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Writer Liv Corrigan has the worst luck with men — her telepathy tends to make them run for the hills. When she meets widower and ex-cop Jack Roarke, she decides to keep her talent hidden. Things are looking up until their third date crashes and burns as the man who murdered Jack’s wife turns out to be after him too.
Injured, Jack retreats with Liv to his house under armed guard. But with Liv’s mysteries rapidly coming unraveled, a diamond-thief killer to stop and passion in the air, the safe house is anything but safe for their hearts!
About the Author
Bethany Cagle, who writes as Brynna Curry, was born south of the Mason-Dixon Line in a small Alabama town. Growing up, books fueled her dreams and imagination, ultimately became her sanctuary during the hardest times in her life. After living all over the southern states, she finally landed back in north Alabama where she met her soul mate. She spent a wonderful twenty-two years with her hero, raising their three children, until God called Jackie home much too soon.
A solitary soul, she now spends her free time writing while watching the old westerns and police dramas that Jackie favored. Her furry minions, Jace, Styxx and Asheron, are always willing to keep her company while she works. She insists love is the truest magic and with it every day is an adventure.
Ryan sat alone in his dark study, and waited. The call would come at midnight, exactly. He knew it, expected it to come. It was never late. He had the ringer switched off, of course, so it wouldn’t wake Liv. When the caller ID flashed green, he picked up the receiver, and spoke quietly into the phone.
“Do you have the lady?” the man on the line asked. His voice seemed to come through sand.
“I have her, and she’s safe.” It was what he always said, meaning he picked up the Madonna statue, and she was hidden.
“Ground her for two weeks, and then bring her to the usual place.”
“Yes, sir.” He just wanted this conversation over so he could go on with life for another day and pretend everything would be okay. If only he had something useful to hand over, maybe he could squeeze his way out of this mess. The broken silence interrupted his whining.
“Corrigan, I don’t have to remind you to come alone, or not to involve anyone else, do I? Remember the last time?” The man was laughing at him, the sickening sound of someone who knew what it was to murder and reveled in it. “Yes I can see you do. You dug her grave nice and deep with that little call, and ruined a great many lives in the process. You didn’t even manage to do anything to help yourself either, so I’d think twice before trying again.”
His skin iced cold while his stomach wrenched itself into knots. “I remember. It will not happen again.” Another pause left the dread hanging in the air.
“No, this time I’ll make sure it will matter to you.”
Temper struck in full force when his tormentor scoffed at that young life lost. “It did matter. She didn’t deserve what you did to her.”
“Take care not to raise your voice to me. I only have so much patience for fools. Your mother’s garden is nice this time of year. She plants something new every day…”
Ryan sunk into the chair at the thought of losing his mother.
“And your brother haunts those brooding cliffs that overlook the sea, sits for hours with a brush in hand and never paints a thing, just stares. Quite boring, that one, though according to my sources he maintains an interesting string of Irish lasses at his beck and call.”
He’d known his family would be targeted if he tried to escape again.
“But no, I don’t think I’ll have to go that far, will I? You’ve made things nice and tidy. Olivia is a beautiful woman. I won’t let her die easy. No, I think I will have my fill of her first. Can you see her begging for her death, Corrigan? You remember that, because her breath will be gone before I will grant her request for mercy.”
Ryan could see the picture clear in his mind, her pretty dark hair soaked with blood, eyes staring blindly. He’d not be the cause of anyone’s death, never again. No, he’d do what he was told until death caught him, or God saw fit to save his miserable soul. “I won’t try anything. There’s no need to hurt her.”
A reply didn’t come. The line had gone dead.