Amanda Stevens - Secrets of His Own

As they approached the island, the sky deepened and the water turned dark, as if a giant shadow had crept over the whole area. It was a strange phenomenon, a trick of the light that seemed too much like an omen.

Carrie couldn’t seem to shake off a gnawing fear. The place seemed so wild and primitive. As the boat drifted silently toward the pier, she became aware of a dozen sounds. Water lapping at the hull…the startled flight of an egret…an insect buzzing near her ear.

And, in the distance, a scream.

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Amanda Stevens is the bestselling author of over thirty novels of romantic suspense. In addition to being a Romance Writers of America RITA ®Award finalist, she is also the recipient of awards in Career Achievement in Romantic/Mystery and Career Achievement in Romantic/Suspense from Romantic Times BOOKclub. She currently resides in Texas. To find out more about past, present and future projects, please visit her Web site at www.amandastevens.com.

Carrie Bishop—Searching for her friend on Cape Diablo resurrects an old demon…and awakens a long-dormant passion.

Nick Draco—His secret threatens Carrie’s search for her childhood friend.

Tia Falcon—A runaway bride who escaped to Cape Diablo after leaving her fiancé at the altar. Now she’s disappeared.

Trey Hollinger—A jilted groom with an explosive temper.

Nathaniel Glover—The monster who abducted Carrie and Tia when they were adolescents. He was never apprehended.

Ethan Stone—A mysterious stranger who lives in the upstairs apartment…and never shows his face.

Alma Garcia—She has lived in isolation on Cape Diablo for thirty years.

Robert Cochburn—An ambitious attorney with a taste for the finer things in life.

Zeke Trawick—His supply boat is the only way on and off the island.

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

The body would start to smell soon.

I should have dumped it in the swamp right after it happened, but I was too afraid of being seen. Even on Cape Diablo, eyes were everywhere. I could feel them on me now as I lay naked in the dark. Grabbing a blanket, I pulled it over my feverish skin and tried to ignore the trickles of sweat that slid down my temples and ran back into my hair.

I hadn’t slept in days. Squeezing my eyes closed, I willed myself to succumb to the exhaustion, but it was no use. My mind raced with fragmented images. I’d killed someone, but I hardly remembered the act at all. Rage had blinded me and by the time I emerged from that terrible haze, the body lay at my feet.

I could still smell the blood even though I’d scrubbed the walls and floors until my hands grew raw. It had taken me a long time to get everything cleaned up, and then I wrapped the body in several layers of plastic and tried to forget what I’d done. Told myself I wouldn’t dwell on it.

And I hadn’t until now. But tomorrow was Tuesday.

The supply boat ran on Tuesdays. Any visitors to the island would likely come then.

The driver would drop off provisions and passengers and wouldn’t return until Friday. That would give me three whole days. Three days in which there would be no way off the island. No communication with the outside world. No one to stop me from doing what had to be done.

That was why Cape Diablo was so perfect for someone like me. A person could disappear out here and never be heard from again.

Carrie Bishop clung to her cap as the supply boat headed due west, into the sunset. Just minutes from Everglades City, civilization ended and the topography became a vast no-man’s-land of sparkling channels that wound for miles through dense mangrove forests and swampy grass flats.

Once the refuge of pirates, the area had now become a sanctuary for modern-day smugglers bringing drugs, guns and humans across the border. Lawless and primal, it was the perfect place for a runaway bride to disappear.

Which was undoubtedly why Tia had fled to the islands after leaving her soon-to-be groom at the altar, Carrie decided as a wave bounced her up off the seat. Tia hadn’t wanted anyone to find her, especially her ex-fiancé, a handsome executive with an explosive temper.

Carrie wouldn’t have thought to look for her here, either, if not for the postmark on her letter. Known as the Ten Thousand Islands, the area could be extremely inhospitable to anyone without a good map, a GPS device and a can of heavy-duty bug spray.

Thank goodness she’d been able to hitch a ride on the supply boat, Carrie thought. She would never have been able to find the island on her own.

Although being miles from nowhere at the mercy of a complete stranger wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun day. And the driver had certainly done nothing to put her at ease. When she’d met him earlier at the marina, he’d snatched the money from her hand with barely a grunt, his manner so abrasive that Carrie might have had second thoughts about climbing aboard if the attorney who’d leased Tia the apartment hadn’t been at her side.

“Don’t worry. Trawick’s bark is far worse than his bite,” Robert Cochburn had assured her. He’d driven down from Naples to meet Carrie in Everglades City, and to her relief, he’d decided at the last minute to make the trip out to the island with her. “Besides, he’s the best driver around. He can navigate these waters blindfolded. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

If only she could, Carrie thought as she watched Pete Trawick with a wary eye. But she found the man just plain creepy. His cold, assessing gaze made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and the way he looked at her conjured up memories that both she and Tia had been running from for years.

Suppressing another shudder, Carrie turned to Cochburn. “How much farther?” she shouted over the roar of the outboard motor.

“We’re almost there.” He flashed a smile. “Beautiful country, isn’t it? Florida’s best-kept secret.” He’d taken off his jacket and tie before they left the marina, and now with his cuffs rolled back and wind blowing through his thinning hair, he hardly resembled the conservative, fortysomething attorney she’d first met at the marina.

When she’d talked to him on the phone the day before, he’d tried to discourage her visit to Cape Diablo, but Carrie had remained adamant. Without his cooperation, she would simply find her own way to the island because she wasn’t going back to Miami until she’d seen for herself that Tia was okay. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d received her letter, and Carrie had grown more and more worried with each passing day.