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Double Take
Leigh Riker
THE WOMAN WHO'D LEFT THE PARTY WEARING CAMERON'S CLOTHES WAS NOW VERY DEAD!Cameron McKenzie had traded places with her celebrity boss as a favor–and it just might have saved her own life. But the last thing she wanted was to be back in the Witness Protection Program, back under U.S. Marshal J. C. Ransom's watchful gaze.When he looked at her it was all heat and anger. And stark, raw desire. Talk about danger! But without J.C.'s protection Cameron knew it would only be a matter of time until the killer caught up with her. And she'd rather lose her heart to a U.S. Marshal than her life to a dangerous predator.
“What kind of ‘protection’ did you really provide?
“We lived in fear for my father‘s life every day, of his being found and killed. And for what? Because he testified in a federal trial to get you a conviction.”
“Not my conviction,” he said. “The government’s. Look,” he said. “I could have sent another agent here. Instead, I came to see you because I thought familiarity—”
“Breeds contempt?” Cameron walked toward the door. “Thank you for coming, Deputy Marshal Ransom. If there’s nothing else—”
“I’m not finished. Sit down,” he said.
Cameron knew she was close to losing the last of her control. She didn’t want Ransom to know how shaken she’d felt tonight. Didn’t want to hear what else he’d come to say…
“I think you’re in danger,” Ransom said, holding her gaze. “I think you’re next.”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
We have another month of spine-tingling romantic thrillers lined up for you—starting with the much anticipated second book in Joanna Wayne’s tantalizing miniseries duo, HIDDEN PASSIONS: FULL MOON MADNESS. In Just Before Dawn, a reclusive mountain man vows to get to the bottom of a single mother’s terrifying nightmares before darkness closes in.
Award-winning author Leigh Riker makes an exciting debut in the Harlequin Intrigue line this May with Double Take. Next, pulses race out of control in Mask of a Hunter by Sylvie Kurtz—the second installment in THE SEEKERS—when a tough operative’s cover story as doting lover to a pretty librarian threatens to blow up.
Be there from the beginning of our brand-new in-line continuity, SHOTGUN SALLYS! In this exciting trilogy, three young women friends uncover a scandal in the town of Mustang Valley, Texas, that puts their lives—and the lives of the men they love—on the line. Don’t miss Out for Justice by Susan Kearney.
To wrap up a month of can’t-miss romantic suspense, Doreen Roberts debuts in the Harlequin Intrigue line with Official Duty, the next title in our COWBOY COPS thematic promotion. It’s a double-murder investigation that forces a woman out of hiding to face her perilous past…and her pent-up feelings for the sexy sheriff who still has her heart in custody. Last but certainly not least, Emergency Contact by Susan Peterson—part of our DEAD BOLT promotion—is an edgy psychological thriller about a traumatized amnesiac who may have been brainwashed to do the unthinkable….
Enjoy all our selections this month!
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor,
Harlequin Intrigue
Double Take
Leigh Riker
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Like many readers and writers, Leigh Riker grew up with her nose in a book—still the best activity, in her opinion, on a hot summer afternoon or a cold winter night. To this day, she can’t imagine a better combination than suspense and romance.
The award-winning author of ten previous novels, she confesses she doesn’t like the sight of blood yet is a real fan of TV’s many forensics shows—a vicarious “walk on the wild side,” not to mention great research for her own novels. And when romance heats up the mix? It doesn’t get any better than that.
Born in Ohio, this former creative-writing instructor has lived in various parts of the U.S. She is now, with her husband, at home on a mountain in Tennessee with an inspiring view from her office of three states. She loves to hear from readers! Write to Leigh at P.O. Box 250, Soddy Daisy, TN 37384, or visit her Web site www.eclectics.com/authorsgalore/leighriker.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Cameron McKenzie—After growing up in Witness Protection, this celebrity chef craves a normal life. When her reluctant protector, J. C. Ransom, shows up, Cameron doesn’t want to believe she holds the key to her father’s unsolved case—or that she is now the target of a killer.
J. C. Ransom—The U.S. Marshal responsible for a federal witness—Cameron’s father—thinks he failed to do his job. Now James McKenzie is dead and his killer is on the loose. Cameron may be next…
James McKenzie—His testimony sent a vicious crime boss to jail. Was Cameron’s beloved father the victim of revenge?
Kyle McKenzie—Estranged from Cameron for many years, he wants to reconcile with his sister. Could he be harboring a deadly secret?
Venuto Destina—His stint in federal prison—and now-failing health—have weakened but not vanquished the deadly crime kingpin.
Emerald Greer—About to make her comeback on the courts, the temperamental tennis star has what seems to be a perfect life—until she disappears.
Grace Miller—As an assistant to the ill-tempered Emerald, this plain Jane’s coveted job is no picnic. Could a resentful Grace have orchestrated a kidnapping—and murder—to snuff out her famous employer?
Ron Davis—Emerald’s hunky personal trainer would restore her to full glory on the tennis courts. That’s his job. But Ron’s interest in Emerald may be far more personal and sinister, even deadly….
For Dianne Kruetzkamp, for friendship, support and all
those mutual brainstorming sessions. Thanks so much.
And for Jasmine, the best little kitty on earth.
Contents
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
Epilogue
Prologue
Denver, Colorado
The man was almost dead.
J.C. watched the life slip out of him, but no matter how he tried, J.C. couldn’t stop the slow, inexorable march of death.
My fault.
Jordan Christopher Ransom, Deputy U.S. Marshal. It was his mission, for God’s sake, to protect…to safeguard his charge.
J.C.’s mouth twisted at the thought. Sitting on the cold ground in January with James McKenzie in his arms, he cursed himself for not figuring things out in time, not getting here faster, not being able to prevent what had finally come down in this grim, dark alley. And instead of hearing the whistle of the wind all around, he heard the utter silence that follows violence. After the gunshots, the running feet. The shouts.
Some of them had been his own.
No matter.
James was still lying here, his eyes on J.C., pleading as he slowly bled to death. His stomach knotting, J.C. worked his fingers deeper into the hole in McKenzie’s neck, but he knew his efforts to stanch the blood flow from a major vessel, no matter how hard he pressed, would do no good.
It was a killer wound.
From the cold-blooded bastard who had vowed revenge.
And achieved his goal after all.
Or so it seemed.
J.C.’s jaw tightened. In the darkness he heard the wailing of sirens coming closer. He’d called for help on his cell phone moments before.
“They’re on the way,” he told McKenzie, sounding desperate with relief, but the other man’s eyes didn’t change. “We’ll get you somewhere safe.”
His job. But he had failed.
McKenzie’s mouth opened then closed, as if the attempt to speak was simply too much. And of course it would be.
“Hang in there,” J.C. muttered.
The advice proved futile. His own heart thumped against the inside of his coat, against the blue steel semiautomatic in his shoulder holster. No reason to have it out now. They were alone. The coward had gone. He tightened his grip around McKenzie in cold comfort. It was the last the man would feel in this lifetime, and whether or not J.C. had ever believed McKenzie was innocent, he tried to provide solace.
It was the least he could do.
Because of me you’re lying here in a pool of your own blood.
McKenzie clutched at his coat sleeve, his voice weaker now.
“Cameron…” Then in a final gasp, another name. “Ven.”
Her name went through J.C. not like a sweet reprieve but like the bullets James had taken for J.C.’s brutal error, and he wondered for a moment if his own blood had spilled on the ground. The place smelled of rotting garbage, but of stale whiskey, too, and now of death.
He didn’t trust McKenzie, not one bit more than he’d trusted his own father. Even McKenzie’s name, his real name before the many aliases he’d used, was only a point of reference now for J.C.
But that didn’t mean he wanted him dead either.
A chill raced along J.C.’s veins, like guilt. His fingers clenched around McKenzie’s shoulders, then moved up to his throat.
And he realized he felt nothing. Nothing.
That last faint beat of blood was gone, like the assassin who had struck Cameron’s father. All that remained was the ever-closer scream of the sirens that shattered silence. The sirens, and now his own fear.
The body slumped against him. J.C. looked down into blank, staring eyes. James McKenzie was dead. All he’d left behind was a daughter and those last few words.
The cops and the ambulance shrieked to a halt at the entrance to the alley. But J.C. didn’t move.
This isn’t over yet, he kept thinking, and the words kept echoing inside.
Chapter One
New York City
Her father had been dead for nearly a year. Venuto Destina had been out of prison for a week. And Cameron McKenzie was still looking over her shoulder.
Now she felt the back of her neck prickle, and the too-familiar thought shot through her brain. I’m being followed. Unable to fight the lifelong urge, she glanced behind her again along the dark Manhattan street but the footsteps she imagined hearing had died.
She saw no one.
Relief swept through her, canceling the swift rush of adrenaline, and for a moment she felt her heartbeat begin to slow. She often worked late—how else could The Unlimited Chef, Cameron’s cooking business for celebrities, show more than a small profit?—but she never liked walking home by herself.
It was necessary, of course, for her own peace of mind. Yet on this cold December night—the week after Thanks-giving—with light snow falling, she liked it even less. As if to acknowledge a threat, fewer people seemed to be out. Only a handful dotted the normally crowded sidewalks and several restaurants had closed early tonight. On this side street in the Seventies off Third Avenue, where Christmas lights already twinkled in almost every window, she felt utterly alone.
She strode briskly toward her apartment, arms wrapped around her too-thin coat trying to keep warm, but the chill seemed to penetrate her very bones. Just a few more blocks, she told herself. Then she’d feel safe.
Suddenly, her pulse hitched again. Her heart took up a noisy pounding.
Was that another footstep behind her? The sound of a man’s shoes muffled by the lightly falling snow? She would not look.
Then the blare of a passing taxi’s horn sent a shock blast through her body, and she struggled against panic. Now she heard nothing. The danger she had lived with for most of her life was gone, like those imagined footsteps. Safe, she tried to think.
Only the past lurked behind her now, not some assailant or unseen threat that seemed to hover in the cold air like a hand about to snuff out her breath.
Cameron silently scolded herself. This unfounded paranoia was why she forced herself to walk home each night rather than hail a cab or hop a city bus and bathe herself in its harsh interior light. She wouldn’t take the easy way out.
