White Nights Series by Anna Zaires – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 18 Nov 2021 05:33:43 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png White Nights Series by Anna Zaires – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Midnight Days (White Nights #2) Read Online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls http://www.ilovenovels.com/midnight-days-white-nights-2-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Thu, 18 Nov 2021 05:10:03 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/midnight-days-white-nights-2-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Midnight Days (White Nights #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B094DMCDSD
Book Information:

My instincts warned me that Alex Volkov is a dangerous man. My mind told me to run when he set his sights on me with unfaltering determination. It’s not that I didn’t try to resist, but Alex had a game plan. He was always one step ahead of me, skillfully drawing me deeper into his web. Even when he gave me freedom, it was only an illusion.
Books in Series:

White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
Books by Author:

Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls


1

Kate

The full impact of the last twelve hours only hits me when Alex Volkov’s private plane comes in for landing over St. Petersburg, Russia. I sit up in the double bed where I’ve been sleeping and look out the round window that’s next to the bed. The sky is a magnificent thin, winter blue. Far below, a city is mapped out on the ground. Judging from the increased pressure in my ears, we’re dropping in altitude.

I check my watch. It’s seven in the morning in New York City. That makes it two o’clock in the afternoon in St. Petersburg.

The side next to me is undisturbed, the sheets unruffled and the pillow undented. There’s no sign of Alex. When he ordered me to bed, he was in the middle of a hushed, intense discussion with the guards who boarded the plane with us. The usual guys, Igor, Leonid, Dimitri, and Yuri, were there, as well as a few new faces. Has he been working all night?

A knock falls on the door, startling me from my thoughts.

“Kate?” a gruff voice calls from the other side. “We’re landing shortly.”

Igor.

I have a good mind to tell him to go to hell, but it’s not his fault I’m locked in here. Taking my anger out on the guard won’t help.

He knocks again. “Did you hear me? You have to take a seat and buckle up.”

I rub my eyes in an effort to clear the lingering grogginess. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

“You have ten.”

I suspect Alex slipped something into the juice he insisted I drink with my dinner. My sleep was almost comatose. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been too apprehensive to drift off after the events of last night.

Last night.

A shiver creeps over me at the memory.

After someone delivered my hospital access card to Alex’s house, he had our bags packed in a hurry. Despite my protests, he bundled me into his plane and took me away from my home, my job, my mom, and my friends. For several months maybe. He delivered the blow with reserved regret but unstoppable determination, telling me in no uncertain terms that I no longer have a choice.

It’s nothing short of a kidnapping.

Yet that’s not the most troubling thought at the forefront of my mind. It’s the knowledge that someone wants Alex dead. After the failed assassination attempt in New York, his life is still at risk. I thought—I hoped—that whoever shot Igor gave up when they didn’t succeed, but the card delivery indicates otherwise. Whoever is after Alex is going to try again and is willing to do whatever it takes, including using me to get to Alex.

Not only am I a liability to him now, but my life might also be in danger—and Alex refuses to go to the police. He thinks they can’t help, and maybe he’s right. Other than my card going missing for a few hours, we don’t have any evidence of foul play. Also, there’s the possibility of corruption. I didn’t consider that before, but it’s not uncommon, especially where the Russian mafia is concerned. Alex’s business dealings aren’t exactly clean.

What a freaking mess.

Throwing the covers aside, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Without the warmth of the soft blanket, goosebumps run over my arms. I’m naked. I vaguely remember Alex undressing me and asking if I wanted a sip of water. After that, everything is a blank.

I look around for clothes and spot an overnight bag at the bottom of a closet alcove. I’ve never seen a plane like this. The cabin even has a vanity and en-suite bathroom.

After finishing my shift at the ER last night, I didn’t have time to shower. Everything happened in a whirlwind of action. So now I have a quick shower and dress in the clothes Marusya, Alex’s housekeeper, packed for me. They’re not my own clothes—which would’ve meant my standard casual wear of comfortable jeans, a sweater, and Uggs—but the new ones Alex bought for me. The off-white slacks and matching cashmere sweater are more formal than my usual style, as are the similarly colored high-heeled boots.

I’m brushing out my hair when the door opens. Alex stands in the frame, still dressed in the black pants and shirt from yesterday. Stubble darkens his jaw, and his hair is messy, the short strands standing in every direction as if he’s dragged his fingers through them several times. Despite those signs hinting at a sleepless night, his gaze is alert, as is his stance. His tall, powerful frame crowds the space, trapping me like a rabbit in a cage.

Bravely, I maintain our eye contact. I’m not angry at him for trying to keep us safe. What upsets me is how he’s going about it. He took away all of my choices and dragged me onto this plane. His single-minded resolve is nothing if not scary. Only I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he intimidates me. I normally pride myself on being a self-assured woman, but Alex is in a different league from anyone I’ve known. Just how different, I’m still discovering.


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White Nights (White Nights #1) Read Online Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls http://www.ilovenovels.com/white-nights-white-nights-1-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Wed, 15 Sep 2021 06:10:52 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/white-nights-white-nights-1-read-online-anna-zaires-charmaine-pauls Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>83
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Read Online Books/Novels:

(White Nights #1) White Nights

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls
Language:
English
Book Information:

"A one-sitting, unputdownable read that will have your pulse racing from start to finish." ~ L.J. Shen, Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
Power. That's what I think of when I spot him across the ER. Power and danger.
One of the wealthiest Russian oligarchs, Alex Volkov is as ruthless as he is magnetic. He always gets what he wants, and what he wants is me, in his bed.
He's the kind of trouble every woman should run from. The bullet his bodyguard took for him proves that.
I should stay far away, but for one night, I give in to temptation. Before I know it, he's pulling me deeper into his world of excess and violence, invading not only my life but my heart.
How much trust can I place in a man so dangerous? How much do I dare risk for his love?
Books in Series:

White Nights Series by Anna Zaires
Books by Author:

Anna Zaires, Charmaine Pauls


Prologue

The assassin takes aim.

This is his favorite moment, right before he pulls the trigger. He’s calm and focused, his senses heightened. In that split second before he takes a life, it’s as though everything happens in slow motion. He’s aware of his own breathing, deep and even, and of the steady beating of his heart.

One living being about to destroy another. There’s power in that, and beauty. He’s grown to appreciate it over the years, to derive enjoyment from something that had initially eaten at his soul.

He’s not a psychopath. Maybe others of his kind are. If so, he envies them. No, he has emotions, deep, strong emotions that fill him to the brim. He loves and hates with equal passion.

Yet he rarely feels anything during a hit. Not anymore. When he’s on the job, he simply thinks of himself as a hunter—a hunter with a very specific prey.

This particular hunt has been longer and more difficult than most. His target is as dangerous as the assassin himself. The man he’s about to kill displays many of his own traits, and he has no doubt his prey was once a predator himself.

Then again, none of the men he’s commissioned to kill are angels. He doesn’t kill the innocent. He dispatches the guilty.

The man in the scope of his rifle is fully deserving of what’s about to befall him.

Taking a deep breath, the assassin gently squeezes the trigger.

1

“Kate, I’m sorry, but we need you right now.”

June Wallers, the nursing supervisor, bursts into the tiny room where I’m wolfing down my dinner.

Sighing, I put down my half-eaten sandwich, take a sip of water, and follow June down the hall. It’s not the first time this week that my allocated dinner hour has turned into a ten-minute snack break.

The economic climate has taken its toll on New York hospitals, with budget cuts leading to hiring freezes and staff layoffs. Even now, the Emergency Room at Coney Island Hospital is three nurses short of what it needs to function properly. Other departments are also short-staffed, but their patient flow is more predictable. At the ER, however, it’s always a madhouse.

This week is particularly trying. With the beginning of winter, it’s flu season, and one of the nurses got sick. It’s the worst time for her to be off, given the extra influx of patients. This is my fifth twelve-hour shift this week, and it’s a night shift, something I hate to do but can’t always avoid. June begged and I gave in, knowing there was no one else available.

So here I am, skipping dinner again. At this pace, I’ll be skin and bones before the flu season is over. The flu season diet, my mom likes to call it.

“What’s the emergency?” I ask, walking faster to keep up with June. At fifty-five years of age, my supervisor is as spry as a twenty-year-old.

“We’ve got a gunshot wound.”

“How bad?”

“We’re not sure yet. Lettie’s shift just ended, and Nancy is with the patient.”

Shit. I almost break into a run. Nancy is a first-year nurse. She’s trying hard, but she needs a lot of guidance. She should never be on her own without a more experienced nurse present.

“Now you see why we need you,” June says.

I nod, my pulse speeding up. This is why I went into nursing. I like the idea of being needed and helping people. A good nurse can mean the difference between life and death for a patient, particularly in the ER. It’s a heavy responsibility, but I don’t mind. I like the fast pace of work here, the way twelve hours fly by. By the end of each day, I’m so exhausted I can barely walk, but I’m also satisfied.

The ER teems with activity when I enter. Approaching one of the curtained-off sections, I pull back the drapes and take everything in with a quick glance. The gunshot victim lies on the stretcher. He’s a large man, tall and broad. I guess him to be somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties.

Nancy, the first-year nurse, is applying pressure to the chest wound to stop the bleeding. Two men stand nearby, but I pay them little attention, all my focus on the patient.

After making quick work of washing my hands and pulling on a pair of gloves, I take charge. The patient’s pulse is weak, and he’s having difficulty breathing. The bullet must’ve hit a lung.

“He’s going into hypotensive shock,” I call out.

Dr. Stevenson rushes over. He swiftly confirms that the patient is experiencing a tension pneumothorax. A few minutes later, we’ve got a tube inserted into his chest.

The patient’s pneumothorax decompresses, and he drags in a breath. Good. Now we need to stop the bleeding. There’s both an entrance and an exit wound. The bullet went straight through. Judging by the location of the injuries, it must’ve just missed his heart. Another inch and the man would be occupying a body bag instead of this stretcher.


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