Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight

Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 12 Aug 2018 13:57:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Damage Read online Natasha Knight (Collateral Damage #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/damage-2-read-online-natasha-knight Sun, 12 Aug 2018 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/damage-2-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Romance, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Damage (Collateral Damage #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Natasha Knight
Language:	English
Book Information:
We’re a match made in hell, Stefan and I. He took me to exact his revenge. I went from being a pawn to my father to being a pawn to Stefan. The only difference is I have a ring the size of a boulder on my finger and a husband I don’t want. And the hardest part is I thought he was different. I thought I was falling in love. I guess my father was right. I’m not a very smart girl. Stefan is a powerful man. He doesn’t play nice, not if you’re his enemy. But I’ve learned one thing about my husband. He takes care of what’s his. And I am his. His enemies have become my enemies, but he’ll never let anyone hurt me. He’s fiercely protective. It’s the predator inside that scares me.
Books in Series:	Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight
Books by Author:	Natasha Knight Books

Prologue

Gabriela

* * *

Waves swell in the wake of the speedboat, lifting me up then dragging me under while gunshots fire around me. Someone shouts an order but I’m under again, swallowing water, choking on it.

“Are you going to drown me too?”

Instinct takes over and I kick.

Arms paddling wildly, I manage to break the surface, gasping as I suck air into my lungs.

Waves again, and gunshots. A flurry of them.

I think that scream is mine.

In the dark, I see our boat bobbing and swim to it. See one of the two men slumped over the side as the other frantically reloads his weapon.

It’s no use though. They have machine guns. A pistol doesn’t stand a chance against a machine gun.

More shouts and I’m picked up by a wave again and when it drops me down, my elbow slams against hard wood, the pain electric.

I push through it to grab onto the side of the boat and hold tight, but the reprieve is only momentary because the bigger boat speeds closer and I wonder if they’re going to crash right into us. If that’s their intention.

I don’t have to wait long to find out because the man on our boat stands. It rocks violently and when he dives over the side, our boat capsizes. I lose my grip and scream, my head crashing against the hard wood and what was once my salvation becomes my undoing as I go under.

Under.

“Are you going to drown me too?”

I asked Stefan that question.

The waves don’t carry me up as I go limp and I watch the sliver of light. A floodlight, maybe? I watch our capsized boat go down. Watch the man who’d been slumped over the side float away, blood from his wound turning the water crimson when that light momentarily shines down on him.

I don’t know if my eyes close or if it’s that dark. How can it be so dark? I’m floating, my arms rising above me as I become weightless.

The sound water makes when you’re immersed, it’s almost other-worldly. The gurgling, bubbling, as the shock of cold, of dark, take me deeper.

Water through my hair. Water through my fingers. It feels like an oily, slippery eel.

I watch myself as if I’m out of my body. As if it’s not real. It can’t be.

I’m drowning. Like her. Like she drowned.

Like she was drowned.

I have to wake up.

I have to swim.

Panic.

Salt burns my eyes, but I turn my face up toward that light. I kick and push against the water and there’s someone else. Someone in the water. It’s not the dead man. He’s long gone. Down in that dark. Food for the fish.

My lungs burn. I’ll never make it.

But then there’s an arm around my middle and it’s strong. Stronger than me.

He’s a powerful swimmer because we’re moving, rocketing up.

I gasp when we break the surface.

A hand in my hair pulls painfully and I remember that day. I remember the lake. It was a black night like this one, the sliver of moon offering only the barest light.

I remember my mom. I see her now.

I see her that night. Wet and cold and terrified, her hands bound behind her back as he dunked her again and again and again and she gasped and choked, and I watched. I just watched.

I feel pain as that grip tightens and I’m under again and I fight. I fight like she couldn’t, and someone laughs when I break the surface only long enough to suck in a single, gasping, wet breath before I’m down again, underwater, the sea gurgling in my ears, a hand keeping me down.

Nothing peaceful about this drowning. I wonder if it could be peaceful, after the pain. After the terror. I don’t think so.

No salt in the lake. That was a blessing. Did it burn as much when she sucked water into her lungs?

“Enough!” a man shouts in Italian. “He doesn’t want her dead for fuck’s sake. Haul her up.”

Pain again because he’s pulling me up by my hair. A moment later, I hit a hard surface. I turn onto my side and cough up water and vomit, half-choking on it.

Men talk. Someone yells. The engine rumbles beneath me and we’re moving.

Someone strikes a match and a moment later, I smell a cigarette. Small details. Why am I concerned with small details?

“She done puking?” someone asks.

A nudge at my hip, my back.

I roll my head and my eyes burn when I open them to see the dark form looming over me, faceless and menacing.

“She’s awake.”

“Then get the hood on her, idiot!”

The faceless man grunts and leans down. For an instant, I see his yellowed teeth as he laughs, sticks his cigarette between his lips. Ash falls on my face and when I feel the hood being drawn over my head, I fight. I don’t know how, but I fight, screaming, clawing at arms, a face, a wet eye.

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Collateral Read online Natasha Knight (Collateral Damage #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/collateral-1-read-online-natasha-knight Thu, 12 Jul 2018 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/collateral-1-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Romance, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Collateral (Collateral Damage #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Natasha Knight
Language:	English
Book Information:
Gabriela Stefan Sabbioni showed up in my bedroom on my sixteenth birthday. Uninvited, he stood in the shadows smelling of whiskey and death and wrapped a broken, blood-crusted necklace around my neck. I thought he’d strangle me with it. That night, he left a message for my father. He said he’d be back to take something precious. I never delivered that message, though. I wonder if things would be different if I had because now, two years later, he’s back. And he’s not hiding in any shadows. He’s come to make good on his promise. He’s back to take that something precious. Me. Stefan Marchese is the manipulator of my family’s tragedy. I won’t just bring him to his knees. I’ll bury him for what he did. Taking his daughter is only the beginning. I’ll do it knowing I’m starting a war. I’ll do it knowing my enemies will become his allies. They’ll stop at nothing to destroy me and he’ll stop at nothing to get her back. I’ve never shied away from war, though. I’m not one to play nice and I don’t share my toys. I’ll demolish you if you touch what’s mine. And she is most definitely mine.
Books in Series:	Collateral Damage Series by Natasha Knight
Books by Author:	Natasha Knight Books

Prologue

Gabriela

Present Day

It’s almost one in the morning when we drive up to the house in the posh Todt Hill neighborhood of Staten Island. The tall iron gates stand open, which surprises me. Security isn’t something my father takes lightly.

As we slow to a stop, the guard greets the driver then shines his flashlight in through the open car window.

I turn away from the bright light when he flashes it in my face.

“You’re to take her directly to her room. She’s to stay there,” he tells the driver.

Translation: lock her in.

“What’s going on?” the driver asks.

I catch the guard’s eye. “He’s got company.”

The driver nods then pushes the button to close the window and we drive toward the house. It’s a beautiful mansion, one many people stop to look twice at, but I’ve always thought of it as more of a prison.

And tonight, I’m being brought back like an escaped convict.

Two SUVs I don’t recognize are parked alongside the circular drive. I can see from here there’s a driver sitting inside each one. Cigarette smoke wafts out of the open window of the first vehicle.

“Who’s here?” I ask.

Neither my driver nor John, the man my father sent to retrieve me, answer. Instead, we pull to a stop and John climbs out, opens my door.

I step out, grab my duffel bag.

He takes it from me in one hand and closes the other around my upper arm.

“Don’t touch me,” I tell him.

He neither lets me go nor bothers to reply. Why should he? He doesn’t answer to me. He answers to my father and he knows what happened to the other soldier who tried to help me. I’m sure they all know.

Tonight, an example was made to show what happens when someone crosses Gabriel Marchese.

Guilt makes me nauseous. He made me watch. Part of my punishment. Only the beginning of it, I’m sure. I’ll take what I have coming but Alex didn’t deserve what they did to him. That’s on me.

We climb the stairs to the wide portico, John’s grip harder than it needs to be as I walk along, my steps slower than his. I’m in no hurry to get inside.

The men stationed at the door open it, only sparing me a quick glance because I don’t matter, even if I am the daughter of the boss. I’m just a pawn and everyone knows it.

Once inside, I glance down the hall toward my father’s study. Two men I don’t recognize stand just outside the door. They don’t work for him. I know it just from the way they’re dressed.

When we near the stairs, the study door opens and my father’s attorney, Mark Waverly, steps into the hallway. He takes a few steps toward us, studies me for a long moment before turning to John.

“Bring her in here,” he says.

“I was told to take her upstairs.”

“Change of plans.” He gestures to the study with a quick sideways nod of his head.

My father doesn’t often call me into his study and certainly not when he’s doing business.

When I don’t move, John tugs at my arm.

“Gabriela,” Waverly says. “You’ll want to walk in.”

“Then tell my father’s goon to get his hands off me.”

Waverly gestures to John to let me go.

I brush my hair back, steel my spine. I try to ignore the splatters of red on my white T-shirt. My father ordered the beating, after all. I’m sure his business associates will neither be surprised nor offended by the evidence of such violence.

But as I near the study, I feel my heartbeat pick up. I force a bored expression on my face. I’ve worked on it for years and still, I don’t know if they see right through it.

When I’m a few feet from the door, I take a deep breath in, hoping it will calm me. It doesn’t.

I take two steps into the dimly lit study and stop. John and Waverly enter behind me and close the door.

There’s an older man I don’t recognize sitting in one of the armchairs. He’s dressed in a three-piece suit and I wonder how he’s not burning up even with the air-conditioning. But maybe it’s anxiety that has me sweating.

My father is seated behind his huge desk leaning back in his chair. If he’s trying to look relaxed, it’s not working. I see how the corner of his left eye is twitching. It’s his tell. I wonder who else has picked that up.

I watch as he scans my face, takes in my shorter hair. I cut about six inches off since he last saw me. I hated to do it, but I didn’t want to risk being found.

And still, I was found.

But disappearing when you’re Gabriel Marchese’s daughter is not an easy thing.

On the upside, I do like my new bangs, although they’re a little too long and I keep having to tuck them behind my ear.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

Damage (Collateral Damage #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Natasha Knight

English

Natasha Knight Books