The Bridge
His past is coming back to haunt him, and only one woman can bring this detective the redemption he needs in Carol Ericson's new miniseries, Brody Law. Under the Golden Gate, Elise Duran refused to be a serial killer's next victim. She was the first of the abducted to survive. And Detective Sean Brody was there to make sure a second chance wouldn't be necessary.As the elusive murderer sends them messages, both personal and gruesome, the point becomes clear: no one can escape death. But Sean's presence can't be any stronger as he shadows Elise while on the job–and off it–proving she couldn't have asked for a better protector. Though beneath his cool exterior Sean hides a troublesome secret. One that's absolutely to die for…
Читать The Bridge онлайн беплатно
He lifted one eyebrow. âIs that what you think this is all about? Protection? Securing a witness?â
The pulse in her wrist ticked up several notches. Could he feel it? âIâm the only witness you have right now.â
He chuckled in the back of his throat, and the low sound sent a line of tingles racing down to her toes.
âThe SFPD is not in the bodyguarding business. Weâre not going to put you in the Witness Protection Program. Everything Iâve done for you has been off the books and off the clock.â
She twisted her own napkin in her lap as she tilted her head back to take in his imposing figure. âWhyâd you do it?â
âDo you have to ask?â
CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carolâs head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readersâ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, âwhere romance flirts with danger.â
For Elise
and childhood imaginations that run wild.
Contents
Chapter One
He wanted to kill her.
âElise.â
The whispered name floated along the fog, mingled with it, surrounded her.
Her eyes ached with the effort of trying to peer through the milky white wisps that blanketed the San Francisco Bay shoreline, but if she couldnât see him, he couldnât see her.
And she planned to keep it that way.
A foghorn bellowed in the night, and she took advantage of the sound to make another move toward the waves lapping against the rocky shore. If she had to, sheâd wriggle right into the frigid waters of the bay.
She flattened herself against the sand, and the grains stuck to her lip gloss. It now seemed ages ago when sheâd leaned over the brightly lit vanity at the club applying it.
âElise, come out, come out wherever you are.â
His voice caused a new layer of goose bumps to form over the ones she already had from the cold, damp air. Her fingers curled around the scrubby plant to her right as if she could yank it out of the sand and use it as a weapon.
If he caught her, she wouldnât allow him to drag her back to his car. Sheâd fight and die here if she had to.
The water splashed and her tormenter cursed. He mustâve stepped into the bay. And he didnât like it.
She drove her chin into the sand to prop up her head and peered into the wall of fog. The lights on the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge winked at her. The occasional humming of a car crossing the bridge joined with the lapping of the water as the only sounds she could hear over the drumbeat of her heart.
And his voice when he chose to speak, a harsh whisper, all traces of the refined English accent heâd affected outside the club gone.
What a fool sheâd been to trust him.
Another footfall, too close for comfort. She held her breath. If he tripped over her, sheâd have to run, find another place to hide in plain sight. Or at least it would be plain sight if the fog lifted.
The damp cover made her feel as if they were the only two people in this hazy world where you couldnât see your hand two inches in front of your face.
Who would break first? The fog? Her? Or the maniac trying to kill her? Because she knew he wanted to kill her. She could hear the promise in his voice.
âElise?â
She wanted to scream at him to stop using her name in those familiar tonesâas if they were old friends. Instead of predator and prey.
She didnât scream. She pressed her lips together, and the sand worked its way into her mouth. She ground it between her teeth, anger shoving the fear aside for a moment.
If this guy thought sheâd give up, heâd picked the wrong target. The Durans of Montana were nobodyâs victims.
A breeze skittered across the bay, and debris tickled her face. White strands of fog swirled past her, and for the first time since sheâd hurled herself from the trunk of her captorâs car, she could see the shapes of scrubby plants emerge from the mist.
She swallowed a sob. When sheâd least expected or wanted it, the cursed San Francisco fog was rolling out to sea.
A low chuckle seemed to come at her from all directions. He knew it, too.
Time to make a move.
Elise pinned her arms to her sides and propelled herself into a roll. Once she had the momentum, the rest was easy as she hit a slight decline to the water.
Arm. Back. Arm. Chest. Around and around she rolled. She squeezed her eyes shut and scooped in a breath of air. Her preparations didnât make the impact any easier.
