Although a missing Annie Harlowe and her entire family were at the forefront of a Cooper Security investigation, Wade Cooper never expected to stumble upon the half-conscious beauty in his own backyard. Thankfully, Annie had somehow escaped her captors. Unfortunately, she had no memory of the past three weeks. Before long, the memories slowly began to return—and the threats to her life turned deadlier. And although her well-being was becoming more than just an assignment, Annie's safety remained the battle-scarred marine's top priority. Still, for a man who'd avoided the risks a relationship was bound to bring, could Wade really walk away once this case was closed? And what could his future possibly hold if he did? Born in the American South, Paula Graves draws from her experiences with the culture and geography of the region, especially the Appalachian Mountains, to add authentic flavor and unique characters to her tales of romance and mystery. www.paulagraves.com Stars glittered across the vast wasteland spreading in front of her, blurred by the rain pouring down her face and into her eyes. No, she thought, struggling for lucidity. Not stars. Couldn't be stars. Not on the ground. Water. Must be water. Water. Water everywhere…. A large, dark shape loomed ahead, slumbering in the downpour. No lights there, she thought bleakly. Just a hulking black nothing that should have been her salvation. Marsh. The name came to her fuzzy brain, clawing for a foothold. General Marsh. Get General Marsh. General Marsh can help. But General Marsh wasn't home. She stumbled forward, coming to a stop only when she crashed sideways into the rough clapboard siding of the dark, silent house. Maybe they were sleeping. Her eyes drifted shut. Sleep. She needed sleep. Some remnant of purpose slithered like a serpent deep inside her, jerking her back to unwanted consciousness. Her head throbbed in protest, but she pushed to her feet and weaved across the soggy ground to the front of the house. The porch was wide but low slung, accessible by a couple of stumbling steps upward. She landed with a half tumble and caught herself on the old cane-bottomed rocker sitting by the front wall. Somehow avoiding an ungainly slump to the floor, she banged three times on the door. Cheek pressed against the solid wood, she listened for any sounds of movement from inside. She heard nothing. Tears burned her aching eyes, but she blinked them back, telling herself it was only the rain. Harlowes didn't cry. She banged her hand against the door again with a sobbing gasp. No answer. She shoved away from the door, swaying toward the porch stairs. As she gripped the slick railing, the world seemed to twirl around her for a moment. Somehow, she made it safely to the bottom step. But she didn't see the flagstone hidden in the rain-washed gloom. Her toe caught the edge of the stone and she pitched forward. She tried to catch herself but her hand slipped on the wet grass and she hit hard, headfirst, on another flat stone. Pain arced through her with a shower of bright sparkles. She pressed her hand to the side of her forehead and felt warm liquid mingling with the cold rain. In the low light gleaming off the water, she saw rivulets of darkness spreading over her pale fingers. As she stared at the confusing sight, another drop of blackness splashed onto her palm. She had to wipe it off. She dug her hands in the pockets of her jeans. The left side was empty, but in the right, she felt something thin and silky stuffed down into the bottom. She pulled it free and found herself holding a scarf. It belonged to her mother. What was she doing with her mother's scarf? She wiped her hand on it and pushed unsteadily to her feet, turning a full circle, taking in the unfamiliar world. There was water behind her. A house in front of her. Why was she at the lake? Why was she standing in the rain? A cottony sensation filled her head, as if the contents of her skull were too large to be contained. She shook her head and the world started to spiral around her again. Okay. No more shaking her head. She started toward the steps but stopped at the base, staring at the dark facade. Nobody's home, she thought. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she did. From somewhere not too far away came a noise. A car door, opening and closing. Footsteps crunching on a gravel drive. Even through the drumbeat of rain, the sound seemed clear and ominous. Someone was near. Hide. She staggered away from the house, away from the lake. The woods thickened behind the lake house, rising toward the lowering clouds overhead. She was in the mountains. An image of another house filled her mind. A sprawling pine cabin in the middle of the north Georgia mountains, where her parents were waiting. She had to get there. They needed her. Why did they need her? Water slid into her eyes. She wiped it away, blinking at the blurry world around her. She had to get up the mountain. Heading for the tree line, she