Review: Elude (Eagle Elite #6) by Rachel Van Dyken
Print Length: 275 pages
Publisher: Rachel van Dyken (July 9, 2015)
From Goodreads.com: The sixth book in the internationally bestselling Eagle Elite Series.
*Interconnected Stand Alone*Twenty-Four hours before we were to be married--I offered to shoot her.
Ten hours before our wedding--I made a mockery of her dying wish.
Five hours before we were going to say our vows--I promised I'd never love her.
One hour before I said I do--I vowed I'd never shed a tear over her death.
But the minute we were pronounced man and wife--I knew.
I'd only use my gun to protect her.
I'd give my life for hers.
I'd cry.
And I would, most definitely, lose my heart, to a dying girl---a girl who by all accounts should have never been mine in the first place.
I always believed the mafia would be my end game--where I'd lose my heart, while it claimed my soul. I could have never imagined. It would be my redemption.
Or the beginning of something beautiful.
The beginning of her.
The end of us.
*******************
EXCERPT: Loneliness
tasted like hell. It also, lucky for me, tasted like a fifth of
whiskey and what would most likely be a throbbing headache
come tomorrow morning.
I
brought the bottle to my lips and tilted it back, my eyes trained on
the fire in front of me, the flames licking higher and higher,
reminding me that I wasn't exactly in any position to ask God for any
favors…it may as well have been hell waving back at me and
confirming my suspicions.
I'd
killed too much.
I'd
lied even more.
And
I was officially out of favor within my family — within my world.
I
hissed as a drip of whiskey landed on my blood-caked knuckles.
Beating the shit out of the wall hadn't even stopped the anger.
Ah
anger, that was something I could talk about, something I could
tangibly feel as it pulsed through my body. It had been my mistress
for so long that I knew if I actually let it go — I'd be even more
lonely than I already was.
I
tried to take a deep breath, to calm myself down, but air wouldn't go
into my lungs, I felt paralyzed and on an adrenaline high all at
once.
Maybe
that was another part of my punishment. I had exactly twenty-four
hours before I had to marry a Russian.
And
not just any Russian.
An
enemy, a double agent who had worked for both the FBI and,
apparently, the Nicolasi family. She had sold out her own crime
family, the Petrovs, and now… she was under the protection of the
Italians.
How
messed up was that?
I
took another swig of whiskey and eyed the clock. Make that
twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes.
I
wasn't drunk enough.
I
wasn't even close.
Marrying
someone for protection I could do. Marrying someone and even killing
them afterwards? Piece of cake. After all, that was my MO. I was a
killer, a ghost, whatever the family wanted me to be.
But
marrying someone, keeping them safe, only to watch them die within
six months?
No.
Hell no.
She
had leukemia.
So
why keep her alive this long?
I
snorted and took another sip of whiskey. "I'd be doing her a
favor by killing her."
"Ouch,"
a light airy voice said from somewhere in the room, causing all my
hair to stand on end. "So as far as pep talks go, yours
officially needs work."
I
carefully set down the whiskey, not trusting myself not to throw it
in her direction in an anger-filled
rage. "I was talking to myself."
"Another
sign you need to get laid." She laughed.
I
didn't.
"Go
away, Arabella."
"My
name's Andi."
"Your
legal name is Arabella Anderson Petrov. Care to know your social
security number and credit score as well?"
"Romance
is lost on you." I felt her move around the room. The air seized
with electricity; she'd always had a presence about her, and right
now I was five seconds away from losing my shit and ramming my head
into the fireplace just so I could escape it all.
"Don't
I know it," I huffed and reached for the bottle again.
Small
warm hands clasped around mine before I could get there. I jerked
away, causing her to stumble in front of me.
White-blond
hair covered her soft features. Big brown eyes blinked back at me. I
hissed in a breath and cursed. "You should go."
"We
need to talk."
"Oh
goody. Is this the part where you tell me I have to give up my
virginity on my wedding night?"
"What?"
She blinked like a startled deer, then a weak smile pulled her lips
upward.
I
ignored the way my body reacted and rolled my eyes in irritation.
"Aw,
he has jokes now. At least, I hope it's a joke. You're not, are you?
A virgin, I mean."
I
snorted and eyed the bottle, calculating my odds on reaching it
before she stopped me, then gave up. "Fine." I huffed.
"Hurry up and get to talking so I can get drunk."
Andi
sat opposite me in the leather chair and tucked her feet under her
body. She was small, around five-one, but she packed a punch, knew
how to use every automatic weapon on the market, and I was pretty
sure I had once overheard that she was well-versed in torture.
Looking at her, you'd think she was just graduating high school and
getting ready to go shopping for her favorite pair of shoes with
Daddy's credit card.
"You're
upset," she finally said.
"No."
I licked my lips and leaned forward. "I'm enraged. There's a
difference."
Her
eyes narrowed. "You know you can talk to me — since you're
stuck with me for the next… while. That is, unless you kill me
first… like you did that FBI agent."
My
blood ran cold. No one knew about what I'd done last week. When I'd
gained intel from another agent. "Her cover was blown. I did her
a favor."
"Did
you?" Her eyebrows arched.
"Have
you ever been shot, Andi?"
She
sighed and leaned her head back against the lush cushion. "No,
why? Are you going to educate me on what it feels like?"
I
exhaled and popped my knuckles; the sound reverberated through the
empty room. "It happens in three stages."
"What
does?"
"Getting
shot."
"You
mean you don't just pull the trigger?" she joked.
Ignoring
her, I continued. "Shock. It's always the first emotion because
the human brain hasn't yet caught up with the fact that you've been
wounded. So your body starts going into shock, and then the pain
happens, but it's not the type of pain you'd think. It burns, but
it's more of an empty, hollow pain, that starts to spread from the
wound throughout the rest of your body until a slow chill starts to
descend. When the chill descends, the shock wears off and confusion
sets in. Why was I shot? Why me? What have I done? As humans, our
brains aren't meant to understand violence, so we have to logically
explain it away. I had to have done something wrong to get shot. Or
maybe I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The minute your
brain finds something that makes sense you move onto the last stage."
Andi
barely moved a muscle. "Death?"
"Worse."
I reached for the bottle and took a long swig. "Denial."
"Why
is denial worse?"
"You
tell me."
Her
eyes closed briefly before she offered a shrug. "Because it
means you aren't ready."
"Look
who just earned an A in class," I mocked. "And you're
right. Denial happens when you realize it shouldn't be you, that even
if your brain connected the dots, it isn't yet your time. The lovely
little memories of your life start to play on repeat in your head —
the moments you should have done something but didn't, the things
you'll never say, the things you'll never do. And then… you either
get lucky or, if I'm the one who pulled the trigger, your memories
will click off after about one minute, and you'll be no more."
The
fire crackled.
Andi
refused to look at me.
"I'd
make it fast, Andi."
"Are
we seriously doing this?"
"What?"
I shrugged.
"Having
a conversation in what should be a nice cozy room, about you killing
me?"
"It
would be a kindness."
"Go
to hell!"
"Already
there, Andi. Already there. Don't you know? I belong nowhere. My
family's punishing me, the FBI's investigating me for the murder of
my superior, and now I have to marry a Russian whore."
"So…"
She stood. "…you'd rather kill me than marry me?"
"Was
I not clear? I thought I was… Allow me to say it slower, perhaps in
Russian? If that's all you people understand." I stood, meeting
her chest to chest. "I'd rather kill you than see you suffer…
I'd offer a dog the same kindness."
"I'm
not a dog."
"You're
Russian."
"Stop
saying that."
"What?"
I sneered. "The truth? Well, sweetheart, it doesn't get any
truer than your reality. Allow me to kill you before your family or
cancer does, and at least you can own your own death rather than
fearing it."
She
reached for me, touched my shoulders, and then cupped my face. I
hated it because I liked it; my body leaned without me telling it to.
She was so warm. "And what makes you think I fear my own death?"
"Everyone
is afraid of dying. The hardest part is never admitting we're mortal,
but coming to terms with the fact that we have no control over how
long we're given. You do."
"No…
I don't… You're trying to take that control."
"Say
the word." My hand moved to the Glock strapped to my thigh.
"I'm
not afraid." Her lips trembled. "At least not of death…
but I am afraid of something."
"Oh
yeah?" I hissed. "What's that?"
"Yours."
Confused,
I stepped back, immediately looking for a weapon. "I don't
understand."
"You
wouldn't." She shrugged. "Because you, Sergio Abandonato,
are already dead." She moved gracefully across the room. "You're
dead inside… and you don't even know it. Forget cancer — and take
a long hard look in the mirror — that's what death looks like."
*******************
I think Rachel summed up her latest book the best when she included this line:
"Either way, life... it is meant to be lived, it is meant to be felt, regardless of how painful or sorrowful the journey."
After spending so much time with these characters, they do begin to feel like real people. And this chapter in their lives was maybe one of the most tragically brilliant novels in the entire series (this far). It had everything that you've come to expect of one of Rachel's books (especially her Eagle Elite series). There was laughter, and then there were moments so suspenseful you gripped your kindle as you waited with bated breath to find out what was going to happen next.
Andi and Sergio had this wonderful chemistry together (even when they were sniping at each other) that you couldn't help but root for them and hope beyond all reason that things were going to work out. She was the sunlight that warmed his life - who in fact made him realize that he wasn't truly living - he was merely existing day by day. In fact, she somehow even manged to bring the entire family together, when she should have been the enemy.
The ending? Without giving anything away, all I can say is it was perfectly executed, wonderfully romantic, and so heartbreaking that I ugly cried all of my make-up off. This will be another best-seller for Rachel Van Dyken!
DISCLAIMER: I received a complimentary copy of this novel in exchange for my honest review. This has not affected my review in any way. All thoughts and opinions expressed in this review are 100% my own.
********************
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel
Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today
Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's
not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and
plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She
keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two
snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!
Want
to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!
You
can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken
or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is
www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
.
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