www.millsandboon.co.uk

      I would like to dedicate this book to my friend Maggie Scillia.

       Thank you for all your help and support! I would also like to thank my

       wonderful editor, Allison Lyons, and the fabulous writers I was lucky to

       be working with on Miami Confidential: B.J. Daniels, Kelsey Roberts

       and Mallory Kane. My most sincere appreciation to Tracy Montoya, one

       of my favorite writers, for helping me with those Spanish expressions.

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Author Dana Marton lives near Wilmington, Delaware. She has been an avid reader since childhood and has a master’s degree in writing popular fiction. When not writing, she can be found either in her garden or her home library. For more information on the author and her other novels, please visit her Web site at www.danamarton.com.

      She would love to hear from her readers via e-mail: [email protected].

      CAST OF CHARACTERS

      Isabelle Rush—Miami Confidential agent and spokeswoman for Weddings Your Way. Used to doing things on her own terms, Isabelle refuses to let a man tell her what to do or how to do it. Including Rafe.

      Rafe Montoya—A former DEA agent who is now working for Miami Confidential. He’s admired Isabelle Rush as a coworker, but now that they’re on a mission together, can he handle the sparks they’re igniting?

      Sonya Botero—A society belle about to be married to Juan DeLeon. She was kidnapped in front of Weddings Your Way.

      Juan DeLeon—Sonya’s fiancé wields considerable political power in Ladera, which earned him a number of enemies.

      Maggie DeLeon—Juan’s ex-wife lives in an insane asylum. Is she as broken as she seems, or is she living for revenge?

      Alberto Martinez—A political opponent of Juan DeLeon who would like nothing more than to see Juan crushed. But how far would he go to distract Juan from politics?

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Prologue

      Miami, U.S.A.

       June 20, 2006

      Jose Fuentes waited in the back of the vintage limousine for his victim and watched the street, aware of a number of things at once: the expensively dressed man and woman exiting Weddings Your Way—looking less than happy—the few cars passing by, the comfort of the spacious backseat beneath him. His fingers fluttered over the black leather in a soft caress. Maybe when this was all over he would get his own limo. Or maybe not. Better not draw attention to his person or his wealth.

      And when he was done with Botero, he would be wealthy.

      Sunshine reflected off the pavement and the white walls of exclusive villas; palm trees swayed in the breeze coming off the bay. His window down a crack, he could smell the water. He liked Miami. Someday, he might come back here on vacation.

      His phone chirped. Annoyance replaced his pleasant mood as he recognized the number.

      Good work took time.

      “Patience,” he said as he picked up the call.

      “You don’t have her yet?” The voice was full of censure.

      “She’s a few minutes late.” He pulled the cell phone from his ear to glance at the exact time displayed on its small LCD screen and caught sight of the white limo he’d been waiting for as it turned the corner.

      Time to get the ball rolling.

      “I’ll call you back.” He clicked off and nodded to Gordy behind the wheel, a man he trusted but would take care of afterward nevertheless. Gordy had a number of useful attributes, but the ability to rise above his circumstances wasn’t one of them. No matter how big a share of the money he would get, sooner or later he would find his way back to the booze and the drugs and the old friends he could get them from.

      And then Gordy would talk.

      That worried him, how the number of people involved was snowballing out of control. Why was Ramon in Miami, for example? To supervise him? The thought that he wouldn’t be trusted filled him with rage. Not that he trusted any of the men on either crew, the one he’d brought to Miami or the one he’d put together to stay in Ladera to wait for Sonya there, under Pedro Carrera’s direction. Pedro was going to be pissed after he figured out he’d been screwed over, stuck with a high-profile kidnap victim on his hands.

      Jose shrugged off the thought. Carrera could be as pissed as he wanted to be as long as the man didn’t find him. And, with as much money as he was going to make on this deal, disappearing without a trace shouldn’t be too hard.

      He glanced at the two men in the back of the limo with him. They were there for muscle—a kidnapping in broad daylight in the middle of Miami took more than one pair of hands. He wasn’t about to show himself. He was going to play this smart, planned and coordinated. This was his chance to break out, to leave small-time and give himself a promotion.

      Once they had Sonya, these two would smuggle her out of the country, to Pedro in Ladera. Jose and the rest of the team would stay behind to tie up loose ends. He would pick up the ransom money and ditch the master plan at that point, start following his own path. He wasn’t going back to Ladera. Ever. He was going in the opposite direction. And when he got there, he’d buy himself the life he deserved.

      “Get ready,” he said to the men as Sonya Botero’s sleek new limo pulled up to the curb.

      Johnson, her driver, got out and opened the door for her. The rich bitch who’d exited the bridal salon a few minutes ago stopped to watch. What was she doing? Hoping to spot a celebrity?

      Well, hell, he didn’t have time to worry about her.

      “Watch for the security cameras. You know where they are,” he said.

      Gordy pulled the car up behind Botero’s; his other two men jumped from the car and dashed for Sonya as planned.

      What the hell was her driver doing? Why was he putting up a fight?

      Okay, not much of a fight, just enough to make it look good. Stupid