Titles by Ann Marie Walker & Amy K. Rogers
Chasing Fire Trilogy
Remind Me
Release Me
Reclaim Me
Reclaim Me
Ann Marie Walker and Amy K. Rogers
InterMix Books, New York
AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RAND OM HOUSE LLC
375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014
RECLAIM ME
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2015 by Ann Marie Walker and Amy K. Rogers.
Excerpt from Remind Me copyright © 2015 by Ann Marie Walker and Amy K. Rogers.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-19478-6
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / October 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Penguin Random House is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity.
In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers;
however, the story, the experiences, and the words
are the author’s alone.
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A picture might be worth a thousand words, but a shot of David Gandy is worth an entire novel. Or three. Thank you, David. You will always be our favorite distraction.
Contents
Titles by Ann Marie Walker and Amy K. Rogers
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Remind Me
About the Authors
Chapter One
Happy goddamn New Year, Hudson thought as the slick, black Mercedes S65 took the corner at slingshot speed. With Max piloting the luxury rental, he was free to flip through page after page of the dossier his head of security had put together in less than an hour. The only thing he didn’t have was Madame Bernadette Beauchene’s medical records. Those would’ve probably taken Max the two hours he’d originally been given, and knowing her cholesterol level wasn’t going to alter the current set of circumstances. Hudson wasn’t even certain Beauchene was going to lead him anywhere besides a dead end, but it was the only thread he had, and damn straight he was going to yank on the son of a bitch.
Back at the train station he’d paced nearly the full length of the platform, checked his watch, turned on his heel and strode back, then checked his watch again. The more time that passed, the faster his heart had pounded, and when he’d realized Allie was going to be a no-show, he’d felt like his skin was being ripped off. He’d taken his cell phone out and dialed the George V to question the hotel staff on the whereabouts of their driver, then Max to hit the information highway. Based on the current intel, the only logical conclusion was that Allie had left him. What he didn’t know was why. Now he was on full-blown autopilot with a single mission, and with every tick of the second hand he was losing ground.
Hudson swallowed his impatience, then tossed yet another press photo onto the leather seat. By all accounts the woman Allie had referred to as one of her mother’s closest friends was nothing more than a wealthy European with a gift for graceful social maneuvering. And the copious events she was photographed at were giving him nothing but a crash course on the difference between Valentino and Chanel. The entire dossier was full of useless information, from the details of her marital marathon to her extended family tree, yet he continued to pore over it, trying to find something, anything, that might explain what the fuck was going on.
Was visiting Beauchene just an excuse? Had the past few days been an act, waiting for the perfect out? Or had it been a final good-bye, fucking each other senseless just to purge it out of her system? Had she realized that no matter what his zip code, he still wasn’t good enough? Hudson gripped the document in his hand to avoid punching his fist through the tinted glass. He hadn’t even had a fighting fucking chance to talk her out of it.
“Mr. Chase.” Max’s voice cut through the rhetoricals and Hudson’s laser-sharp eyes darted to the rearview mirror. “The plane is on standby and the crew is ready to depart as soon as we arrive. ETA, eight minutes.”
Hudson checked his watch. “Thank you.” He took a deep breath in an attempt to downshift his nervous energy into focused calm, but his need to find Allie overrode all logic. If she thought she was walking without hearing him out. . . . Well, news flash, she was wrong. So fucking wrong.
After going through the airport’s private security entrance, the Mercedes shot down the tarmac and around the fat turn that lead to the hanger housing the Chase Industries plane. The car came to an abrupt stop inside, its tires squeaking against the highly polished concrete floor. Hudson exploded out of the vehicle. He didn’t give a shit if he had to fly halfway around the world to do it; he was going after her. Winning Allie back was a necessity, and if this was the way she wanted to play it, he was all fucking in.