Lee
Email: CarolesCorner@aol.com;
Genre: Futuristic Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 3
Privateer Meets Stowaway: In this sequel to Banner's
Bonus, Zeke Slater poses as an average cargo pilot, yet in reality he's a
privateer for a secret alliance of merchants turned vigilante. He captains a
cargo ship that is covertly super-charged, heavily armed and anything but
harmless beneath its benign guise. The mission is to seek and destroy pirate
ships marauding the trade routes.
Four years have passed since Zeke
worked for Kira's father. Zeke has changed, and Kira, knowing no more than he
allows, senses he's up to no good.
Despite the fact that Kira too has
changed, Zeke refuses to see her as anything other than his past employer's
unruly daughter.
While sexual tension smolders on
board ship, the bad guys lay in wait at the next port.
EXCERPT
"Boss,
what do y’ make of this?" Frank asked from across the helm, his eyes fixed
on an overhead monitor.
Rising from
his seat, Slater moved to stand behind his first officer. "Make of
what?"
"Portal
Screen B." He hitched his chin toward a pulsing red indicator.
Slater paused,
his eyes following Frank’s. "Looks like something’s shifted back
there."
"Yep,
that’s what I figured too, but check this." Frank’s craggy gray brows drew
together in concentration as he tapped in another directive. "Unless I’m
mistak'n’, I’d say we picked ourselves up some live freight back at Port
Chance."
In silent
speculation the captain’s eyes narrowed as he watched the security vid-cam
quickly replay the last sixty seconds of activity.
"You want
me to run a backup on the sensors, Boss?"
"No, I’ve
got a better idea." Descending the short flight of stairs to the corridor,
Slater snagged his leather jacket and holstered weapon off a hook, wrenching
them on as they made their way toward the ship's hold.
Lights snapped
to life, and a host of familiar scents greeted them as they stepped inside the
cargo bay. It was a pungent mixture of imported rarities, exotic spices, and
the distinctive odor of raw textiles.
"Help!"
came a muffled, yet decidedly feminine voice. "I want out!"
"Y’ hear
that?" Frank asked, his breath forming in the chilled air.
"Over
there." Slater’s eyes were focused on a stack of shipping modules lined
along the starboard wall. "That damned Celeste," he muttered.
"Celeste?
Y’ don’t think she’d be so foolish as t’--"
"I
wouldn’t put anything past her." The sleek blue-black barrel of Slater’s
weapon quietly slid from its holster as they wormed their way through the
tightly stacked freight. If nothing else, he’d give her the scare of her life.
The muffled
sounds came again. Stronger. More urgent. The insistent kicking and thumping
coming from the far corner.
Thunk!
"Somebody, get me out of here!" Thunk! "Please! I’m
freezing." Thunk! Thunk!
"Since
when did we start haulin’ talkin’ veggies?" Frank asked, grinning as they
drew to a halt before a fresh produce pod.
A muttered
curse was Slater’s low-voiced reply as he disengaged the lock on the vented
pod. "All right, Celeste! Come on out." And with a swift upward
motion that belied the weight of the cumbersome lid, he threw it back on its
hinges.
"It’s
about time somebo--dee..." Kira Delaney’s voice trailed into quivering
silence as bright overhead light spilled into the pod--even as Slater’s lips
formed an unspoken curse.
Frank’s long,
breathy whistle finally broke the silence. "Y’ want me to check the next
crate over for Celeste?" he asked, his gravelly voice dripping with
unmasked laughter.
No response.
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