A soothing voice drifted through her head as the water carried her gently into her mother’s waiting arms….
* * *
CON HAD NEVER KNOWN the kind of terror he experienced the moment he saw Corliss’s car go crashing through the bridge. He knew Amber was inside. Frankie had gained consciousness in the hospital long enough to whisper who had shot him, and Con had known even then that Corliss would want to finish the job she’d started nine years ago.
Frantic with worry, Con had gone over to Corliss’s house, but her car had been missing from the garage. And he knew then that she would bring Amy back to the bridge.
Back to the bridge where Con had been waiting nine years for Amber to come home.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he dove from the bridge, sailing breathlessly through the air and then cutting through the water with his hands before plunging downward. The water was murky and cold, disorienting. But the moon was up, shimmering on the surface, and after a moment, Con saw the car, resting on the bottom, about fifteen feet down.
He swam toward it, and as he neared the submerged vehicle, an eerie feeling came over him, almost as if someone were watching him from those cloudy depths. Then he saw her.
The chill that coursed through him had nothing to do with the frigid water, and everything to do with the woman hovering in the water.
Corliss stared at him through glassy, unseeing eyes. She’d become tangled in a fishing line, and the sturdy cord had somehow entwined itself with her necklace, trapping her. Even in the dusky light, the emerald seemed to flash with a life of its own. Shaken, Con turned away, propelling himself toward the car.
The door on the driver’s side hung open, and he swam inside. Amy was lying in the back seat, her wrists bound behind her, her body lifeless and silent.
By this time, Con’s lungs were screaming. His arms and legs were becoming numb. He knew he couldn’t last much longer. He reached for Amy, pulling her easily over the seat in the water and then angling them both out of the car.
He didn’t bother untying her. There wasn’t time for that. Kicking with everything in him, Con pulled Amber upward, upward, to the gleaming moonbeams that seemed like beacons of safety in the dark and deadly night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AMY CAME OUT of the Choppowah County Courthouse, and paused on the steps to say a few words to James Birdsong. The two separated, and she started across the shady lawn toward the sidewalk.
It had been nearly a week since Corliss died. Amy had only been out of the hospital a couple of days. When Con had pulled her from the water, she’d been unconscious, coming to only when the emergency technicians were loading her into the ambulance. She’d tried to say something to him then, explain why she’d run from him, but he hadn’t come to her. He’d kept his distance, standing alone, as he always had, while everyone rushed around her.
She hadn’t seen him since that night.
A couple of times, she’d awakened in the hospital, still groggy from her medicated sleep, and thought she’d seen him, once standing at the window, and once hovering over her bed. But when she’d tried to speak to him, he’d vanished. Or perhaps she’d drifted off to sleep again.
Maybe he would never want to see her again, Amy thought as she headed back to her car. She’d turned against him, like everyone else in this town had. She’d blamed him for something he hadn’t done, and it might be that he would never be able to forgive her.
Amy could understand that. There were some things she was having a hard time forgiving, too. Reece had finally admitted to her in the hospital that he’d been the one driving the black truck that had almost run her off the road. He’d wanted to scare her into coming back to him, but even more damning than that—at least in Amy’s view—was the fact that he’d known for months who she was. He’d had her and Nona investigated long before he’d asked her to marry him, and he’d found out that Amber Tremain, if still alive, would inherit half of Amberly.
So many lies, Amy thought morosely, and so much deception. So much heartache, and all because Corliss Witherspoon had always hated her sister.
As Amy came off the shady lawn, the glaring sun on the street temporarily blinded her. She didn’t see Con standing by her car until she was almost upon him. Then she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart pounding.
He wore jeans and a white undershirt that exposed his tanned muscles and the tiny snake tattoo that still fascinated her so.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his.
His eyes were dark and deep, his expression almost stern as he stared down at her, taking in the cuts and bruises, the bandage on her forehead.
“I was afraid I might not see you again.”
He straightened from the car and came toward her, towering over her, making Amy’s heart beat even harder. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Are you?”
“No.” Then, almost defiantly, she said, “I’m taking steps to be declared legally alive again.”
“Congratulations.” His dark gaze swept over her. “I see you’re wearing white.”
“It’s an important day.” She drew a long breath. “Why did you do it, Con? Why did you have me declared legally dead? Did you really want Amberly that badly?”
Something flickered in his eyes. Regret. Pain. “Amberly was the least of it. I thought if you were legally dead, that would be the end of it. No more memories. No more ghosts.”
“Instead, I came back.” Another irony, she thought. She lifted her chin. “I’m warning you, Con. I’m going to fight to get Amberly back.”
“I figured you would.”
“I don’t want it torn down to make room for a marina. I don’t want my home destroyed.”
“You don’t have to fight for what has always been yours,” he said. “I’ve torn up the contract with Jasmine.”
“But Reece said you stood to lose everything if you didn’t get Amberly.”
He shrugged again. “I’ve been poor before. I always manage to get by. Besides, there’s other property along the river.” He paused. “So what about everyone else? Are they staying on at the house, too?”
“Under the circumstances, we thought it best if Lottie and the girls move out. There’s been too much bad blood over the years….” She trailed off. “Maybe someday we can all work out our differences, but for now…I just want to concentrate on rebuilding a relationship with Jasmine.” And you, she wanted to add.
“I’ve been to see Frankie,” Con said. “He’s going to be all right.”
“I know. I’ve been to see him, too. He saved my life. I can never repay him for that, but I’m going to try somehow. Maybe I’ll start by getting a confession out of Fay.”
“Good luck,” Con said grimly. “So how is Jasmine handling…everything?”
“Our marriage, you mean.” Amy sighed. “I should have told her right from the first. She shouldn’t have heard it from Fay. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell her.”
“Probably for the same reason I didn’t tell you about my contract to buy Amberly. I was afraid.”
Amy’s heart fluttered at the way he was looking at her. “Jasmine and I have talked a lot in the last few days. She’s put things in perspective since she found out about Corliss. And about our mother. She’s done a lot of growing up.”
“She nearly lost you again. I’ve never seen anyone more frightened than she was at the hospital that night.”
Amy said carefully, “She still has a crush on you, you know.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“You’re not that easy to get over,” Amy murmured.
They lapsed into silence, the thing that was most important still left unspoken. After a moment, Amy said, “I wish I hadn’t run away from you that night. Con, I’m sorry. I never should have suspected you, even for a moment.”
He glanced away. “I’d like to say it doesn’t matter.”
“But it does,” Amy said. “I know it does. Everyone in this town has always thought the worst of you, and now
I’m no different. But I thought I was.”
He was standing silently in front of her, his expression shuttered by the sunlight. Although he was near enough Amy could reach out and touch him, he seemed a million miles away. Remote and unapproachable. A loner, not by choice, but by a town who had turned its back on him a long time ago, and by an eighteen-year-old girl who had married him to get back at her father.
Amy said quietly, “Why didn’t you have our marriage dissolved?” When he glanced down at her, she said, “You petitioned to have me declared legally dead, but you didn’t ask the court to dissolve our marriage. I can’t help wondering why.”
He lifted a hand and touched her hair, as if he still weren’t quite sure she was real. “I told you once. I never intended to marry again. There was never going to be anyone else for me.”
Amy’s breath caught. She couldn’t speak.
He buried both hands in her hair, holding her face still while he stared into her eyes. “We’ve both made mistakes, and we’ve both paid one hell of a big price. Nine years of our lives. But one thing has never changed. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”
Amy’s eyes flooded with tears. It was all she could do to hold them back. “I’m in love with you, too. I still don’t remember a lot of what happened back then, but—”
He silenced her with a kiss. When he lifted his head, his gaze was dark and intense. Smoldering, Amy thought. “It doesn’t matter, because I don’t want to live with memories anymore. I want the real you, Amy.”
She brushed her lips against his. “Amber,” she whispered. “My name is Amber.”
* * * * *
When he’s hired to rescue a kidnapped heiress, veteran Marine Jason Hunt faces the most challenging chase of his career. Not only is Samantha Eddington a genius with everything to prove, his attraction to her could be his undoing…
Read on for a sneak peak of RESCUED BY THE MARINE by USA TODAY bestselling author Julie Miller
CHAPTER ONE
The Midas Lodge outside Jackson, Wyoming
“Samantha, what are you doing?”
Wishing I was anywhere else.
Hearing her father’s tsk-tsking tone above the white noise of conversations, laughter and chamber music drifting in from the reception area of the Midas Lodge’s main lobby, Samantha Eddington bit down on the ungrateful thought and stretched up on her toes on the arm of the leather chair she’d pulled from the neighboring window alcove. She closed the back of the mantel clock and screwed the casing shut with her thumbnail before pushing it back into place over the two-story stone fireplace. “Hi, Dad. It stopped at four twenty this afternoon. Fortunately, it was just the batteries.” She showed him the oxidized rust stains on the paper napkin wadded up in her hand. “I cleaned them and put them back in, but they won’t last for long. We’ll need a new set.”
Walter Eddington had the build and face of a bulldog, an ironic contrast to the expensive tailored suit and diamond-studded lapel pin he wore. A self-made man who’d served in the Army before Samantha was born, he was as at home in the backcountry with a hunting rifle as he was in the boardroom of the hotel empire he’d purchased on a dare and built into a fortune over the past thirty-five years. Too bad she hadn’t inherited either of those skill sets. She didn’t share his love for a good party, either, like tonight’s shindig that mixed hotel with family business.
But she did love him. Adored him, in fact. After losing her mother when she was seven, they’d become a team—sharing grief and comfort, and helping each other pick up the pieces of their fractured lives. She’d never quite been the tomboy he wanted, nor was she poised enough to serve as the dutiful hostess and helpmate a businessman of his standing needed. And while she understood the numbers and demographics of the lodging and tourism industry, she’d never shared his interest in running a corporation. She loved analyzing the architectural designs and engineering strategies that went into building hotels and resort lodges, but her intellectual acumen and aversion to board meetings, press conferences and parties like tonight’s grand opening celebration with investors and local bigwigs kept her from being the heir he’d hoped for to take over the Midas Group and run the family business one day. Still, Walter Eddington loved her anyway. He was her daddy, the first man she’d loved. And even at twenty-nine, she was his little girl.
“Come down from there.” He held out his broad, calloused hand. She took it and smiled as he helped her down from her perch. He dropped a kiss to her cheek, just below the rim of her glasses. “This is supposed to be your party. I realize we’re combining business with pleasure by scheduling the grand opening of the new lodge with your engagement announcement to Kyle. But you know how much I want to change the press’s perception of you as some kind of eccentric recluse who never recovered from your mother’s murder. Hiding out from our guests doesn’t help change that image.”
“I’m not a recluse. My mind just gets occupied with other things.” Too many other things. Like the guilt she felt at putting that worry dimple between his silvering eyebrows.
“I know that,” he assured her. “But the last time your picture was on TV and in all the papers, you were only seven. You were so brave. So sad.” He captured both hands and backed up to skim his gaze from the loose bun at the nape of her neck to the unpolished wiggle of her bare toes on the woven throw rug in front of the fireplace. He smiled. “You look pretty tonight. All grown up. A woman of the world.”
His eyes, the same shade of green as her own, turned wistful. He was losing himself in the past until Samantha squeezed his hands, bringing him back into the present with her. “I miss Mom, too. Tonight, of all nights, especially.”
Walter nodded, pulling her into his barrel chest and capturing her in one of the bear hugs she’d always loved before he set her back on her feet. He chucked her lightly beneath the chin. “I know you take after my side of the family, but…” He brushed aside a rebellious lock of dark blond hair that had caught in her glasses and tucked it behind her ear. “I see your mother in you tonight. How I wish Michelle could be here to share this with us.”
Samantha reached up to straighten the knot of his tie and smooth his lapels, the tender ministrations more of a comfort than a need. “Me, too.”
“It’s been twenty-two years tonight since that bastard murdered…” Muttering a curse, he blinked away the moisture that glistened in his eyes and pulled something from his pocket. “I want to show you something.”
Samantha lit up when she saw the familiar engraved locket on a silver chain that dangled from his fingers. “Mom’s necklace. The one you gave her when you got married.”
“It’ll be yours one day. But tonight, I’m carrying it for luck. That everything goes smoothly, and that Kyle makes you as happy as she and I were. Even if it was for too short a time. I wanted you to know she’s with us.”
She rubbed her fingertips across the locket’s etched surface the way she had as a curious child when it had hung around her mother’s neck. Then Walter drew it up to his lips and kissed the heirloom before tucking it back into his pocket. “Don’t tell Joyce.”
“Don’t tell Joyce what?” Samantha’s stepmother appeared behind her father in a swish of pale pink satin. “The party’s in the other room, you two.” She pointed to the lobby behind them. “Where all the guests are.”
With a wink that said he’d cover for Samantha, Walter caught his second wife’s hand and kissed her fingers before linking her arm through his. “You’ll need to speak to the staging crew, dear. Sammie had to repair this clock. It wasn’t working. You know I love the beautiful things you selected to decorate the new lodge. But I expect things to do their job, too.”
“Of course, I will, dear,” Joyce assured him. “I want everything to be perfect tonight.”
“I opened it up and cleaned the batteries,” Samantha explained.
“Cleaned them with what?” She suspected her stepmother was frowning, although her face revealed little evidence of emotion, one way or an
other. When Samantha showed her the dirty cocktail napkin, Joyce snatched it from her hand and tossed it into the fireplace.
Unlike Samantha, Joyce knew how to work a room and make a business deal as well as Walter did. His successes were hers and vice versa. Samantha had never quite fit into the family equation the same way after her father had remarried and adopted Joyce’s daughter, Taylor. “You are the guest of honor, not maintenance personnel. Are you forgetting that I told the press photographers to be in position at eight? After your father gives his welcoming speech, Kyle will go down on one knee and propose. Just like we rehearsed.”
Because nothing says romance like a staged proposal. Samantha scratched at the rash itching beneath the stays of her dress. True, she’d been seeing Kyle Grazer longer than any other man she’d dated—not that there were many names on that list. Being the socially awkward, plain Jane daughter of a wealthy man like Walter Eddington made it pretty near impossible to trust any man who claimed to be interested in her. But Kyle had persisted. They’d become friends after Joyce had introduced them. Then, her father had offered him a job as an executive in the company, and they’d become something more.
So what if she didn’t get the topsy-turvy stomach turbulence she’d expected when she fell in love? Logically, they were good for each other. He helped bring Samantha out of her shell, and she offered him a quiet refuge from the heartache of a girlfriend who’d dumped him and the pain of a father who’d raised him with a harsh, unsympathetic hand. Besides, Kyle was immeasurably patient with her inexperience. He praised her efforts to learn more about kissing and seduction, and promised their lovemaking would improve as she developed more confidence in her relationship skills.
Besides, Grazers came from money. Kyle’s father owned a chain of hotels on the East Coast, so she knew he wasn’t with her just to get a part of her father’s fortune. And her father had assured her more than once that the expected merger of companies that would follow the announcement of their engagement would be negated on the spot if he thought for one moment that Kyle wouldn’t take care of her and make her happy. Even if there was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on that kept her relationship from being everything she’d hoped for, Samantha was happy. Wasn’t she?
Her Secret Past Page 19
