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Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
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  19. 15
  20. 16
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  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The woman explosively emptied her stomach down his back, gave a gasp, another, another, and when he flipped her back onto the sand, she opened her eyes, looked at him—and screamed.

She screamed as if all the screams in the world had been pent up inside her, as if she had given terror and horror a voice.

He jumped back and held up his hands in a not going to touch you gesture.

She rolled over onto her hands and knees, coughed up more seawater, took a long breath as if preparing to scream again...and slowly let the air out. She turned her head. The braid of her dark drenched hair hung over her shoulder. Her eyes...one was blue, one was brown.

Just out of reach, he knelt on the sand. “Can you speak?”

She stared as if she didn’t understand. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she spoke another language. Maybe she’d suffered brain damage from lack of oxygen. Maybe—

“Yes,” she said. “I can speak.” She was hoarse. She put a hand up to her throat and held it there, cupping her injuries as if she didn’t understand what had caused them.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She stared harder at him, and if she hadn’t already spoken, he would again wonder if she spoke English at all. Keeping his voice pitched low, trying hard to present an unthreatening appearance, he asked again, “What’s your name?”

Slowly, moving with the care of someone battered and bruised, she changed positions. She sat on the sand and concentrated on him, her hand still on her throat.

Again he began to ask.

“I don’t know.” Her unusually colored eyes were wide with confusion and terror.

He sat back on his heels.

Adam Ramsdell had found his first lost soul.

6

ADAM STOPPED THE ATV by his outdoor shower, the one he utilized to wash off the salt and sand of every beach visit. He set the brake and turned to the woman beside him.

The seat belt was the only thing holding her in the seat. The climb up the cliff had taken whatever strength she could summon and had left him drenched with sweat and cursing his luck. Not that he was unhappy about bringing a woman back to life, but with vomit down his back and in his shoes, and a trembling awareness that his own stamina was close to failing him, too... Well, as if he needed another reminder of what had happened five years ago.

At least this time, he had saved the woman.

“Let’s get you in the shower. While you wash the worst of the ocean away, I’ll call emergency medical. They’ll transport you to the hospital—”