Blood Relations Read Online Free

settled there, following his every elusive move, waiting for the chance to get assigned to the case. Although Ovan’s home base was South Africa, where he was born, he made a living traipsing the world in search of law breakers who could not seem to be captured by the standard means of law enforcement. He loved his work and his partners, Maravel and Julia. Both women were geniuses with computers and masters of disguise—never short on ideas and identities. So when news of the “mad scientist” hit the airwaves, Ovan knew immediately he wanted to be on the case. Personal reasons more than logical ones pushed him forward. Ovan wanted to put a stop to Allen Roman.
    A few months ago, apparently feeling the heat of Ovan’s chase, Roman faked his death again. It had taken all of his creativity, but Ovan had the body exhumed. To the shock of everyone around, the body in the casket was not the black man, Allen Roman, but that of the real Dr. Seymour Lipton—a Caucasian man. It took all but an act of Parliament to get an autopsy, since Dr. Lipton had no living family. Nonetheless, it was completed, and proved that Seymour had died from heart failure. As does everyone, sooner or later, Ovan thought to himself at the time.
    â€œThey weren’t looking hard enough,” Ovan pondered aloud. “I know Roman killed him.”
    What he didn’t want them to find in the body of Dr. Lipton, Ovan wasn’t sure. But he knew in his heart that it was only a matter of time before something would link Roman with more than just fraud ... It would link him with murder. There is no way Dr. Lipton died of natural causes.
    With time, Roman’s reasons for murdering the good doctor would reveal a renewed mission of Roman’s own design—of this Ovan was sure. Ovan had plans to stop Roman before he carried any of it out. Like the chase of cat and mouse, this case had Ovan globetrotting in pursuit.
    Allen Roman: the phantom so many wanted to believe was not a threat to international security. Poppycock! People need to stop believing he’s so bloody powerful and maybe he’ll stop being so. International—yes. Threat ... only if you let him be.
    Ovan kept his eyes open—wide—and today he’d hit pay dirt. Dr. Craven Michaels was pronounced DOA—heart attack. Normally it would have gone unnoticed, except he knew firsthand that Craven was in no danger of dying of a heart attack. Heck, she nearly gave me one on our encounter . The women had the endurance of a mule! Just the thought of her thick thighs, and beautiful brown eyes closed from reasons other than sexual satiation made him sad—no, it pissed him off. He knew who was responsible for Craven Michaels’s death. It was none other than Allen Roman. Although the police had only seen the obvious, the crime scene had Roman’s name written all over it. Her being healthy one moment and dead the next, and having all but confessed to have been working with Allen Roman ... Well, the coincidence was just a little too great for his taste. And everyone thinks I’m crazy.
    No, Ovan wasn’t grasping at straws here. Craven had told him about the strange proposition requesting the use of her surgical expertise. She had brought her partner on board, and now regretted it. Why she regretted it, she hadn’t fully explained ... well, not in a way Ovan completely understood. Talking to Craven was difficult at best. “Who performs private surgeries?” he asked, smoothing back his soft waves in the mirror. He was exhausted but trying to play it off. Yes, she was a healthy woman indeed.
    â€œI just love your accent. Who’da thought London would produce someone as exciting as you,” she purred. “Mmm, yeah,” she moaned from where she lay, still writhing from the pleasure-filled hour she’d just had while he ... drilled her . . . for answers.
    Ovan turned from her vanity and adjusted the towel around his