HOSTAGE CRISIS (Vistaria Has Fallen: Book Three)
A Romantic Military Thriller
HOSTAGE CRISIS WILL BE RELEASED ON FEBRUARY 8, 2017
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THIS WAS FABULOUS…yes, in shouty caps. I couldn’t read it fast enough. What a RIDE!
Hostages of the Insurrectos, both with secrets to keep.
For weeks, Olivia has been held against her will, along with other UN diplomats held captive on Vistaria by the psychotic Captain Ibarra. She desperately hides her identity and nationality to survive.
Daniel, an English businessman with secrets of his own, is caught in the same net. He defies the guards any way he can until forced to use Olivia’s window one night.
They have nothing in common but a will to live, which sparks a conflagration that threatens every hostage on Vistaria, and their own hearts, too…
Get your copy now of the third book in the Vistaria Has Fallen romantic suspense series reviewers are calling “original”, “compelling” and “a rollercoaster ride.”
[Reader Note: This series was previously published as erotic romance titles in the Vistaria Affair series. This new edition has been re-written for a general audience and re-titled.]
It has everything — action, suspense, surprises, romance! I could really see the scenes unfolding on a screen.
EXCERPT FROM HOSTAGE CRISIS
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2018
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Olivia was not a heavy sleeper and the tension of the last four weeks had left her even less inclined to slumber. So at two a.m., when the window of her hotel room softly rattled and lifted, she woke instantly.
Her heart hammered as she watched from under her half-lowered eyelids the double-hung window slide upward.
She reasoned it out. It wasn’t possible for anyone other than a guest of the Royal White Sands hotel to be inside the compound after curfew—not with all the armed guards circling the grounds. That meant whoever was outside her window had to be one of the other guests. They were being stealthy because they didn’t want the guards to know they were there. Ibarra, the officer who controlled the Insurrectos running the White Sands had made it clear they would punish a guest for breaking curfew. This person was clearly doing that.
As the Insurrectos had not charmed their way into Olivia’s heart over the last few weeks, she wasn’t in a hurry to turn the guest over to Ibarra by squealing about breaking and entering. Instead, she sat up, bringing the blanket with her, and waited.
The window lifted enough to admit a full-grown human. A body slithered through. A naked body. Olivia caught her breath, containing her shock with well-trained discipline.
He stood and looked at her. His eyes were hidden by shadows cast by the window frame and the bright light from the floodlights the Insurrectos ran all night.
She recognized him as the British man who had arrived in the same group as she had, six weeks before. He was a fine specimen, too. Possibly early to mid-thirties, which made him a little younger than her, or maybe her age and just not showing it.
Physically, he was strong and fit. There was plenty of muscle. Not gym rat excessive, yet enough to show he worked out. He was lean and lightly tanned, which was unusual for an English businessman. Hard, lean hips and strong thighs. As he turned to listen for a moment, to check if his entry into her room had been observed, she saw his backside outlined in the light and mentally sighed. High and firm, with tight cheeks.
She wasn’t sure what his name was. They had never spoken to each other.
He lifted a long finger to his lips for silence, then padded to her bathroom. He didn’t switch on the light. Moving with confidence, he picked up a glass, poured a small amount of water into it and brought it back to her bedside. He bent over, lifted the sheets, blanket and the box spring cover, then carefully poured a teaspoonful of water over a small black lead. He placed the glass under the mattress and lowered the head of the lead into the glass so it was submerged. He dropped the covers back over it again and straightened.
“In the morning, before you leave your room,” he said, “don’t forget to put the glass back in the bathroom and bend the microphone back up the way it was. The Insurrectos are unimaginative, although they’re bloody good at following routine. They check the microphones every day when you leave your room.” He paused. “You did know they were bugging you, didn’t you?”
“I thought they might be.” She bit her lip.
“You destroyed all your identity papers, anything they might use to nut out who you are?” He didn’t seem at all concerned about being naked. He might as well have been fully clothed.
“As soon as they confined us to the hotel,” she confirmed. “We all did.” She cleared her throat. “You are going to explain why you broke into my room, aren’t you?”
He glanced at the open window. “Sorry about that.” He went to the window, slid the pane back down and clipped the window shut. The rounded caps of his shoulders gleamed in the light as he moved. “I was next door with…a friend.”
“I see,” Olivia replied. The room next door was occupied by the pretty brunette girl Olivia thought was called Theresa. Theresa had travelled with the main party as a diplomatic aide to one of the UN representatives, as she spoke fluent Spanish. This man would have gravitated to her because she was young and buxom.
“The Insurrectos called on her for questioning, so I had to leave in a hurry,” the man added.
Olivia barely held back her little moan. Since the Insurrectos had shut down the hotel and refused to let the diplomatic party leave, unscheduled middle-of-the-night interviews had become frequent. She had suffered through one herself. “Why do they do that?”
“Because in the small hours of the night, your resistance is weakest and your mind is sluggish. It’s the best time to question a subject.” He seemed indifferent.
Olivia was appalled. “I knew that. I mean, I do know that, only I never applied it to us here. We’re hostages, aren’t we?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Yes, we are,” he agreed. “You’ve only just figured that out?”
She smoothed the blanket about her knees compulsively. “I think I’ve known all along. I just didn’t want to deal with it. It’s so extreme. So bizarre. No one has ever used the word aloud to make it real.”
He pointed out the window. “The guns and soldiers make it real enough. Try strolling out of the compound. A hundred seven-six-two millimeter bullets from those HK21 machine guns ripping out your stomach will feel very real.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees, to keep her hands still. “Will she be all right, your friend?”
He nodded. “Serrano is paranoid, but he’s not stupid. He knows better than to harm diplomats.”
Olivia gave a hollow laugh. “If he isn’t stupid, then he wouldn’t have taken us hostage in the first place. I won’t rely on your assurance, thank you, Mr.—?”
“Daniel.” He sat on the bed, still completely at ease despite his lack of clothing.
It bothered Olivia that he was unmoved by her presence, when she could barely take her eyes away from his chest and shoulders, from his abdomen, hips…pelvis…the thigh resting so casually across her counterpane. “So now what, Daniel?”
“I’ll have to stay here until morning. Then I’ll go next door to retrieve my clothes and bother you no longer.”
“Stay? Stay where?”
He patted the bed.