glanced to the left, then the right, but heard voices from both directions. There was no place to run!
Voices echoed behind her again, carrying in the wind, and flashlights scanned the woods. A beam of light caught her in its glare.
“There she is!”
“Stop her!”
She was cornered. The ocean raged below, a good thirty feet. Her legs threatened to buckle. Someone broke into the clearing. Shouted for her to freeze or he’d shoot.
Terror seized her. She wouldn’t go back. She would die inside.
“Please, God, help me.” Her heart thundering, she inhaled, then flung herself over the ledge into the roaring waves.
Devil’s Ravine
North Georgia
HE SAVORED THE SWEET SMELL of Eve’s fear in the shadows that bathed her as she huddled within her tomb. She was a stubborn one, too far gone to save. Too deeply embedded into her harlot ways to admit that the devil had invaded her soul.
God help him, but he wanted her anyway.
Her chin wobbled, and her eyes turned glassy, but she refused to release the tears.
He felt the fine tremors of her body as he trailed his finger over her naked chest, raked the knife blade in the curve of an A, the letter he would use to brand her before he took her life.
A smile curved his lips. Yes, she was so alluring, angelic really, exactly like the first Eve who’d tempted Adam. Yet she was worse. She was married. Promised to another.
Only she had forgotten those vows when she’d taken another man to her bed.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
He cradled her pale hand in his, then slid the simple gold wedding band from her fourth finger. She didn’t deserve to wear it.
The marriage decree stated that the union would last forever—till death do us part.
Breaking that vow meant she had to be punished.
Miles Monahue would thank him in the end.
Chapter Two
Nighthawk Island
Fear seized Caitlin as she fought the undercurrent, but she forced herself to take a breath and continue swimming. Another stroke. Another. Her clothes felt heavy, weighing her down. How far would it be to the next island? Could she make it?
Then she spotted the small fishing boat. Deserted, tied to the shore by a long rope.
Her pulse raced as she battled the waves and swam toward it. Her arms ached. Her lungs throbbed for air. Her legs felt like numb weights as she kicked and pedaled forward. Finally, she reached the boat and hurled herself inside. She was shivering, but she grabbed the paddle and worked it against the current with all her might.
It seemed like hours as she struggled to reach shore. The night grew darker, colder, her muscles screamed with strain. The strange nighthawk circled above as if hunting for its prey, waiting for her to succumb to exhaustion so he could attack.
Finally, she approached land. Another island. Here, she’d find help. Get a ride back to civilization and find out why she’d been locked away.
She dragged herself from the boat and slogged through the sand and shells in the darkness. Dizzy with exhaustion, she wove through the long stretches of wooded land until she neared a road. Cold air sliced through her wet clothes, salt water stinging her eyes. A dog howled behind her, and she forced her rubbery legs to take another step. Up ahead, she thought she heard a noise. The whistle of the wind? A rabid dog? Thunder?
Traffic. A car zooming over the slushy pavement.
Panting, she tore through the bramble, jumped over a patch of overgrown weeds and ran onto the highway, waving her arms. She yelled for the driver to stop, but the ancient pickup rattled by, ignoring her, spewing muddy slush. Fighting panic and dizziness, she began to walk along the edge of the road, hopes dwindling as she realized the late hour and weather would prevent travelers from tackling the narrow deserted roads.
Exhaustion intensified her despair, but she reminded herself not to give up hope. Another car would come by. It had to.
One more step. Another.
It seemed as if hours had passed, but finally a noise broke the silence. Tires squealed, brakes churned. An eighteen-wheeler spun around the curve, crossing the center line. She yelled and waved her arms frantically, praying his headlights caught her, that he didn’t run her down.
He hit the brakes and gears screeched as he slowed and pulled over to the embankment. The door swung open, and a man’s face appeared, shadowed by the smoke-filled cab interior. The strong odor of French fries and sweat wafted from the truck. “Miss, are you all right?”
“Yes, I—” her teeth chattered “—need a ride.”
“Your car break down?” He scratched his beard as his eyes scanned the dark deserted stretch of highway.
Had she not been so terrified of getting caught and restrained in that mental ward, she would have been afraid of him. His beefy arms swelled over a thin wife-beater T-shirt, and a plaid flannel shirt hung loose around his beer belly.
Desperate though, she climbed in, grateful for the warmth of the cabin. She only prayed she hadn’t escaped one nightmare to be thrust into another.
Raven’s Peak
North Georgia
THE PHONE RANG at 5:00 a.m. Before he even answered it, Miles sensed it was bad news.
“Your wife has been saved now, she’s repenting for her sins.”
His throat closed. “What? Who the hell is this?”
“She was reborn at Devil’s Ravine.”
A coarse, sinister laugh reverberated over the line, then the phone clicked into silence.
Frantic, Miles hit the call-back feature. Nothing. Dammit. Panic rolled through him in waves as he yanked on his jeans and grabbed a shirt, but his cop instincts kicked in.
He had to go. He headed toward the door. Agent Brown already thought he was guilty of hurting his wife. He’d better cover himself and give him a call.
His fingers shook as he punched in his deputy’s number. He’d let him handle things at his office today while he dealt with this. Then he phoned the FBI agent.
Seconds later, Agent Brown’s voice echoed over the line. “What is it?”
“I just received an anonymous call,” Miles said. “A man. He said I’d find my wife at Devil’s Ravine.”
Brown cleared his throat. “Where are you now?”
“At my place. But I’m on my way out the door.” He grabbed his gun and shoved it into
