$3.95
Sexy, Fast-Paced, Edge of Your Seat Thriller
The Jack Lazar Series has it all from mystery and suspense to action, humor and sensuality
Jack’s best friend, Zachary Taylor, is roused out of bed in the middle of the night at his apartment in Paris and taken away at gunpoint, but not before he sends Jack a safety deposit key with a note saying he’s in trouble. If only he had given a clue regarding the location of the box, its contents, or what the hell is going on. Jack tries to call, but Zach’s cell phone goes straight to voicemail.
Clearly, something sinister is afoot in the City of Lights.
Jack heads for Paris to investigate, and in no time he’s accosted by the bad guys. But Jack Lazar isn’t the sort to back down, so he sets up shop in Zach’s Paris flat on a mission to solve the mystery and find his friend.
Sexy, French Flight Attendants Are Nothing But Trouble
Enter Michele - one of Zach’s many girlfriends in Paris. She's upset to discover Zach is missing, but her idea of being consoled is to shed her clothes, plant herself in Jack’s arms, and mercilessly tantalize him. She’s ostensibly off-limits, of course, which wedges Jack between his growing obsession with her and his allegiance to Zach. It’s a sure prescription for disaster...and some really hot sex.
Uh-Oh. Things Just Got More Complicated
With a little ingenuity, Jack locates and opens the safety deposit box, but the only thing in there is an old bottle of Cognac. Still, it doesn’t take long before people are chasing after it, and they’re willing to kill for it, too. But the eau-de-vie is just the tip of the iceberg, and soon Jack finds himself working with French law enforcement and British Intelligence to stop something truly unthinkable.
Chapter One
It was the first time Zachary Taylor had ever stared
down the barrel of a gun, and he was so terrified he
could barely breathe. A chilling voice woke him from a
deep slumber, the adrenaline shooting through his veins
and sending his internal systems into chaos. His heart
raced as if it would leap out of his chest at any moment.
The man who ripped him from his bed wore a black
ski mask, and he pushed Zach toward the door, yelling
even louder than before.
“Depechez-vous! Tout droit!”
As ordered, Zach moved forward, the revolver
jamming into the small of his back, the resulting pain
traveling up his spine and exploding at the base of his
neck. Still half asleep, the experience seemed like a
dream, but dreams were never this painful. He
descended the staircase wearing only his boxers, the
humid chill of the Paris night assaulting him as he spilled
outside to the front steps of the apartment
building.
The rear door of the black Jaguar XJ sedan flew
open, and Zach was thrust inside, his forehead striking
the door jamb with an awful force, a fresh trickle of
blood oozing downward into his eyebrows. His head was
spinning, he was barely even conscious, and his eyes
jumped from one object to another inside the car.
He noticed first the clock on the dashboard, which
displayed a time of three thirty-seven, then the man who
sat next to him—a face half cast in the shadows. Zach
wiped his brow and stared at the blood on his hand
before shifting his gaze toward the driver’s door as the
assailant who pulled him from his bed edged inside and
started the engine. The man pulled off his mask with a
single thrust and cast it on the passenger-side floorboard
as the car lurched forward.
He gasped as the man next to him grabbed a handful
of hair and wrenched his head backward, Zach’s eyes
widening as he recognized his captor through the
darkness. The man slid the hammer of his semiautomatic
pistol into firing position and placed the barrel
squarely against Zach’s temple. It felt cold, hard and
scary as hell.
“Where is it?” the man asked in perfect English
tempered by a Middle-Eastern accent, the resonant tone
of his voice making him all that more threatening. “You
have one chance, Zach, or so help me God I will pull this
trigger.”
Despite his disorientation, Zach knew the best way to
stay alive was to feign ignorance.
If he told the man what he wanted to know,
there would be nothing left to
bargain with.
“Where is what?” he said. “I don’t know what you
mean.”
“I will kill you, Zach! You American bastard! Now
tell me where it is!” He tightened his grasp on Zach’s
hair and pulled his head backward again.
“Whatever you’re looking for,” Zach struggled to
answer through the pain. “I don’t have it. You’ll just
have to kill me.”
“Fine.”
The butt of the gun struck the back of Zach’s head,
and he was out.
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