Read Whispers Online

Authors: Lisa Jackson

Whispers

ALONE IN THE WOODS
“Let me go, you bastard!” Tessa's heels dug into the dirt and caught on an exposed root. With a sickening rip, her blouse caught on a branch and tore.
He clamped a hand over her mouth and felt her teeth sink into his palm. But he didn't so much as flinch. Let her struggle all she wanted. Right now she was his. She was scared now, he could feel the change in her body, the tension. “Don't you know that no one messes with me, Tessa? Haven't you figured that one out yet?”
He dragged her over stones, past berry vines that clung and clawed, over fallen logs to a clearing where his car was parked. He was sweating and breathing hard, but they were far enough away from Dutch's house that even if she was stupid enough to scream, no one would hear her. She wouldn't win. No matter what.
With one hand he reached into his pocket and found his knife. With a click it was open, and he held it in front of her eyes. “Don't do something stupid and you won't get hurt . . .”
BOOKS BY LISA JACKSON
TREASURES
 
INTIMACIES
 
WISHES
 
WHISPERS
 
TWICE KISSED
 
UNSPOKEN
 
IF SHE ONLY KNEW
 
HOT BLOODED
 
COLD BLOODED
 
THE NIGHT BEFORE
 
 
 
 
 
Published by Zebra Books
LISA JACKSON
WHISPERS
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
To Anita. Agent. Mentor. Friend.
You will be missed but never forgotten.
Dear Reader
 
Okay, this is the first time I've done this, but I'm really excited about it. This book is a spanking brand new edition of WHISPERS, the story of three sisters and one deadly secret. I've completely revamped, retooled, and updated the book, including some new twists and turns to the plot. Essentially, the characters you love including Claire St. John and Kane Moran are still the same, still the center of the novel. I've just expanded the story line and notched up the suspense and tension a bit, adding new scenes and deeper insights into the minds and lives of the characters.
I think you'll like this new version, but be sure to let me know by writing me at my Web site
www.lisajackson.com
.
While you're on line, check out
www.themysterymansion.com
. , a Web site devoted to my books. This Web site is interactive, with games, puzzles, contests, and a quest. It will introduce you to characters in all of my books, including WHISPERS and allow you a chance to win some interesting prizes.
Thanks for reading WHISPERS. Whether it's your first time through it or the fifth, I hope you enjoy it!
 
Lisa Jackson
Part One
1996
Prologue
“Bitch.” Harley Taggert was drunk, but not drunk enough. He needed another bottle of champagne to dull the pain cutting through his soul and he stumbled as he walked along the deck of his father's sailboat. The night was clear, the salt smell of the ocean invading his nostrils, the boat gently rocking against its moorings. How could she do this to him? How could she give him back the goddamned ring?
Because she's a heartless bitch. She gave you back the ring didn't she?
He glanced down at his curled fist and saw the diamond ring winking in his sweaty palm and remembered pieces of her rehearsed speech about their relationship not working and her wanting to be “friends” or some such rot. Yeah, right. Like she was “friends” with Kane Moran, that two-bit hoodlum? She was probably on her way to screw Moran's brains out right now.
He squeezed his eyes shut and saw her face in his mind's eye. God she was beautiful, but then all the Holland women were.
Claire. Jesus. Why?
Damn it, he'd loved her.
More than he'd realized. More than he thought possible.
And she'd cheated on him.
With that low-life poor bastard.
Harley swayed a little as he reached the prow and looked skyward to the skeletal masts rising into the starry night. He felt tears sting his eyes and was ashamed. It was the champagne. Had to be. Because he was a man and men didn't ever cry—especially not the sons of Neal Taggert. Never them.
“Shit,” he muttered and looked westward past the bay to the open sea. He should leave. Forever. Or . . . do as he threatened and end it all. Just jump into the frigid water and breathe deep. That would show 'em. Or else he should have another drink . . . but first . . . he needed to get rid of the ring. With all his might he pulled his arm back and heaved the sickening diamond as far as he could throw and fell against the railing with the effort just as he heard a distinctive plop as the damned engagement ring settled into the depths of the bay. “Good riddance,” Harley muttered, pulling himself onto his feet as he felt rather than saw someone with him.
He turned quickly, but he was alone. No one had climbed aboard. No one lingered on the dock. It was just his mind playing weird games with him. The hot summer night was getting to him. Even the breath of wind rolling in from the Pacific was warmer than usual for summer in Oregon.
Another noise. From the dock. Fear zinged up his spine. He squinted but saw no one lingering beneath the lights strung over the worn planks. He was alone. Aside from the old coot dozing in the marina office and the people playing some old Eagles album . . . he was just jumpy—too many emotions and too much booze. Or not enough.
From the corner of his eye he saw movement and he twisted his head around in time to see a bony cat slip around a lamppost.
Get a grip. You're losin'it. man. Either jump into the water and end it or go back into the cabin and raid the old man's liquor cabinet. There's a fifth of Black Velvet with your name on it.
He took one step toward the cabin when he saw her . . . just a quicksilver image of a woman sliding quickly through the shadows. Every hair on the back of his neck rose. Had Claire returned? Rethought her heartless decision to cast him aside? Well, it was too fuckin' late . . . but . . . there was something wrong about her. It didn't seem right. Or was the champagne clouding his judgment. He blinked and she seemed to have disappeared. But he knew better. Felt her eyes—hidden condemning orbs. Whoever it was seemed used to slinking around and hiding in the shadows, someone who loved to spy. Someone who wasn't quite right. Someone like his sister.
Swallowing back his fear, he took a tentative step forward, toward the prow, easing closer to the railing. “Paige?” he called, hoping to sound steadier than he felt. “Is that you? Come on outta there—”
Something flashed by the side of his head and he turned quickly to see a gloved hand raised high. “What the hell?”
Bam!
“Die, bastard,” an evil voice snarled.
He caught a glimpse of a rock hoisted high.
Before he could move, it crashed down.
Bam!
Pain exploded in his skull.
White light flashed behind his eyes.
Harley staggered backward, blood running in his eyes, fear sliding down his spine. His hips hit the railing and he tried to catch himself, but it was too late. Momentum pitched him over the side of the sleek craft and he was falling . . . falling.
Thud!
The back of his head cracked the dock.
Pain screamed through his skull. His body convulsed. Blindly he groped, reaching, scrabbling for anything to hold on to, his fingers scraping the side of his father's boat only to lose their grip as he hit the icy water.
You're going to die. Right now . . . Fight, Harley, fight!
He tried to scream. Saltwater filled his nose and throat. His reactions were slow, out of sync.
Help me, please, someone help me!
But the words were lost in his mind. Pain ricocheted through his brain, through the dark frigid water. His lungs burned. He flailed wildly, thrashing and churning as his clothes weighed him down. Sluggishly he tried to kick upward but his foot was held tight, tangled or . . . or gripped by someone under the dock. His lungs were on fire, threatening to explode. Frantic, he fought, kicking, looking up to the surface where, beyond the rippling veil of the waterline he caught a glimpse of his attacker as she stood beneath a lamppost on the dock.
The surface was so far away . . . he was going to die . . . she'd killed him.
Why? Oh, God, please help me! Jump in here, call nine-one-one, do
some
thing.
He tried to swim upward, but whatever was holding his foot wouldn't let go! His entire body screamed in agony. The image overhead rippled before his eyes as he struggled, a pale watery face illuminated by the lights of the dock, a face twisted in horror while the manacle on his ankle seemed to tighten, as if the Grim Reaper himself were holding him fast, ensuring his horrid death.
There wasn't any more time. In one last effort, Harley kicked and tried to scream.
His tortured lungs shattered. Air spewed, bubbling upward, taking with it any chance of survival. Saltwater flooded his throat. Cold as death it burned like hell. Wave after wave of burning water crushing him from the inside out . . . and then it came . . . the blackness, an eerily seductive calm teased at the edges of his brain, closing in on him as he quit struggling and the last bit of air bubbled up from his lungs. His eyes rolled up in his head, offering him one final glimpse of the world through a watery curtain where he saw the ghostly face of his killer as she inched backward, away from light and into the darkness.

Other books

The Changeover by Margaret Mahy
Execution (The Divine Book 6) by Forbes, M.R.
Unveiled Treasures by Kayla Janz
Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming by Van Allen Plexico
Devil-Devil by Graeme Kent
The Gate by Kaitlyn O'Connor
Unbroken (Fighter Erotic Romance #4) by Scott Hildreth
Half Way Home by Hugh Howey
The Contract: Sunshine by McCarver, Shiree
The Alpha's Willing Captive (Historical Paranormal Werebear Steamy Romance) by Nikki Wild


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024