Kelsey Roberts - The Night in Question

“Are you planning on telling me your name?”

Matt asked the wounded woman he’d found on the beach.

She rested her head on his car’s seat back. “Wasn’t planning on it, no.”

“Are you being mysterious or rude?”

“Neither.”

“Okay, I’ll play.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to catch a glimpse of her. She was struggling to remain conscious. Her long lashes fluttered against her cheek and her flawless skin had gone pale. “Keep your hand up, the bleeding has started again.”

She just shrugged.

“So what am I supposed to call you?”

“Call me whatever you want. ‘Hey you’ is fine. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t as if we’re about to engage in a meaningful, interpersonal relationship.”

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Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

In honor of two very special events, the Harlequin Intrigue editorial team has planned exceptional promotions to celebrate throughout 2009. To kick off the year, we’re celebrating Harlequin Books’ 60th Diamond Anniversary with DIAMONDS AND DADDIES, an exciting four-book miniseries featuring protective dads and their extraordinary proposals to four very lucky women. Rita Herron launches the series with Platinum Cowboy next month.

Later in the year Harlequin Intrigue celebrates its own 25th anniversary. To mark the event we’ve asked reader favorites to return with their most popular series.

Debra Webb has created a new COLBY AGENCY trilogy. This time out, Victoria Colby-Camp will need to enlist the help of her entire staff of agents for her own family crisis.

You can return to 43 LIGHT STREET with Rebecca York and join Caroline Burnes on another crime-solving mission with Familiar the Black Cat Detective.

Next stop: WHITEHORSE, MONTANA with B.J. Daniels for more Big Sky mysteries with a new family. Meet the Corbetts—Shane, Jud, Dalton, Lantry and Russell.

Because we know our readers love following trace evidence, we’ve created the new continuity KENNER COUNTY CRIME UNIT. Whether collecting evidence or tracking down leads, lawmen and investigators have more than their jobs on the line, because the real mystery is one of the heart. Pick up Secrets in Four Corners by Debra Webb this month, and don’t miss any one of the terrific stories to follow in this series.

And that’s just a small selection of what we have planned to thank our readers.

We’d love to hear from you, and hope you enjoy all of our special promotions this year.

Happy reading, and happy anniversary, Harlequin Books!

Sincerely,

Denise Zaza

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

I’d like to thank The Nail

Kelsey Roberts has penned more than thirty novels, won numerous awards and nominations and landed on bestseller lists including USA TODAY and the Ingrams Top 50 List. She has been featured in the New York Times and the Washington Post, and makes frequent appearances on both radio and television. She is considered an expert in why women read and write crime fiction as well as an excellent authority on plotting and structuring novels.

She resides in south Florida with her family.

Kresley Hayes—What she doesn’t know might very well kill her.

Matt DeMarco—Not all of this FBI agent’s intentions are pure; he’s got secrets of his own.

Rose Porter—Owns half of the Rose Tattoo and can’t pass up an opportunity to play matchmaker.

Emma Rooper—Kresley’s roommate who dies on the night in question.

Gianni—Fashion designer killed because he knows far too much.

Shelby Hunnicutt Tanner—Half owner of the Rose Tattoo who has a special secret she shares with Matt.

Janice Cross—Missing FBI agent—has she turned or is she a captive?

Hal Whiting—Coast Guard official with his fingers in lots of pies.

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

Matt DeMarco’s eyesight was neon green and distorted, thanks to the night-vision goggles he was using for his fruitless scan of the horizon.

A mixture of seawater and sand sloshed around his legs as he continued a slow, methodical jog along the water’s edge.

Nothing.

He’d been at it since midnight, a full twenty-seven hours since the Carolina Moon should have docked at Charleston Harbor. He knew enough about Atlantic tides and currents to realize that if the private yacht had experienced any sort of mechanical malfunction, it would be drifting offshore in the general vicinity of Folly Beach.

Where the hell was Janice? His softly muttered curse of frustration was lost in the sound of the gently lapping surf.

She was a damn good partner and had covered his butt, and he owed her big time. But she’d gone too far this time. Deep under cover, she’d been in the wind for over a month, not filing progress reports, not even communicating with her supervisory agent. The last report she’d filed had placed her in Charleston. And the last confirmed sighting of her was from a week ago when she’d rented a boat to take her out to the Carolina Moon.

Janice Cross was like a pit bull. Once she got her teeth into something, she wouldn’t let go. But he prayed whatever she’d discovered on the Carolina Moon hadn’t cost her her life.

As dawn approached, the waters were beginning to fill with the fleet of shrimpers and fishermen working the ocean, rivers and oyster beds in and around Charleston.

If the private yacht was disabled, surely one of the fishing fleet would—

His thought was lost as Matt suddenly choked in a mouthful of briny water. Only then did his brain fully process the fact that he’d tripped and gone flying into the lukewarm ocean. Spitting the grit of sand, bits of shell and God-only-knew-what-else out of his mouth, he pushed up to his knees, feeling around in the murky water for his goggles. No luck.

“Damn,” he muttered, pushing dripping hair off his forehead.

Glancing over his shoulder, he looked for the cause of his dive into the shallow surf, expecting a discarded cooler or driftwood or, more likely, one of those federally protected, lumbering, loggerhead turtles that spent the month of April plodding up to the dunes to lay eggs.

The first sliver of hazy sunshine illuminated the beach, and he felt his throat squeeze tight.

This was no turtle. It was the body of a young woman whose long blond hair swished and swayed with the movement of the ebbing surf. She appeared to be wearing some kind of evening gown.

Scanning the surrounding area, Matt grabbed her beneath the arms, dragging her up higher on the beach.