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“I’m not capable of love. If you want love, you’ve got the wrong man.”
Glenna fought back a rush of tears. She didn’t want to hear any more. Reality was shifting again, and she was afraid of where it would stop. “No, Rafe. You’re a good man….”
“I know what I am, Glenna!”
He took her hand and dragged her fingers over his scars. “For once, take a really good look at these. Do you see how deep and ugly they are?”
His grip verged on painful. She knew he wasn’t aware of it, just as he wasn’t aware of the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “Rafe—”
“They’re twisted. They’re repugnant.” He slapped her hand against his chest. “But those scars aren’t half as ugly as what’s in here.”
Dear Reader,
This month we have something really special on tap for you. The Cinderella Mission, by Catherine Mann, is the first of three FAMILY SECRETS titles, all of them prequels to our upcoming anthology Broken Silence and then a twelve book stand-alone FAMILY SECRETS continuity. These books are cutting edge, combining dark doings, mysterious experiments and overwhelming passion into a mix you won’t be able to resist. Next month, the story continues with Linda Castillo’s The Phoenix Encounter.
Of course, this being Intimate Moments, the excitement doesn’t stop there. Award winner Justine Davis offers up another of her REDSTONE, INCORPORATED tales, One of These Nights. A scientist who’s as handsome as he is brilliant finds himself glad to welcome his sexy bodyguard—and looking forward to exploring just what her job description means. Wilder Days (leading to wilder nights?) is the newest from reader favorite Linda Winstead Jones. It will have you turning the pages so fast, you’ll lose track of time. Ingrid Weaver begins a new military miniseries, EAGLE SQUADRON, with Eye of the Beholder. There will be at least two follow-ups, so keep your eyes open so you don’t miss them. Evelyn Vaughn, whose miniseries THE CIRCLE was a standout in our former Shadows line, makes her Intimate Moments debut with Buried Secrets, a paranormal tale that’s as passionate as it is spooky. And Aussie writer Melissa James is back with Who Do You Trust? This is a deeply emotional “friends become lovers” reunion romance, one that will captivate you from start to finish.
Enjoy! And come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romance around—right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Leslie J. Wainger
Executive Senior Editor
Eye of the Beholder
Ingrid Weaver
INGRID WEAVER
admits to being a sucker for old movies and books that can make her cry. A Romance Writers of America RITA® Award winner for Romantic Suspense, and a national bestselling author, she enjoys creating stories that reflect the adventure of falling in love. When she and her husband aren’t dealing with the debatable joys of living in an old farmhouse, you’ll probably find Ingrid going on a knitting binge, rattling the windows with heavy metal or rambling through the woods in the back forty with her cats.
To Mark,
who makes life an adventure.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 1
The pilot’s blood spattered Glenna’s cheek, hot, wet and smelling like copper. Other passengers screamed, but Glenna couldn’t make a sound. The gun that was pressed to her windpipe cut off her breath.
“Ten minutes,” the man in the cockpit doorway yelled into his phone. “You give me an answer in ten minutes or we shoot another one.”
This couldn’t be happening, Glenna thought. No. It couldn’t be real. Any minute now she would wake up to the squeal of her alarm and the aroma from her coffeemaker and the chess problem in the morning paper and—
The pilot thumped to the floor. His white shirt turned crimson. Blood pulsed from the black-rimmed hole in his chest to form a gleaming pool at Glenna’s feet.
It was no dream. It was as real as the red stain that crept up the ivory leather of her high heels. Her legs turned to rubber, but she locked her knees to keep herself upright. She couldn’t fall apart. She never fell apart. She was levelheaded Glenna Hastings, always in control, no matter what problems were thrown her way. She couldn’t let herself show weakness, even if her stomach was congealing to ice and bile was burning her throat.
“Please…” It hurt to talk. She tried to swallow past the cold metal that was jammed to her throat. “Please, let me help him.”
They didn’t. The leader, the one with the phone, issued orders in an unfamiliar language. Two men stepped forward and dragged the fallen man to the open doorway. There was no staircase.
Oh, no. They couldn’t really mean to drop him—
Glenna winced at the sound of the pilot’s body hitting the pavement. Would he make it? Or would his life bleed away on the steaming tarmac before help could reach him?
He had tried to be a hero. Despite his white hair and his grandfatherly paunch, he had done his best to resist the men who had broken through the cockpit door and commandeered his plane. His efforts had earned him a bullet.
Was that what fate had in store for the rest of them? Would they be nothing but statistics on the evening news, faceless names to be read in somber tones, then promptly forgotten?
“You!” Someone propelled her forward with a rifle butt between her shoulder blades. “Stand here in front of the door.”
Glenna stumbled to obey them, grabbing the edge of the doorway for balance as she glimpsed the still form below her. A whimper rose in her throat, but she suppressed it. She couldn’t fall apart, she repeated to herself. She couldn’t.
She squinted against the blaze of afternoon sunlight, straining to fill her lungs with tropical air that was thick enough to spoon. Through shimmers of heat, she glimpsed a squat gray building with a glass tower and a drooping wind sock. A chain-link fence separated the runway from the rest of the airport. As she watched, a white van—an ambulance—rolled slowly through the gate and approached the plane.
Her heart had been slamming against her ribs in an exhausting sprint for the past eight hours. She hadn’t thought it was possible for her pulse to speed up…yet it did.
This was the first sign of outside help since the plane had landed on this godforsaken spot. It wasn’t much—what good could some paramedics do against maniacs with guns? Yet at least it was something. It meant the passengers and crew weren’t completely alone. And if the hijackers allowed someone to give aid to their first victim, then maybe there was hope for the rest of the hostages.
There was a sudden spate of conversation from the hijacker with the phone. The ambulance came to a stop twenty yards from the plane.