Novels by Ivy Swan

Did you know what he is going to ask of me?" I asked as Jack sat in front of me; the main hall was now deserted. "I had some ideas," he grinned. This kid should be more careful. If he had not been Jack Morris, he would have died a long time ago. "Good, now do you know what that means?" "We can finally stop running," he said, looking so hopeful. This idiot! "No, it means we are stuck, running from one enemy landing on the lap of another," I said through my teeth, barely able to hold my fury. "They don't seem so bad." "Why? Because they fed you pizza and gave you toys?" "I am not stupid!" "The way you ended up here, tell me why I should think otherwise." "I ran away because…" He groaned, running his hand through his hair, rubbing his face, and hitting his forehead on his knees twice. He raised his head to look at me. "Are you seriously just going to leave them be?" He spread his hands, exasperated. "Who?" This is getting ridiculous. I sat on the table. "The Russian bastards!

There are good decisions that you regret, there are bad decisions that you regret, and then there are clearly bad decisions that you can never regret, even if things are probably heading for your doom. I knew this the moment I found myself catching my breath, and I turned away, closing my eyes and curling away from his inviting, warm body. I have never felt so empty and full at the same time. The light, dual aching on my lower body was kind of sweet. I pressed my lips together and tried to lure myself into sleep. Relax myself. His hand came to my waist slowly; the touch was just for the sake of it; it was not alluring or trying to seduce me, and he ran his finger down to my hip while I kept my eyes closed and relaxed, taking a deep and slow breath. It was harder to pretend to sleep while lying there naked in front of me than pretending to sleep in front of an enemy who has a gun to my head. "Are you sleeping?" The bed sank as he came closer and leaned towards me, his hand raised to

I bit my lower lip, his eyes burning into me, and I never thought I'd want the lips of the guy who had me pinned and at knife point so badly. I exhaled, and his breath mixed with mine. Killian drew the knife point down to my chest; heat rose beneath my clothes, burning me. As the knife approaches the ties of my vest, I look down."No!" His hand pressed against my neck, forcing me to look at him."Don't look away from me," he said as he cut the ties one by one. I reach out to touch him."Nah!" He snatched my hand and pinched it; I reached for his lips, and he smirked. Oh, this arrogant jerk! I grabbed the knife, and blood poured out of my hand as I twisted the knife from his grip. He grabs it with his other hand, digging it into his palm, and I sit up. We came to a halt for a moment as our blood mixed and dripped from the knife to the floor. When our gazes locked, we both let go of the knife, and his hand grabbed and ripped the collar of my t-shirt. I yanked him out of his shirt, leavi

Misha I burst out laughing. Then I noticed his raised eyebrow and head tilt. I forgot about the humour. "Oh, you're serious," I say. He gave a nod. "As I previously stated, you cannot afford my services." "I told you to clean up a dead body—nothing you can't handle, dude, you are overpriced," I scoffed. "I was able to save your brother." He sipped his drink, place the glass on the table, and leaned forward, his gaze fixed on me. "Ah," I pretend to think."there was no saving him; you have my brother, and I am here to negotiate the terms of his release," "No, he is a guest on his own accord," he said, pointing to the large glass windows behind him that open to beautiful all-green gardens where He and Omar appear to be frolicking. This is the first time in the last two years that I have seen the kid smile and felt this sensation in my heart. No way, no how. No guilt, no self-pity; that stupid, impulsive kid made things difficult for me as well. I'm not going to hold it against

Misha A bloody three-story Italian-style mansion with a large, grand exterior and a garden path leading to the main door and a fountain. I enter the code, and the iron gates swing open. Because there are no securities, it's either not his place of business or I'm walking into a trap, which would be the biggest mistake of my life. I wasn't expecting this; to put it mildly, it's too bright, too warm, and too open and free for me. As I climbed the steps to the porch and rang the bell, my senses were on high alert. A woman in a blue servant's uniform opens the large Mongolian wood door with a warm smile. Funny fancy italian folks. "I've come to... "Miss Morris, Mr. Alveraz is waiting for you." She paved the way for me. Now this is creepy. However, I hear voices, an laughing and a familiar voice. As I moved out of the marble entrance hall to the side where the voice was coming from, I narrowed my eyes, and there he was. In the living room, which was littered with boxes of pizza, Jack M

MishaAfter knowing who has them it was matter of few hours to figure out where he is. Jack was kept at the abondend building registerd unter the name of Stark Industries. I put on my binoculars and pecked through the bushes; I needed to scope out the area before breaking in. Then I heard rustling and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, but I remained crouching and did not move to alert them. Who was expecting me to arrive? This never occurred.I slipped under their hands, kicked one in the nuts while hitting the other in the back, they both whimpered, and I pressed one's neck under my boot while holding my knife to the other.I looked at the short one, who was carefully inspecting my knife, while pulling a gun from my straps around my waist under my hoodie and pointing it at the man on the ground, at the black man."Who are you and what are you looking for?""Our boss would like to meet you,"I narrowed my eyes."And who exactly is that?""Killian Alvarez," a man in his early t