The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1 by Leona Bushman Page A

you.”
    “I’ll be careful. I’ve already taken steps to disable the miniature laptop in the stolen messenger bag.”
    Bill lifted an eyebrow at her, then sat on the bed, pulling her down with him. “Oh? That sounds intriguing. What did you do?”
    “I sent it a virus. Soon, nothing will be on it. Even a professional hacker will find it difficult and time consuming to gather any information from it.” Her mind tried to concentrate on the conversation, but part of her focused on the warmth of his body next to hers and how it made her feel.
    “Is there any information to get?” Bill asked.
    “Not really, but my passwords to my personal accounts may be key-stroked, and I don’t want anyone having them. As for any information, nothing’s on it.”
    “Good. I don’t know why someone stole your bag and tried to kill you. Maybe it will prove to be nothing personal, and the Inspector will call and tell us they’ve caught the people responsible,” Bill said.
    “And if they don’t?”
    “Then it’s going to be a long train ride, my lady.”
    For now, she was safe. Only a few more months and she would be out of her father’s shadow and on her own. She could hardly wait. In the meantime, she gave Bill a good once over. Dare she risk it? If her father caught her, he could force her marriage. Then she mentally weighed her father’s titles and power up against Bill’s title and his position with the King of America, one of the lower kings, but still. Her smile stretched like it would crack her face. She’d like to see her father try and make Bill do anything.
    “Victoria,” Bill said, eyeing her with a combination of wariness and mischievousness. “What are you thinking?”

Chapter Seven
    Whatever put that grin on her face, Bill wanted a part of it. It made him want to kiss her and laugh at the same time, a new experience for him when it came to a woman. She hadn’t tripped over herself falling at his feet when she learned of his title. Then again, even if she knew nothing about being a princess, she possessed her own titles and money with more coming to her when she turned twenty-five.
    “So many things,” she replied. “Usually, I don’t like the men my father throws at me. You are the exception, as I think we’ve already ascertained.”
    “I’m glad to hear that,” he replied.
    “Well,” she said, drawing it out.
    Sitting on the bed, their heads were close to each other, and her lips were enticingly close. Slowly, oh–so-slowly to test his own self-control as well as give her a chance to back away, he moved in. The thought of what the king might do if he seduced her crossed his mind, but he flipped it out of the way. He had permission to court her.
    With that last blockade broken down, he took her in his arms and kissed her sweetly. Her return kiss played across his lips, unhurried, and then she put her hand around his neck and opened her mouth to his invasion. Their tongues dueled, and he ran his hands over her breasts. The silken suede felt nearly like skin, and he began to gently knead.
    Her moan encouraged him to move to the next step, and he undid the top few buttons of her blouse and parted it to run his hand down. She wore a tightly tailored corset. The top fit loose enough to allow his fingers in, and he flicked one across her nipple.
    Victoria moved one hand down to his cock, and through his breeches, it felt as if she’d encompassed it in warmth. Then she started stroking him. The groan that sprang from him worked as the loosening of a lightning bolt to the ground, the precursor to the storm. He pushed her on her back to get her out of her many layers. Damn women’s haute fashion anyway. She placed her hands at his waistband while he started on her three belts. Three!
    He’d just undone the first belt when the beeper chimed denoting someone asked to be let in. “Ignore it,” he whispered.
    She seemed in agreement for she started kissing him again. The beep chimed again.
    “Damn