Author: Sharon Wray
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication Date: 9/24/2019
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“Twisty
plots, fantastic characters, and pitch-perfect pacing. Fabulous!” —ALLISON
BRENNAN, New York Times bestselling author
Her life
must be forfeit for his to be redeemed
Historian
Sarah Munro is not used to being shot at, but that’s just what happens while
she’s poking around cemeteries on Georgia’s Isle of Grace, searching for the
key to a centuries-old cipher. Her quest has unwittingly drawn the attention of
two deadly enemies intent on destroying each other—and anyone who gets in their
way.
Ex–Green
Beret Major Nate Walker is on a mission of his own: to restore the honor of his
men. To do that, he is required to stop Sarah—or one of his own men will die.
Caught in the middle of a deadly rivalry, Nate can’t afford to trust the woman
standing in his way. But his heart says he can’t afford not to…
Excerpt:
PROLOGUE
“The man bowed.” Sarah Munro hiked
her straw bag higher on
her shoulder and followed the officer down the Savannah Police Department’s
hallway. He held a cell phone to his ear, and she yanked his arm. “And a woman died
tonight.”
He
nodded, but his deep frown, as well as his dismissive wave, told her he wasn’t
too concerned about the murder. Or the fact that Sarah had found the body in
the Savannah Preservation Office’s courtyard fountain.
Was
a death in the historic district so commonplace that it didn’t warrant its own
investigator? Frustrated, she followed him around the corner toward the
second-floor landing when her cell phone buzzed. A text from her father. Where are
you?
She
halted near the stairs, her fingers hovering over the phone’s keyboard. She
debated how much to tell him. Then again, he probably already knew.
She
texted, I’ll be home
soon.
Someone
bumped her as they passed, and she moved closer to the vending machine that
carried only rows of Coke cans. Her officer stood nearby, talking on the phone,
while federal, state, and local LEOs congregated in groups around the open
area. Her father had told her that the city had numerous task forces, all
trying to combat the rising crime rate. She and her dad had returned to
Savannah nine months ago, and in that short time, they’d both noticed the
uptick in drug use and violence.
It’s
dark. I’ll come get you, her father texted back.
No.
Not only did she
not want her father worrying about her, he wasn’t supposed to drive. I’m leaving
soon. Drink your tea.
I hate that tea.
It tastes like sh*t.
Despite the ache
in her chest, she smiled. Yes, he hated the tea. Yet it was the only thing that
helped with his recurring seizures. And if he thought that being even more
cranky than usual meant she’d ease up on the herbal leaves, he was wrong. I don’t care.
Drink it.
She
glanced at her officer—who
was still on his phone—and debated leaving. If the cops wanted her statement,
they knew where she worked. The same place where a woman had been murdered. “I’m
leaving, Officer. But I know what I saw.”
He ignored her, and she turned toward the stairs.
“Sarah?”
A male voice cut through the station’s din, ringing phones, and metal chairs
scraping along seventy-year-old linoleum.
She
blinked one man into focus. Tall, broad shoulders, long blond hair tied at the
base of his neck, angular face, and deep, ocean-green eyes. The kind a girl
could lose herself in. “Nate?”
Was
that her breathy voice? She swallowed, and a warm flush rose from her neck to
her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why, but since meeting Nate Walker yesterday, she’d
felt shaky and incoherent and…restless.
Does
he know what I did to his map?
“I
heard what happened.” He touched her arm before shoving both hands in the front
pockets of his jeans. His biker jacket stretched across his shoulders, the
black leather rustling with the movement. “Are you okay?”
“I
wasn’t hurt.” She stared at the red-and-white vending machine and blinked.
Daughters of cops didn’t cry. They endured. “This is my fault, Nate. I’d
asked my assistant to do some research for me. I had no idea she was staying
late.”
“This
isn’t your fault.” He leaned in closer, the scar on his cheek appearing deeper
and more ragged. His pine-scented aftershave tickled her nose. “I’m sorry.”
She
wiped her palms on her chiffon skirt, relieved he didn’t seem to realize she’d
secretly photographed the seventeenth-century map he’d brought to the
preservation office for her to look at. The map included the only layout she’d
ever seen of the remote, colonial-era Cemetery of Lost Children on the Isle of
Grace. Even though the property’s owner—and Nate himself—had both told her to
stay away, she was determined to visit as soon as possible.
She
was a terrible person. “My dad was a police chief in Boston, so unfortunately
I’m used to things like this. I’d just hoped Savannah was safer.”
“Nate?”
A man built like a wrestler with long, black, braided hair yelled from the
lobby on the first floor. “We gotta go, man.”
Nate
ignored him and kept his attention on her mouth. “I couldn’t help but overhear.
What did you see?”
She
licked her lips. “You’d never believe me.” She wasn’t sure she believed it
herself. Loud voices downstairs distracted her. Two military policemen in full
uniform and carrying weapons had entered the station. “That’s odd. What do you
think they want?”
Nate
took her hand and led her into a nearby alcove. “What did you see?”
She
pressed her hands against his chest. His heart pounded, and he radiated heat
like an engine revving. “What are you doing?”
“Nate?”
The man with the braid ran up the stairs. “Time to go. Now.”
“Please,
Sarah. Tell me.”
The
MPs were right behind Nate’s buddy.
“In
the shadows, I saw a man bow.”
She
heard Nate’s sharp inhale right before he kissed her, his gentle hands on her
shoulders at odds with his demanding lips. His warmth wrapped her in an erotic
haze and he tasted like mint and summer breezes.
Had
she moaned? Good golly Moses.
“Excuse
me, ma’am.”
Nate broke off
the kiss because the man with the braid had taken his arm and dragged him down
the hallway to the emergency exit, the MPs on their heels. Chills scurried
along her arms, and she wrapped her sweater around herself. She touched her
swollen lips, still stunned. Still tasting his peppermint mouthwash. Still
inhaling his scent that reminded her of freshly cut grass and pine trees.
Nate glanced at
her before he hit the metal exit and disappeared. The door slammed shut with a
loud reverb. Apparently, he’d locked it as well. When the MPs couldn’t force it
open, they turned and ran past her, one of them brushing her skirt as they
headed toward the stairs.
What do MPs want
with Nate Walker?
“Miss Munro?” The
officer who’d been ignoring her touched her elbow. “I’m ready for your
statement.”
She
pulled away, her attention on the MPs racing out the front doors. She was a
woman who sought the truth in both her professional and personal life. But
tonight’s revelation was more than a cheap magazine tell-all. It was an earth-shattering event that
stripped away the delusions she’d been carrying her entire adult life. One delusion
in particular: when Nate’s lips had touched hers, she discovered she’d never
truly understood what it meant to be kissed.
“Ma’am?”
She
nodded. She’d give her statement. Then go home to her father. But as she
followed the officer into an interrogation room, she couldn’t help but wonder
if she’d ever see Nate again. No. If she was being honest with herself, which
she always tried to be, she wondered if she’d ever kiss Nate again.
***
Excerpted from One Dark Wish by Sharon
Wray. © 2019 by Sharon Wray. Used with permission of
the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca,
an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
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About the author:
Sharon Wray is a librarian/archivist who studied dress design in
the couture houses of Paris and now writes stories of adventure, suspense, and
love. She’s a three-time Daphne du Maurier® winner and an eight-time RWA Golden
Heart® Finalist. Visit her online at sharonwray.com.
Sharon lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, teenage twins, and Donut
the Family Dog.
Author: Ember Leigh
