Terri Reed - Double Jeopardy

Anne’s thoughts kept churning through the morass of danger that lurked. Would a hit man slit her throat as she slept? As she came out of the school building? Went to the grocery store?

And what of Professor Patrick McClain? And how much she enjoyed being around him?

Thinking about Patrick was more productive than worrying about the threat she couldn’t control. There was something very steady and reassuring about him that drew her in and made her wish he could see her as she really was.

But she couldn’t afford to get attached to anyone. She was pretty sure she could keep from revealing her past, but she wasn’t sure that she could keep her lonely heart from wanting what she couldn’t have.

A friend. Love. A life without fear.

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At an early age Terri Reed discovered the wonderful world of fiction and declared she would one day write a book. Now she is fulfilling that dream and enjoys writing for Steeple Hill Books. Her second book, A Sheltering Love, was a 2006 RITA ®Award Finalist and a 2005 National Reader’s Choice Award Finalist. Her book Strictly Confidential, book five of the Faith at the Crossroads continuity series, took third place in the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award. She is an active member of both Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her college-sweetheart husband, two wonderful children and an array of critters. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, gardening and playing with her dogs.

You can write to Terri at P.O. Box 19555, Portland, OR 97280, or visit her on the Web at www.loveinspiredauthors.com, or leave comments on her blog at http://ladiesofsuspense.blogspot.com/.

And those who know your name put their trust

in you; for you, O Lord, have not forsaken

those who seek you.

—Psalms 9:10

To my children; you are my joy and my blessing.

PROLOGUE

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

March

Gunfire!

The plush private suite on the top floor of the Palisades Casino and Resort in downtown Atlantic City, New Jersey rocked with the deafening noise of gunfire, echoed by the screams of its once-privileged occupants.

The woman’s heart slammed painfully against her ribs and a cry burst from her lungs. The tray of glasses she held fell to the carpeted floor with a thud, the liquor soaking the rug. The stench of alcohol mixed with the smell of gunpowder. A potent combination.

She dove behind the free-standing bar. Crouched and shuddering with terror, she clapped her hands over her ears to muffle the retort of weapons firing and the sounds of men dying.

“Oh, God in Heaven, please, help me,” she prayed, rocking on her heels. She didn’t know why she was praying. Did God even exist? But if there was a time to glom on to any hope that He was real, now was that time.

A man’s body dropped to the floor beside her. She gasped. Jean Luc Versailles, the owner of the Palisades, groaned. Thankfully he wasn’t dead, but a deep crimson stain spread across the white dress shirt beneath his tuxedo jacket.

Adrenaline pumping, she grabbed him by the arm and struggled to drag him closer to the relative safety behind the bar. Tears clogged her throat and ran down her cheeks. He had always been nice to her.

“You have to get out of here,” Jean Luc said with a croak, his voice expressing the pain reflected in his dark eyes.

“You’re hurt,” she said inanely, her mind trying to recall her first-aid training from high school P.E. Like that had prepared her to deal with a gunshot wound.

Pressure. She had to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. Gagging from the sight and smell of blood, she yanked two bar towels from the shelf beside her and pressed them to his shoulder. She cringed as more gunshots filled the air.

His hand fastened around her wrist like a vise. “My jacket pocket. Get my wallet.”

Keeping one hand firmly on the towels, she slid out his black leather billfold from the inside pocket of his tailor-made jacket with her free hand.

“Now what?” she asked.

He closed her hand tightly around the billfold and thrust it against her stomach. “Take the money. Use it. Disappear.” He let go of her and pushed himself up to a seated position, the bar at his back. “Escape through the wall panel. Run and don’t stop. Go.”

Acutely aware of the massacre taking place on the other side of the bar, she whispered, “I can’t leave you. We need the police.”

“No police.” He struggled to his knees, swayed slightly, and reached around her. From behind several liquor bottles he pulled out a large silver gun.

She shrank back, wishing she’d called in sick today. Wishing Jean Luc hadn’t invited Raoul Domingo to his private suite. Wishing she were anywhere but here.

But wishing never did any good.

His dark gaze pierced her. “On three.”

“What about you?”

He got a foot beneath him. “Just go. One. Two.” He staggered to his feet, the gun raised in his shaky hand. “Three!”

Self-preservation, survival instinct, whatever, took over. She scrambled to her feet and in a half-crouch ran toward the mirrored wall.

The sight reflected there made her stumble. Her heart thumped in her chest. Anticipation wound a tight knot in her gut.

Any moment the blast of a bullet would slam into her. But she didn’t want to die here today. Every muscle in her body, tightened in readiness, made movement painful.

She flung the potted fichus out of the way and pushed desperately at the edge of the mirrored wall.

A slight click and the wall opened. She squeezed through into Jean Luc’s opulent private bedroom in the hotel. The blur of red satin and black leather assaulted her already heightened senses as she dashed for the door leading to the hall on this floor.

Cautiously she peered out.

The corridor was empty. Too afraid to wait for an elevator, she rushed to the stairwell and descended the stairs as rapidly as she could without flying face-first into the concrete walls. She hit the outside door with her whole body and stumbled into the hotel staff’s section of the underground garage.

Through the sea of employee cars she saw no one, friend or foe. She raced toward where she parked, fumbling to get her key out of her pants pocket.

Her little blue hatchback was a welcome sight. With shaky hands, she unlocked the door, slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The gears ground as she shifted into Reverse and almost simultaneously pressed on the gas.

The small car shot backward. She slammed on the brake and shifted into Drive. Her foot pounced on the gas and the car rocketed forward, the tires squealing as she zipped around the curved lot and jetted out onto the dark, deserted street. This late at night people were either at home asleep or inside one of the many casinos along the strip.