Dangerous Curves Read online

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Letter to Reader

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “A riveting beginning and a nicely complex plot make DANGEROUS CURVES a compelling read. Kristina Wright skillfully combines romance and suspense in this fine debut”

  —New York Times bestselling author

  Tess Gerritsen

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

  Samantha asked.

  Jake shot her a hard look tempered with a halfhearted smile as they pulled into the congested traffic. “Planning is highly overrated. But I do know one thing.”

  “What?” Sam asked.

  “Kissing you quiet was definitely better than shaking you would have been. And you know what else?”

  Sam shook her head, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

  “If you do anything so stupid as try to run off without me again, I may not stop at just kissing you.”

  “Is that a threat?” she asked hoarsely, her mouth going dry.

  Jake’s voice thrummed with emotion. “Oh, no, sweetheart. It’s a promise.” He sent her a quick sideways glance. “One I wouldn’t mind keeping.”

  Dear Reader.

  We’ve got a special lineup of books for you this month, starting with two from favorite authors Sharon Sala and Laurey Bright Sharon’s Royal’s Child finishes up her trilogy, THE JUSTICE WAY, about the three Justice brothers. This is a wonderful, suspenseful, romantic finale, and you won’t want to miss it The Mother of His Child, Laurey’s newest, bears our CONVENIENTLY WED flash. There are layers of secrets and emotion in this one, so get ready to lose yourself in these compelling pages

  And then..MARCH MADNESS is back! Once again, we’re presenting four fabulous new authors for your reading pleasure. Rachel Lee, Justine Davis and many more of your favorite writers first appeared as MARCH MADNESS authors. and I think the four new writers this month are destined to become favorites, too. Fiona Brand is a New Zealand sensation, and Cullen’s Bride combines suspense with a mamage-of-convemence plot that had me turning pages at a frantic pace In A True-Blue Texas Twosome, Kim McKade brings an extra dollop of emotion to a reunion story to stay in your heart—and that Western setting doesn’t hurt!

  The Man Behind the Badge is the hero of Vickie Taylor’s debut novel, which gives new meaning to the phrase “fast-paced.” These two are on the run and heading straight for love Finally, check out Dangerous Curves, by Kristina Wright, about a cop who finds himself breaking all the rules for one very special woman Could he be guilty of love in the first degree?

  Enjoy them all! And then come back next month, when the romantic excitement will continue right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Yours,

  Leslie Wainger

  Executive Senior Editor

  * * *

  Please address questions and book requests to.

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S. 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian P.O. Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont L2A 5X3

  * * *

  DANGEROUS CURVES

  KRISTINA WRIGHT

  Dear Reader,

  What a difference a day makes.

  I have always dreamed of being a novelist. I decided at a very young age that I would rather write about a princess than be one. But the night I won RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart Award, I felt like royalty. The only thing more exciting would have been George Clooney as my escort. (Sorry, hubby.)

  The Golden Heart let me know I was on the right track on days when my dream seemed just out of reach. I never could have guessed how one day would change everything. When it happened—“the call” I had been waiting for—all I could think was, “Do they have the right person?” It took a few days to realize I had finally achieved my dream. And now, thanks to Silhouette, I get to share my stories with you!

  I hope you enjoy Dangerous Curves. It was written from the heart, and I offer it to you with warmest wishes.

  Sweet dreams,

  P.S. I would love to hear from you!

  You may write to me at: P.O. Box 50385, Summerville, SC 29485-0385 (Special note to George Clooney: My phone number is...)

  To Jay, my husband, my hero, my technical support guy.

  I love you bunches.

  Annette, Mary, Joan and Phyllis, thanks for sharing the

  brain. Who wants it next?

  To the special friends I’ve met on the side trips of my

  life...love, hugs and chocolate kisses! :)

  Prologue

  If they caught her, they would kill her.

  The swamp grabbed at her legs and tried to pull her into the muck. Unfamiliar and unfriendly terrain stretched endlessly in all directions and she didn’t know how much farther she could go. Her lungs strained painfully and the stitch in her side had her doubled over. But the thought of death kept Samantha Martin running.

  Her breathing sounded ragged, harsh and impossibly loud. A wave of panic threatened to pull her under and she fought to control it with a mind clouded by drugs and fear.

  She should have waited a few more days. But she knew she wouldn’t have gotten another chance to escape unnoticed. She was pushing her body harder than she ever had in her life, demanding more than she had a right to expect, considering the shape she was in. She couldn’t let them take her back there.

  The desolate landscape was awash with the shimmering brightness of a full moon. Saw grass swayed eerily in a light breeze that did nothing to lessen the effects of the oppressive humidity. The droning of cicadas and crickets flooded her senses while the mangroves loomed like ominous prehistoric monsters. Shadows clung below every surface, absorbing the silver moonlight

  Moisture seeped through the ill-fitting nurse’s uniform and she shivered, but not from cold. Her canvas sneakers were soaked with swamp water and she could feel the muck oozing out over the tops of her feet. She tried not to imagine what might be living in that watery slime. Mosquito wings beat a delicate tattoo against her bare legs but she couldn’t be bothered with brushing them away.

  It wouldn’t be long before they noticed her missing. She tried to calculate how long she’d been gone, but without a watch it was impossible. It felt like forever. Determined to put as much distance between the hospital and herself, she had run until she couldn’t run anymore.

  Out of shape and out of breath, she cursed herself. She should have been better prepared. Hysterical laughter bubbled up from deep within her as she remembered some science-fiction movie. The heroine had pumped up before her big escape from a mental institution. But that nutcase had been trying to save the world. She was only trying to save her own hide.

  Gasping for air, Sam crouched low and rested in the tall grass, smacking her hands together and making as much noise as she dared to drive away potential predators. She hadn’t escaped from hell only to get eaten by an alligator—although being some big lizard’s dinner was preferable to being at the mercy of the reptiles back at Sunlight and Serenity.

  As her pulse slowly returned to normal, Sam looked over her shoulder at the glow of the hospital
security lights in the distance. She hoped she was heading east. The drugs they’d given her had fogged her mind and made her question her own judgment. She’d stopped taking them days ago but her mind still played tricks on her when she needed it most. She remembered traveling west from Interstate 95 when they’d brought her to the hospital. They’d crossed the turnpike and then driven at least an hour into this wilderness. If she could hike to the interstate she could hitch a ride. She knew where she had to go from there.

  Climbing an embankment, Sam was finally free of the swamp water that filled the air with a stench of decay. She tripped over something and realized it was asphalt as she hit the ground on her hands and knees. It wasn’t the road to the hospital, so it had to be the highway to the interstate.

  Wincing at a sharp pain in her palm, Sam pushed herself into a kneeling position and examined the damage in the bright moonlight. Her hand was bloody, with small bits of gravel embedded in the torn flesh. She hissed in pain as her knees pressed into the rough roadway. She’d have the scars to show for her escape.

  Picking the sharp stones from her hand, she wondered if the distant hum in her head was a side effect of the drugs. Her brain felt fuzzy, not all there. She looked up to see the source of light that was beginning to blind her.

  Headlights.

  And they were coming right at her.

  Chapter 1

  Jake Cavanaugh knew State Road 84—Alligator Alley to the locals—like the back of his hand. He’d been coming up to Lake Muskogee to fish for more years than he could remember but now it unnerved him to be out here at night. The unrelenting darkness closed around him, making him claustrophobic. The irony was, the Florida Everglades provided more wide-open space than most places he’d been. Still, he drove with the windows of his sport utility all the way down.

  He didn’t even know why he was out here. He should have stayed at the cabin until morning. But the silence, the never-ending quiet, had been more than he could take. These days he slept better with a little traffic noise, the television on—anything except relentless silence. When it was quiet like this, his mind tried to fill the void with reruns of the past.

  A snuffling sound from the back of the truck brought a smile to his somber features. Lately, he hadn’t even been a fit companion for a dog. He flexed his left knee out of habit and felt the familiar twinge as the scar tissue stretched over muscle. The sensation brought it all back in vivid Technicolor—the alley, the flash of gunfire, Charlie’s cry; a scream, followed by his own low moan of agony.

  The dull pain in his knee was nothing compared to the agony he went through, reliving that moment. In the aftermath, his senses had been dulled by a different kind of pain. The humiliating pain of losing his job and losing his wife. Margo’s accusation that he loved his job more than he loved her cut deep—mostly because it was true.

  Wrapped up in the suffocating blanket of the past, Jake barely had time to react to the pale form on the road in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, thankful that it was his left leg that bore the damage of that long-ago night. His right leg functioned on instinct borne of training and experience. He gripped the wheel as the tires grabbed the road, lost purchase and then held. He was vaguely aware of the smell of burning rubber as he watched the object in the road get closer and closer.

  Just when he thought his luck had deserted him for good and impact was inevitable, the truck came to a shuddering halt. Jake closed his eyes and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He blinked. He would have laughed if he hadn’t thought he was going crazy.

  An angel knelt in the middle of the road, her eyes closed and her hands raised as if in prayer. Illuminated by the harsh glare of the headlights, she looked beautiful and fragile. And definitely out of place.

  It took a minute for the truth to register. This sure as hell wasn’t his guardian angel sent to watch over him. And if it was, she’d come about two years too late.

  The woman opened her eyes and squinted into the brightness. Cursing under his breath, Jake found the knob on the dash and killed the lights. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. In her white clothing that reflected the moonlight, the woman was like an apparition in a horror movie. Jake felt fingers of dread travel up his spine. Something was wrong here. He’d bet his pension on it. Of course, his pension was long gone anyway, so it wasn’t much of a bet.

  He opened the door and slid out of the seat, never taking his eyes off the figure in the road. The crunch of gravel under his boots was a comforting sound in this surreal situation. He approached her as cautiously as he would a strung-out junkie.

  She looked like she’d been through some disaster. Her shoulder-length blond hair was a tangled mass, dirt streaked across one rounded cheekbone. Her clothes, which hung loosely on her, looked wet and her eyes were wide with fear. Jake took his sweet time getting to her—he didn’t need a knife in the ribs for his efforts.

  “Ma’am? You all right?” He kept his voice low, trying for a soothing quality he didn’t think he had. When the only response he got was wide green eyes staring at him in terror, he tried again. “Lady, are you hurt?” Maybe she didn’t speak English. “¿Se habla inglesa?”

  Blond hair partially covered her face as she shook her head. “N-no Not hurt.”

  Relieved he wouldn’t be called upon to demonstrate his limited bilingual abilities, Jake didn’t argue with her. He could see the dark stains of blood and he slowly reached out a hand to her. “Let me help you up.”

  Hesitantly, as if she expected him to pull away at the last second, she put her small hand into his. He was surprised at the strength he felt in the cold, narrow fingers. She unfolded from the ground and stood beside him, her eyes not quite focusing on his chin. He guessed her to be in her late twenties. Despite her ragged appearance, Jake didn’t peg her as a transient. He suddenly realized what she was wearing.

  “You’re a nurse.”

  The woman hesitated again, then nodded slowly. Jake knew there was some kind of hospital on the edge of the glades. He racked his brain to remember.... Sunshine, Sunnyvale... Something like that.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  She shook her head and looked up at him. Moonlight illuminated her pale face and Jake felt pain twisting in his gut. She reminded him of another woman—a younger woman, to be sure. But the hair, the wide eyes filled with fear and mistrust, the feminine softness of her features... It shook him to the core. Then she spoke and the spell was broken.

  “I—I have to get to the interstate. Can you take me?”

  Jake wanted to say no. He knew it was stupid to even think about picking up a stranger. It didn’t matter that she looked harmless. Sometimes the most innocent-looking people were the most dangerous predators. But something about the raw emotion in her voice, the way she held on to his hand like it was a lifeline, made him ignore the voice of caution.

  “Sure, just tell me where you need to go.” The words were barely out of his mouth before she flung herself at the sport utility, tearing on the passenger door in frustration.

  “Wait a second. I have to unlock it,” Jake said. He climbed behind the wheel and reached across to the other side to open the lock. As soon as he did, she was huddling in the seat beside him.

  “Where do you want to go?” He watched her push the mass of blond hair back from her face. Her hands were trembling.

  “Just to Interstate 95.” He stared at her until she glanced up at him. He was rewarded with the barest shadow of a smile. “Thanks.”

  “To the interstate,” he muttered under his breath. What did she intend to do once she got to the interstate? He didn’t ask. It wasn’t any of his business.

  When Jake gunned the engine he felt rather than saw the woman flinch. She didn’t like the noise. Funny, it somehow comforted him in this strange situation. He flicked the headlights back on and slipped the sport utility into gear, wondering for a moment if maybe he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.


  As the miles rolled out behind them, Jake could feel the tension easing out of the woman beside him. He cast a sidelong glance at her, curious in spite of himself. He wondered what her story was. What was she so afraid of that she’d risk hitching? He caught her eye and smiled in what he hoped was a nonthreatening way; he didn’t want her to think she’d traded in one bad situation for another.

  “You okay? Want anything? I’ve got some sodas in a cooler in the back.” Jake watched her shrink away at the sound of his voice. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

  She gave him a haunted look. “Not yet.”

  Before he could ask her what she meant, a piercingly familiar wail filled the air. Reflexively, Jake checked the speedometer. He was over the limit, but not enough to get busted in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. He wondered if it was one of the local yokels or a state trooper. Either bet was a good one.

  He gave the woman an apologetic look. “I have to pull over.”

  “No!” Her whisper might as well have been a shout for all the terror it held. “Please! If they take me back there, they’ll kill me!”

  That feeling of dread came back even as Jake was easing off the gas pedal and steering toward the side of the road. He flipped his lights off and turned on his hazards. “Are you in trouble with the police?”

  The woman grasped his hand before he could pull it back from the dash. “Please! I’ll explain everything! Just don’t tell them I’m here—” Her voice broke on a sob as she glanced out the tinted back window. The police car pulled off the road behind them. “Please,” she whispered again as she threw herself over the bench seat and into the back of the truck.