When Seth Harper wakes up next to a bloody, very dead body,
he's shocked and soon accused of killing the woman. The
problem is, he can't remember anything about what happened
that night.
Bounty hunter Jessie Beckett steps in to help Seth, who
used to work for her, putting his exceptional computer
talent on the line. But it's going to be tough to prove his
innocence -- and not because of his sketchy memory. Seth has
always held back any personal information and even faced
with dire consequences, he still isn't spilling anything.
But few are as determined as Jessie, who badgers him until
she finally gets information on who he was meeting at a bar
the night of the murder.
Jessie and Seth are on a perilous course to prove he didn't
kill the woman, and they're running up against a well-
organized group that doesn't want any interference.
Eventually, they both face parts of their past that lead to
the answers -- if they can survive.
This sharply written book by Jordan Dane is the
second in a series -- and just as good as the first. I like
Dane's writing and characterization. Don't look for much
sappy, feel-good stuff in these books. Instead, you'll get
lots of action, suspense and quite a few good thrills.
Facing the nightmare of their past is the only way out...
Mysterious computer wizard Seth Harper awakens in a bloody
motel room to find he's not alone. The vacant eyes of a
grisly corpse stare accusingly at him-the body of a young
woman. Seth becomes the prime suspect for a heinous murder.
If only he could remember what happened.
His former employer, bounty hunter Jessie Beckett, is
determined to prove his innocence despite his gaps in
memory. But when Seth is reluctant to reveal his own dark
secrets, she must earn his deepest trust. Against all odds,
she's in an uphill battle to save him-the man she hasn't
stopped thinking about since he disappeared from her life.
But his plight is not what it seems. And both Jessie and
Seth must confront the demons of their pasts-in the place
where their nightmares began-before Seth becomes a
sacrificial lamb to a ruthless killer. With one fatal
mistake, more innocent lives could wind up on the wrong
side of dead.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Dirty Monty's Lounge—South Side of Chicago—Thursday 9:20
p.m. Late Summer
At the end of the bar Seth Harper slouched, nursing his
lukewarm beer and keeping his dark eyes on the door,
waiting. Not even a good beer buzz made him forget why
he'd come—or why he still sat alone.
Given the grand scheme of the universe, he distracted
himself by contemplating the big picture. Dirty Monty's
and places like it existed for a reason. And several
libations had given him the clarity of mind to reflect on
it. Sleazy dumps gave the socially unacceptable a place to
hang out, even on a Thursday night. And if these folks
packed a thirst, Monty's served the cheap stuff and
charged enough to trick its marginal clientele into
believing it was worth it. When alcohol was involved,
things always got real simple. And he appreciated the
irony of his half-tanked epiphany, especially since he'd
be counted among the socially unacceptable here tonight.
But he was a few beers shy of being easily duped by any
redeeming nature of the shoddy bar. The pungent odor of
cigarette smoke, liquor and cheap perfume had marked him.
And the carpet smelled of mold, a borderline improvement
over the collective tang of the bar patrons. His dark
tousled hair, well-worn jeans and favorite black Jerry
Springer tee already reeked of the bar's seedier elements.
And well into the night, he'd be hearing a steady thrum of
bass in his ears, courtesy of the non-stop jukebox music—a
mix of country, classic heavy metal and top 40 pop. He
sighed and stared into his beer mug, bracing himself to
accept what had happened and hail a cab home.
What the hell are you doing? The question had stuck in his
head and reminded him he'd been played for a sucker. She
wasn't coming this time.
And insult to injury, the piss factor had kicked in again.
Every time the bartender shot tonic into a glass or hit
the spigot for a draught beer, Seth's bladder reacted. He
made a quick trip to drain the vein and slumped back on
his stool. But after another fifteen minutes of nursing
his beer and a fragile spirit—shifting his gaze between
the front door and his watch—Seth decided to call it a
night. He downed the rest of his drink and fumbled in his
pocket for a tip.
As he stood, he caught sight of a blond woman near the
door.
It had to be her, but from where he stood, her face had
morphed into an unrecognizable blur. He narrowed his eyes
and struggled for a better look, but nothing more would
come. When he moved toward her, he staggered against the
edge of the bar, feeling lightheaded. The sensation took
him by surprise. He hadn't drunk that much.
"What ... the hell?" he slurred.
When the room undulated in shadows, he knew something was
terribly wrong. He felt sluggish and weak. Out of sync
voices and warped music amplified into an irritating
blare. He looked around, but everything was the same.
Faces of strangers and the distant memory of a blond woman
jutted in and out of the dark, distorted and overlapping
in a jumbled mess. Blinking hard, he couldn't change what
he saw. Colors bled from the ceiling and walls and created
a macabre and shifting canvass.
Fear took a firmer grip.
"Help ... m-me."
He imagined calling out, but wasn't sure the words were
his. Could anyone hear him? His arms went slack. And when
standing became a chore, he collapsed. Before he hit the
floor, strong hands grabbed him. He turned to look for a
face, but the room spiraled out of control. His world
switched off.
And he was powerless to stop it.
***
Hours Later
Seth stared into blackness, his thoughts the consistency
of primordial ooze. Although his brain sent a questionable
message to the rest of his body that he could move, he
chose not to try. His senses were gathering intel and he
was content to let the process happen at its own pace.
He blinked his eyes—slow and easy—the only motion he could
muster.
It took time for him to recognize that something else
moved in the dark. A faint edge of red stabbed through the
shadows, a light blinking at a steady and insistent
rhythm. He had no idea where it came from and didn't care.
The left cheek on his face hurt and his head throbbed at
the same measured beat as the light, inflicting a growing
ache from behind his eyes and through the base of his
skull. And with it, a chill sent a rush of pinpricks over
his skin that cut deeper, especially with his back pressed
against something cold and hard.
In front of him, images gradually took shape and emerged
from the dark like pieces of a puzzle. And like an artery,
the red light pulsed, repeatedly teasing him with a
glimpse and swiping it away. Crimson lunged across a
blanched palette like a strobe effect, capturing a wild
array of blotches that marred the surface. At first, the
scene over his head looked like a harmless rendition of an
artist gone berserk until a metallic sweet odor triggered
something else. Now a strong feeling of dread spoiled his
creeping drift through oblivion. Muddled thoughts
mercifully tempered the sensation, but he felt it all the
same.
Do something!
Urging his body to move, he lifted an arm and dropped a
hand to his belly, a sluggish awkward struggle. His
fingers felt dampness on his clothes. And a second bout
with the cold swept over him, starting his teeth to
chatter. He fumbled a hand to his cheek. It felt warm to
the touch and throbbed a little, but he had no idea why.
To get his blood moving, he rolled to his side and shoved
an elbow under him, the cold tile pressed hard against his
joint. When he lifted his head, dizziness caused a surge
of nausea. He almost gagged, but managed to control it.
What had happened? He pried through his memory, recalling
nothing of how he ended up here. And where was here? He
peered through the shadows of what looked like a cramped
bathroom. And beyond where he was, the remnants of a cheap
motel room, but none of it looked familiar.
Through it all, the flashing light persisted. Its grim
color doused everything. He looked across two small beds
and saw the light came from a window that had thin drapes
partially drawn. Outside, a neon vacancy sign flared its
message, but he couldn't see all of it. And after only a
quick glimpse, the light sent shards of pain through his
eye sockets and challenged his night vision. To recover,
he shifted his gaze to the dark corners of the bathroom
again, looking for anything that would trigger a memory.
Instead, he came face to face with a nightmare he would
never forget. Dead eyes stared back at him from the edge
of a tub, opened wide and accusing. A slack head tilted at
an odd and unnatural slant. A woman. Her mouth gagged with
a soiled towel. Dark hair matted to her head, a bloodied
mess.
"Holy shit!"
He gasped and shoved his back to the wall, scrambling for
a place to hide. But he couldn't turn his gaze from the
white filmy eyes and gaping mouth. A face frozen in terror
and awash in flashing crimson that stippled eerie shadows
over the corpse.
"No ... no. What ... ?" His mind couldn't grasp what he
saw.
The body smelled of violent death, the metallic sweet odor
tinged with something out of a sewer. And the artist's
blotches he had seen when he first opened his eyes had
morphed into the reality of blood splatter. He clutched at
his damp shirt and pulled away his hand to see it colored
by a dark substance. He knew in an instant that it was
blood.
"Oh, God."
This time Seth couldn't hold back. He emptied his stomach,
even knowing dead eyes stared down at him as he retched.
***
Sick and confused, Seth got to his feet and backed out of
the bloody bathroom, but the eyes of the dead body
followed him. He turned on the gruesome scene and
staggered off balance. To catch himself, he leaned a
shoulder into the doorjamb and gripped it with a hand. His
legs barely supported him. And even in a stupor, he
realized his brain was fried. Trusting his senses would be
out of the question.
When he stumbled into the next room, he caught the motion
of a shadow outside the window. He only had time to blink
but it was too late. A loud crack and the door burst open.
He lurched backward, his spine jammed against a wall, the
only thing that kept him from falling.
"Move ... MOVE!"
He heard a man yell and had no time to react. His heart
hammered the inside of his chest. And when he sucked air
into his lungs, he couldn't let it out. Everything
happened way too fast.
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