Chapter Thirty-Eight Rage pulsed inside him. It grew and fed on itself until it had a will of its own. Morgan Dane was going to ruin everything. Someone else had been arrested. The evidence he’d planted had been solid—until Ms. Dane stuck her nose into his business. There was no question that she had to be stopped. But how? Her sidekick, the former cop, was always at her side, and he acted like her personal bodyguard. He’d spent all night devising a plan to stop her investigation. Step number one: finish what the county jail had left undone. She couldn’t defend a dead client. He entered the hospital through the main doors. This wasn’t the city. The medium-size community hospital had little need for security. There were only two people behind the reception desk in the lobby. An elderly woman sat at a computer, looking up patient room numbers and handing out visitor passes with a polite smile. Seated behind her, a security guard in his mid-fifties drank coffee and talked over the counter
Chapter Thirty-Nine Consciousness tugged at Nick. He resisted. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up. He’d done that earlier, and pain had slammed into him with the force of a bus. On one hand, the pain had assured him that he was alive when he’d been certain he wasn’t. On the other, the agony had been so intense, he’d considered the advantages of being dead. As he floated from the heavy depths of drugged slumber, the fire in his belly encouraged him to stay asleep. He was flat on his back, tethered to the bed by wire and tubes. Why be awake when he couldn’t move anyway? Sure, the nurse had told him earlier that movement would aid his recovery, but really, what was his motivation to get better? The sooner he healed, the faster they put him back in jail. What was the point? Even if Morgan managed to convince a jury that the prosecution hadn’t proven his guilt, the whole town had already tried and convicted him. He would never be innocent in their eyes unless Tessa’s real killer was
Chapter Forty Morgan stepped out of the elevator. She couldn’t wait to tell Nick the DA had dropped the charges against him. She followed the signs to his room and walked inside. A doctor was on top of Nick. At first, she thought maybe he was administering CPR, but then she saw the pillow over Nick’s face. Oh my God. He was trying to kill Nick. She shook off her shock. “Hey,” she yelled, grabbing the man by the back of his collar and pulling him off Nick. The man had been focused on smothering Nick, and she took him by surprise. He tumbled backward off the bed and onto the floor. His glasses flew across the room and his dark hair fell off, revealing a blond-and-silver head. But Morgan had no time to stare at the wig on the floor. Nick! She lunged to his bedside. “Help!” she screamed, hoping her voice would carry to the hallway. “Somebody help me in here.” Without turning her back to the man on the floor, Morgan snatched the pillow from Nick’s face. Is he breathing? She jabbed the call
Chapter Forty-One Lance raced down the hallway. An orderly shouted at him. “You can’t go down there. The floor is closed off. There’s a hostage situation.” Lance ignored him. He skidded around the turn and pulled up short. Emerson was backing down the corridor. Dressed as a doctor, he dragged Morgan along the hallway, hiding behind her body and holding a knife to her throat. Lance wasn’t a violent man, but at that moment, he wanted to kill Phillip Emerson. Lance reached for the weapon on his hip, then realized the SFPD hadn’t returned it yet. Fuck. Thankfully, he still had his backup piece. Nobody had asked for it and he hadn’t volunteered. His heart knocked against his ribs. He couldn’t let anything happen to Morgan, but he could see the desire to hurt her in Emerson’s eyes. A security guard had his weapon drawn and pointed at Emerson and Morgan. The guard was obviously out of his element because his hands were shaking hard. Terror filled Lance as he imagined the security guard shooti
Chapter Forty-Two Morgan held her bandaged arm against her body as she slid into Lance’s Jeep. “What time is it?” “Almost midnight.” Lance closed the car door, rounded the vehicle, and got into the driver’s seat. “Are you in pain?” “Nope. Not yet.” The painkillers the hospital had given her made everything fuzzy. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten cotton balls. “I’ll have you home in fifteen minutes.” Morgan didn’t remember the drive. She must have dozed off. The next thing she knew she was home and Lance was helping her into the house. Her grandfather held the door open. Gianna was waiting in the hall. “She’s fine,” Lance said. “Just a little spacey.” “If you can get her to her room, I can take over from there.” Gianna followed them down the hall. “I only hurt my arm. My legs are fine. I can walk.” But Morgan wobbled more than walked. Lance half carried her to her bed. “Looks like she doesn’t tolerate painkillers any better than alcohol.” She stretched out. “I can hear you.” But she co
Chapter Forty-Three Lance walked into the ice arena. The kids were already warming up. Coach Zack leaned on the half wall and watched as they circled the rink. Zack turned. “Hey, Lance. Are those your skates?” “They are.” Lance sat on the bench and exchanged his athletic shoes for the black hockey skates. “Does your therapist know about this?” “I’ve been approved for some light skating.” Lance tightened the laces. “So don’t expect anything exciting.” But it felt damned good to step out onto the ice. The kids raced over. He had a brief moment of panic that he’d get body slammed, but they gave him room, zooming around him and shouting encouragement. “Coach Lance!” “Awesome.” Lance grinned. A year and a half ago, these same kids distrusted cops so much they’d barely speak to him. Their trust had come slowly. But when he’d been shot, every single one of them had visited him in the hospital. He followed instructions and kept his ice time short, hanging up his skates to help Zack coach from
Chapter Forty-Four Two days later Lance went into the office late Friday morning after stopping to check on his mom. Sharp was on the phone. The dog was curled up in a bed in the corner. Lance waved as he passed the doorway. Then he settled at the card table in his office and stared at the single file in front of him: his father’s case. He still hadn’t opened it. Yes, he wanted to know what had happened to his dad, but if Sharp hadn’t found any clues in twenty-three years, what were the chances any existed? What were the chances that Lance would get sucked into a past that he’d thought he’d made peace with? He also considered the effect any digging into the past would have on his mom. The front door opened and closed. Morgan walked past his doorway. Surprise pulled Lance to his feet. He hadn’t seen her since he’d dropped her at her house Tuesday night. The dog bolted from Sharp’s office to greet her, and Lance wanted to do the same. He listened to her talk to the dog in a ridiculous hi
Acknowledgments As always, credit goes to my agent Jill Marsal, and to the entire team at Montlake Romance, especially my managing editor Anh Schluep, developmental editor Charlotte Herscher, and author herder/tech goddess Jessica Poore. Special thanks to Leanne Sparks for her patience and help with some of the procedural elements of this story. She saved me weeks of research.
About the Author Photo © 2016 Jared Gruenwald Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh is a fully recovered banker. A lifelong lover of books, she started writing as a way to preserve her sanity when her youngest child entered first grade. During the next few years, she joined Romance Writers of America, learned a few things about writing a novel, and decided the process was way more fun than analyzing financial statements. Melinda’s debut novel, She Can Run, was nominated for Best First Novel by the International Thriller Writers. She’s also earned three Daphne du Maurier Award nominations and a Golden Leaf Award. Her other novels include She Can Tell, She Can Scream, She Can Hide, She Can Kill, Midnight Exposure, Midnight Sacrifice, Midnight Betrayal, Midnight Obsession, Hour of Need, Minutes to Kill, and Seconds to Live. She holds a second-degree black belt in Kenpo karate; teaches women’s self-defense; and lives in a messy house with her husband, two teenagers, a couple
ALSO BY MELINDA LEIGH
SCARLET FALLS NOVELS
Hour of Need
Minutes to Kill
Seconds to Live
SHE CAN SERIES
She Can Run
&nb
sp; She Can Tell
She Can Scream
She Can Hide
He Can Fall (A Short Story)
She Can Kill
MIDNIGHT NOVELS
Midnight Exposure
Midnight Sacrifice
Midnight Betrayal
Midnight Obsession
THE ROGUE SERIES NOVELLAS
Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River)
Walking on Her Grave (Rogue River)
Tracks of Her Tears (Rogue Winter)
Burned by Her Devotion (Rogue Vows)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2017 Melinda Leigh
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503948709
ISBN-10: 1503948706
Cover design by Damonza
For Roxy aka “Rocket Dog.”
We rescued each other.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Darkness.
Tessa had been afraid of it most of her life. For as long as she could remember, she’d gone to bed dreading nightfall, looking under the bed, double-checking her nightlight.
As if a lightbulb the size of a lit match could possibly banish her nightmares.
But tonight, she prayed for the blackest of nights. For the moon to stay hidden behind the shifting clouds. For the shadows to make her invisible.
The darkness had changed sides. Head spinning, lungs screaming, she ran into its embrace. What had once been her greatest fear could now be her savior. Her miracle.
That’s what it was going to take to keep her alive until the sun rose.
“Tesssssa.” The voice floated over the forest. “You can’t get away.”
Where is he?
Evergreen boughs grabbed at her arms and scratched her face as she plunged through the forest like a panicked deer. Her heart beat with the frantic staccato of a prey animal. She slowed, her body protesting the abuse of little-used muscles. She passed the scorched carcass of a burned tree. Its blackened branches pointed upward like a charred hand reaching for the sky. She ducked behind the shelter of a towering oak. Bark scraped her back as she pressed against the trunk and listened.
Where did he go?
A mosquito buzzed around her face. To her right, she could hear the sounds of the forest that surrounded Scarlet Lake. The stillness of the night sharpened her senses. Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. An animal, small and light, scurried through the underbrush nearby. The air was thick with the scents of pine, lake water, and fear.
Not for the first time, she wished she could shrink and disappear into a rabbit hole.
Hoot! An owl landed on an overhead branch.
Tessa startled, a gasp slipping from her lips. She covered her open mouth with a hand. Liquid dripped over her fingers, and when she lowered her hand, it came away wet with tears—and blood. She touched the corner of her mouth, where his fist had split her lip. Other parts of her face and body ached from what he’d done in the clearing before she’d managed to land a kick to his groin.
Then he’d dropped her, and she’d run. Blindly.
The owl took flight, slow flaps of its wings sending it soaring through a break in the canopy. The clouds parted, and moonlight shone through the opening. For a few seconds, the raptor was silhouetted against the inky sky. And then it was gone.
Sliding down the tree trunk, she sat on her heels and huddled.
Despite the coolness of the September night, her lungs burned as if she’d inhaled gas and swallowed a flame. She panted; the sound echoed in her ears and seemed loud enough to carry a mile through the trees.
Quiet!
He was going to hear. She was out of shape, and her mad sprint had taxed her lungs. She hadn’t gotten far. He had to be close.
“Tesssssa.”
The drumming of her heartbeat muffled his voice. She couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from.
She pressed her lips together, but her lungs demanded more air. Red rimmed her vision as dizziness enveloped her. Opening her mouth, she kept her breaths shallow, hoping, praying her ragged gasps weren’t as loud as they sounded echoing in her own ears.
Minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
Maybe he’d gone in the other direction.
Her breathing eased. Her legs began to tremble from the cramped position. She’d partied in the clearing countless times. But everything looked the same in the dark.
She’d lost track of her location.
She glanced around the trunk. Twenty feet ahead, moonlight cast a trail in silvery shadows. Was that the path that led to the main road? Beyond the narrow break in the foliage, the trees closed in, and darkness smothered the forest.
Sweat ran down her spine and pooled at her lower back, soaking the waistband of her jeans. She squinted. What choice did she have? She couldn’t stay here long.
He’d catch up with her.
He’d kill her.
But in order to run, she’d have to come out from behind the tree.
Where is he?
No matter. She had to keep moving. If he hadn’t caught her yet, he soon would. There was no way he’d let her go now. Why had she trusted him? Because he’d said he loved her?
Stupid.
He wasn’t capable of love. She’d known it in her head, but her heart had wanted to believe.
And now the truth would kill her.
At the beginning of the evening, she’d considered walking into the cold lake and putting an end to her misery. But now that death was breathing down her neck, terror had taken over. Her survival instinct overrode any fears about her future.
I don’t want to die.
Her last words to her grandparents had been angry. She’d lied to them. If she didn’t make it out of this, that argument would be their final memory of her. They weren’t perfect, but they loved her. Now there’d be no way for her to say she loved them back, that she hadn’t meant what she’d said, that she’d been upset about the mess she’d made of her
life and she’d lashed out at them.
She wouldn’t have a chance to say she was sorry.
She had to get away. She had to live. To apologize for hurting the two people who loved her the most. She pushed to her feet. Her thigh muscles shivered, and her head swam. Instead of running all out, she picked her way to the trail. With no idea where he was, the less noise she made the better. If she didn’t know where she was, maybe he didn’t either.
Underbrush snatched at her bare legs as she stepped onto the path and eased into a slow jog. The packed dirt under her sneakers felt familiar. She rounded a bend and quickened her pace. A twig snapped, and she bolted like a rabbit. A cloud drifted in front of the moon, dropping a shadow across her path. Tessa’s foot caught, and she fell. Pain zinged through her kneecap as it struck an exposed tree root. On hands and knees, she paused, catching her breath and swallowing the terror that clogged her throat. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Keep going!
She got one foot under her body and stood. Forcing her shaky legs to move, she stumbled up the path and drew up short as she recognized the scorched tree. She’d run in a circle. She stumbled as she realized she was headed back toward the clearing.
Toward him.
The rustle of dead leaves echoed, loud as a crack of thunder.
Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane Book 1) Page 3
