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Prologue
The click next to her ear jerked her out of a deep sleep to roll into a sitting position, a scream on her lips, her eyes on the man with the gun standing next to her. “Adam? What are you doing?”
The man who’d professed to love her only hours before was lining the barrel up for his shot. She dove away from him just as he said, “Cheers, love,” in his fake British accent. The bullet meant for her head knocked her backward. She threw herself from the bed to the floor, her survival instincts the only thing moving her.
Vaguely, she wondered why she felt no pain, even as the warmth from the wound in her shoulder soaked her sleep T-shirt.
Slow, measured footsteps worked to close the distance between them as he rounded the bed. “I was trying to make this painless, Lainie,” he said. “If you’d just drunk your milk like you usually do, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
She panted, nausea churning, her system in shock. She rolled under the platform bed just as the gun cracked again, chipping out a gash of wood in her newly polished hardwood floor.
“The police will find me, you know,” he said, as though he had all the time in the world. “Ask questions. I guess I’ll just have to tell them all about the stalker you had. Unfortunately, I won’t be able toidentify him, but he must have followed you home from work and broke in after you fell asleep.”
She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that he was explaining her death while trying to kill her. Panic, terror, absolute horror—and the desperate desire to live—washed over her in waves.
Move or you’re dead.
The fleeting thought spurred her to push aside the storage boxes and aim herself to come out at the foot of the bed, which was right across from the door.
“Where do you think you can go, Lainie?”
Adam’s cruel voice taunted her and she expected another bullet to hit her any second. But he was still on the other side of the bed. Thinking she would cower and wait for him to come get her?
Probably.
She scooted out from under the bed and scrambled to her feet. The next bullet hit the doorframe, but she made it out of the room.
“Where do you think you can run that I won’t catch you? You want to break up with me? Fine. I can help you with that.”
The taunting tone had morphed into a low, throbbing rage that vibrated with each word he spat. She raced toward the front door but heard him closing in behind her. She’d never get the door open in time.
Lainie cut a sharp right into the den and his footsteps followed her. More quickly this time. He was done playing.
Another bullet hit the mantel next to her left ear. With her good hand, she grabbed the poker from the wrought iron tool set and flung it toward him.
The heavy piece caught him in the side of his head. Adam gave a sharp cry and the fifth bullet careened into the ceiling. Lainie ignored the suddenly noticeable fiery pain in her shoulder and launched herself at him, barreling into him while he was already off balance. They both went to the floor, the fire in her shoulder now licking across her chest and down her back. The gun fell from his hand and skittered toward her.
“You’re dead, Lainie!”
He rolled toward the weapon, and she grabbed it with a low scream and scrambled backward. He snagged her foot and gave it a hard yank, landing her on her back with a painful thud. Air whooshed from her lungs and dark spots danced in her vision. But she could still see clear enough to note that his cold blue eyes spoke death.
She lifted the weapon and aimed it. “Stop, Adam! Stop now, or I’ll shoot you!”
He laughed, those chilly ice-chipped eyes freezing over. “You won’t shoot. You don’t have the guts.” He gave her another tug, his expression promising she had but seconds to live.
The twitch of her finger on the trigger sent the bullet into the base of his throat.
One
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
MID-SEPTEMBER
Lainie Jackson glanced at the clock on the dash and pressed the gas a little harder even though the rain came down in sheets. Her tires spun on the wet road, and she gasped, heart pounding until they clutched the asphalt once more. She lifted her foot. Slow might be the best option after all.
The warm September morning that had been bright and sunny an hour ago was now dark and—she hated to admit it—a little creepy. The gray and black clouds had rolled in and then opened up to release their downpour. And it was still raining. Living in Lake City, North Carolina, brought a variety of weather. Sometimes all in one day. North of Asheville, Lake City had more mountains and cooler weather year-round. Lainie sometimes thought about moving to a warmer location, but she’d grown up in Lake City and had a community of friends she found impossible to leave.
In spite of a lot of bad memories.
