When Jenny Seaver escaped from her worst nightmare, she hoped she had found a refuge with Decorah Security agent Grant Bradley. But deep in her heart, she knew safety was only an illusion. Could she risk the night of passion they both wanted before she disappeared from his life?
Grant’s need for Jenny defied any danger. But unless she decided to trust him with the secrets of her past, the evil that followed her could destroy them both.
“Any progress on finding the little bitch?”
The question came from a man with iron-gray hair and a scar that cut across his chin. Leaning back in his comfortable chair, he regarded Carlos Mardano through slitted eyes.
Carlos knew that look. Often it was the prelude to dangerous anger that would flare like boiling lava spewing from a volcano. His boss’s dark, hooded eyes were one of the reasons he’d gotten the nickname Rambo. The other was his ruthless pursuit of any goal he set.
Carlos stood a few yards from the man’s chair, staring over his shoulder at a weird-looking sketch on the wall. One of the other security guys had told him it was by a big-time artist named Picasso. It was supposed to be an original—and supposed to be expensive, but it looked like someone had taken a face apart and put it back together wrong.
Trying not to think about failure, he pressed his hands to his sides to keep them from trembling. But this whole damn screwup was not his fault. It was a case of shoot the messenger. He’d been off the evening the girl had escaped. He wasn’t the one who had been stupid enough to leave car keys lying around. And he sure as hell wasn’t the one who had chased her at dangerous speed—then watched her vehicle skid off the road on a sharp turn and plow into a stone wall. Yeah, right. That guy was long dead.
Carlos licked his lips. “We know she was taken to the hospital and admitted as Jane Doe—not Jenny Seaver—because she had no identification. And she was unconscious.”
Rambo rocked forward in his chair and let his Gucci loafers slam down on the inlaid parquet floor. “Jesus Christ, you’re not telling me anything new. But people don’t simply vanish from the hospital.”
“Someone checked her out. And whoever let her go tampered with the paperwork. There’s no record of her having even been there.”
“Yeah, well, something weird is going on. I want to know who took her away, what they did with her, and why.”
Despite the air conditioning in the room, Carlos felt sweat collect at the back of his neck and trickle down the inside of his shirt. “I did some snooping around the administrative offices. I think the hospital was glad to get rid of her because she had no insurance, as far as they knew. So who was going to pay the bills of some no-name chick in a coma?”
Rambo pushed himself up straighter. “Probably somebody was paid to take her off their hands. I want you to find out who it was—and I want them brought here for interrogation.”
The younger man shuddered, thinking about the holding cells in the basement below the high-class rooms on the house’s main floor. People went down the steps to the lower level and never came out again—at least under their own power.
He wanted to ask, “What if she’s dead?” But he kept the question locked behind his lips. If she was dead, that might be the same as failing to find her.
“Go on. Get busy.”
Thankful to escape, Carlos turned on his heel. As he exited the wood-paneled office, he heard the boss muttering, “If that bitch has fucked up my plans, I’ll kill her.”
Carlos hurried down the corridor and into the sunshine, where he stood on the back patio taking gulps of air. He didn’t much like the position he was in now. But at least he wasn’t Jenny Seaver. He remembered the girl as a complete wimp. Who would believe she had the balls to escape?
And now she was missing, probably badly injured. It still amazed him that she’d managed to run away, but her unlikely escape only spoke of her desperation.
Where the hell was she? And how long did he have to find her before the boss went batshit and turned his wrath on Carlos.
A New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly best-selling and award-winning author, Rebecca has written over 145 books and novellas. In 2011 she became the dozenth author to receive the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award for having written 100 romantic novels. Her Killing Moon was a launch title for Berkley’s Sensation imprint in June 2003. Five more books in the series have followed. Rebecca has authored or co-authored over 65 romantic thrillers, many for Harlequin Intrigue’s very popular 43 Light Street series, set in Baltimore, and many with paranormal elements. Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.