Nathalie Gray - Intergalactic Nick.pdf - Nathalie Gray - widez2

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Intergalactic Nick

ISBN 9781419911293

Edited by Mary Moran.

Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication August 2007

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written

permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-

3502.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

I NTERGALACTIC N ICK

Nathalie Gray

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the

following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Twister: Hasbro, Inc. Corporation

Miss Pac-Man: Namco Ltd. Corporation

Intergalactic Nick

Chapter One

Louisa “Lulu” Bertrand leaned her chin against her palm as she flicked through the

security stills from the video her informant had snuck to her. Snuck because she was a

security expert and not a police officer, retired on top of things, and shouldn’t have

access to these. The year before, sick of the rampant politics of her profession, she’d

decided to finish her contract then get out. At thirty-nine and after twenty years in the

security profession, Lulu should have something better to do than sift through

surveillance stills, looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. She should be

traveling, seeing the system. She was smart and available.

Right?

Wrong. Despite the occasional urge to find herself a second career—not for financial

reasons but mostly out of pride—there was nothing Lulu would rather do than try to

catch the sly—

“Oh?” she murmured, snapping her chair down on four legs to take a better look at

the screen.

Nah. False alarm.

So she kept looking, rubbing her eyes and looking some more. He had to be there.

Somewhere. With a smirk on his face.

The prick.

On the stills appeared a landing bay, a view of the space station beyond the

panoramic window—New Tokyo was so distinctive with its gleaming buildings and

jagged skyline—and several passengers milling about. At the far end of the crowd stood

a lone woman, long dark hair screaming “professional hair care”. Lulu was sure her

weekly investment income and a bottle of the gal’s shampoo had the same number of

zeroes, never mind the pro hands that had styled the fine hair. An expensive-looking

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