Crossing Lines - La série

I only wanted a cup of coffee. Alone. It was a simple request, right? Just stroll into the coffee shop on the corner, grab my usual cup of liquid nitrogen, and walk back out. All while minding my own business. But I had to walk in at that exact moment. Not ten minutes earlier. Not ten minutes later. Precisely when Savannah Fields needed someone to help her. When no one except me had the courage to stand up for her. After the incident, she looked at me like I was her hero. But I’m no hero. I don’t even know who or what I am anymore. Who is Nick Tucker? A DEA agent? A criminal? Both? Neither? The lines I crossed while undercover blurred my staunch sense of morality. Then the auburn-haired beauty showed up at my apartment, begging for my help. I couldn’t turn her away. The more I lost myself in her, the more I found myself again. Or so I thought. Even a broken clock gets to be right twice a day. There's a fine line between right and wrong, love and hate, heaven and hell.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. What should’ve been a simple fact-finding visit changed in the blink of an eye. I’m a patriot. A CIA officer. A master at manipulating the double agent schemes. The straight and narrow path I set out on turned into a hundred winding roads, all leading to the same destination: I’m now aiding and abetting a foreign spy. Kira Petrov stole something from me the moment we met—my breath, my heart, my allegiance. If I’m caught, I’ll be tried as a traitor. But there’s more to her story than anyone knows, and time is not on our side. The only way out this tangled mess is to march straight through it. Staying between the imaginary lines on a map is easy when the boundaries are clearly defined. It’s that blurred line in real life that trips up the best of us.

My rule: Never let an old flame burn you twice. Other people gave second chances—I didn’t. My modus operandi was to move on to the next girl in line and forget the previous one. So when Tawnee Milano said she needed her space, I let her go. Then I left our mutual employer for a new job with the CIA and didn’t look back. But a coded distress message from her sends me right back to where I was when we first split up. The possibility of losing her forever forces me to relax my rigid stance. With her life in danger, I’m finally facing my true feelings for her. Mottos are all fine and good in theory. Not so much in practice. Now my hard line policy is to get her back—and keep her this time.