by Maggie Nash
Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgment
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
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
Crash and Burn
ISBN # 978-1-78430-611-3
©Copyright Maggie Nash 2015
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2015
Edited by Sue Meadows and Ann Leveille
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 2.
CRASH AND BURN
Maggie Nash
A cop with a mission. A woman with no memory. A killer who hunts them both.
Plagued by nightmares of a train crash, Beth Hamilton returns to the scene of the accident and finds herself fleeing from a deadly enemy she can’t remember. An unlikely partnership with sexy cop Daniel Wyatt triggers a dangerous chain of events. She must learn to trust her instincts, because when she’s running for her life, the enemy might be closer than she thinks.
Dedication
This book is lucky enough to be given a second life, and I want to thank all those who helped me achieve this. Firstly to Virginia and Venus for being awesome beta readers, and secondly to my amazing editor Sue Meadows for helping me make it a much better book than it was originally. I love you all!
Trademarks Acknowledgment
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Ikea: Inter-Ikea Systems B.V. Corporation
Range Rover: Jaguar Land Rover Limited Private Company
Outlook: Microsoft Corporation
Open Learning: Caldera Systems, Inc.
Riverview: Riverview College, Riverview NSW Australia
St. Joseph’s: St Joseph’s College, Hunter’s Hill NSW Australia
Glock: Glock, Inc.
Suburban Outback: Fuji Jukogyo Kabushiki Kaisha a/t/a Fuji Heavy Industries Ltd.
Pollyanna: Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter
Basic Instinct: 1992, Carolco Pictures
Bolero: Maurice Ravel
Yellow Pages: Yellow Pages Inc.
Prologue
Sydney-Canberra Express
October 15th
In her hiding place in a dark alcove off the main walkway of the train, Beth Hamilton forgot how to breathe. The drama unfolding before her eyes starred a short, stocky man in a conservative suit, and from what she could see, he was in big trouble. Her suspicions were confirmed as another man pointed the barrel of a gun directly at his balding head.
Not your usual scenery for a train trip to Canberra.
Her throat closed up as she watched the gunman lift the mask he wore to reveal himself to his victim. Seeing his face, Beth closed her mouth, biting on her top lip to prevent any sound from escaping.
“You,” said the bald man. “What do you want?”
The gunman smirked. “I want you to see the face of your executioner. You should have known we wouldn’t let you get away with selling us out.”
After bolting back to her own compartment at the scream that followed, she leaned against the door and willed her pounding heart rate to slow down. Holy Cow. All she’d wanted was to get a drink from the machine in the next carriage. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to see a shoot-out.
Don’t panic. They didn’t see you.
Her gasps of air came in quick succession as she tried to think. She should act, but what could she do? The compartment was empty, except for some guy slumped in his seat, sleeping.
Should she wake him? She had no choice. There was no one else and no time. Either way, she couldn’t just leave him there, not with a gunman so close by. She leaned forward and took hold of his shoulder.
He didn’t react.
“Wake up,” she pleaded as she reached for him again, this time more forcefully.
“What the—?” His eyelids fluttered as the no-longer-sleeping figure returned from the Land of Nod to the present. Beth watched as he woke slowly, blinking a few times.
She leaned closer to his face and shook him again. He smiled. A slow, sexy smile.
Holy cow. No man should be this good-looking. “You have to wake up now.”
As he caught her eye, he winked. “Well, you certainly know how to get a man’s atten—”
“Just shut up and listen,” she said, stopping him mid-word. Why do men always wake up thinking of sex? Although, with him, any other time… Stop it, Beth! She shook her head to clear her totally inappropriate thoughts and continued. “We don’t have time. We’re in danger.”
He pulled himself up in the seat and bent his head from side to side, stretching the kinks out of his neck.
Who is this guy? Here we are in the middle of a crisis and he’s doing his morning stretches? “There’s a man out there—with a gun.”
“And?” he asked, looking over her head to see what was happening behind her, as if he didn’t quite believe her. Great, just her luck—a moron.
“And…he’s going to shoot someone!”
He sat up even straighter, now wide-awake and finally, it appeared, all business. “Where?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes.
“Out there in the corridor,” she pointed. At least he believed her.
The Hugh Jackman lookalike moved forward in his seat and whispered close to her ear. She noticed his spicy scent and tried not to think about how his warm breath sent tingles across her skin.
“Did they see you?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she whispered, as she shuffled backward, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to throw off the tingling sensations coursing down her spine. “I hope not. I got out of there as fast as I could. Got any ideas as to what we should do?”
He nodded. “We need to contact the guard, but we definitely don’t want to start a panic. You head the other way down the train, find the conductor and tell him to call the police, then move to a safer part of the train and stay out of sight.”
Okay, not such a moron, but a macho chauvinist type. He strode in the direction of the gunman, but Beth stopped him by gripping his shoulder before she turned him around t
o face her. “And what will you be doing?” Macho types aren’t supposed to leave the damsels alone, are they?
He pulled a face that told her she shouldn’t ‘worry her pretty little head’.
“I’m going to check out what’s happening up ahead.”
Not without me. “Neither of us should be going anywhere alone, not when there’s an idiot with a gun loose on this train,” said Beth, determined not to show how terrified she really was.
‘Hugh’ cocked his head to the side. “You said it yourself. We need to get help fast, so you go alert the conductor, and I’ll go and see what’s happening.”
“What if there’s another gunman back the other way? I’ve got a better idea,” whispered Beth. “We both check out what’s up ahead, then we both get the conductor.” She lifted her chin and glared at the sexy stranger, daring him to disagree with her.
He narrowed those gorgeous brown eyes as he opened his mouth to say something, but then he paused. Shaking his head, he spoke, “I suppose that’s a possibility. All right, we go together—but stay close and do what I say, okay?”
“Sure.” Anything not to be left alone here. She nodded, and after a brief pause, he reluctantly moved toward the corridor, gesturing for her to follow him. As he edged forward, Beth walked closely behind him. The train swerved around a bend and she would have tripped if not for the hard male body in front of her, and the large hands belonging to said body that reached out to steady her. Her arms zinged from the contact and she instinctively moved backward, increasing the distance between them. God almighty, this guy is a lightning rod!
The rattle of the wheels bumping along the tracks competed with the pounding in her chest. When they reached the area where the two men were, he signaled for Beth to stop and crouch behind a seat. She slid into the space and cautiously peered out. Both men battled for control of the gun and from where Beth hid, it was definitely no contest. The gunman was taller, and from the size of the muscles in his arms, a lot stronger. It was only a matter of time before he overwhelmed the weaker man.
The gun went off. The shorter one grabbed his side where a dark red stain was rapidly spreading and, losing his balance, he fell through the open door to countryside below. The gunman straightened his clothes and adjusted his mask before casually walking over to the door, staring out while he replaced the clip in his gun.
Beth gasped.
The masked man turned back to the cabin and spied them both. He shifted quickly, striding toward them. ‘Hugh’ shoved Beth back toward the corridor, placing his body in front, shielding her.
“Get back!”
The gunman steadied himself, took aim and fired. Fortunately for ‘Hugh’, the jerking of the train around a bend caused him to lose his footing and the bullet missed its mark.
Beth bit down on her lip to prevent the scream that built up in her throat and slid back into the alcove of the seat, pressing hard against the wall, hugging her knees. A weapon… She needed a weapon. She scanned the limited space and spied a newspaper. She grabbed it then rolled it into a tight roll. It was better than nothing.
‘Hugh’ ducked and charged forward, diving at the gunman, grabbing for his feet. The gun went off again, but this time the bullet passed through the driver’s cabin door, shattering the window in its path. The train lurched to the left as it rounded the next bend. The sudden movement had Beth hurtling out of her hiding place. She saw the two men struggling on the floor. The train jerked once more, forcing them closer to the door. She jumped to her feet, her legs shaking as she inched closer to the fray. When the opportunity presented itself, she whacked the bad guy on the side of his head with the newspaper, but watched in horror as the movement of the train caused both the gunman and her cabin buddy to fall out of sight.
The train hurtled down the hill, increasing velocity until all movement stopped with a shuddering jolt. A deafening explosion sent Beth airborne before she landed hard on the floor. Shakily, she lifted her head and saw smoke coming from the gap under the door of the driver’s cabin. She heard the tortured sound of a scream coming from a distance. It took her a few seconds to realize it was her own. Her head throbbed and her legs wouldn’t cooperate when she tried unsuccessfully to lift herself up. Then it didn’t matter anymore, as the world around her went black.
Chapter One
Sydney
December 4th
Beth jolted awake, the crumpled sheets damp and musty as she shivered in a pool of sweat. She attempted to shake off the haze of another nightmare, but the fear that had her stomach in knots was too much for her to go back to sleep. If only she could remember what the dream was about. She’d had the same one over and over since the train crash eight weeks ago. Now, home from the hospital, she’d hoped they would stop, but they hadn’t—not yet anyway.
Her doctor had told her to give it time. Easy for him to say. It wasn’t just the dreams. There was the concussion and the banged-up knee. Apparently bad dreams were common after any head injury, but after a severe trauma such as a train crash, they were almost a foregone conclusion. Lucky me.
Post-traumatic stress disorder, the psych team called it. Yeah right. Of course it was traumatic recovering from her injuries—and stressful? Definitely. Who wouldn’t be stressed when they’d lived through an accident like that and had no memory of it? Not remembering wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the fact that part of her subconscious must remember something and it was torturing her. Why else would she be having nightmares every night?
But time—and giving a name to her fear—hadn’t stopped the feeling there was an important part of what happened that day that she needed to remember.
Something had definitely happened that day on the train, she was sure of it, and it had everything to do with how the train crashed. Why didn’t anyone else seem to know? Certainly not the hospital staff, nor the police who’d been to interview her. Or were they hiding something?
The official report said the driver had suffered a heart attack and the dead-man’s switch had malfunctioned. But if that was all there was to it, why were the detectives spending so many hours questioning her? What aren’t they telling me?
She needed to know. If she could remember, the nightmares might stop and she could get on with her life. She threw back the covers then grabbed her stick before shuffling to the side of the bed to stand up. Her knee continued to be sore after the surgeon had repaired the damage, although the sharp pain had lessened after she stretched the stiff muscles. By the time she reached her bathroom, she’d forgotten the pain in her leg completely as her mind was elsewhere, thinking about the uncertainty of her situation.
She couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity, there were things to do, people and places to see, starting with an appointment with an old friend that she shouldn’t miss.
* * * *
The silver-haired man sat and stared at his phone. He hesitated, taking extra time as he straightened himself in the chair. How was he going to fix the mess he’d gotten himself into?
He reached for the phone and his shaking hand punched in a long number from memory. A heavily accented voice answered on the first ring.
“Speak.”
“She’s left the hospital.”
Silence stretched the moment, sweat tracing a path down his already damp neck as he waited for a reply.
“We expected this day would come. You’ll have to watch her closely. Do you believe she knows anything?”
He dragged the crumpled handkerchief over his brow and blew out a breath before he answered. “I don’t know for sure. According to my source inside the hospital, she has no memory of the train incident. We don’t know if this is a cover or the truth. And if it is true, we have no guarantee that she won’t get her memory back.”
“Either way, we will need to watch her.”
“Yes, of course. And if she does know something?”
“Eliminate her.”
Eliminate her? Could he do it? He didn’t know if he had the stomach for it
anymore, but if it came to that, he knew someone who did—for a price.
* * * *
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?” Dr. Bennett pushed his wireframe glasses back from the tip of his nose in a familiar gesture. “What about your studies?”
Beth smiled at the family doctor she’d known all her life. Normally she felt comfortable discussing her future with Dr. B. He was a trusted family friend, after all. But her University course could wait. It was an Internet-based course she could pick up whenever she wanted to, and she didn’t feel quite ready for that right now. “I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I should probably think about going back to work first. The insurance payout won’t be available for months yet and my bank balance is going to run low soon.”
“Don’t worry about that. You know I’ll help you out with money anytime. You do need to get back to your usual routine as soon as possible, but you should wait for the leg to heal before you go back to work.” Dr. Bennett’s voice held genuine concern as he hauled his big frame across the floor to wrap his arms around Beth. She’d always felt safe in Dr. B’s office. As a child she’d visited him often and had fond memories of him offering her jellybean bribes. The smell of the tan leather chesterfield brought it all back to her. But she wasn’t a child with tonsillitis now. She was twenty-six years old and needed to stand on her own two feet.
“Yes, well, I don’t have a choice at the moment. My boss has hired a temp for another month. I want to make sure that not only my leg heals, but I also get my head together in that time. I want to remember what happened. I’m sure I saw something important, and I can’t move on until I find out what it is.”
And there were those other dreams. The ones involving chocolate-brown eyes and a sexy smile that had her blood warming and her skin tingling. Of course she couldn’t mention those, but it was a strange coincidence that they appeared the same time as the nightmares.