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Back Seconds to Live Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  44. Chapter Forty
  45. Chapter Forty-One
  46. Acknowledgments
  47. About the Author

She shoved the gear stick into drive. “I want you to submit to drug and alcohol testing.”

“OK.” No hesitation or surprise in his voice. Just pure resignation, as if her request was exactly what he’d expected. He went quiet for the rest of the drive.

Was that because he was innocent? Or guilty?

Fifteen minutes later, she parked in the ER lot. He opened the car door and stepped out into the humid night.

Stella got out of the car. “Eventually you’re going to tell me how you got that gunshot wound.” Among other things . . .

He shut the car door and walked away.

“Hold on.” Stella locked her vehicle and hurried to catch up. “I’m coming with you.”

And she wasn’t leaving him until she had some answers.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The ER was Wednesday-night slow, and Mac didn’t have to wait. An hour later, the doctor had finished restitching Mac’s wound.

He eased back onto the pillow in his hospital bed, his side blissfully numb from the local anesthetic. For the first time since he’d been shot two days before, Mac wasn’t split in two with pain. The downside of less physical discomfort was that the empty space left plenty of room for grief over the deaths of his father and Cheryl.

And the image of the woman lying in the rain was seared into his optic nerve. He couldn’t get it out of his head. Had he actually seen a woman, or had his mind summoned an image of Cheryl dying in the rain forest?

He was sure of one thing: he’d seen too much death in the past few days.

Sorrow came rushing back with a vengeance. Tension in his chest clamped around his lungs.

“Hello?” Stella’s voice sounded from the other side of the curtain.

Relieved at the distraction, Mac said, “Come in.”

The curtain shifted as she stepped up to the side of the gurney.

Stella Dane.

Her black slacks and blazer were damp and wrinkled. The downpour had destroyed her uptight bun. He knew instantly why she wore it up. Wet tendrils fell past her shoulders, framing her face and highlighting her gorgeous blue eyes. The shiny wave of black made a man want to plunge his fingers into it, cup the back of her head with both hands, take control of that serious mouth and kiss her until the cop in her eyes melted.

As far as distractions went, it didn’t get much better than Stella. The first time he’d seen her, she’d been in full uniform. No cop had ever made a uniform look like she had, but body armor had concealed her shape. The new look definitely did not.

“Your new job suits you.” His comment surprised them both.