Stephanie Rowe - The Sharpest Edge

Kim began to tremble. Slowly this time, she pulled the sheets and mattress pad back, the blood from her hand leaving bright red streaks on the flowered cotton.

Now she could see it.

The tip of a shiny metal blade, sticking up from her mattress. Pointed and sharp, the rest of the knife was hidden from view, buried deep inside the mattress.

But she didn’t have to look. She knew what the knife would look like. She knew the blade would match the scars on her thigh.

She dropped to her knees, staring at the steel tip. Then she yanked the cell phone off her waistband, dialed Sean’s number, hit send and grabbed the gun off the nightstand.

She would be a victim no longer.

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For Amanda, who makes our family better by joining it.

Thanks, as always, to my wonderful agent, Michelle Grajkowski, for always encouraging me to spread my wings and believing in my ability to pull off the impossible. And to my talented editor, Wanda Ottewell, for refusing to give up on me. And to JR, for believing in me every step of the way. And a special thanks to my brother, Ben, for freaking out at Squam Lake that night, thinking there was a bear on the roof. You inspire me! Here’s to many more such memories at the new abode. And to my parents: every success I have today is because of the foundation you gave me.

A lifelong reader of romance, Golden Heart winner Stephanie Rowe wrote her first novel when she was ten, and sold her first book twenty-three years later. After experimenting with a legal career, she decided wearing suits wasn’t her style and opted for a more fulfilling career entertaining herself and others with stories of romance, humor and, of course, true love. She currently shares her household with two dogs, two cats and her own hero. When not glued to the computer or avoiding housework, she can be found on the tennis court, reading, or inviting herself over to her mom’s house for dinner. You can reach her at www.stephanierowe.com.

Kim Collins—Ten years ago, to save herself, she left the man she loved. Will his reappearance in her life finally destroy her?

Sean Templeton—A cop who has returned home, determined to start a new life free from the pain of his past.

Jimmy Ramsey—A man with one thing on his mind: payback.

Max Collins—Will he awake from his coma, and what secrets will he reveal if he does?

Helen Collins—She will do anything to save the man she loves.

Allan Haywood—How far will he go to protect Kim?

Didi Smith—Will her access to inside information be enough to save others, or will it make her a victim in this deadly game?

Chief Vega—Will his loyalty to his staff make him blind to the real threat?

Tom Payton—Is the marina assistant’s innocent persona legit?

Will Ambrose— A front-desk attendant who may not be what he seems.

Garth McKeen—A cop with either an agenda or not enough experience. Which is it?

Eddie—Does the old harbormaster know more than he should?

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

I will come for you.

Kim Collins bolted upright in bed, adrenaline spiking. What was that? A whisper in the wind? Or her imagination? A premonition of a future soon to be hers? The promise of a man whose only goal was to kill her?

I will come for you.

Her heart pounded in her chest, filled her ears, bruised her ribs.

He was here. She knew it.

She frantically searched the dark bedroom, her gaze darting back and forth, trying to cover every inch at once. She dipped into the moon’s eerie shadows, double-checking the location of each item. Nothing amiss. Even her suitcase still lay open on the floor, half-unpacked after her arrival from California two days ago. All was quiet.

Except the six-inch scar on her thigh.

It throbbed with pain. Pulsed with fear. Ached with ugly reminders.

But the room was silent. The house was still.

Relax, Kim. It’s another nightmare. Nothing in the room had moved since she’d gone to bed. See? She was imagining things.

It was nothing but a dream.

Or, rather, a nightmare.

Kim pushed her hair off her face, her fingers twisting in the wet strands, damp from the humidity and the fear. The sweat of terror. Too real. Too often. And now…she was having those dreams almost every night.

The knife.

The blood.

Her scream.

The overwhelming terror of impending death.

And that sickening smile he’d given her when they’d escorted him out of the courtroom for his six-month stay in prison, his thin lips forming his promise: I will come for you.

Yesterday, she’d gotten the call from the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office. Jimmy Ramsey was out on parole. She’d known he would be getting out. She’d been preparing for it by taking a leave of absence so she could get out of town, but nothing had prepared her for the shock of knowing he’d been released. Free to pursue her. And he was coming for her. She knew it.

“Stop it!” She hugged her pillow to her chest. He was probably three thousand miles away, stalking her in L.A., clueless that she was hidden away in the Maine woods, right? Her best friend, Alan Haywood, was watching her apartment and he’d call her as soon as Jimmy was spotted.

Everything was under control.

Besides, Jimmy wouldn’t travel across the country just to stalk her.

No, but he’d travel that far to kill her.

If he realized she wasn’t in L.A., he might remember hearing about the family resort in Maine and decide to see if she was out here. He’d pull out his credit card, mosey on over to the airport, grab a last-minute ticket and then he’d be here…

Argh! She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her eyelids, trying to expel the thought from her head. Deep breaths. Inhale for five counts. Exhale for eight counts.

A distinct thump sounded above her head and she lurched off the bed. She landed on her feet, her fists balled and her breath heaving, dread paralyzing her for an instant. Then she shook it off and raced for the open windows. She yanked them shut, locked them and jumped back. Her hands shook, her skull ached where Jimmy had smashed it and her legs threatened to give out.

The scrabbling on the roof continued. Little thuds and scratches, faster now.

Dammit. She wasn’t ready to die. She hadn’t been before and she wasn’t now.

She grabbed the phone, but her fingers were shaking too much to hold on to it. It clattered to the floor. She dove for the handset and dialed 911. The operator answered, her calm, detached voice so wrong for the intensity of the situation.