Death's Door. Meryl Sawyer

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      “It’s possible your life is in danger.” “It’s possible your life is in danger.” Paul took one of her hands in both Paul took one of her hands in both of his. of his.

      She didn’t believe it, but the intensity in his eyes told her that he was dead serious. Madison liked to think she could take care of herself, and she could, but something cracked inside her. Knowing Paul cared appealed to her softer feminine side—the side she liked to deny having.

      His expression darkened with an unreadable emotion. “So much is going on, a perfect storm of events, and you’re at the center. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

      His look was so galvanizing it sent a tremor through her. The concern reflected in his eyes became smoldering desire. She was gathered against a warm, rock-solid body and he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her urgently, hungrily, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She eased her arms around his shoulders and returned the kiss.

      In a heartbeat her blood thickened to warm honey. Kissing him was even better than she’d imagined….

      Praise for the work of

       MERYL SAWYER

      “Sawyer’s gift for building great and believable characters makes the danger they face all the more intense. Outstanding!”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Kiss of Death (4¹/2 stars, Top Pick)

      “Sawyer spins a tale to captivate and entertain.…Wonderfully crafty and extremely entertaining.”

      —Romance Reader’s Connection on Half Past Dead

      “Nail-biting suspense punctuates this thrilling romantic adventure. The name Meryl Sawyer is synonymous with exceptional romantic suspense.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Better Off Dead

      “A riveting work of romantic suspense…near perfection.”

      —Publishers Weekly on Tempting Fate

      “Meryl Sawyer has become a brand name known for taut, sexy and very intriguing romantic suspense.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Closer Than She Thinks

      “A page-turner…glamour, romance and adventure on a grand scale.”

      —Publishers Weekly on Promise Me Anything

      “Count on Meryl Sawyer to deliver a fast-paced thriller filled with sizzling romance.”

      —New York Times bestselling author Jill Marie Landis

      Death’s Door

      Meryl Sawyer

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      This book is dedicated to Dave Wells

       and to my close friends, Pamela and Ricki.

       Where would I be without your friendship?

       A special thank-you also

       to the real Keith Brooks Smith

       for his humor and his inspiration.

      The best way to love anything is as if it might be lost.

      —G. K. Chesterton

      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

      CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

      CHAPTER THIRTY

      CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

      CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

      CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

      EPILOGUE

      PROLOGUE

      “THERE’LL NEVER BE another you.”

      The killer’s words were spoken softly, almost lost in the darkness. The dead were lucky. Death stopped time and their mistakes were ended. They were forever young and unchanged in the minds of those left behind. They were immortalized. Especially beauties like the woman slumped across the floor nearby.

      What might she have become?

      That unfulfilled promise would be seared into the memories of her loved ones. So young. So sad. So tragic.

      So necessary.

      Death meant life everlasting. Didn’t it?

      “Don’t look at her body. Don’t allow this to become personal,” whispered the killer.

      Death divides time like nothing else. Closing doors irreversibly. Before and after. No doubt her family, friends, a lover—if she had one—would always say her name accompanied by those words. Never, ever would “before” return.

      Silent as a shadow, the killer moved toward the door, unable to resist a quick look back. Inhaling deeply, the killer absorbed the sweet perfume of death.

      Take it in. Make it last until the next time.

      This murder had been much harder and messier than the others, but in a way the difficulty of the task—the challenge—made the kill more satisfying. Life did not go smoothly. Why should death?

      Had the dead woman seen this coming? the killer wondered. People believed terrible things happened to others—not them. Still, humans did retain remnants of their ancestors’ primitive instincts. Fear—first among those vestiges of survival. She must have sensed…something.

      THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES earlier, at almost three in the morning, the victim had driven up the short, narrow driveway. Her front porch light must have burned out. She had turned it on before leaving, hadn’t she?

      It was difficult to remember just what she’d done when she’d raced out of the house to meet the others. She’d been too keyed up to pay much attention to anything but what she had been instructed to wear. A black stocking cap to go with her black pants and T-shirt and black soft-soled shoes. They promised to provide the night-vision goggles and latex gloves.

      She idled in the driveway, gazing