Rulebreaker [NOOK Book]

Overview

Liv Braxton's Felon Rule #1: Don't get emotionally involved.

Smash-and-grab thieving doesn't lend itself to getting chummy with the victims, and Liv hasn't met anyone on the mining colony of Nevarro worth knowing, anyway. So it's easy to follow her Rules.

Until her ex, Tonio, shows up with an invitation to join him on the job of a lifetime.

...
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Rulebreaker

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Overview

Liv Braxton's Felon Rule #1: Don't get emotionally involved.

Smash-and-grab thieving doesn't lend itself to getting chummy with the victims, and Liv hasn't met anyone on the mining colony of Nevarro worth knowing, anyway. So it's easy to follow her Rules.

Until her ex, Tonio, shows up with an invitation to join him on the job of a lifetime.

Until Zia Talbot, the woman she's supposed to deceive, turns Liv's expectations upside down in a way no woman ever has.

Until corporate secrets turn deadly.

But to make things work with Zia, Liv has to do more than break her Rules, and the stakes are higher than just a broken heart…

89,000 words

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781426896200
  • Publisher: Carina Press
  • Publication date: 4/15/2013
  • Sold by: HARLEQUIN
  • Format: eBook
  • Edition description: Original
  • Pages: 384
  • Sales rank: 335,113
  • File size: 962 KB

Meet the Author

Cathy Pegau's muse always finds some sort of science-fiction, fantasy or paranormal bend to the stories it offers. A self-proclaimed science geek, she studied wildlife biology at universities in North Dakota and Alaska. As an enthusiastic student, she spent summers aboard a research vessel scooping muck from the ocean floor and winters cataloguing the critters there to see what gray whales were eating. One of her first biology jobs found her trundling across the Wyoming prairie—and avoiding rattlesnakes—for a black-footed ferret reintroduction program. She hooted for spotted owls in Southern Oregon and got lost overnight the first week. But that's another story.

Now, she lives in Alaska with her husband and kids, several pets and the occasional black bear that roams through the yard.

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Read an Excerpt


One of the three masked men raised his rifle and shot a short burst of energy pulses into the ceiling of the First Colonial Bank of Nevarro. Fft-fft-fft-fft-fft. Plaster hit the wood floor in a staccato patter louder than the shots themselves. Ozone, dust and cries of alarm filled the air.

The shooter swung the muzzle toward me. "I said, heads down, lady."

Gut tight, I complied, imitating the others who had been caught inside the bank when the black-clad men had entered just before closing time. It wasn't often that I stared into the dark, deadly hole of a weapon. I don't recommend it as a regular activity.

"Everyone stay down and stay quiet," he ordered. "We'll be outta here in two minutes, and y'all can go home alive."

One of the men in black escorted the teller and the manager to the back of the bank where the vault was. The guard, an elderly couple, Calvin and I lay on our bellies, hands on the backs of our heads and cheeks to the rough wood. The elderly couple had come in to check on their savings.

Cal and I had come in to rob the place ourselves.

Despite the pulse pistol nestled under my clothes against the small of my back, and Cal's gun tucked in a holster covered by his right pant leg, neither of us was inclined to play hero.

Cal turned his head away from the shooter to glare at me. "Only you, Liv," he whispered fiercely, "would pick the exact same day to rob a bank as real criminals."

Real criminals? I opened my mouth to loudly voice my indignation but snapped it shut. I'd already drawn enough attention to myself. Instead, I returned his harsh whisper. "We are real criminals. This is just poor timing."

Cal and I had been planning this job for a while. The Exeter Mining Company deposited its employees' pay during an undisclosed period each month to avoid such actions as, say, robbery. But Cal had finagled the schedule and amounts from a friend. Seventy-five thousand in cold, hard cash had been delivered to this bank in Milchner the day before. Many small-op contract miners preferred hard money to electronic transfer—fewer slipped digits and short changings to worry about.

We chose this branch because it was the most remote, the least secure and had the fewest personnel. Despite its lower take than a branch in one of the larger cities, like Pembroke, it was the perfect hit.

Apparently the competition thought so too.

"We should have done this sooner," Cal grumbled.

"It's not my fault my car died," I said.

This had not been one of my luckier days, or months, or years for that matter. The job was supposed to go down last month, but fast transportation was a must. Cal only had access to a slower model Airvan. A week before the original hit date, the lifters on my somewhat newer, sleeker and more sensitive light air car went offline. Part of this take was earmarked to pay that bill. Damn the void.

And while PubTrans was an efficient mode for us working-class folks of Pembroke City, it was not the ideal getaway system. Besides, PubTrans didn't run to way-the-hell-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere towns like Milchner.

Before Cal could remind me we'd had ample opportunity in prior months, the black barrel of the second gunman's rifle tapped down on his temple. Cal's eyes widened. The breath caught in my chest.

My gaze traveled along the length of the rifle, hesitated where a gloved finger rested on the trigger, then up to the man's face. I assumed it was a man; he looked tall and broad from my view from the floor.

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