Six years. Thirteen murders. One connection.
To escape the pain of her past, Casey Martinez, changed her name, and moved across half a continent to pursue her dream of becoming a bestselling novelist.
Casey’s hard won peace is shattered when she receives photographs of a grisly murder, and it becomes evident that a killer is stalking her. Over the past six years, women who share an eerie similarity to Casey have been found raped and mutilated—each with the remains of Casey’s romance books by their side. Haunted by the death of her mother twenty five years earlier, Casey reluctantly seeks refuge in the town she swore she would never return to—Rosehill, Texas.
Detective Scott Weller is assigned to protect Casey, and it's no easy job dealing with the stubborn, independent woman who wants nothing to do with him. But living in such close quarters leads to temptation neither can resist. When Casey is attacked during a break-in, evidence points to a second stalker. With the gruesome discovery of another body, it becomes a race against time to find the real killer before Casey becomes the next victim.
Casey glanced at the clock next to her bed and sighed. Sleep was a luxury she didn’t pack for this trip.
Tossing the blankets aside, she crawled out of bed and grabbed her cigarettes from the end table. She had left the window open so she could listen to the sounds of the night and the crash of waves, hoping they would lull her to sleep. But three hours later, she was still wide awake.
After lighting a cigarette, she climbed out of the window and stood on the deck. A gusty breeze blew in from the beach, carrying the lingering odor of burning wood from the bonfire. She waited a moment, straining to listen for Scott. She'd heard him go into his bedroom an hour after she did, but that didn't mean he wouldn't hear her. The man had built-in radar where she was concerned. She didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed.
Satisfied he wasn’t nearby, she crept down the stairs to the deck below, feeling much like a thief on the prowl. The trill of crickets and cicadas broke through the silence of the night. The waves rolled in the distance like a subtle applause. She moved to the edge of the patio to watch them curl inshore. The full moon glistened an endless trail on the water. Lights from the oil-rigs glowed in the distance like a cityscape.
The conversation she'd had with Scott earlier played back in her head. In two weeks it would be June. If his theory was right, in two weeks she could be dead.
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