Look-Alike. Rita Herron

her, crawled onto the bed beside her and pulled her in his arms. She tensed, but he whispered for her to rest. Finally she closed her eyes and burrowed against his chest. He rocked her back and forth, savoring the soft weight of her in his embrace and the sultry scent of her femininity as he held her tight.

      Tomorrow he’d call the M.E. Tomorrow he’d find the answers. Tonight…tonight he’d hold her and pretend she was his wife.

      Devil’s Ravine

       Midnight

      HE COMBED THE DESERTED STREETS of the small town, his heart heavy in his chest. One sinner had met with glory today. But his work wasn’t done. There were so many more. Standing on the street corners trussed up in their high heels and short skirts, skin and cleavage flashing boldly for all the world to see. And then there were the others.

      Disguised as faithful lovers and wives but cheating like whores.

      They filled the bars from Savannah to Atlanta, all the way to the mountains of North Georgia. Even in this small town where Southern hospitality was supposed to breed friendship with your neighbors, sin had taken over. The town had secrets. The friendships had gotten out of control…not friendships at all, but sordid, twisted relationships.

      Nausea rifled through him at the realization that he wanted them anyway. But he must fight his own lustful cravings.

      He raised the woman’s wedding ring and stared at the simple gold band, the circle that represented the unbroken ties that bound woman to man in marriage.

      Her marriage had been broken. She had betrayed her vows, flitted from one bed to another.

      And she had had to pay.

      Just as the others would for their indiscretions.

      He entered the church, his head bowed, his face hidden by his hood. He had been raised in the church. He believed in the Bible. Had testified so many times to others and preached sermons on goodness and mercy. On fidelity.

      Time to confess his own sins. Receive forgiveness.

      Then he’d take another.

      Chapter Three

      Black Mountain Research Hospital

       Near Raven’s Peak

      “The Collier woman is missing?”

      “Yes.” Dr. Hubert Hollinsby glared at his coworker, Omar White, as he paced the confines of his office, one hand pressed to his chest where a sharp pain seized him. Their associates had long gone home, but he and White were chained to their lies and had to discuss the matter. You should have killed her when you had the chance. “I’d like to know how she escaped.”

      “It doesn’t matter how,” Dr. White said in a low, derisive tone. “What matters is the damage she can do to us.”

      “You mean to me?” Hollinsby’s chest tightened again as if a vise gripped it from the inside and was twisting the blood vessels into knots. If she figured out the truth about what had happened to her, about his work, and that he’d sent her to Nighthawk Island, it would be the end of his career. Hell, he’d go to jail, and everything he’d struggled to obtain would blow up in smoke. Not to mention the ruin of his personal life…

      “My reputation is at stake here, too. The whole damn hospital’s is,” White snapped. “I warned you against becoming involved with a patient. You let yourself get personal with a woman and she ruins you.”

      Hollinsby shot him another murderous look, the visual image of his statement cutting too close. But Nora’s lovely face materialized in his mind, and instantaneous lust surged to his groin.

      It had been impossible not to get involved with her. She was a sex siren. When she played her sultry song, men traipsed after her as if she’d cast a spell on them just like the children who’d followed the Pied Piper. Good, sane, rational men lost all sense around her. They had to have her—even happily married professionals like himself forgot about their wives. She had even convinced him to join that swingers group, the one that met online.

      Hell, maybe he should have conducted a study on Nora’s pheromones; maybe there was something in her body chemistry that made a man’s sex harden and his brain turn to mush the minute she wiggled that tight little butt of hers.

      Sweat trickled down his jaw, his body craving her again. He’d already made several phone calls. “I’ll find her and fix everything.” He glanced around his cluttered office, to the tops of the stacks of notes, to the computer, to the various research studies and files on his desk. After ten years of study, he’d finally created an amazing, original, unprecedented project that had rocked White’s stuffy opinion of him. But now the entire project might be scratched. And all because he’d screwed that damn woman.

      White removed his glasses and tucked them into the top of his lab coat. “You’d better fix it fast. If anyone starts nosing around here, you’re on your own. This facility is just getting off the ground. In fact, it took me two years to convince the folks at the Coastal Island Research Park to fund a branch here, and I don’t intend for it to be shut down because you couldn’t keep your pants zipped.”

      “It was more than that,” Hollinsby argued. “And you know it. I had the perfect opportunity to test my theory—”

      “Yeah, and you’d better pray your experiment worked. Because if this woman starts remembering things, then you’re history around here.”

      Hollinsby gripped his chest again. If she started remembering things, if she talked, he’d take care of her, then go overseas. Someone there would be interested in his work. And maybe they wouldn’t care if he’d ignored ethics in order to achieve the results.

      A knock punctuated the tension in the room, and his secretary, Jayne, poked her head inside, a newspaper in her hand. “There’s…uh, something you should see, Dr. Hollinsby.”

      He strode toward her, yanked the paper from her hand and stared at the front page.

      “Dead woman found at Devil’s Ravine near Raven’s Peak. Authorities have identified her as Caitlin Collier….”

      The paper fluttered to the floor, the pain splintering his chest like a knife ripping into him. No, it couldn’t be….

      Caitlin dead?

      Or was the woman Nora?

      

      CAITLIN TOSSED AND TURNED in a fitful sleep, trying to escape her nightmares, but she was thrust back into the horror of the past few weeks.

      She was running for her life. Someone was following, chasing her, he was so close…. No, he’d chained her down inside a white room, the walls were closing around her.

      Then she was imprisoned on that island again. Gigantic trees blocked her way, the ocean raged below. Then she saw herself lying in that creek. Shadows framed her naked body. Blood dotted her skin and painted the water red. Her eyes were glazed, open in death.

      She jerked awake, trembling and disoriented. Where was she? That hospital?

      No, the room was dark, the walls made of logs, the embers of a fire glowing from the corner.

      Every limb and muscle in her body ached. She hugged the covers tighter, burrowing into the warmth, but fear overwhelmed her as memories of the day before bombarded her.

      A low groan rumbled, and she rolled over, her eyes widening, her pulse pounding. A man lay beside her, a scruffy, dark-haired man with beard stubble grazing his cheek, thick brown hair and the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes that pierced straight through her.

      She sank back, then realized in shock that she was naked beneath the quilts. Her hands fisted into the thick covers, a sob welling in her throat.

      This man was Sheriff Miles Monahue of Raven’s Peak. He had found that other woman’s body, had identified it as her. But it was her sister…Nora. Or was she Nora?

      A dull pain throbbed