DELLY’S LAST NIGHT by Tracy Cooper-Posey

A Go Get ’em Women Story

Romantic Suspense Novella

More books by Tracy Cooper-Posey
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A decade-old conspiracy is about to unravel…

This will be Delly’s last night as a one of the world’s best professional thieves. She’s retiring after cracking one last safe. The safe belongs to an old enemy, Neal Cadogan, who catches her red-handed and ties her up while he decides what to do with her.

A blistering hot tale of love and redemption.

This book is part of the Go Get ‘Em Women collection:
1.0 Delly’s Last Night
2.0 The Royal Talisman
3.0 Vivian’s Return
4.0 Ningaloo Nights
A Sexy Romantic Suspense Novella

This series is also available as a Special Bundle

{Also see: Romance, Romantic Suspense, Novellas}

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Delly's Last Night
Average rating:  
 2 reviews
 by Carol Gielen

I enjoyed this book it was fast paced and riveting, it was well written and it takes you to the end of the story. Great read

 by Al
Delays Last Night

Enjoyed Delly thoroughly, fast paced on edge and exciting right up till the end. Thank You for the read! Al

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Chapter One

Miami: June 27, 9:38 p.m.

It wasn’t a butterfly landing in Beijing that tripped off the events that ended the life of Delly Alexander. It was a cook preparing a banquet in Miami.

The harried cook put too much garlic in the sauce base, which caused Neal Cadogan to leave the awards ceremony abruptly and head for home two hours before he was even remotely expected.

His car blowing a tire on the coast road half a mile from his ocean cliff-side home was part of the same run of incredible bad luck for Delly, even though it didn’t look at all connected. The lads who had intended to rip the Porsche off had been interrupted by Cadogan’s early return to his car.

Pissed about losing the tidy profit they’d been counting on, they’d jammed the screwdriver they’d been using on the alarm under the hood into the rear radial instead. They were moving fast. They missed the soft side and hit the tread instead. It was steel belted, so the leak created was a slow one. Cadogan was nearly home before the rim hit the dirt.

He’d glanced at his watch, at the mournful pouch of the flat tire and up at the dark high arch of his living room windows that looked out over the pounding surf. His stomach made up his mind for him. He headed home on foot, sliding through the night like a shadow.

He moved through his dark, silent house, heading straight for the bathroom off his bedroom. There was an old bottle of Gravol there that would calm his stomach nicely. Then he could worry about the car.

Delly’s first introduction to the fatal chain of events happened then. When Cadogan threw the bedroom light switches and the room blazed with incandescent light, she had her right arm buried up to the elbow in the guts of the small wall safe hidden behind the picture that hung over the head of the bed.

At the first blinding flash of light, she acted instinctively; she dived off the bed, tucked herself up into a ball, and let herself roll across the wide expanse of gleaming floorboards. As she slowed, she sprang to her feet and leapt for the sliding door she had opened earlier for just this sort of an emergency.

She didn’t look to see who had walked in the room. Her face was covered, but the instinct was ingrained after so many years. She kept her face averted.

She didn’t slow down, either. Whoever it was that had just walked into the room—and the chances were good it was Neal Cadogan—they would have to run around the huge bed in the center of it if they wanted to catch her. No one was as fast as she was when she was hopped up on panicky adrenaline. No one.

But as her fingers grasped the cool metal frame of the sliding door, she was sent flying forward through the air by a rugby tackle. Two big arms wrapped around her waist and hung on as they both slithered across the wooden flooring of the deck. She protected her head and face with her arms. There were metal chairs and a metal and glass table out there somewhere. She had been going to use the table to vault over the sides of the deck on her way down to the ground. If she was smart, she could still do it.

She twisted around in the grip and brought her left elbow down sharp and hard, intending to slam it into the man’s temple. She knew it was a man. He was too quick on his feet for a heavy woman and he was strong.

The blow to the temple didn’t connect. He rolled quickly onto his back, bringing her with him, and her elbow smashed into the wooden flooring by his ear instead.

She cried out as her entire left arm went instantly numb and tears spurted in her eyes.

“You are a woman,” he said.

He rolled again, so that he was over her. For a moment his weight pinned her hard to the floor, then it shifted and was gone. The arms around her waist picked her up. For a moment she was a limp rag doll, hanging over his arms.

Quickly, she found her feet, used her good right hand to grip the big wrists at her middle for leverage and threw her head backwards. With luck, she’d break his nose and he’d be too worried about the pain to keep hold of her….

He must have felt it coming. Something tipped him off. He shifted and the back of her head connected with nothing but fresh air. She staggered backwards, for he was no longer behind her.

Momentarily she was free, but before she could react an iron-hard hand grabbed her forearm and she was jerked forward. Toward the bedroom.

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