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Back The Runaway Heiress
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR MEG TILLY AND HER NOVELS
  3. TITLES BY MEG TILLY
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. Excerpt from SOLACE ISLAND
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. 4
  74. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  75. What’s next onyour reading list?

Kevin stared at the vehicle. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He’d taken a leave of absence from the job, been flying since the crack of dawn. Two flights for this? He’d been so goddamned certain he was closing in on his prey. What a laugh. Kevin felt like beating the crap out of someone. He walked to the back of the car and glanced at the plates. The numbers matched with the information he’d acquired on Solace Island. He shook his head. This was looking more and more like another wild-goose chase. Sarah had exquisite taste. She wouldn’t be caught dead in this rust-ridden beater with its peeling paint and dent in the rear fender. He felt the acid rising in his gut, stuck his hand in his front pocket and flipped another Rolaid off the roll with his thumbnail, popped the disk in his mouth, and ground it into a chalky powder on his back molars.

He watched Detective Luna disappear into the building, then ambled to the driver’s door. Dead end or not, he was there. Might as well check the damned car out. Unlocking the door took thirty seconds max. That was the beauty of those old cars’ locks, so easy to unlatch. He opened the door and got in, more for protection from the rain than anything. It was pelting down at an angle, so he slammed the door shut behind him, leaned back in the worn seat, and exhaled long and loud. He swiped the rain from his face, refilled his lungs, and that’s when his instincts started tingling. At last! Adrenaline rocketed through him. The last four years of searching were finally paying off, because he was pretty damn certain he was sitting in Sarah’s car. He turned, slid down, his knees hitting the floor so he could press his face into the seat. He inhaled again, long and deep, his eyes narrowed, focusing hard. Yes. He could smell the scent of her embedded in the upholstery. She must have been driving this old clunker awhile. He settled back into the driver’s seat, laughed out loud, feeling as though he’d just snorted a line of pure cocaine. His wife was in the Los Angeles area . . . and so was he. It was only a matter of time.

Kevin shook the rain off his briefcase. Then he snapped the locks open, pulled the fingerprint set out, and got to work. His gut told him it wasn’t necessary, but additional confirmation never hurt.

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