The Thief
A Novel of the Black Dagger Brotherhood
(Sprache: Englisch)
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • New enemies rise and desire burns in the latest thrilling novel of the paranormal romance series the Black Dagger Brotherhood.
Sola Morte, former cat burglar and safecracker, has given up her old life on the wrong side...
Sola Morte, former cat burglar and safecracker, has given up her old life on the wrong side...
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#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • New enemies rise and desire burns in the latest thrilling novel of the paranormal romance series the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Sola Morte, former cat burglar and safecracker, has given up her old life on the wrong side of the law. On the run from a drug lord's family, she is lying low far from Caldwell, keeping her nose clean and her beloved grandmother safe. Her heart, though, is back up north, with the only man who has ever gotten through her defenses: Assail, son of Assail, who never meant to fall in love-and certainly not with a human woman. But they have no future, and not just because she doesn't know he is a vampire, but because he is not about to stop dealing arms to the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Fate, however, has other plans for them. When Assail falls into a coma and lingers on the verge of death, his cousins seek out Sola and beg her to give him a reason to live. The last thing she wants is a return to her past, but how can she leave him to die?
As a lethal new enemy of the vampires shows its face, and the Brotherhood needs Assail back on his feet, Sola finds herself not only a target, but a mission-critical force in a war she doesn't understand. And when Assail's truth comes out, will she run from the horror . . . or follow her heart into the arms of the male who loves her more than life itself?
Lese-Probe zu „The Thief “
OneMiami, Florida
Sola Morte, a.k.a. Marisol Maria Rafaela Carvalho, opened the sliding door, pulling the glass panel out of the way. Even though it was past midnight and into January, the ocean air that greeted her was seventy degrees and humid, a sweet kiss as opposed to a frigid slap. After a year of living in Miami, however, she was no longer pleasantly surprised. The kinder climate had become, like the slow pace, the palm trees, the beaches and the tides, simply part of life.
Exotic was a function of rarity, and so, as with beauty, was in the eye of the beholder.
Now, the snow-covered pines of Caldwell, New York, would be captivating and unusual.
Shaking her head, she tried to stick to the present. The terrace for this fifth-floor condo she shared with her grandmother was nothing more than a shelf with a railing, the sort of outdoor space added not for the functional utility and enjoyment of the owners, but so ocean terrace could be included in the sales description of the building s thirty units. And come to think of it, the ocean part was also a fudge, as it was Biscayne Bay, not the Atlantic, she was overlooking. Still, water was water, and when you couldn t sleep, it was more interesting than staring at your ceiling.
She d kitted out the two-bedroom, two-bath place about three years ago, buying setups from Rooms To Go because they were priced right and someone else had done the thinking about throw pillows and color combinations. And then for her luxury ocean terrace, she d hit Target and scored two yellow-and-white lawn chairs and a coffee table. The former worked fine. The latter had a translucent plastic top with what had turned out to be annoying waves in its surface. Nothing sat flush on it.
On that note, she parked herself in the chair on the left. Full moon tonight.
As her voice drifted off, she stared across the nocturnal vista. Directly in front of her, there were a number of short houses, old ones built in the
... mehr
forties, and then a series of crappy T-shirt shops, bodegas, and cantinas between her and the beach. To say that she and her vovó lived in Miami was similar to the terrace-false-advertising thing. They were actually on the northern knife-edge of the city limits, well away from the mansions and nightlife, although she was willing to bet that in about ten years, this down-market neighborhood was going to get a glitzy overhaul.
Fine with her. She d have a great return on her cash investment and
Oh, who was she kidding. They weren t going to be here for more than another year.
She had another bolt-hole in California and one in Toronto. After they cycled through those, it was going to be somewhere else.
For her, there were few requirements for establishing a home base: cash purchase, Catholic church within blocks, and a good Latino market close by.
As a breeze rolled up and played through her newly-blonded hair, she sat forward because it was hard to stay still. The repositioning didn t last, and not just because the top railing now blocked the view of the bay. Easing back, she tapped the heel of her flip-flop, the metronome of restless energy only bearable because it was her own foot doing the up and down, and, at least theoretically, she could stop it.
To say that memory was a lane you could walk along, a path to follow, a linear progression you embarked on from start to finish, was way off base. After this past year, she had decided it was more like a piano keyboard, and the musical notes her mind played in the form of moving-picture images were a pick-and-choose determined more by the sheet music of her mourning than the well-founded logic of her decision to leave Caldwell.
Fine with her. She d have a great return on her cash investment and
Oh, who was she kidding. They weren t going to be here for more than another year.
She had another bolt-hole in California and one in Toronto. After they cycled through those, it was going to be somewhere else.
For her, there were few requirements for establishing a home base: cash purchase, Catholic church within blocks, and a good Latino market close by.
As a breeze rolled up and played through her newly-blonded hair, she sat forward because it was hard to stay still. The repositioning didn t last, and not just because the top railing now blocked the view of the bay. Easing back, she tapped the heel of her flip-flop, the metronome of restless energy only bearable because it was her own foot doing the up and down, and, at least theoretically, she could stop it.
To say that memory was a lane you could walk along, a path to follow, a linear progression you embarked on from start to finish, was way off base. After this past year, she had decided it was more like a piano keyboard, and the musical notes her mind played in the form of moving-picture images were a pick-and-choose determined more by the sheet music of her mourning than the well-founded logic of her decision to leave Caldwell.
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von J. R. Ward
J. R. Ward is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of numerous novels, including the Black Dagger Brotherhood series, the Black Dagger Legacy series, and The Bourbon Kings. She lives in Kentucky where she is working on her next book for Ballantine.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: J. R. Ward
- 2018, 480 Seiten, Maße: 10,6 x 17,5 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Ballantine Books
- ISBN-10: 0451475224
- ISBN-13: 9780451475220
- Erscheinungsdatum: 07.01.2019
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Praise for J. R. Ward s Black Dagger Brotherhood seriesUtterly absorbing. Angela Knight
To die for . . . I love this series! Suzanne Brockmann
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