Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Praise for the Novels
of Karen Robards
Guilty
“Karen Robards is emerging as one of the top romance suspense authors, one whose name means ‘read this book.’ And she doesn’t disappoint with Guilty.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
“[A] scintillating romantic thriller. . . . Robards once again shows her flair for coupling first-rate suspense with multidimensional characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Guilty is truly a pleasure as the ever-popular and prolific Robards gives her readers an especially exciting, top-notch tale of romantic suspense.”
—Booklist
“An exciting urban thriller . . . strong, entertaining romantic suspense.”
—Midwest Book Review
Obsession
“[A] creepily effective suspense novel . . . the premise is a real gripper.”
—The Seattle Times “A psychological thriller that will keep readers on the edge of their seats.”—The Stuart News/Port St. Lucie News (FL)
“Readers will love Obsession, a stunning and powerful tour de force thriller. . . . Karen Robards proves once again she is a stupendous storyteller.”—Midwest Book Review “A page-turner.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A well-done book, heavy on intrigue with interesting characters and a suspenseful plot.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
“An intense romantic suspense novel that links an out-of-the-blue beginning with a dynamite ending in riveting and unexpected ways. With vibrant characters and a great plot, this is one of bestselling Robards’s best, and a must-read for fans of Nora Roberts and Linda Howard.”
—Booklist
“One part action, two parts sexy suspense.”
—Cosmopolitan
“A DEFINITE MASTER OF SUSPENSE.”
—A Romance Review
Vanished
“One of the best novels yet from the prolific Karen Robards . . . with an ending that will keep readers up at night.”
—The Seattle Times
“Romantic suspense is Karen Robards’s forte, and fans won’t be disappointed with Vanished. . . . The story opens with a literal bang. . . . This is an action-packed page-turner with an ending that is appropriately satisfying. Robards fans will devour this book.”
—The Roanoke Times (VA)
“There are plenty of thrills. . . . This is a great afternoon read!”
—The Stuart News/Port St. Lucie News (Stuart, FL)
“The mystery and suspense of the book is intriguing and keeps you turning the pages.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
“Exciting romantic suspense . . . sparks fly off the pages . . . a haunting tale that grips readers . . . and never slows down until the final twist.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Steamy sex and . . . suspense.”
—Myrtle Beach Sun-News
“Robards offers heartfelt insights into the agony and desperation experienced by adults whose children are abducted, and she delivers a knockout romantic thriller.”
—Booklist
“Bestseller Robards opens her latest romantic thriller with a bang . . . will keep readers turning the pages.”
—Publishers Weekly
Superstition
“Fans of Tami Hoag, Iris Johansen, and Kay Hooper will love Superstition.”
—Midwest Book Review
“[Superstition] is another winner from . . . Robards. A classic edge-of-the-seat read.”
—Booklist
“When you see Karen Robards’s name on a new book, grab it! . . . [She] is . . . guaranteed to deliver an entertaining, must-read, can’t-put-down story. And she does it again with Superstition. This has all the earmarks of a Robards story: a compelling mystery, an engaging cast of characters, and a strong hero and heroine with amazing chemistry.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
Bait
“Romantic suspense at its absolute best, I didn’t want Bait to end.”
—Janet Evanovich
“Veteran romance/crime bestseller Robards delivers another
hold-your-breath drama, this time starring FBI agent
Sam McCabe and advertising executive Maddie Fitzgerald.
Her pacing is excellent, and regular infusions of humor
keep the story bouncing along between trysts and attacks.
This one is sure to please fans.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Robards returns once again with a pulse-pounding novel. Nonstop suspense amidst sensual romance heats up the pages of this captivating novel. Top-rate suspenseful action and sizzling romance form the backbone of this spectacular read, one of Robards’s all-time best.”
—The Best Reviews
ALSO BY KAREN ROBARDS
Obsession
Vanished
Superstition
Bait
Beachcomber
Whispers at Midnight
Irresistible
To Trust a Stranger
Paradise County
Scandalous
Ghost Moon
The Midnight Hour
The Senator’s Wife
Heartbreaker
Hunter’s Moon
Walking After Midnight
Maggy’s Child
One Summer
This Side of Heaven
Dark of the Moon
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin
Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a G. P. Putnam’s Sons edition.
First Signet Printing, April 2009
Copyright © Karen Robards, 2008
Excerpt from Pursuit © Karen Robards, 2009
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
eISBN : 978-1-101-02461-4
http://us.penguingroup.com
Christopher, this book is dedicated to you in honor
of your June 2008 high school graduation.
We are so proud of you!
Love always, Mom
Acknowledgments
I want to thank my husband, Doug, and sons, Peter, Chris and Jack, for hanging in there one more time; my fantastic editor, Christine Pepe, for her patience and keen eye for detail; my agent Robert Gottlieb, who always works so hard for me; Leslie Gelbman and Kara Welsh and the rest of the gang at Signet; Stephanie Sorensen, who does such a good job with publicity; and Ivan Held and the rest of the Putnam family, whose support I greatly appreciate.
Chapter 1
August 1994
“WHERE THE SWEET HELL do you think you’re going?”
Just after midnight on a steamy Friday in Baltimore, fifteen-year-old Katrina Kominski was halfway down the fire escape of the run-down brick apartment building where she had lived for the past seven months when the bellow from above froze her in her tracks.
Busted, she thought, because what she was doing was sneaking out after being grounded for the weekend.
Clutching the peeling black metal rail and casting a scared glance up, she discovered her foster mother leaning out the fourth-floor window above her, fat cheeks jiggling, pink curlers bobbing, tent-sized pink housecoat zipped up to her cowlike neck. Behind her she could see two of the other girls—Mrs. Coleman took in only girls; right now she had five in the three-bedroom apartment—crowding around. Twelve-year-old LaTonya looked scared. Sixteen-year-old Natalie looked smug.
Jealous witch had probably told.
“Out,” she yelled back. The response was pure bravado, because down below her friends were watching. Inside, where no one could see, her stomach knotted in fear. Her heart pounded.
Should she go back, or . . . ?
“Come on, Kat!” Jason Winter—the to-die-for-cute boy she was crazy about—yelled up to her. She looked down in terrible indecision. He was at the wheel of his beat-up blue Camaro, which was idling in the alley below. It was crammed with kids; her best friend, Leah Oscar, had her head stuck out the rear window on the driver’s side, yelling “Come on” to her along with Jason, while making urgent get-down-here-yesterday motions. A kid with black, curly hair—Mario Castellanos, one of Jason’s good friends—had his head out the front passenger window, his hands cupped around his mouth as he yelled insults at Mrs. Coleman, who was now raining abuse down on Kat’s head.
“Look out!” Leah shrieked, pointing at something above Kat. Jason yelled something, too, and a couple of the other kids stuck their heads out the car windows as they screamed warnings, but Kat was already looking up again, and what she saw sent her heart leaping into her throat.
Marty Jones, Mrs. Coleman’s live-in boyfriend, had taken Mrs. Coleman’s place and was halfway out the window. Last time she’d seen him—about half an hour ago, when she had supposedly gone to bed in the small room she shared with Natalie and LaTonya—he’d been zonked out on the couch. Now here he came after her, barefoot, wearing his gray work pants and a wife-beater, which looked disgusting on his huge, hulking, hairy body. Like Mrs. Coleman, he was maybe in his midforties. Unlike Mrs. Coleman, he didn’t even pretend to like the girls she fostered for a living.
Except in a creepy way. Like, he’d told Kat to call him Marty instead of Mr. Jones. And he was always trying to get her to sit on the couch next to him while he watched TV. And a couple of days ago he’d popped the lock on the bathroom door—he’d sworn it had been unlocked, but she knew better—and “accidentally” walked in on her when she was in the shower. And . . . well, there were lots of ands.
Kat hated him. He’d been eyeing her since she had arrived from the group home where she had been sent after the last foster-care placement hadn’t worked out. Being a skinny, cute, blue-eyed blonde was not a good thing when the world you lived in was full of predatory men like Marty Jones. Over the last couple of years, Kat had learned to recognize them at a glance, and to keep as far away from them as possible.
Only it was getting harder and harder to keep away from Marty.
“You better get your ass back up here right now!” Almost through the window now, Marty saw her looking up at him and shook his head threateningly at her. He held a baseball bat in one hand. As their eyes met through the open metalwork of the stairs, Kat’s stomach plummeted toward her red Dr. Scholl’s sandals. Time to face the truth: Marty scared the bejesus out of her. “Right now! You hear me, girl?”
Oh, yeah. She did. And even as the weight of him emerging onto the top of the fire escape made the whole thing shiver warningly, she ran, hanging on to the rail, clattering down the remaining steps to the encouraging screams of her friends, heart pounding, sweating bullets all the way.
If he caught her . . .
“Hurry, Kat!” “He’s coming, he’s coming!” “Fat old fart, you gonna knock them stairs right off the building you don’t get off them!” “Kat, you gotta move!” “Jump for it!”
“You better not run from me!” Marty yelled after her.
“When I catch you, I’ll . . .”
What he would do Kat never heard, because she jumped down the last two steps just then to land hard on her wooden soles on the cracked asphalt of the alley, and hands reached out of the Camaro’s door, which had opened in anticipation of her imminent arrival, to drag her inside. She half leaped and half was pulled in on top of a shifting mass of teenage bodies. The door was still partially open when, tires squealing, the Camaro peeled rubber out of there. It slammed shut, though whether from the force of the forward motion or because somebody reached out and grabbed it she couldn’t have said. As she struggled to sit up, Kat caught glimpses of long rows of brick walls broken up by cheap aluminum-framed windows and zigzagging fire escapes, and overflowing Dumpsters and piles of trash that hadn’t quite made it into the Dumpsters, and an odd person or two slinking through the dark as the headlights flashed over them.
“That was so cool!” “Man, he almost caught her!” “Is that fat guy your dad?” “I thought he was gonna knock the whole fire escape down.” “You think they’re gonna call the cops?”
“No, they won’t call the cops,” Kat replied to the last thing she heard as she wiggled her butt down between Leah and her boyfriend, Roger Friedkin, while Donna Bianco was squashed against the far window. With the four of them wedged into the backseat and Jason and Mario up front, the car was hot despite all the windows being rolled down, which was due to a broken air conditioner. It was too humid for jeans, which she was wearing because she didn’t possess any shorts, but she had teamed them with a red tan
k she’d “borrowed” from LaTonya so she wasn’t actually dying or anything. “If they did, the social workers would come and take me away, and they don’t want that. They need the money. I heard them talking about it.”
“You gonna be okay when you go back there, Kitty-cat?” Jason asked with the quiet concern that had first made her lose her heart to him. His eyes—blue as the waters of Chesapeake Bay—looked into hers through the rearview mirror. Her stomach fluttered in response.
She nodded.
“That fat old fart’s gonna whup your ass, Kitty-cat,” Mario chortled, turning so that he could look at her. He smirked at her. “I bet he’s gonna like it, too.”
“Shut the hell up, why don’t you?” Jason punched his friend in the arm.
“Ow!” Mario, glaring, covered the spot with his hand.
“It’s okay,” Kat said to Jason. Then she looked at Mario. “Why don’t you go jerk off somewhere?”
Mario gave her an ugly look in return, but something, probably the thought of incurring Jason’s further displeasure, kept his big mouth shut.
Too late to erase the image he’d implanted in her mind, though.
The thought of what her reception was going to be like when she returned to the apartment was already enough to make Kat want to puke. Realizing that she’d given Marty an excuse to lay his hands on her terrified her. Mario was right, although she hated him for saying it. If she went back, Marty would do something to hurt her and enjoy every minute of it. And she was as sure as it was possible to be that Mrs. Coleman wouldn’t object.
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