Luke kissed her temple. “You found your roommate’s body and never had any therapy?”
“I went when Ian made me, but I didn’t get anywhere.” Brooke shook her head. “I didn’t want to get better.”
“But now you do.”
“Yeah.” She really did.
“I assume you don’t want to leave Haley alone yet.” He turned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “How about we rent a movie on the TV tonight? We’ll do that real date whenever you’re ready.”
“As long as it’s a comedy, I’m in.” Brooke leaned against his shoulder. “I’ve had enough suspense and sorrow for a lifetime.”
Luke steered her toward the den. “What’s going to happen to the guy who went to prison for Karen’s murder?”
“He’s being released, along with twelve other innocent men who were imprisoned for Kent’s crimes.” Brooke pulled back. “I want to see him, to apologize for helping to put him behind bars. Would you go with me?”
“Brooke, I’ll go with you anywhere.” Luke hugged her close. “Any news on Kent?”
“No, but I’m hoping for a guilty-plea-to-avoid-the-death-penalty deal. I really don’t want to have to testify against him. I will if I have to, but I’d rather not.”
“I know.” Luke leaned back. “But I’ll be here if you do.”
“Won’t you miss the city?”
“No. And even if I did, it’s only a short drive away.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from her cheek. “I’ve lived in dozens of places, and I have very few people in my life to show for it. I want roots, Brooke.”
“I’m about as rooted as a person gets.” She smiled.
“I want to wake up in the same bed every day.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Preferably with you. Naked.”
Picturing him naked, Brooke sighed. “You know that’s not going to happen that often for a few years. The kids need—”
He wiped a tear from under her eye with his thumb. “Stop worrying. I’ll take whatever you can give me. One day at a time, OK?”
“OK.” She kissed him back.
Sunshine butted her head against their legs. A pungent scent wafted up.
“Oh, my.” Brooke reached a hand to her nose. “The movie will have to wait.”
“I’ll get the dog if you get the towels.” Luke laughed. “I’m glad I won’t have to do it by myself this time.”
“No.” Brooke rose up on her toes and planted a kiss on his mouth. “We’re in this together.”
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Dan Boucher for reviewing the brain-numbing geeky details. Any omissions or errors are my fault. Also, thanks to Kendra Elliot, my friend and fellow Montlake author. It’s amazing how much support a person can provide from three thousand miles away.
Publishing a book is a group effort. I’m lucky to have the support of an entire team of incredible people. As always, a gigantic thanks to my agent, Jill Marsal, for making my dream a reality. My managing editor, Kelli Martin, and the entire staff at Montlake Romance (especially author herder/technical goddess Jessica Poore) also deserve credit for doing their best to take care of the process and let an author focus on writing. Finally, thanks to developmental editor Shannon Godwin for her help in making this book come together.
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Don’t miss Melinda Leigh’s next spine-tingling romantic thriller
SHE CAN HIDE
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CHAPTER ONE
A whoosh and soft impact jolted Abby’s body. She slid forward. The seat belt caught her and snapped her back. Pain ripped through her temple. What happened? Her vision blurred, and she rubbed her eyes to clear it.
The steering wheel and dashboard came into focus. She was sitting in the front seat of her Subaru sedan. Icy pellets bounced off her windshield. When had it started to sleet? Blinking hard, she stared through the glass. Water splashed over the hood. Oh my God.
She swiveled her head to get her bearings. A thin sheet of ice edged the opposite bank twenty feet ahead. Water bubbled over rocks down the center of the flow. Behind the car, fifteen feet of water stretched to an inclined embankment. Her car was door-deep in a river.
The Subaru bobbed for a couple of seconds. The front end tilted down, and water swished over the floor mat. This had to be a nightmare. But her personal horror didn’t usually involve water. Abby’s bad dreams were all dark all the time. But a minute ago she’d been in the parking lot of the high school where she taught math. How did she get here?
Water swirled around her feet and seeped through her running shoes. Cold. No, beyond cold. Liquid ice. Shocking pain washed over her ankle and jolted her from her dreamlike state.
This was real.
Terror swept through her confusion and jerked her from numb disbelief into panic. Fear, bitter and acidic, bubbled into her throat. Her lungs pumped like pistons, forcing air in and out at dizzying speed. Tiny dots flashed in her vision. Out the window, water rushed past the car, the surface level with the hood and rising.
The interior closed in on her, claustrophobia overwhelming her senses.
The water was going to rise. She was going to be trapped, and then she was going to drown. She was going to die.
A chunk of ice scraped across the windshield. The noise jolted her.
She had to get out of the car. She fumbled for the seat belt release, the frigid temperature and horror destroying her dexterity. Frantic fingers yanked at the nylon. Her thumb found and depressed the button, and the strap loosened and recoiled with a snap. Abby reached for the door handle and pulled, but she couldn’t budge it. Water pressure held the door closed. Until the pressure was equalized…
No! She couldn’t sit here and wait for water to fill the car. She’d drown. She had to get out now. Water inched up the glass. The sense of confinement suffocated her. Her heart catapulted blood through her veins.
The window.
She pressed the lever. Nothing happened.
Oh, no. It had to open!
Did electric windows work underwater? The car shifted again, the hood dropping thirty degrees. Sliding forward, Abby braced her upper body on the steering wheel.
Water advanced beyond her calves to her thighs. Her winter running tights were designed to facilitate moisture transfer, not keep water out. The cold bit into her skin like teeth. Pain and numbness spread up her legs and reached for her body with a greedy splash.
Tears leaked down her cheeks and terror sprinted through her heart as she pressed the window button harder. The glass lowered. Yes! Her flash of relief was cut off by the flow of water. It poured through the opening and washed over her torso in an icy fall. She had an exit, but now the car was flooding even faster.
With a groan, the car tipped as the weight of the engine pulled the vehicle deeper into the eddying river. Abby fell forward as the car went vertical. She lost her grips on the wheel. Her world tilted. Her forehead slammed into the dashboard. Blood spattered, but she felt nothing.
The water rose, swallowing her pelvis and chest in the span of two panting breaths. She twisted her body sideways to fit through the opening, but the force of the water pouring through the window pushed her back into the vehicle.
Frigid liquid enveloped her neck and face. The shock seized her muscles. Her breathing sped up in a reflex to the agonizing cold. She pressed her face to the ceiling to suck in a last lungful of air. But the car dropped again, turning as it sank. Her body tumbled like clothes in a washing machine.
Where was the window?
Disoriented by the car’s shift, she searched with frantic desperation. Icy water stabbed her eyeballs. In the murky underwater scene, she saw it.
There!
Her arms tangled in her heavy wool coat. She shrugged out of it and pushed her shoulders through the opening. Once her hips cleared the window, the current pulled her free. The surface was a bright layer just above the car roof. Lungs burning, she stroked upward, toward the light, away from the darkness bel
ow. Her head burst free of the water and she gasped. Oxygen flooded her brain. With the infusion of air into her body, her limbs went from cold to numb to dead weight in an instant.
She could barely move to keep her head above the surface. Dirty water sloughed down her throat, choking her. She looked for the bank, but the water carried her farther from the vehicle, toward the center of the rapids that bubbled white down the center of the waterway. With one final desperate lunge, she grabbed the bumper of her Subaru protruding from the surface. She’d never make it to shore. She’d escaped the car only to drown anyway.
Acceptance washed over her, as numbing as the temperature, then sadness. Her poor high school students would grieve. Her only friend and fellow teacher, Brooke, and the young neighbor Abby tutored would be devastated. Zeus, too, for as long as his dog memory would allow. That was it. She hadn’t let many people get close. Her mother was dead, and she hadn’t seen her father in three years, since the last time she’d come close to dying, when he’d made his lack of interest clear.
Loneliness rivaled fear in her heart as the current tugged harder. For the second time, she was facing death alone. But if she could do it over again, would she change?
Could she change?
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to get another chance. Her frozen fingers faltered, then slipped. The wet metal slid out of her grip. Icy water closed over her head.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Tannock Photography 2012
Melinda Leigh abandoned her career in banking to raise her kids and never looked back. She started writing as a hobby and became addicted to creating characters and stories. Since then, she has won numerous writing awards for her paranormal romance and romantic-suspense fiction. Her debut novel, She Can Run, was a number one bestseller in Kindle Romantic Suspense, a 2011 Best Book Finalist (The Romance Reviews), and a nominee for the 2012 International Thriller Award for Best First Book. When she isn’t writing, Melinda is an avid martial artist: she holds a second-degree black belt in Kenpo karate and teaches women’s self-defense. She lives in a messy house with her husband, two teenagers, a couple of dogs, and two rescue cats.
She Can Scream Page 29
