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      DEBRA WEBB

      was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it bad enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998, her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345 or visit her Web site at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.

      This book is dedicated to a very special lady who has struggled hard to overcome her own physical impairments. Not once in her life has she allowed being physically challenged to prevent her from reaching for her goals. With all my love, respect and admiration, this one goes to Erica Nicole Webb Jeffrey, my oldest daughter. Never stop dreaming and keep reaching for those goals.

      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 16

      Chapter 1

      Sometimes I think I hear the roar of the wind blowing, but I’ve figured out that it’s more likely the rush of blood in my ears when my heart pounds…like now.

      I watched the two men hunkered over their beers. I could scarcely see the face of the new arrival at the table, but the other man’s—the man I’d followed to this Lower Broad Street honky-tonk—was quite clear even in the low lighting of the smoke-filled bar. He looked furious. But combined with that fury was something else…something like panic.

      A smile curled the corners of my lips. It’s foolish, I know, but I couldn’t help feeling a little empowered by his trepidation. Imagine, me—Merri Walters—striking fear in the heart of a murderer.

      My whole family would be absolutely horrified at the idea of my walking into a place like this alone. The slightly run-down bar, nestled in the midst of numerous other more prominent establishments like Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge, was located in Nashville’s famous honky-tonk central, slap in the center of downtown. It just wasn’t considered proper for a young woman to be out and about in such places without an escort or a friend, at least to my mother’s old-fashioned way of thinking. But then, I’ve always been different.

      How else could the only girl in a houseful of boys survive? Whatever obstacles life threw in my path, I always worked extra hard to overcome them. Not that I fancied myself some sort of martyr or heroine, but even I had to admit that I had proved my relentless determination in the past two years. Whether my family was prepared to admit it or not, there were things I wanted to do in life, and taking extreme measures was the only way I knew how to make the point clear.

      That’s why I had to do this. Come here. To a bar not listed in the prestigious brochures offered by the Chamber of Commerce or among the suggested places to visit in

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