Killer Passion
Seduced by a forbidden man!There was no way Alicia Greco could afford to get involved with any man right now, especially not Special Agent Griffin Malone. He’d come to Fiji to profile the serial killer who was stalking the island’s shining white beaches. She was his key witness.And yet…there was something about the shadow-haunted profiler that she simply couldn’t resist. So she gave in to his seduction, and to a passion more searing, more intense, than anything she had ever dared to dream of – a passion that made her the ruthless killer’s next target.
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Heâd gone husbandly on her.
Griffin came up behind her at the sink, moved her hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck.
It was part of Griffinâs nature, something that was deeply ingrained in him. She doubted he could change it, no matter how hard he tried.
Did that mean she couldnât change her wifely nature, either?
She turned to face him and their eyes met. Neither said anything, which only made the moment more intense. She wanted to put her head on his shoulder, to hold him, to never let him go.
Fear reared its anxious head. Was it possible for her to follow her friend Zoeâs footsteps, to fall madly, desperately, crazily in love with Griffin the way Zoe had taken the tumble for Sean?
Yes, she thought with a jolt of panic. It was possible. But how she would survive it went beyond comprehension. Theyâd agreed this was only an affairâ¦
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sheri WhiteFeather pens a variety of romances and has earned several prestigious readersâ and reviewersâ choice awards. She has become known for incorporating Native American elements into her stories. Her husband and children are tribally enrolled members of the Muscogee Creek Nation.
Sheriâs hobbies include decorating with antiques and shopping in thrift stores for vintage clothes. Currently, she lives in a cowboy community in Central Valley, California. She loves to hear from her readers. To contact Sheri, visit her website at www.SheriWhiteFeather.com.
To Nina Bruhns and Cindy Dees
for the fictional fun in Fiji.
Chapter 1
Keep going, Alicia Greco told herself. Keep running. Imagine that someone is chasing you. That heâs closing in, that your life depends on this.
Yeah, right. Her life depended on jogging on a beach in Fiji. She wouldâve laughed if she werenât so damn winded, if she werenât struggling to put one foot in front of the other, if her calves didnât ache.
She hated to exercise, hated it, but she was pushing thirty and determined to stay in shape. To her, there was nothing sexier than a runnerâs body with all those long, lean, toned muscles.
She glanced around, focusing on the beauty of her break-of-dawn surroundings. The sun rose above the cliffs, sprinkling the ground with warm, rich hues. The ocean rolled upon the shore, the water crystal clear and breathtakingly blue. Thatch-roofed cabanas decorated the sand.
Alicia was the only person around. Other hotel guests had stirred, but they werenât making use of the beach. Before sheâd set out for her run, an early-bird group of travelers had boarded a bus destined for a âSunrise Islandâ tour. Everyone else was probably smart enough to be sleeping or lazily greeting the day.
She peered over her shoulder to see how far sheâd gone. The main building of the resort had diminished in size, not so small that it looked like one of those little Monopoly game-piece hotels, but she was making progress.
Huffing along, she faced forward again, then caught a glimpse of something stirring at the edge of a nearby cabana. Fabric, she thought. An article of clothing. Giving in to her curious nature, she ran toward it to take a closer look and nearly stumbled to her hands and knees.
Oh my Godâ¦ohmyGodâ¦ohmyGodâ¦ohmyGodâ¦
Inside the cabana, a naked man was slumped over a naked woman, his hips positioned between her open legs. Blood covered the base of his skull, matting his hair. Angry wounds slashed his back. Dark red smears trailed down his spine and onto his buttocks.
Alicia just stood, gazing at the horror laid out before her. Although most of the womanâs body was trapped beneath her partnerâs bulk, her lifeless face was turned in Aliciaâs direction, her eyes fixed in a blank stare. A gaping hole gouged her neck.
Blood. So much blood. Like a slasher film, too gruesome to be real.
But it was real.
A special effects team hadnât trussed up a pair of actors. There were no lights, no cameras, no action. The female corpse staring into space with her throat slit wasnât going to wink or smile or sit up to sign autographs.
If she found celebrity, it would be from being a victim of the Sex on the Beach Killer.
This had to be his work, Alicia thought. The madman stalking South Pacific beaches for lovers to slay.
A chill sluiced through her own blood, icing her veins, making her tremble. She should turn away; she should run as fast as her feet would take her. But she didnât. Suddenly the dead woman seemed familiar. Alicia had seen her before. Last nightâ¦yesâ¦last night at the hotel disco, dirty dancing withâ¦
Instinctively, she moved to the other side of the cabana to see the dead manâs face. It was him. The womanâs erotic dance partner. Alicia had watched them grinding to rhythmic beats. Sheâd been captivated by their provocative display of affection. Theyâd been the most beautiful couple at the disco. Both tanned, both strikingly blond.
Both murdered.
Had the killer been in the nightclub, too? Had he seen them dance? Had he followed them onto the beach? Had he crouched in the dark while theyâd kissed and touched and removed their clothes?
