Meryl Sawyer: Better Off Dead

Her breath came out in a soft rush, and with it came a debilitating flash of intuition. Even as he kissed her, she was shattered by a sense of loss. This would end. She would be alone again.

Chad raised his head just long enough to catch a flicker of something across her face.

“Darling, what’s the matter?”

She shrugged, lifting both shoulders off the chaise in a way that seemed as if she were getting set to run.

“We’re in this together,” he told her. With the backs of his knuckles he caressed her cheek.

His eyes searched her face as if there was nothing—or no one—more precious on earth. Her dread eased, and she allowed her tears to flow out of her like a receding tide.

Live in the moment. All you have is here and now.

“Meryl Sawyer writes romantic suspense that keeps you turning pages with lightning speed. Better Off Dead is a roller-coaster ride of romance, passion and edge-of-your-seat suspense. If you’re looking for a book you can’t put down, it doesn’t get any better than this.” —Kristin Hannah, New York Times bestselling author of The Things We Do For Love

Praise for Meryl Sawyer’s other books

“A riveting work of romantic suspense…near perfection.”

—Publishers Weekly on Tempting Fate

“Readers will appreciate the sharply drawn characters.”

—Publishers Weekly on Lady Killer

“Meryl Sawyer has become a brand name known for taut, sexy and very intriguing romantic suspense.”

—Romantic Times on Closer Than She Thinks

“A page turner…glamour, romance and adventure on a grand scale.”

—Publishers Weekly on Promise Me Anything

“A thrilling romantic intrigue that will fully satiate romance readers.”

—Midwest Book Review on Half Moon Bay

“Count on Meryl Sawyer to deliver a fast-paced thriller filled with sizzling romance.”

—Jill Marie Landis, author of Heartbreak Hotel

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The best way to love anything is as if it might be lost.

—G. K. Chesterton

This book is dedicated to Sheila Field.

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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“YOU CAN RUN, sweetheart, but you can’t hide—not from me.”

Brock Hardesty muttered those words to himself after his top field agent delivered the news he’d been waiting for months to hear. They’d found Samantha Robbins.

He dropped the telephone receiver into its cradle and grinned at the high-tech device he held in the palm of his other hand. With the reverse ID he could monitor what phone number anyone in the building had dialed. The gadget electronically recorded the number and length of each call from his underground bunker beneath Obelisk Enterprise’s top secret headquarters.

At his convenience, Brock could check out any call his people made. If he discovered anything—anything—suspicious, he had a listening device installed in their office or assigned an operative to investigate. No one was beyond his reach.

Certainly not Samantha Robbins. It had taken a little longer than he’d expected, but he’d found the bitch. Disappearing was a lot more difficult than people believed. There was always a trail, a way of finding someone.

In this case, the key had been cold, hard cash. Money wasn’t his first love, but without it, he couldn’t indulge his true passion. Money often provided a trail or made a good trap, when he was after someone. He’d patiently waited until Samantha Robbins bought her condo with cash.

Brock gave himself full credit for finding Samantha. He knew that the Witness Protection Program—WITSEC—relocated witnesses in a place where they had no family, no friends, and little chance of running into someone who might recognize them. Contrary to what most people thought, WITSEC did not fabricate credit histories for their witnesses.

WITSEC created new identities, but it was up to each witness to establish credit. Getting a credit card was a no-brainer. So many offers arrived in the mail that it was a joke, but it would take several years and a clean payment record for a witness to parlay a good credit card track record into a home loan.

Samantha was different. She had enough money to buy a place.

He’d made a list of the states where Samantha had connections and eliminated them. His agents tracked homes purchased for cash in the remaining states. Without a credit history, she would have to pay cash for a place to live.

Of course, there was always the possibility that she would rent, but the psychologist he’d consulted insisted Samantha Robbins was the type who liked control. She wanted to run things, own things. The shrink had been right.

As Director of Security at Obelisk Enterprises, it was Brock’s job to make certain the group’s interests were protected—at all times. This woman was a threat. He’d said so from the day he and the Obelisk brass made a secret visit to the CFO at PowerTec. As the CFO’s assistant, she’d asked too many insightful questions.

Samantha Robbins had been suspicious about PowerTec’s dealings and should have been eliminated immediately. His superiors had insisted he allow the dumb-fucks at PowerTec to handle their employee.

What happened? Just what Brock said would happen. The snoopy bitch had notified the FBI, and the Feebies had sent an undercover agent to work at PowerTec. Brock had been forced to have the agent killed.

Even the Federal Marshals who ran the WITSEC program knew security should never be taken lightly. Not with this much at stake. Too many powerful, important people had everything to lose. They relied on Brock to make certain nothing went wrong.

Dominating one wall of his office was a world map on a liquid plasma television screen. The weather satellite displayed the cloud formations and used green Doppler striations to indicate where it was raining. Points of colored light, each the size of a thumb tack, continuously moved to reveal the positions of the satellites orbiting overhead.

Using the EPA satellite nearest to where his operatives had located the Robbins woman, Brock punched a few keys on the computer. From space the super-magnified camera could focus all the way down to a single pine needle, and that lone needle would fill the entire screen. With a few keystrokes, Brock used the satellite’s camera to inspect the area where she was working.