"You
win for now, but it isn't over."
Trouble
has followed pregnant artist Kayla Davies to a picturesque Oregon town where
she hopes to paint away memories of a brutal attack. Instead she finds herself
again gripped by fear when a woman's murder and an eerily familiar stalker
coincide with her arrival. Someone is watching her...and disappearing into the
dreaded fog called The Devil's Shroud.
Shaken,
Kayla finds comfort in the arms of Gabe McGregor, the hard-bodied town sheriff
and single dad. Though he and Kayla share a powerful attraction, neither wants
anything beyond an earthshaking fling. Too many lies and secrets have come
between them--until another vicious attack on Kayla changes everything.
DEADLY RECKONING
Harlequin
Romantic Suspense
ISBN: 978-0373277681
Excerpt.
© Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"Good night, Kayla. Get some rest, you deserve
it." Brent Kitchens, the owner of the most prestigious art gallery in
Seattle, escorted Kayla to the side exit of the gallery where she'd parked her
car earlier that day. "Thanks for the great turnout."
"The thanks goes to you, Brent." She smiled at
Brent, twisting the shiny gold locket at the end of a fine chain that hung
around her neck. "I'm headed for my apartment and bed. These things
exhaust me." That and being three months pregnant, a secret she hadn't
shared with anyone. She wasn't certain how the news would impact her exploding
career as an artist, especially since she planned to raise the child on her
own.
"Get some rest, sweetheart." Brent patted her
back. "Want me to have security walk you out?"
"No, I'll be fine. Thanks again." Kayla kissed the
man on the cheek and left the building. The click of the door closing behind her
made her jump and hurry toward her car. Having arrived during the day, she
hadn't realized how little lighting there was at the back of the gallery. The
one light shining out over the cars barely reached hers, casting more shadows
than light on her solid black SUV. Keys in hand, she hit the automatic door
locks as she neared the rear of her vehicle. When she reached for the door
handle, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.
Before she could react, a hand clamped over her mouth,
stifling her scream and cutting off her air.
Kayla kicked and fought, her desire to live and protect her
baby giving her sufficient motivation, but she was overpowered by her
attacker's strength. She kicked out, her arms and legs flailing, her hands on
her keys desperately fumbling for the little red panic button that she'd never
before used.
The man slammed her into the side of the car.
Pain shot through her ribs, and she feared for the fetus
growing inside her, but she couldn't escape the hold. Then she was flipped around,
pinned to the car with the weight of his body, one hand covering her mouth, the
other hand holding an arm. She faced a man with no face, his entire head
covered in a ski mask, his eyes the only feature visible in the limited
lighting. Light brownish eyes, almost gold, like those of a lion, if the lights
weren't playing tricks on her fear-filled mind.
He laughed.
The low rumbling sound sent a ball of lead to the pit of
Kayla's stomach. The man hadn't made a threat, hadn't said a word, but Kayla
knew without a doubt that he'd kill her. With her free hand, she desperately
pressed the buttons on the key chain, struggling to find the right one. The
door locks clicked on and off, the lights blinking.
Her attacker's eyes narrowed and he grabbed for her hand and
the keys she held.
Kayla finally found the panic button and she hit it just as
a hand closed over the wad of keys.
The horn blared, over and over, the headlights and
tail-lights blinking in unison, filled the parking lot with noise and light.
She couldn't see it, but she heard the creaking hinges of
the back door to the gallery opening. If she wanted to live, she had to get
help. Now!
Kayla bit down hard on the hand over her mouth.
The man cursed, his hand moving just enough that Kayla could
let out a short, loud scream.
"What the hell?" Brent's voice called out.
"What's going on out there? Hey, someone call 911!" he shouted.
"Kayla? Kayla, is that you?"
In a flash, the man moved his grip to her throat, squeezing
so hard, Kayla couldn't breathe.
She pried at his hands, her fingers tearing at his flesh,
frantic to take a breath.
As his fingers tightened on her neck, he leaned close until
his mask-covered mouth was close to her ear. "You win for now, but it
isn't over." He yanked the chain from around her neck, then he let go so
suddenly, Kayla slid down the side of the car. Unable to slow her fall, her
head hit the pavement with a dull thud.
Dense fog clouded her vision even as precious air filled her
starving lungs. Muffled voices, like people shouting into pillows, faded into
silence. She could see the silhouette of her attacker sliding away into the
shadows of an alley. Then the flashing stopped and night turned to pitch, the
fog all-consuming. She couldn't let it claim her.
Kayla's eyes opened and she stared at the light shining on
her table beside the bed. As quickly as the dreams came to her, they receded.
The only impression she retained was one of terror and golden-brown eyes.
She jerked up out of the bed, her breathing labored as if
she'd been smothered. Air, she had to get air. Kayla rushed for the window,
pushing aside the drapes. She unlatched the lever and shoved the window open,
sucking in air as fast as her lungs could take it.
Finally, her heart rate started to slow, and reason took
hold once more. She reminded herself that she was far away from Seattle, safely
tucked away in her vacation rental in Cape Churn.
Getting away had been her therapist's idea, but the small,
seaside town she'd chosen as her destination had been a whim, the result of a
real-estate brochure that had caught her eye. The images of untamed waves,
peaceful beaches and quaint, quiet streets had called to her in a way she
couldn't explain. It just looked like such a wholesome place to be. A
good place to rediscover her inspiration again—missing ever since the attack.
"A good place to have a child," she whispered.
She rubbed her hand in gentle circles over her belly. It was
too soon to feel the baby yet, but she liked to imagine her kicking back in
reply. Her baby—the only person she had left in the world. When she'd woken up
in the hospital after the attack, the doctor had told her she was lucky she
hadn't miscarried. If she wanted to keep the baby, she'd have to take better
care of herself, get more rest and not worry so much. And stay away from dark
places where bad guys hang out.
The doctor had also asked some pointed questions about her
support network—family, friends, the baby's father—and hadn't seemed too pleased
with the answers. Kayla didn't blame him. As much as she'd hated to admit, she
didn't have a support network. Kayla didn't have siblings or parents to call
and check up on her. Her best friend and the surrogate father of her baby had
died three months ago in a car accident. The crash had occurred only two days
following the artificial insemination of Tony's sperm.
For all the years she'd been on her own since the deaths of
her parents, she'd longed for a family. She and Tony hadn't been in love, but they
had cared for each other deeply, and they'd looked forward to making a family
together, raising their child as partners in a home full of warmth and caring—a
place where Kayla could finally feel as if she belonged.
"We'll still have that, Baby. I'm sorry you won't have
a daddy, but you'll always have me, and we'll be okay."
Thoughts of her baby had gotten her through the loss of her
best friend and the end of their plans to build a happy, companionable little
family together. Remembering her baby had given her the strength to fight off
her attacker in the parking lot long enough to signal for help. And it was with
the goal of protecting her baby that she'd grimly pulled herself together in
the aftermath of the attack and found a place where they could be safe.
Kayla peered out the window. Fog had crept in to cloak the
coastline. If not for the gentle splash of waves against the cliffs and the
strong scent of salt in the air, she wouldn't have known that she was at the
coast. Her heartbeat settled into a smooth, steady rhythm, as the last vestiges
of the nightmare slowly slipped away.
Sleep. That's what she and the baby needed. On this quiet
edge of coastline, she wanted the peace of the place to wrap around them.
The therapist had taught her this trick of imagining a happy
place before she went to bed. It would help settle her mind and avoid the
nightmares that had woken her night after night. Now that she was at Cape
Churn, it should be even easier. After all, her happy place was here with the
ocean, the wind and waves. The nightmares would fade in time—she had to believe
that. She'd get better, stronger. She'd heal in this quiet, peaceful place.
Leaving the window open just a little, she climbed back in
bed and laid her head on the pillow.
As she lay there, her eyelids drooped and closed to the
darkness, her mind settling into the edge of oblivion. Just as she drifted into
sleep, a sharp scream ripped through the night.
Elle James spent twenty years livin' and lovin' in South
Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT
professional, Elle is proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and
paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. Now
living in northwest Arkansas, she isn't wrangling cattle, she's wrangling her
muses, a malti-poo and yorkie. When she's not at her computer, she's traveling,
out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.
ANGI: How often to you get lost in a
story?
ELLE:
Every time I sit
down to actually write (not piddle :-))
ANGI: What’s the first book you remember
reading?
ELLE:
I read so much as a
child, and yet I have a crappy memory. I do remember reading the Little House
on the Prairie books over and over. I loved living with Laura Ingles on the
prairie.
ANGI: What’s your favorite “love” word?
ELLE:
Adore
ANGI: Can you tell us about a real-life
hero you’ve met?
ELLE:
Recently I was
"rescued" by a mountain rescue team after I tore my ACL snow-skiing.
They were all handsome/beautiful and stuff I write my books about.
ANGI: What’s your favorite fairy tale?
ELLE:
I'm really partial
to Beauty and the Beast. I love that she could find the good in him and that he
was so rough and unrefined, but deep down he just wanted to be loved as well.
ANGI: What turns you off like nothing
else?
ELLE:
Diesel fumes and
excessive cursing. My characters might let a dirty word slip now and then, but
then so do most people. But to drop the F-bomb every other sentence...nah.
ANGI: Is there a playlist you’d recommend
for reading your latest release?
ELLE:
Did I mention I have
a crappy memory? Maybe something spooky like the music from Phantom of the
Opera. It would go well with the fog and suspense of the Oregon coast murderer.
ANGI: Where do you read and how often?
ELLE:
I read at the dinner
table (I know, bad, but true) and on my Iphone Kindle app on the Elliptical, in
bed, on trips, wherever. I love to escape...thus my logo...escape with Elle
ANGI: What sound or noise do you love?
ELLE:
The sound of
laughter. I like to be around happiness.
ANGI: What’s your favorite cartoon character?
ELLE: I'm a big fan of Scooby-Doo. Love the mysteries and how they go about solving them-the basis for my Intrigues, huh?
ANGI: Fairy Tale or Action Adventure?
ELLE:
Why not both? I love
to twist a fairy tale and make it an action adventure.
ANGI: What was the first story you
remember writing?
ELLE:
In 2nd grade, I
wrote a story about a princess in a castle. See, there's that fairy tale.
ANGI: What’s your favorite movie of all
time?
ELLE:
I'm a big fan of
musicals. I love MY FAIR LADY.
ANGI: Who’s your favorite villain?
ELLE:
I love the phantom
in Phantom of the Opera. Especially when played by Gerard Butler!
ANGI: That's definitely my kind of hero--I mean villian!
ANGI: What is your biggest vice?
ELLE:
Rocky Road Ice
Cream!!! It rocks (pun intended)
ANGI: Is there a “Blooper” in your story
(it may have been changed before printing)?
ELLE:
Can't think of one.
If you find one, let me know! I love it when I get emails from people telling
me where I went wrong. I had a river flowing the wrong direction in one of my
books. Eek!
ANGI: How is it working with hot guys and
sexy women all day?
ELLE:
What can I say? I
LOVE my job! I write fantasy...it's great to escape.
ANGI’S GOTTA
ASK: The
Reserves, angry birds, Arkansas, Texas… You have such a variety of places and
careers to draw from. What’s been your biggest influence when writing suspense?
ELLE’S GOTTA
ANSWER: All of my family, adventures, all the places I've been (besides
more than 3/4 of the contiguous U.S.: Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Italy,
London, Canada, Mexico, Hawaii, Guam), all the people I've met, the animals
I've worked with and the military have influenced what I write and who I am. I
couldn't choose just one big influence. I'm having a good life!
FIND
ELLE
UP
NEXT
HOT DEMON NIGHTS Thunder Horse
Heritage
Harlequin Nocturne Harlequin Intrigue
May 2012 June 2012
Thunder Horse
Redemption The Dark Lords Book #1: The Initiate
Harlequin Intrigue Harlequin Nocturne
October 2012 November 2012
PREVIOUS
RELEASES: ENGAGED WITH THE BOSS
(AND MANY MORE...check out Elle's backlist on her website)
Leave a
comment giving me your answer to the next question for a chance to win a copy
of Engaged With The Boss. I'll mail anywhere, not just in the U.S.
Note: Offer void
where prohibited. Prizes will be mailed to international addresses. Odds of
winning vary due to the number of entrants. Winners of drawings are responsible
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DON’T FORGET to FOLLOW us on Twitter (#GetLostStories) or LIKE
us on Facebook to keep up with all our guest authors and their prizes. Join me this
week when I host Liz Selvig & Robin Perini. And come back Thursday &
Friday for Maggie Toussaint & Sue Swift. ~Angi
What
would you like to see more of in Harlequin Intrigues or Romantic Suspense?
- Serial Killers
- Cowboys
- Cops
- Military heroes
- Woman in Jeopardy
- Texas
- Montana
- Wyoming
Rhys stared intently at this incredible apparition.
