About the Book
Deception cuts deep in the next propulsive novel in #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan’s Torpedo Ink motorcycle club series.
The stranger frequenting Azelie Vargas’s local coffee shop is a sight to behold. He’s tall, dark, muscular, and a complete distraction. She’s worried one look from his striking silver eyes will have her acting a fool. But it’s not a look that sets Azelie aflame—it’s the way he boldly tells her every dark, dirty thing he’d like to do to her. She should be scandalized. Instead, all she wants to do is say yes.
Andrii “Maestro” Federoff is in San Francisco on club business. Torpedo Ink needs information to bust up a human trafficking ring, and Maestro has found his mark. After weeks of stealthy observation, he’s not sure if Azelie is involved directly, or if she’s just working for some bad people. What he does know is that he needs to get close to her fast, and soon he can’t get enough.
What began as a setup quickly turns real. But no matter how hot they burn, Maestro’s betrayal could leave their hearts smoldering in the ashes.…
EXCERPT:
The moment Andrii entered the shop, she was acutely aware of him in the room. She didn't have to look up to know he was there. She knew exactly where he was every minute. He had such a presence. She sat at her usual table, a small one for two people only, toward the back of the shop. She had a good view of the windows and could see two streets, as the coffee shop was on a corner. Instead of looking at the views-or at Andrii-she brought up the book she was currently reading. She hoped the novel would keep the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach.
With one finger, Azelie pushed back the glasses threatening to slide from her nose. The thick black frames annoyed her when they insisted on falling right when she was reading something exciting. She loved books and the adventures they could take her on. It wasn't like she was ever going to be leading a wild and crazy life, so reading about exotic places and heroes and heroines appealed to her-especially ones that were monogamous. And happy endings were always important, no matter if there was murder, mystery or mayhem.
It was impossible to shut out the giggles of the merry widows. For no reason at all, color swept up her neck into her face. She was certain the women were gesturing wildly toward her. Sighing, she glanced up over the top of her glasses, blinking rapidly several times to bring her surroundings into focus. Her gaze collided with a pair of eyes more liquid silver than gray and very intense. His lashes, very black and thick, didn't take away from his chiseled features. The fact that he wore his black hair longer, and it was streaked with fine threads of silver, only enhanced the entirely masculine vibe he had going. As far as she could tell, there wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere on him.
Her stomach clenched. Her sex clenched. Her entire body wanted to seize. He was intimidating just because he was so gorgeous.
"Would you mind if I join you? As you can see, the shop is filling up quickly."
She blinked up at him again, trying to catch her breath. Just looking at him made everything she had want to run. She had to look away, afraid she'd make an utter fool of herself if she tried to speak. She looked around the coffee shop. It was nearly empty.
"Zelie."
His voice was smooth. Like the brush of velvet against her skin. She'd never heard a voice like his before. Not ever. He had the kind of voice that made her shiver in anticipation of . . . what? Hot blood rushed through her veins and under her skin, coloring her face a bright red. There was no controlling that wild blush any more than there was controlling the flutter in her sex. And Zelie? No one called her Zelie. It was always Azelie. But she liked the way he said Zelie. Still . . .
"How did you know my name?" To her horror, her voice came out small, not at all like she wanted to sound. A whisper. As if she were inviting him to be intimate with her. She never sounded like that. She might avoid men, but when she spoke to them, she was decisive.
The table was small, and he moved the chair close to her-too close. His thigh brushed along hers. Warm. No, hot. She was suddenly very aware of herself as a woman, every nerve ending springing to life. He was definitely a man.
"The barista calls your name when your order is ready," he said simply. "I'm Andrii Federoff. I couldn't help but notice the beautiful woman lost in her own world."
No one called her beautiful. She wasn't beautiful. She was . . . ordinary. Mousy even. There wasn't a single thing remarkable about her. Not that she was complaining. The fact that no one noticed her helped her to disappear into the woodwork, where she could observe those around her without having to participate.
"Azelie Vargas," she managed to get out without making more of a fool of herself. She couldn't drink her coffee; her hands were shaking too bad. She threaded her fingers together tightly in her lap, wondering why a man as gorgeous as Andrii would choose to sit with her.
Excerpted from Betrayal Road by Christine Feehan Copyright © 2024 by Christine Feehan. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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About the Author
Christine Feehan is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Carpathian series, the GhostWalker series, the Leopard series, the Shadow Riders series, and the Sea Haven novels, including the Drake Sisters series and the Sisters of the Heart series. She also writes stand-alone contemporary romantic suspense set in the California backcountry. Learn more online at www.christinefeehan.com.
Author photo credit to Michael Greene
