Angels and Outlaws Read online

  The White Star Continuity

  Book 1

  ANGELS AND OUTLAWS

  by

  Lori Wilde

  The legend begins… Thieves, lovers,

  scoundrels and saviors: good guys and bad

  surround Cass Richards and Sam Mason.

  Sam’s a cop with a case involving stolen gems,

  but it’s Cass—his assistant and prime suspect—

  who may be his prize catch….

  HIDDEN GEMS by Carrie Alexander,

  available February, Book 2

  CAUGHT by Kristin Hardy,

  available March, Book 3

  INTO TEMPTATION by Jeanie London,

  available April, Book 4

  FULL CIRCLE by Shannon Hollis,

  available May, Book 5

  DESTINY’S HAND by Lori Wilde,

  available June, Book 6

  Dear Reader,

  What if a legend-shrouded ancient amulet belonging to tragic star-crossed lovers and reputed to possess magical powers resurfaced in modern-day New York?

  What if there are also dark forces, fueled by a dangerous obsession, seeking the amulet for personal greed and satisfaction?

  And what if six women, all pure of heart and ready for true love, get caught up in the hunt for this special object, only to discover that it will dramatically alter their lives forever?

  This intriguing scenario provides the framework for an action-packed six-book series that promises thrills, chills, twists and turns and of course, lots of steamy, red-hot romance.

  The action kicks off in Angels and Outlaws when The White Star amulet is stolen from the exclusive Stanhope auction house in Manhattan and Detective Sergeant Sam Mason is assigned to the case. What Sam discovers about The White Star shocks him and puts gorgeous public relations representative Cass Richards at the top of his suspect list. Will true love win out?

  Don’t miss a single story in this series as it builds to an exciting and unexpected conclusion in Destiny’s Hand.

  Enjoy the ride!

  Lori Wilde

  ANGELS AND OUTLAWS

  Lori Wilde

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  To Kathryn Lye—Thanks for all your incredibly hard

  work on this project. Only you understand

  how much this means.

  ISBN 978-1-55254-392-2

  ANGELS AND OUTLAWS

  Copyright © 2006 by Laurie Vanzura.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com

  About the Author

  Lori Wilde can’t remember a time when she didn’t want to write. She even went to nursing school so she could have a schedule flexible enough to allow her to write on the side. She nursed for 20 years, working in a variety of settings from the newborn nursery to the recovery room, to dialysis. But she never lost her desire to write.

  She sold her first book in 1994 to Silhouette Romance but later discovered she had a flair for comedy and branched out to Harlequin Duets and now, to Blaze.

  Lori is an adventuresome soul who loves to travel. She’s taken flying lessons, completed two marathons, rode in a hot-air balloon, performed with a professional jazz band, traveled Europe as a teenager, hiked volcanoes in Hawaii, trod on glaciers in Alaska, shot white-water rapids, water-skied, snow-skied, raced all-terrain vehicles, bodysurfed in the Gulf of Mexico, and photographed grizzly bears in Yellowstone.

  She lives in her native Texas, with her own real-life hero, Bill, her red heeler/Australian shepherd dog, Cinnamon, and four ducks, Quacker, Big Guy, Affleck, and Sheepidy.

  The Legend Begins

  Thousands of years ago in a faraway desert kingdom lived two young princesses named Anan and Batu. Anan was the older sister destined to inherit the throne, but Batu was the prettier of the two with her dark, almond eyes and her thick black hair. While Anan was being groomed to take over her royal duties, Batu was allowed to play freely. Her favorite playmate was Egmath, the son of the bravest soldier in the king’s army.

  Late one afternoon, as Batu and Egmath were frolicking among the cypress trees on the outskirts of the village, Egmath noticed the tiny buds on her chest blooming beneath her robe and began teasing her about them. Embarrassed by the odd changes in her body and by Egmath’s gentle jokes, Batu ran away and hid herself among the sand dunes.

  She felt confused. Why had his comments upset her so? Until now, they’d joked and teased and poked fun at each other about everything. What had changed? Why did she feel so self-conscious? She ducked her head, crossed her arms over her chest, willed the strange bumps away and just kept running.

  Alarmed that he’d hurt his best friend’s feelings and worried that Batu had gone out into the desert alone with no water, Egmath went in search of her. He walked through the heated sand, calling her name, calling out a heartfelt apology, pleading with Batu to show herself. He crested one dune after another, moving farther and farther away from the village, but no Batu.

  Evening crept over the horizon and young Egmath’s fear and guilt grew deeper with each darkening second. The wind buffeted him and blew sand in his face, tossing his pleas into the twilight. She would never hear him now. Time passed. Stars speckled the sky.

  “Batu, Batu, where are you?” he cried.

  He thought he heard a jackal’s low yipping, but he couldn’t be sure. Panic pulled Egmath faster into the desert night. He stumbled, fell on his face, got up and kept trudging up a high dune. When he reached the summit and peered down into the basin below, terror gripped his heart.

  There stood Batu, surrounded by a pack of snarling, hungry jackals.

  Egmath had no idea what to do. He had no weapon, and the village was too far away. If he left to go find help, the jackals would surely attack before he could return. It was up to him and him alone to save her.

  Batu hadn’t seen him. She stared at the horrible creatures, frozen with fear, trapped, unable to move. The jackals edged closer in a slowly advancing circle.

  Egmath swallowed hard, calling up every ounce of courage he possessed. His father had taught him there was nothing more important than honor and bravery. But how could one young boy hope to fight off eight slobbering jackals? This then was his first test as a man. He would save Batu or die trying.

  Armed with nothing more than his love for Batu, Egmath let out a fierce, angry scream, waved his arms wildly above his head and charged down the dune.

  The jackals, frightened by the brave young warrior, turned and ran away into the darkness.

  Egmath reached Batu. His heart was pounding and he could barely breathe. He was so scared.

  “You saved my life,” Batu whispere
d.

  He put his arms around her and held her close. “We must hurry to the village. Before the jackals come back.”

  Batu was trembling so hard she could not walk.

  “I’ll carry you,” Egmath said.

  He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

  Their chests were pressed tightly together. She could feel the steady strum of his heart beneath hers. He was her savior, her hero.

  When at last they reached the copse of cypress tress, Egmath set her down, took her hands in his and under the starlit sky, looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings,” he murmured. “I should never have teased you.”

  “I should not have taken offense. I was silly. Thank you for caring enough to come after me.”

  They stared into each other’s faces, and even though they were mere children they both knew they were fated to be together.

  Egmath leaned in and tentatively, tenderly brushed his lips against Batu’s for their very first kiss.

  And in that same moment a falling star streaked across the sky, throwing itself like an angled spar—darting a brilliant white, yellow and blue. Sealing their kiss. Sealing their destiny.

  Egmath and Batu, forever always.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  CONTENTS

  About the Author

  The Legend Begins

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  COMING NEXT MONTH

  Prologue

  Stanhope Auction House

  Upper East Side, Manhattan

  12:01 a.m.

  RIGHT OR WRONG, he must possess her.

  Stealthily, Jean Luc Allard, professional jewel thief, crept from the shadows of the silent auction house, intent on one thing and one thing only.

  The surveillance camera mounted overhead whispered as it rotated to scan the perimeter, but Jean knew how to avoid detection. Strategically placed, a high-powered magnet would disrupt the camera’s feed.

  For weeks, following the death of high-society heiress Zoey Zander, he’d researched every detail, learned every facet of the auction house’s routine, preparing for the moment when his target would show up for bidding as part of the vast Zander estate. His instructions were clear. He must not allow her to go up for auction, no matter what the risk.

  And now soon, very soon, Jean would hold her in his hands.

  Excitement trembled his fingertips, anticipation sped his pulse. Nothing thrilled him like a daring heist. Nothing, that is, except what she represented.

  The key to his future as a very wealthy man.

  It was the most lucrative job he’d ever taken. He was so close, Jean could taste the money.

  He’d heard the stories about her. She was legendary in his small world. According to rumor, only those who were pure of heart could possess her without falling under the curse.

  Laughable.

  His whole life had been cursed. There was nothing she could dish out that would top what he’d already suffered. Besides, he didn’t believe in curses. Ruthlessness? Yes. Cruelty? Oui. Violence? A necessity in his trade. But fabled curses were no more real than children’s fairy tales.

  Silently, he crept toward the vault, barely able to restrain himself from rushing forward, when he heard a noise somewhere down the corridor.

  He stepped back, pressed his body against the wall, stood-stock still in the darkness and willed himself to disappear.

  Don’t move, don’t make a single sound, don’t even breathe.

  Jean was dressed all in black from his black wool cap to his black leather sneakers. His hair was jet black and so were his eyes. Three days’ worth of beard growth shadowed his jaw. He was one with the darkness, owned it. Holding his breath, he waited.

  Footsteps drew nearer, but it was not the sound of the security guard’s booted gait. The footfall was almost as furtive as his, sneaking quietly toward the vault without benefit of illumination.

  Was someone else robbing the auction house?

  Impossible.

  Not on the same night he had chosen. Jean had discussed his heist with no one. A smart thief never talked about his jobs, no matter how tempting it might be to brag. Keeping his mouth shut was what had saved him from jail on many occasions and his ability to stay silent was the main reason his very wealthy, very well-connected employer had selected him for the job.

  Could his enigmatic boss have hired someone else, just in case, to make sure Jean kept his end of the bargain? He ground his teeth, angered at his employer’s lack of trust. Was there truly no honor among thieves?

  Then again, maybe he was jumping to conclusions. The contents of Zoey Zander’s estate had been extensively detailed in the newspaper. The woman had been wealthy enough to cause thieves on three continents to salivate, and the fact she had no immediate heirs made her fortune that much more enticing.

  Jean watched as a broad-shouldered man loomed in the hallway. His mind shot back to an early childhood memory of his father stumbling through their house along a seedy stretch of the Seine. Come here, you son of a whore. Don’t hide from me. But Jean knew if he stayed hidden long enough his father would pass out in a drunken stupor and in the morning forget why he’d wanted to beat him in the first place. He’d learned to hide in plain sight, blending into the shadows, anchoring his fear down tight inside him.

  When the stranger reached the door of the vault, he stopped and switched on a penlight.

  Jean studied the man’s face in the gloom, but did not recognize him. He was younger than Jean and dressed casually, but elegantly. Like the son of a rich man. The interloper punched a number into the coded key pad and the vault door clicked open.

  Interesting.

  Where had he gotten the code? Did he work for the auction house? Jean had planned on sabotaging the mechanisms of the vault door and then disengaging the internal alarm with a special device designed by his employer. An anti-anti-theft apparatus. But this poser had simply obtained access to the deactivation code.

  Specifically what had he come after?

  The man disappeared inside the vault, but left the door ajar.

  Jean hung back for a second and then edged forward. Cautiously, he peered through the opening. The man quickly skirted the antiques, memorabilia and other large items of the Zoey Zander collection and headed straight for a tall, upright safe at the back of the room.

  Suddenly what had seemed like an imposing obstacle—the unexpected appearance of this stranger—became a blessing in disguise. Jean would let this man do the hard work.

  His excitement was back. It tasted sweet and edgy against his tongue. His nose tingled with the smell of secrets, the tang of adrenaline.

  The man stuck his penlight between his teeth and shone the thin beam on the lock. He spun the combination. The safe door popped open. Shoulders hunched, he dug inside, retrieved a fistful of jewels and stuffed them into a royal blue felt pouch he’d pulled from his jacket pocket.

  Jean flexed his fingers, aching to touch her.

  The man straightened, turned and for the first time saw Jean. He startled and then opened his mouth.

  But he never got a word out.

  Jean slammed the butt of his Luger hard against the side of the other man’s temple.

  His eyes glassed over, his knees buckled and he went down.

  Reaching out, Jean plucked the felt pouch from his hand as he fell. The penlight hit the floor beside him. Jean bent and picked it up, directed the light into the pouch. He ignored the rubies and emeralds and diamonds. His eyes were hungry for one thing a
nd one thing only.

  She smiled up at him, resplendent in the sliver of wan light. Smiled and winked and sparkled. She was perfect. Ivory in the shape of a five-pointed star with a hollow center.

  He separated her from the other gems, but in the process, the pin of an onyx brooch pierced his thumb. He cursed softly, brought his thumb to his mouth and tasted blood.

  He dropped the brooch and the rest of the jewels on top of the downed man. The interloper might as well have something for his troubles besides a throbbing headache when he awoke.

  Jean’s eyes turned back to the amulet, now cradled in his palm, compelled by her allure. His breathing stopped. How could such a beauty be cursed?

  Romantic rubbish.

  Never mind the foolish legend. At long last she was his. And she was going to make him rich beyond his wildest imagination.

  How he loved her.

  His White Star amulet.

  1

  DON’T LOOK DOWN.

  Cassandra “Cass” Richards, assistant public relations representative to the haute couture house of Isaac Vincent, stood trembling on a window ledge eight floors above Broadway in Manhattan’s garment district. One wrong move and she would plummet like a runway model’s weight two weeks before the spring collection debut.

  Suddenly, shimmying after her Hermès scarf, which had caught on one of the brownstone’s grim-faced gargoyles, seemed more and more like a very bad idea. The brisk spring breeze had whisked it off her neck when she’d leaned out the open window to wave goodbye to her best friend, Marissa Suarez, who was heading off to the Caribbean with her boyfriend and had stopped by the office to leave Cass a key to her apartment just in case.