Silent Warning

I promise. Kelly brushed a lock of chestnut hair from his forehead, suddenly wanting to stay like this forever. Close to Dan. Sheltered from the rest of the world.

She met his gaze, the tension between them undeniable. She knew right then she wouldn’t leave Summer Shores. Not until they’d seen their investigation through—together.

Without thinking, Kelly pressed her lips against his, gently at first, then hungrily. She needed the comfort of his touch, needed to lose herself with him, if only for a little while.

Dan’s mouth moved to the soft flesh of her neck, his hands encircling her waist.

She wanted him. Wanted to feel his skin against hers, his hands on her body. More than anything, she longed to give herself to him completely.

Apprehension swelled in her gut. Her need was even more terrifying than the danger swirling around them….

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

You won’t be able to resist a single one of our May books. We have a lineup so shiver inducing that you may forget summer’s almost here!

 Executive Bodyguard is the second book in Debra Webb’s exciting new trilogy, THE ENFORCERS. For the thrilling conclusion, be sure you pick up Man of Her Dreams in June.

 Amanda Stevens concludes her MATCHMAKERS UNDERGROUND series with Matters of Seduction. And the Montana McCalls are back, in B.J. Daniels’s Ambushed!

 We also have two special premiers for you. Kathleen Long debuts in Harlequin Intrigue with Silent Warning, a chilling thriller. And LIPSTICK LTD., our special promotion featuring sexy, sassy sleuths, kicks off with Darlene Scalera’s Straight Silver.

 A few of your favorite Harlequin Intrigue authors have some special books you’ll love. Rita Herron’s A Breath Away is available this month from HQN Books. And, in June, Joanna Wayne’s The Gentlemen’s Club is being published by Signature Spotlight.

Harlequin Intrigue brings you the best in breathtaking romantic suspense with six fabulous books to enjoy. Please write to us—we love to hear from our readers.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Silent Warning

Kathleen Long

It’s difficult to believe I’m sitting here typing the dedication for my first

Harlequin Intrigue novel. Somebody pinch me.

I have so many people to thank—family, friends, writing buddies, mentors—

all who believed this day would come. Thank you!

To Kim Nadelson, for giving me the opportunity of a lifetime, and to Paige Wheeler,

for being a wonderful agent and cheerleader. Thank you both.

To my parents, who always taught me I could become whatever it was

I dreamed of becoming. Thank you for the most important lesson of my life.

For my husband, Dan. I find it difficult to put into words how much your love and

support mean to me. Thank you for standing beside me, supporting me as

I worked to make my dream come true.

And last, but not least, for my father-in-law, Joseph Long. The world is a bit too quiet

without you in it. We miss your smile and your stories.

I’m quite sure you had a hand in this one, Dad. Thanks.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathleen Long spent her career as a public relations consultant putting words into the mouths of others. In the summer of 2001, she decided it was time to put words into the mouths of her own fictional characters. She realized her dream of becoming a published author in early 2004 with her first sale.

Today she shares her life with her husband, Dan, and their neurotic sheltie. She divides her time between suburban Philadelphia and the New Jersey seashore, where she can often be found—hands on keyboard, bare toes in sand—spinning tales. After all, life doesn’t get much better than that.

Please visit Kathleen at www.kathleenlong.com to say hello and take a peek at excerpts from upcoming releases.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Rachel Braxton—Investigative reporter who drowns following an apparent drug overdose.

Kelly Weir—She travels to Summer Shores to pack up Rachel’s belongings, but gets drawn in to the mystery surrounding her friend’s death.

Dan Steele—He’s convinced Rachel’s death was no accident and is determined to uncover the killer’s identity.

Diane Steele—Dan’s younger sister also died of accidental drowning, with Oxygesic in her system.

Maddie Steele—Dan’s mother may hold knowledge of the killer’s identity locked in her dementia-damaged mind.

Jake Arnold—He’s the local detective hesitant to believe Kelly and Dan’s theories.

Helen Carroll—She’s the feisty neighbor who befriends Kelly while keeping an eye out for trouble.

Vince Miller—He’s the local pharmacist who may be doing a whole lot more than filling prescriptions.

Dr. Robinson—The primary physician at Serenity Pain Institute—is he hiding valuable information?

Scott Jansen—He’s the State Pharmacy Board employee quite certain something illegal is brewing in Summer Shores.

Jim Braxton—Rachel’s brother is counting on Kelly to handle the details of his sister’s affairs.

Jane Weir—Kelly’s sister calls with news of a crucial clue.

Rick DeSanto—He’s a reporter from Kelly’s hometown who provides information on Miller’s past.

Frank and Marge Healey—They’re nosy locals who provide a bit of insight into Rachel’s life.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

He dug his fingers into the flesh of her upper arm, relishing the lack of resistance beneath his grip.

“You’re hurting me.” Rachel Braxton’s words were nothing more than a whimper. Probably all the so-called reporter could manage. Typical.

He raised a brow then yanked her forward, the dense foliage snapping as he pulled her through. A tangle of weeds raked her bare legs and she stumbled, letting out another cry.

Weak. So weak.

A trickle of blood trailed the length of her shin, mesmerizing him for a moment. It was a shame to mar her beautiful body, but she’d left him no choice.

He refocused on his task, dragging her behind him. He ducked beneath a large branch, laughing as it caught her in the face, clawing her neck and hooking the chain of her locket.

She groped for the necklace too late and it was gone, vanishing into the dark depths of the marsh.

“My necklace.”

Her whine turned his stomach. As if she didn’t have bigger things to worry about. “You won’t need it where you’re going.”

“Let me go.” Terror tinged her voice. Good. It was about time. “I don’t have what you need, but I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever I can. I swear.”

He stopped then, savoring the fear glistening in her brown gaze. “Should have thought of that a long time ago, sweetheart.”

Her expression pleaded with him, anxious and begging. Too little. Too late.

“I’m telling you the truth,” she whispered, a tear sliding over her lower lid.

“Honey, you haven’t told me the truth since the day we met.” He smiled, enjoying the widening of her eyes, the shortness of her breath. The hunted and the hunter. Her desperation and his power.

He jerked her into motion, excitement slithering through him as they reached the edge of the trees. The glistening water of the sound appeared as they broke through to the clearing. Pale moonlight dappled the surface like a ghostly dance of lost souls. Perfect.

A small boat sat anchored next to the marshy beach. He shoved her forward. “Get in.”

“No.” Rachel stiffened as if steeling herself in one last desperate effort to appear fearless.

He leveled his gun at her face. “Now.”

Her body sagged as she climbed into the boat and dropped onto the unforgiving bench. Her teeth chattered noisily. She wrapped her arms around her waist as he pushed the boat from the shore, the small vessel slipping like a whisper through the murky water.

When they neared the inlet, he started the motor, raising his gaze to meet her terrified stare. “Enjoying your ride?”

Her trembling intensified. She lowered her head, her long blond hair covering her face as she gagged, vomiting onto the floor of his boat. The acrid smell mixed with the damp, salt air. He winced. So weak. Useless, actually. It was unfortunate. With her brains and investigative skills, she could have accomplished great things.

He kicked her foot, grinning as she looked up. “Chin up. You’re about to get the story of your life.”

He watched as her eyes darkened, the reality of her fate settling upon her. She lowered her head again, this time to pray, her words whispering into the unforgiving night.

“God, please help me….”

Too bad he didn’t have his camera. She’d be one to immortalize. One more example of how untouchable he was.

She’d thought she could expose him, but he was about to prove her wrong.

Dead wrong.

He laughed, throwing back his head to let his laughter mingle with the sound of her prayer.

Chapter One

Kelly Weir shifted her Jetta into Park, staring up through the windshield at the gray bungalow. Cool, autumn air whipped through the sunroof, surrounding her with the smell of salt air and sunshine. She snapped off the volume on the radio then cut the car’s ignition.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since Rachel’s brother, Jim, had called, yet here she was in Summer Shores, North Carolina. Her agreement to help the family by packing up Rachel’s things had been a knee-jerk reaction, the news of Rachel’s death having rocked her to the core.

Scrutinizing the weathered lines of the small house, she blew out a slow breath and tamped down the sadness lurking at the back of her brain. How long had it been since she and Rachel had spoken? More than a year?

Kelly climbed from the car, popped the trunk and threw her backpack over her shoulder. Time to get this over with. She grabbed two other bags and headed for the stairs, the distressed wood creaking beneath her as she climbed toward a screened-in porch.

She dropped one of her bags onto the painted decking, shifting to reach the key she’d shoved in her pocket. Her elbow brushed against the front door and it cracked open. Kelly’s pulse quickened. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, pushing the door open wide to glance inside.

The floors and furniture gleamed, an orange scent heavy in the air. Jim had mentioned there might be housecleaners here when she arrived. Judging by the appearance of the place, she’d just missed them, and they’d obviously forgotten to lock up.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped inside, lowering her bags to the floor. She tossed her backpack onto a faded teal sofa and crossed to the kitchen window to let in some additional fresh air.

She’d no sooner slid up the old wooden sash than a noise sounded from another part of the house. Kelly stopped short, anxiety whispering through her.

Her imagination. It had been a long day and her mind must be playing tricks on her. She gazed out the window, trying to focus on the scent of brine hanging on the ocean breeze.

Thump.

A chill rippled down her spine. Darn it. She wasn’t that tired.

She steadied herself, trying to think rationally. The sun was out. People didn’t rob houses in broad daylight, did they? It was probably a neighbor doing something…neighborly. Surely everyone knew of Rachel’s death by now. Maybe someone had stopped by to help pack her things.

Better still, maybe a window was loose, or a door or something. This was Summer Shores, North Carolina after all. Small town. Friendly. Safe. There were a multitude of possibilities for why the house was making a—

Thump.

Her nervous gaze landed on a spiral staircase that dropped to the lower level just past the main section of the living room. Whatever—or whoever—was making the noise was downstairs.

The small hairs at the nape of Kelly’s neck pricked to attention.

Eyeing a pair of pewter candlesticks, she tiptoed across the floor to grasp one, the metal cold and heavy in her now-shaking hand.

Thump.

She started, white-knuckling the candlestick and holding it high. “Who’s there?” She forced out her voice, strong and loud. Not bad for being completely rattled. Not bad at all.

Keeping the candlestick between herself and the stairs, she fumbled in her backpack for her cell phone, pulling it free and pressing the Power button.

She moved toward the front door, planning to get out before anyone could answer.

The noise from below had stopped. Probably a stray animal or something completely harmless, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She backed toward the door, trying to punch 911 on the tiny keypad. Darn these things.

“Whoever you are,” she yelled. “I’m calling the police.”

“I assure you I’m harmless,” a man’s voice answered.

The deep timbre sent awareness and fear washing through Kelly. She stumbled and the candlestick fell from her grasp, clattering loudly against the wood floor.

A dark-haired man appeared at the top of the steps, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” His midnight-blue gaze moved from Kelly to the candlestick to Kelly again. One dark brow arched. “Were you planning to use that on me?”

Kelly picked up the heavy metal object, pointing it at him. Her heart jackhammered in her chest. “Who are you?”

“I’m a…was…a friend of Rachel’s.” His expression softened, but the furrow between his brows remained. Deep lines etched into his forehead, leaving no doubt he was a man on a mission. “She had something of mine and I thought I’d pick it up before you got here.”

Kelly blinked, her head spinning from the surge of adrenaline racing through her. The man took a step forward and her breath caught. His well-worn denim shirt stretched taut across broad shoulders, his stance conveying nothing but sureness and pure male virility. Her heart slapped so loudly against her ribs, she had no doubt he could hear her fright.

She glanced at the cell phone in her hand. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? I should call the police.”

“The name’s Dan Steele.” He continued toward her, close-cropped chestnut-brown hair framing his rugged, thirtysomething face. “They know me.”

“Oh. This is a frequent activity of yours?” Kelly backed onto the porch and punched the last digit into the phone. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m telling the truth. Here.” Steele dangled a small silver object toward her. “She’d given me a key.”

Kelly suddenly felt like an idiot. She knew nothing about Rachel’s recent life. This guy might have been her lover for all she knew.

She concentrated on calming her whirling mind. “How did you know her?”

“Friend,” he repeated.

“And what did you need?”

He hesitated, reawakening her suspicions. “Something.”

“Something?” She frowned. “How do I know you’re not a fast-talking burglar?”

“With a key?” He shook his head, his expression incredulous.

“You never know.” Kelly set the candlestick on the floor and held out her open palm, nodding toward the key. “I’ll take that. I’d rather not have you stopping back unexpectedly. Nothing personal.”

One dark brow arched again as Steele pressed the key into her hand, his touch lingering a moment too long. Heat built at the spot where their skin met, searing her palm. The man’s intense stare never left hers, and Kelly fought the urge to look away. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.

“Just what is it you’re missing?” she asked as she closed her fingers around his key then pocketed it, still gripping the cell phone tightly in her other hand.

“You know, you look a bit like her around the—”

“I know.” Kelly pinned him with a glare, frustration edging out her fear. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m leaving now.” He brushed past her and pushed the screen door open.

“I have half a mind to check out your story,” she called after him as he headed toward the steps.

He stopped short, turning to face her, his smile not quite reaching his deep blue eyes. “This didn’t go well. I’ll stop back later.”

Kelly focused on drawing deep slow breaths as she watched him cross the drive. The air seemed to still, as if the man owned the space around him and the ground beneath his confident stride. He turned toward the beach without looking back. Much to her dismay, a purely female response tangled with the anger and fear battling within her. The man oozed vitality—raw, male and intriguing.

She shivered with awareness.

He no doubt had known Rachel. Kelly’s friend had been beautiful, and never had trouble turning a male head. Dan Steele apparently had not been immune to her charms.

When he was fully out of sight, Kelly dropped her cell phone into her bag and headed for the kitchen. She plucked the receiver from the wall phone, dialing the keypad—911.

Hers might not be a true emergency, but if Steele planned to follow through on his promise to return, she intended to find out exactly who he was.

DAN STOOD AND STARED at the ocean. The woman had unnerved him. There weren’t many things in his life capable of eliciting that response. Not anymore.

He should have headed out the side door instead of checking the third bedroom. There’d been nothing there. He’d managed only to wedge his arm behind a bookcase reaching for a blank sheet of paper. As if Rachel would be that careless with anything important.

Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he headed up the beach toward his house, the woman’s face filling his mind. At first it had been like looking at a ghost, but once her fiery spirit flashed through her mesmerizing deep brown gaze, he knew she was no Rachel. Rachel had always put on a good show, but behind her reporter’s notebook, she was nothing more than a pretty bundle of nerves.

The friend had hidden her fear and surprise admirably. Beauty and backbone. Imagine. A longing stirred deep within him—evidence he wasn’t completely dead inside after all. No matter. He needed to find Rachel’s notes, not worry about her friend.

His interest in Rachel’s work had been personal. During his tenure in pharmaceutical marketing, his pet project had been one drug in particular. Oxygesic. Its development had been a godsend for those suffering from chronic pain and cancer. Then people began to die from its misuse.

People like Diane. His baby sister.

The familiar ache squeezed his heart, but he shoved it away, digging deep for the determination that had carried him this far.

Now that Rachel’s notes had apparently gone missing, Dan was even more convinced her death was no accident. She’d been the only person to listen to his theories. His gut told him she’d uncovered something someone hadn’t wanted her to find. The frantic message she’d left for him the day she disappeared confirmed as much.

And now she was dead.

He cast a glance toward the ocean, watching the September swells crash against the deserted beach, swirling against each other before they slid back out to sea. Riptide. Opposing currents. The story of his life.

His cell phone chirped to life, yanking him from his thoughts. “Yes.”

“Who the hell do you think you are now? The damned welcoming committee?” Detective Jake Arnold’s voice barked in his ear. Dan winced, the annoyance palpable in his old friend’s tone. “Meet me at your house. Ten minutes.”

The phone clicked dead.

Great. As if he needed any more complications today.

KELLY REPLACED the receiver and headed for the lower level of the house. Her call to the sheriff’s office had gotten her nowhere other than having to listen to Dan Steele’s upstanding citizen résumé. Apparently he’d settled here a few years ago, returning to his roots after a successful career up North.

She hadn’t been able to glean much more in the way of detail, but the tone of the woman she’d spoken to had made it clear he was one of Summer Shores’ favorite sons. What did Kelly expect? Small towns protected their own.

A light glowed from a spare bedroom as she rounded the bottom of the steps. Nothing seemed out of place as she peered inside, but then, she’d never set eyes on the house before today. Kelly opened each drawer and ran her hand over both shelves in the closet. Nothing. She sank onto the edge of the bed.

What had he been looking for?

Exhaustion washed over her, the earlier adrenaline fading from her system. She fingered the corner of a letter she’d tucked into her sweatshirt pocket as the numbing reality of Rachel’s death uncoiled from the pit of her stomach.

How many other letters and phone calls from Rachel had she ignored over the past year? Dozens? Yet, this one had been different. In it, Rachel had begged for forgiveness. Begged. But Kelly had ignored her plea, clinging instead to the grudge she’d carried instead of making amends. Now Rachel was dead. Drowned in the ocean she’d loved.

An inexplicable sense of dread sent a shudder down Kelly’s spine. Hoping she’d find some coffee to help erase the chill, she headed back toward the stairs, looking up just as she rounded the bottom step.

Her heart slammed into her ribs.

A large, gray tomcat loomed at the top of the steps, two yellow eyes lazily winking down at her.

“Who are you?” She was beginning to think that was the question of the day. Did everybody have a key?

The cat rose to his paws and stretched, leaning into the side of her leg as she passed.

“Edgar,” a female voice called from outside.

Kelly squinted at the cat, which still studied her curiously. “Edgar?” He rubbed against her calf, stretched then kicked out his back feet as he headed toward the door.

Opening the door to step onto the porch, Kelly let the cat saunter ahead. An elderly woman toting a large bakery box looked up from the bushes along the driveway.

“Are you looking for your cat?” Kelly asked.

The woman’s gaze narrowed as she spotted Edgar sitting at the screen door. “Oh, that bum. Was he bothering you?”

“Not at all.”

“You the friend from up North?” The woman walked to the bottom of the steps, the bakery box nestled in the crook of her arm, a lit cigarette dangling from the opposite hand. She paused to take a drag.

“Kelly Weir.”

“I’m Helen Carroll.” She waved the glowing butt over her shoulder. “Live across the street. Heard you were coming and thought you could use a welcome.” She waved the cigarette toward the cat. “Guess he thought the same thing.”

“No problem. Would you like to come up?”

“Thanks.” Helen dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of a red high-top sneaker. A Surf Naked sweatshirt topped a pair of faded, black jeans. Wild spikes of snow-white hair framed her tanned, weathered face. She climbed the wooden steps with the nimbleness of a teenager, balancing the box in one arm and skimming the railing with the other. Her eyes remained lowered, focused on the steps. “I brought you some cinnamon buns. Figured you could use something sweet after your drive.”