(ebook) Brown Sandra - The Devil's Own

(ebook) Brown Sandra - The Devil's Own - The devil`s own...

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The devil`s own Sandra Brown
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HER PLAN WAS FOOLHARDY But if it was the only way to save nine children, then she would try. HE HADN’T STAYED ALIVE BY BEING MR. NICE GUY He was the most disreputable and dangerous-looking man in the bar. That’s why she wanted him. THEY WERE UNDER FIRE Together they fought the odds…and the burning hungers that made the steamy days and nights doubly dangerous….
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ISBN 1-55.166-001-6 THE DEVIL’S OWN Copyright © 1987 by Sandra Brown. 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, Mira Books, 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. MIRA and the star colophon are trademarks of Mira Books. Printed in U.S.A.
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One He was drunk and, consequently, just what she needed. She studied him through the smoky, dusty haze of the cantina, where he sat on a bar stool, nursing his drink. The glass was chipped, its dark amber contents cloudy. He didn’t seem to notice as he frequently raised it to his lips. He sat with his knees widespread, his head bent low between hunched shoulders, his elbows propped on the greasy surface of the bar. The tavern was crowded with soldiers and the women who entertained them in rooms upstairs. Squeaky fans, rotating desultorily overhead, barely stirred the thick pall of tobacco smoke. The cloying essence of cheap perfume mixed with the stench of the unwashed bodies of men who had spent days in the jungle. Laughter was everywhere, but the mood wasn’t particularly jovial. The soldiers’ eyes didn’t smile. There was an aura of desperation to their merrymaking. They took their fun as they took everything else, violently. They were young for the most part - tough, surly men who lived on a razor’s edge between life and death every day. Most wore the uniform of the army of the current military regime. But whether they were locals or international mercenaries, all had that same hard look about their eyes. They were full of suspicion. Wariness shadowed every grin. The man Kerry Bishop had her sights on was no exception. He wasn’t Latin - he was American by the looks of him. Hard, well-defined biceps bulged beneath his sleeves, which had been rolled up so tightly they encircled his arms like rope. His dark hair hung long and shaggy over his shirt collar. The portion of his jaw Kerry could see was covered with several days’
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(ebook) Brown Sandra - The Devil's Own - The devil`s own...

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