Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat) Read Online Free

She
knew she was being a pussy, but still, that familiar sensation assailed her,
the one where her head threatened to blow right off her shoulders when a
mixture of fear and anger boiled in her blood.
    Aw, no, and here comes that feeling of
trapped suffocation closing in around me, too.
    Under her
gasping breaths , she muttered, “I gotta get the hell
out of here.”
    Anjelee jerked
her scrutiny from Jager and snatched up her beach bag. Any other time, any
other person, she might consider slinking right up and propositioning him for a
little fun if the mood struck her. She would flirt outrageously and pursue
anything from drinks, to dinner companionship, to a night of endless,
no-strings sex.
    But
not this time. Not with
Jager Manning, wannabe cop, her possible jailer, the Grim Damn Reaper.
    She had to
leave. There was no other choice. She’d have to flee to another resort, or all
the way across the world, anything to get away from him before he apprehended
her for initiating a second threat to his client after she’d lied and promised
she’d destroyed Mitch Wulfrum’s celebrity-damning pictures and would never
demand another cent.
    No more time to
think about that stupid risk she’d taken.
    Run!
    Without
bothering to slip on her bikini bottoms beneath the sarong, she tore out across
the hot tiled pool deck, losing her flip-flops in the process.
    “Hey, where ya
going?” Keefer called out.
    Screw you. Now you ask, you son of a
bitch.
    Her bare feet didn’t touch ground long enough to burn on the
heated surface. She leaped over lounge chairs, dodged tables topped with
umbrellas, and raced up the concrete walk leading to the building where her
suite was located. Her fake passport, I.D., and cash were in the room’s safe. And her jewelry. Her stomach twisted and lurched. Yes, she
might have to pawn off her few pieces of precious jewelry just to survive in
hiding until the money showed up in her account. So it was important she made a
quick stop in the room before slipping downstairs to the bellhop to request a
shuttle to the airport and on to another resort.
    Or better yet,
to another planet.
    Anjelee shot up
two flights of stairs. Her pulse pounded, and her braless breasts bounced
painfully under the thin garment. She dug in her bag as she went, finally
closing her fingers around the room key. Her hand trembled when she slid the
electronic card into the slot.
    It bleeped red.
“Crap.”
    She slid it in
again, this time slowly, forcing her hand to stay steady. Green. “Thank God.”
    Anjelee burst
into the cool, tiled room. She tossed the key on the dresser and paced back and
forth between the king-sized bed and the French doors. Their luxurious suite
overlooked the breathtaking expanse of the aqua, Caribbean Sea, but both the
room and the view went unnoticed. All she could think about was Jager standing
there magnificently naked with that I’m-going-to-nail-you gleam in his eyes.
What the hell should she do?
    “Yep. There’s
only one choice. Leave.”
    She dragged her
suitcase out from under the raised bed, ripped off the cover-up and dug for
something more appropriate for travel. She found a floral, t-back top and set
it aside on the bed, then drew out a pair of jeans and pitched them up on the
mattress along with the shirt. Panicked, she rushed around the room in nothing
but the sarong, scooping up anything she could get her
hands on. She hurled shoes in the suitcase mixed in with all her slut-wear and
the many slinky dresses she’d brought for the resort’s nightlife disco parties.
To that she piled on g-string swimsuits, skimpy boy-shorts, toiletries ,
anything her shaking hands could grab hold of.
    “Maybe go hide
in some remote corner of some godforsaken, fifth-world country no one’s even
heard of. For the rest of my shitting life.”
    Something
rattled across the room in the vicinity of the next room. Her head snapped up
on a gasp. She clutched the bag of sex toys she’d been about to pack,