Code Name: Blondie. By Christina Skye. About this book. HQN Books. Pages displayed by permission of HQN Books. Front Cover. Next available page. Blondie (Code Name, book 2) by Christina Skye - book cover, description, publication history. g-abaya.com: Code Name: Blondie: Signed: An Outstanding Copy - Signed By The Author On The Title Page. A First Edition, First Printing. MECCANO JUNIOR Is going if you I fix. The specific to work sub-users that. An incomplete e-mail address existing connections implemented it.
Item Width:. Item Weight:. Number of Pages:. Product Information Feisty freelance photojournalist Miki is living every woman's fantasy- stranded on a desert island with a rugged navy SEAL. If only she weren't suspected in an international high-tech robbery!
But her steely-eyed companionMax, has a nose for a con and there's absolutely no way he'll fall for hisgorgeous captive's story. He's ready, willing and able to do anything to make her talk. But with danger closing in on them, they'll have to either team up as friendly forces or remain at the mercy of a deadly villain bent on his twisted revenge Product Identifiers Publisher.
Product Key Features Book Title. Publication Year. Number of Pages. Dimensions Item Length. Item Height. Item Width. Item Weight. View Larger Image. Ask Seller a Question. Christina Skye loves a good adventure. With over two million books in print, her novels appear regularly on national bestseller lists.
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Champagne Blonde. Hair Highlights. Platinum Highlights. Color Highlights. Blonde Highlights With Lowlights. Summer Highlights. Platinum highlights. Blonde Hair Cuts Medium. Blonde Hair Care. Did he always get away with this, Miki wondered? As the tropical wind ruffled her hair, she saw her career going up in smoke and was too angry to be diplomatic. Enough was enough. What she did next was for her and all the other women Vance had suckered over the years.
She kicked sand toward him, pleased when he yelped with surprise. While he was distracted, she followed with a roundhouse kick from one of her many hours of classes. He lurched sideways and landed face down in the sand. She saw the first Cessna circle high, dipping its trim wing once before heading east.
Get in line, she thought. Sand hissed behind her. The millionaire producer huffed over the sloping crest of the beach, red-faced. There was a fresh bruise on his flabby right shoulder. Forget about taking pictures for a living. Forget about portraits or calendars or greeting cards.
Miki resisted an urge to hit him again, instead dredging up a cloyingly sweet smile. You are dead as far as new photographic work is concerned. Miki returned his cold stare. At least she had new photos for her portfolio, taken on her free time during this trip. I mean you can forget having anything for your portfolio. Your film agent wanted to reject the clause, but it was nonnegotiable if you wanted the assignment.
Vance was right about that. She should have listened to her photo agent and negotiated harder, but she had been too afraid of losing the job. She had decided to stop coasting or being casual about her life plans. That meant no more whining. The pilot barely noticed her, too busy staring at the dark line of clouds covering the horizon. That storm is moving in faster than I thought.
Slouched beside her, Vance muttered crossly, avoiding eye contact. I told you the nav and comm equipment was out of date. Miki squirmed uneasily. Old equipment and a cheap-skate boss. How could her fantasy job get any worse? She peered at a dark wedge of clouds to the south. We can outrun the storm. Dutch pumped a control beside his knee, his mouth a flat line. Vance looked startled, then angry, but he did as he was told. He wiped sweat off his forehead as he stared out at the gunmetal sea below them, alive with boiling waves.
They were in real trouble, Miki realized. Trouble as in mayday and life jackets and forced sea landings. Her fingers dug into the sides of the seat as she fought back terrified questions. She nodded mutely, cheered by his thumbs-up gesture. They were in a seaplane, she told herself. Dutch was an experienced pilot. He could bring the plane down, land at sea and radio for help. Someone was bound to find them.
There had to be major shipping lanes nearby. The plane nosed forward and shuddered. Cold with fear, she squeezed her hands against her lap as they plummeted toward the angry water. Dutch gripped the radio microphone. The ground was better than the air, but water was where he felt most at home, thanks to both instinct and long training. Right now he was thirty thousand feet above the Pacific, the sun brushing scattered clouds as he secured his jumpsuit.
His commanding officer nodded briefly. Are you clear on those codes we went over? Max shifted his parachute slightly, straightening the line of his oxygen mask. Two short burst signals, , for probability on the weapon device and in the event emergency extraction is called for. From now on his skin contact would be limited. His senses were too special to risk sensory overload. You okay with that? The dog barked once, tail wagging. Though the Lab had plenty of jump experience, Max still felt odd jumping with an animal—even a veteran like Truman.
But that was the new Navy for you. Always innovating. Max checked the watertight container holding his GPS system and secure satellite phone. After that came a final survey of his oxygen hose and mask. When Houston gave the thumbs-up, Max slid on his helmet, which would provide oxygen and protection in the frigid temperatures at heights above 30, feet, where vulnerable skin and eyes risked freezing. Izzy Teague tapped impatiently on the keyboard.
Houston stared out at the faint shimmer of the sea below the commercial cargo plane. Cruz could be down there already, setting up the deal for his buyers. Like Izzy says, get in and get the hell out. Try not to get yourself fried in the process. Max got the message. Then something had gone wrong. But with the new skills had come mental lapses and growing paranoia. He had managed to escape from government control weeks earlier, setting off an extensive but unsuccessful manhunt.
As the Foxfire program continued to work out the kinks, it quickly expanded to include service dogs on the team, although details of their use were being kept secret. A uniformed crewmember in headphones hurried toward them. Remember that, Preston. Hell, his adaptability was always part of his success. Houston shot a glance at Izzy. Both had been badly hurt during a nasty encounter with Cruz three months earlier.
His fingers idly traced his elbow as he spoke, and Max remembered that both of his arms had been broken in the violent confrontation with Cruz. This team made up of specially trained and genetically enhanced Navy SEALS was the finest group of warriors on the continent—probably on the whole planet—but they were never photographed, never congratulated and never mentioned in any press article or standard government briefing.
Max looked down at the Lab waiting alertly near the exit door. The world seemed to slow down, every atom of his body focused on the here and now as he prepared to jump. He felt his pulse spike. His breath tightened to compensate for the adrenaline surge.
Code Name: Blondie. Code Name: Blondie Christina Skye www. Miki scowled. If people wanted to have sex, they should do it in another state. Miki cut him off. Miki ignored them. Vance caught her arm. I need a dozen more shots of the reef before we leave, babe. I filled a flash card this morning.
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