Deadly Sins: Lust: Sloane Monroe Stories, #3
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Marissa Calhoun sits in front of the lagoon, a beach-like swimming hole nestled Cairns, Australia's foreshore. Tonight the lagoon is hers and hers alone ... or is it?
A tall figure steps out from behind the tree, his face cloaked beneath a dark hoodie. His footsteps slap against the pavement, fast and hard. Twenty feet, then fifteen, then ten.
Instinct kicks in and Marissa breaks into a sprint, but she's too late. His hand claws into the back of her head. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he plunges her face into the water.
Who is Marissa's vicious attacker? And why does he want her dead?
If you love a great mystery with a surprising twist, you'll enjoy Deadly Sins: Lust.
Readers are saying:
"Full of surprises!"
"Many twists and turns."
"Kept my attention the entire time."
New to Sloane Monroe? There are two book collections in the Sloane Monroe series. The first is a novel series with 8 titles (as of 2020). The second is this short story spinoff series, featuring the same characters from the main series.
Cheryl Bradshaw
Cheryl Bradshaw is a New York Times and 11-time USA Today bestselling author writing in multiple genres, including mystery, thriller, romantic suspense, supernatural suspense, and poetry. She is a Shamus Award finalist for best private eye novel of the year, an eFestival of Words winner for best thriller, and has published over fifty books since 2011. When she's not writing, Cheryl loves jet-setting to new countries, playing with her grandkiddos, high tea, and pursuing a wishful side career as a professional food tester of wine and cheese.
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Deadly Sins - Cheryl Bradshaw
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity to events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First edition January 2019
Copyright © 2018 by Cheryl Bradshaw
Cover Design Copyright 2018 © Indie Designz
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means whatsoever (electronic, mechanical, etc.) without the prior written permission and consent of the author.
Special thanks to all those involved with this book, including my fabulous team of editors, proofers, and formatters.
And to Kamin for helping me master Australian dialogue.
A friend is one who has the same enemies as I have.
—Abraham Lincoln
Table of 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 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
About Cheryl Bradshaw
Books by Cheryl Bradshaw
CHAPTER 1
Lust (n.) a passionate desire for something; a sensuous appetite regarded as sinful
Cairns, Australia
3 a.m.
Marissa Calhoun slid her narrow, black, four—inch heels off her feet, dangling the straps from her fingers as she walked along the wooden planks on the promenade. A week before, she had arrived in Australia to celebrate the upcoming wedding of her good friend Layla. It was her first visit down under,
and although the night’s events hadn’t gone as planned, she’d grown to love the vibrant, laid—back feel of the city of Cairns.
What had started as a group of longtime friends out for a bachelorette party had dwindled down to one, and she found herself all alone, finally. A few hours earlier, downtown had been humming with boisterous activity, people popping in and out of bars, listening to music, sharing a few laughs with friends. With exception of the screeching of bats hiding in a fragrant mango tree nearby, the streets were weary and quiet now. Most people had retired to bed, but Marissa wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet.
Sleep could wait.
Her conscience, on the other hand, couldn’t.
It was restless, struggling with a secret she’d been keeping that charred her skin like it was being branded over and over again.
Marissa didn’t like secrets.
She wasn’t good at keeping them, either.
It wasn’t like her.
It wasn’t how she was raised.
But she’d been keeping one nonetheless, trying to convince herself that in this singular instance, deception was better than destroying the man she loved with a bitter truth she knew he’d never understand.
Now in her thirties, she’d finally married, and life was much different. Evenings out with girlfriends all but ceased to exist anymore. Her husband Nick was more of a dinner and a movie at home
guy than the night on the town
type. He liked her to be around when he returned from work, and she’d indulged his fancy because Nick made her happy. With him, she had finally found love unlike any she’d ever experienced before.
Tired of walking, Marissa sat in front of the lagoon, a beach—like swimming hole along the city’s foreshore. She dipped her toes into the cool saltwater and swirled them around, creating a small, circular whirlpool with her big toe before patting it out with the bottom of her foot.
During the day, the lagoon was brimming with families and tourists. Tonight it was hers, and hers alone.
Or was it?
Marissa swore she spotted a brief flurry of movement behind one of the colorful, lamp—lit trees in the distance. She blinked and stared at the area for a moment, and then shrugged, deciding it was nothing more than one of the curious—looking, long—legged birds that frequented the area. Or perhaps it had been a moment of drunken stupor, and she should have been doing what her friends were probably doing—sleeping it off.
The cool chill of the evening’s spring breeze swaddled her face, and she closed her eyes, drinking in the freshness of the air. When she opened them, the same tree she’d eyed before cast a shadow in what appeared to be the shape of a person.
Hello?
she said. Is someone there?
A tall figure stepped out from behind the tree, his face cloaked beneath a dark hoodie. Without uttering a word, the figure stumbled a bit and then took a couple steps in her direction. Her first instinct was to panic, but as she watched him stagger toward her, she noticed something—he seemed just as drunk as she was and far too lanky to trifle over.
Still ...
Something about him seemed off ... and strangely familiar.
To ease her concerns, she said, Nice night, isn’t it?
It looked like he’d attempted a nod, but he was still too far away for her to tell.