Reckless and Yours
Contents ( 14)
RECKLESS AND YOURS
Red Garnier
St. Martin’s Press 
New York
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CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Notice
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
Red Garnier’s Billionaire’s Club series
About the Author
Copyright Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My heartfelt thanks to Monique Patterson, to her awesome assistant Holly Blanck, and to Roberta Brown who brought us together.
And thank you to Sierra Dafoe, Wylie Kinson, Robin L. Rotham, Sheryl Carpenter, and Georgia Woods, for your amazing support and enthusiasm. You’re so much better than chocolate.
This one’s for you, Mr. Red. And to our reckless moments.
PROLOGUE
Paige.
Her name was Paige.
So sleepy. She could not open her eyes. Her arms felt as though a building sat on top of them, and an insectlike sensation crawled up her legs under the sheets.
But the sounds … The rhythm was strangely soothing, like a lullaby. A nice, sweet lullaby. Keeping company in the quiet.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Mrs. Avery! They said Paige was in a trauma and we had to come—”
“Ohmigod, we’re so sorry about the judge! But what happened? What’s wrong with her—”
“Shhh! Francine, can’t you see she’s sleeping?”
A voice rose above the others—ringing with maturity, authority. “Girls! Please. You can’t all be in here at once! Out in the hall, please.”
Again quiet.
Sleep called to her, drew her deeper into its spell even as she fought for consciousness. She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted … she wanted … she didn’t know what she wanted. Maybe she wanted to die.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A knock came. “Mrs. Avery, I’d like a word with your daughter.”
Mrs. Avery. Poor Mrs. Avery was everywhere. Doctors called her name. Nurses. People. Friends. I’m so sorry, we heard, this is awful …
Mrs. Avery’s voice was tired now. Was she angry? She sounded strained and far away, shuffling to the door. “Officer, this is not a good time …”
The voices faded into the hall, still audible to some degree.
“… shock … head trauma … doesn’t remember …”
They were talking about her. Weren’t they? But she did remember. Didn’t she?
Her name was Paige.
Her mother said to pack. They would leave soon. No one would bother them again. But Father … Father was …
“… accident … autopsy … funeral …”
Father was dead?
Paige heard more murmurs out in the hall before she sensed the presence in the room. The unmistakable breathing of someone—and not her. She could hardly believe the sneer in the man’s words the instant they registered.