Prologue

February, one year ago …

He closed his eyes and listened to her voice, the way he always did when the camera moved from her to the invited guest or flicked to some B-roll of the story she was relating. He didn’t need to know about another school shooting, or the kittens rescued from a storm drain. Just her. That was all he watched the news for.

Marley Locke. Her soft, sweet features, her dark blonde hair, curling to her shoulders in soft waves, her eyes so full of warmth and empathy.

Those pink lips. The swell of her breasts in the stylish, expensive blouse.

Christ, he wanted her. He’d always wanted her. Ever since that day at college when he’d walked into the library at Harvard and seen her.

No one had come close to her … ever. With his looks, his money, his position in New York’s Upper East Side, he could have had anyone, and he’d had plenty.

But there was always that one. The one who got away. The girl in the pink T-shirt. The library at the college had been quiet and peaceful. She had been alone in one of the aisles, reading. She’d looked up as he approached. She had been small, slim, and very young, maybe seventeen, eighteen. She had smiled at him. She was lovely, not merely pretty, but achingly beautiful, her large eyes a deep brown, the pink curve of her mouth warm and friendly. Her hair, a dark brown cloud, hanging almost to her waist, had been soft and messy. She had taken his breath away.

She was the one he’d been looking for. He had stepped toward her.

And just like that, she was gone. A voice behind him had called her and she’d smiled her goodbyes and walked past him. Less than thirty seconds, and his life had been forever changed.

And now she was on his television every night. This evening, though, things would be different. He knew where to find her; he knew where to take her. His place out in the countryside was secluded and secure. She would learn to love it there.

He opened his eyes as he heard the reporter hand back to Marley. He smiled when he saw her beautiful face again.

Tonight, my darling, tonight …

Before you start reading!

Check out my new romance novel

Marley closed out the news with a smile and waited until the camera told them they were off-air. “Thanks, everyone.” She grinned at them as the floor staff clapped her. She was one of the few anchors that treated everyone the same and always was friendly and courteous. Marley laughed off their applause, ignoring her co-anchor when he bitched about them.

Her assistant, Rae, giggled as Marley grabbed her and twirled her around.

“Somebody’s in a good mood.”

Marley put her friend down and they walked back to her dressing room. “You bet I am. Cory’s picking me up and we’re going to have two blissful weeks of nothing but sun, sea, sand, and dirty dirty sex.”

Rae laughed. “I’m not jealous at all. Really, really not.”

Marley chuckled. “I’m sorry, boo. I shouldn’t gloat but God, I have been looking forward to this forever.”

“Listen, you deserve it. Between you and me? I’ve been worried that you’re working too hard.”

“Nah,” Marley grinned at her. “You know I live and breathe the news. Listen, while we’re sharing secrets … when I come back, I’m going to ask Jerry if I can take on some more investigative journalism. I love being anchor, but I miss being out in the field too.”

Rae smiled at her. She was in her fifties, African-American, and the cream-of-the-cream of personal assistants. She and Marley had clicked immediately on meeting a year ago and had been inseparable since. She chatted with Marley now as Marley changed into jeans and a T-shirt and got ready to meet her boyfriend. She and Cory Wheeler had been together for two years now and were as in love as they had ever been. Marley knew he was the one, his fun-loving and fiercely intelligent personality so matching her in everything they did.

Cory arrived soon after and she kissed him, lingering over the embrace. He grinned down at her, his dark brown eyes merry and excited. “You ready, baby?”

“Lead on, gorgeous man.”

They held hands as they walked out of the building to the waiting cab, and it wasn’t until she heard her name being called that Marley turned around to see the man waiting behind them. She began to smile, her automatic response to any fans who waited for her outside the studio.

Then everything seems to slow down, as she saw the gun. She heard Cory’s shout, heard the gunshot, saw Cory’s chest explode. She screamed her rage as the man leveled the gun at her, and she lunged at him.

Pain.

Her vision went black.

In the morning, in the hospital, after hours of surgery, they told her. Cory was dead and the man who had killed him and shot her was gone. Missing. In the wind.

And Marley knew she would never feel the warmth of happiness or the feeling of being safe again.