LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      WENDY ROSNAU

      resides on sixty secluded acres in Minnesota with her husband and their two children. She divides her time between her family-owned bookstore and writing romantic suspense. Her first book, The Long Hot Summer, was a Romantic Times BOOKreviews nominee for Best First Series Romance of 2000. Her third book, The Right Side of the Law, was a Romantic Times BOOKreviews Top Pick. She received the Midwest Fiction Writers 2001 Rising Star Award. Wendy loves to hear from her readers. Visit her Web site at www.wendyrosnau.com.

      For Tyler and Jen. No mother could

       be more blessed. You are my

       greatest fortune and priority.

      A special thank-you to Joyce Alt

       for her expertise on asthma.

       Any inaccuracies are mine alone.

      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

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      An amputee for twenty-two years, Peter Briggs had a certain routine—work at eight, supper at seven, in bed by nine. But the flu had disrupted his staid life for the past week. At 10:30 p.m. he rolled his wheelchair out of the bathroom and into the bedroom for the third time that night.

      Weak and nauseated, he reached for the bar that hung above his bed and hoisted himself onto the mattress. Snuggled beneath the blankets, conscious of his old routine, he slid his hand beneath the pillow, his fingers brushing the cool steel of a 9mm SIG. A grunt of assurance, a moan, then exhaustion sent Peter into a restless sleep.

      An hour later he woke up shivering, his body racked with chills. He pulled the blanket up around his neck, and that was when he noticed how cold the air was. If he hadn’t known better he’d have thought the heat had been shut off in his D.C. apartment.

      Peter reached for the bar overhead and pulled himself up. He turned on the lamp, and found the source of his discomfort. The window was open, a stiff breeze whipping the lacy beige curtain into a ghostly dance, driving in the cold April rain all over the floor.

      He was staring at the open window in a confused daze when he heard a noise in the living room. Instinct sent his hand under his pillow to retrieve the SIG, at the same time he reached out to his wheelchair.

      No SIG.

      No wheelchair.

      As if his rising panic summoned his lifeline, the bedroom door opened and his wheelchair rolled slowly inside.