Dark Avenger

Dark Avenger
Alex Ryder

Revenge! "Very well, Nikos, I'll have your child and pray that it's a boy as strong and sure of himself as you are, because, as soon as he's old enough to understand, I'm going to tell him what you did." Carrie Stevens was trapped.Her brother had run off with Nikos's sister and had got her pregnant; now Nikos wanted his revenge. His aim was to make her pregnant just like his sister, and there was absolutely nothing Carrie could do… .

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#u476d6632-79e7-553b-89c0-778c88323591)

Excerpt (#uaab6e451-41bf-59a6-956f-8a0819706386)

About the Author (#u95ac3d32-b3a7-571b-a0c8-ffe38481c7c6)

Title Page (#u3580daf7-51ed-5782-9055-5c4de0e142fb)

Chapter One (#u30c95a72-91a2-5f12-a77c-6aca403db2f8)

Chapter Two (#u4d25fd12-36a3-5b00-9b74-46a6d51b6e6a)

Chapter Three (#u4b01c168-34c3-5ea3-b542-07ed5d6ae990)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“An eye for an eye, Miss Stevens.”

Nikos gave Carrie a grim smile. “A tooth for a tooth. I’m sure you’re familiar with the biblical reference?” He nodded with ironic amusement. “It’s only common justice, after all. What your brother did to my sister I can easily do to his.” He paused, then showed his teeth in another smile of grim anticipation. “I’m going to make you pregnant, Miss Stevens. Gloriously and abundantly pregnant.”

ALEX RYDER was born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, and is married with three sons. She took an interest in writing when, to her utter amazement, she won a national schools competition for a short essay about wild birds. She prefers writing romance fiction because at heart she’s just a big softie. She works now in close collaboration with a scruffy old oneeyed cat who sits on the desk and yawns when she doesn’t get it right, but winks when she does.

Dark Avenger

Alex Ryder

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_902bf63f-6d04-59c0-93e8-54dce8e365d3)

CCARRIE had pleaded, cajoled and threatened but nothing seemed to work. She gave one final frustrated push at the starter button but the ancient diesel engine refused determinedly to fire up. Swearing softly under her breath, she backed out of the cramped engine compartment and climbed on to the deck for a breath of fresh air.

She shouldn’t have to be doing this, she thought angrily. Looking after the engine was Jimmy’s job and he’d promised to be back an hour ago. Shading her eyes against the glare of the sun, she impatiently scanned the jetty for any sign of her young brother. She was going to chew his ears off when she got her hands on him. Her gaze took in the white-painted houses and shops facing the harbour. More than likely he was sitting in some taverna staring soulfully into the dark eyes of some young local beauty. Well, that was all very well. He was a red-blooded nineteen-year-old and he was only doing what came naturally but it was high time he remembered his responsibilities. They had a living to make. If that load of supplies wasn’t delivered to the archeological team on Desvos by tonight, as promised, that would be one more customer they could kiss goodbye to.

A trickle of sweat glistened on her slender throat and ran down her neck. She wouldn’t mind sitting in a taverna sipping a cool drink herself, she thought. The August heat in the Aegean could be fierce and as she looked over the side she was almost tempted to dive into the clear blue water and cool off.

The Miranda rocked gently beneath her feet in the slight ripples made by a boat leaving harbour and she wiped the sweat off her brow with an oily rag. They needed a new engine. No, dammit, she thought, let’s not kid ourselves, Carrie Stevens. Miranda was getting old and she really needed a thorough overhaul and paint job, but as always it was time and money that was the problem. Financial survival depended on them providing a regular and reliable service between the smaller and more isolated islands. A thorough overhaul would take a month at least and that was long enough for some rival to step in and take over.

She looked along the jetty again, then, frowning with annoyance, she descended once more into the engine compartment.

She jabbed the starter again but the hope on her face turned to despair as the engine merely coughed instead of bursting into life as it was supposed to do.

This had happened before. Jimmy had merely grunted then grabbed a spanner and done the business and got the engine going. She should have paid more attention but she’d always had a thing about anything mechanical. A sort of mental block. Even her father, when he’d been alive, had never managed to get around that block. He’d taught her good seamanship and she knew the weather, tides and currents and how to read a chart. With a chronometer and a sextant she could navigate her way round the world if need be but the mysteries of valves, pumps and pistons were a closed book as far as she was concerned.

But things were going to have to change from now on, she told herself. They both had an equal stake in the Miranda and they’d have to learn each other’s jobs so that in an emergency either of them could handle the boat on their own. Then again she’d had the feeling recently that Jimmy had other things on his mind. The day might well come when he’d get tired of nursing this old wreck back and forth between islands. He might very well decide to go back to England, find a nice girl and settle down, and who could blame him?

If the worst did happen she’d simply grit her teeth and carry on by herself. She certainly had no intention of ever returning to England. There were too many bitter memories for that. The Miranda might have seen better days but at least she provided something which Carrie had learnt to value above all else: independence. She’d tried trading that in once for the promise of a wedding-ring but Victor’s promises, like everything else about him, had proved worthless.

With mounting frustration she pushed the starter a few more times. There was the usual whine then an abrupt silence which was broken by a voice from the deck. ‘You’re going to end up with a flat battery if you keep doing that.’

Turning her head awkwardly, she saw the tall figure silhouetted against the blue sky beyond the hatch.

She frowned in irritation at the stranger’s unwarranted trespass on to her boat then thought better of it. He might be a potential customer and right now she needed all the business she could get.

Emerging on to the deck, she once more blinked in the strong sunlight and looked at the visitor apologetically. ‘The engine won’t…’ Her voice trailed off in confusion as the impact of his appearance made itself felt.

‘Won’t what?’ he asked in a deep masculine voice.

‘Start,’ she said. ‘It…it won’t start.’ What the blazes was wrong with her? she wondered. Why was she acting like a nervous schoolgirl? Was it those eyes that were busy surveying her from top to toe?

He was tall and slim with wide shoulders and slim hips but it was definitely those eyes that held her attention. Light jade-green eyes, all the more startling in someone with the dark complexion of the southern Mediterranean. He was wearing dark trousers and a crisp, blinding white shirt unbuttoned down the front to reveal the hard muscles of his chest rippling beneath the smooth sun-darkened skin. An expensive gold Rolex watch gleamed dully on his wrist and his shoes were handmade Italian unless she was mistaken.

She felt her insides curling in embarrassment. If he was a potential customer she shuddered to think what kind of impression he was getting. An old converted fishing boat with peeling paint, sunbleached woodwork and a dodgy engine was bad enough but her own dishevelled appearance wasn’t likely to inspire confidence either. Her unkempt blonde hair was crammed beneath a grease-stained baseball cap. Jimmy’s overalls hung round her like a hobo’s tent and her face was streaked with oil.

The green eyes appraised her briefly, took in the state of the littered deck then returned to fasten on her once more. After a nerve-racking silence he spoke sharply. ‘I’m looking for Miss Stevens, the owner of this…this floating junkyard. Where is she?’

His derogatory tone and description of Miranda annoyed her but she swallowed her pride. When times were bad it was something you quickly grew used to.

‘I’m Carrie Stevens,’ she said with quiet dignity. She made an embarrassed gesture towards the engine compartment. ‘It’s nothing serious. My brother will be here any minute now. He’ll fix it.’

His eyes widened a fraction and he looked disappointed. ‘You’re the older sister of James Stevens?’

There always came a point where you couldn’t swallow any more pride and this was it. Just who did this character think he was, talking down to her like that? And what did he have to do with Jimmy? Jimmy had never ever mentioned meeting a tall, dark stranger with green eyes and a built-in sneer.

She drew herself erect and challenged him frostily. ‘Just what is it that you want to see me about, Mr—er—?’

‘You’ll find out all in good time,’ he informed her coldly. ‘May I suggest that you change into something more befitting a woman, and wash the grime off your face? Only then will I answer your question.’

Under the oil her face reddened and she said resentfully, ‘Look, I…I didn’t expect anyone. We’re due to sail now. Anyway, how I care to dress is my business and no one else’s.’

He ignored her outburst and went over to the engine compartment. Glancing in, he shook his head in wonder then turned to her. ‘Where did you find that? In a museum?’