Release date: June 30, 2015
Winner of TWO Silver Falchion Awards for best Romantic Suspense and Best Thriller
Golden Leaf Award finalist
BOOK TWO in the Scarlet Falls series.
After corporate attorney Hannah Barrett tries—and fails—to stop a kidnapping in Vegas, she can’t shake the haunting image of the terrified young girl she couldn’t save. She tells herself that a visit to her hometown in Scarlet Falls could be a welcome distraction. But soon, Hannah realizes the kidnappers have all the info they need to track her every move. And when chilling e-mails about the victim appear in her inbox, it’s frighteningly clear what happened in Vegas has followed her home.
Eight months after a terrible family tragedy, Hannah turns to Detective Brody McNamara once again. Brody is eager to help, though he’s embroiled in the investigation of a brutal murder. But the closer they work together, the stronger their feelings grow…and the more they stand to lose when two seemingly unrelated, but equally deadly, cases collide.
“With the perfect mixture of suspense and romance, Leigh will keep you flipping the pages.” – Jennifer L. Armentrout, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Minutes to Kill hooked me from the opening scene… Melinda knows how to write an intriguing story line and she’s brilliant at pacing and writing action scenes.” – USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer Jaynes
“This gripping Las Vegas tale is worth the gamble to stay up all night racing to the mind-blowing ending.” – RT Book Reviews
Thursday, 11:35 p.m.
He’s gonna kill me.
Standing on the closed lid of the toilet, Jewel looked through the dirty glass on to the dark parking lot of an industrial park. She dug at the dried paint with her fingernail, then tried the lock again. It gave. Gripping the sash, she tugged at the window. It moved a millimeter, the creak of old wood reverberating in the tiny motel bathroom. No! He’d hear. Sweat broke out under her arms. She reached down, flushed the toilet, then leaned over to the sink and turned on the faucet, hoping the running water would cover the sound of her escape.
She turned her attention back to the window. How long does it take the average person to wash her hands? A minute? That’s how much time she had left before he came looking for her. She shoved up the sash, flinching at the volume of the resulting groan. Did he hear that over the sound of the water?
The client knocked on the door. “What are you doing in there?”
“Be out in a sec,” she called. She put her arms through the opening. No time to be quiet now. Just get out. She wiggled her shoulders past the sill. Once she was past her chest, she’d slide out like a newborn baby. Banging echoed in the small room. The doorknob rattled.
“Open the door. Now.” Mick.
Shit. Fear jolted her heart. If he got his hands on her, she was dead.
Her pulse scurried, and her breaths accelerated until tiny points of light dotted her vision. If he caught her, there’d be no going back to undo what she’d done. Some people thought dying was the worst thing that could happen to a person, but Jewel knew better.
Mick had taught her that being alive could hurt enough to make a girl pray for death.
Wood splintered. The door burst open. His brown eyes shrank to a mean, angry glare.
“You little bitch.” Mick lunged for her, his big hands closing around her ankle. Halfway out the window, she flailed, fingers grabbing at the window jamb, her free foot kicking out. Determination and desperation were no match for brute strength. Pain shot through her hand as a nail ripped to the bed. Panic scrambled for a hold in her belly.
He dragged her back down into the bathroom and dropped her. Jewel’s head struck the toilet tank lid, rattling the porcelain. Mick raised a hand across his body. The backhand sent her reeling sideways. She fell into the tub, and the shower curtain tangled around her body. He bore down on her, the need to inflict punishment clear on his lean face.
She kicked with both feet. The sole of her left shoe struck him under the chin. He fell back onto his butt, and Jewel scrambled out of the tub. She climbed onto the toilet lid and dove out the window, shimmying her hips. Sliding through, she landed on her hands on the pavement.
“You’re dead,” Mick shouted through the window. But there was no way his big body would fit through the small opening. He ducked back inside. She heard him arguing with the client as she straightened her shaking legs and ordered them to get moving. He’d be after her.
Jewel got her feet under her body and sprinted across the blacktop. She ducked into the shadow of a Dumpster, her lungs heaving in loud and ragged gasps. She put her back to the rusted metal and covered her mouth with her hand. Her body shook in uncoordinated waves. Quiet. She had to be quiet. He was going to hear her. He was going to find her.
He was going to hurt her.