Deep Dark

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author

LAURA GRIFFIN

“DELIVERS THE GOODS.” —
Publishers Weekly

SHADOW FALL

“An expert at creating mystery and suspense that hook readers from the first page, Griffin's detailed description, well-crafted, intriguing plot and clear-cut characters are the highlights of her latest.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Great lead characters and a spooky atmosphere make this a spine-tingling, stand-out novel of romantic suspense.”

—
BookPage

BEYOND LIMITS

“
Beyond Limits
is a page-turning, nail-biting thriller from the very first scene to the very last page.”

—
Fresh Fiction

“
Beyond Limits
has daring escapades, honest emotions, and heart-stopping danger.”

—
Single Titles

FAR GONE

“Perfectly gritty. . . . Griffin sprinkles on just enough jargon to give the reader the feel of being in the middle of an investigation, easily merging high-stakes action and spicy romance with rhythmic pacing and smartly economic prose.”

—Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Crisp storytelling, multifaceted characters, and excellent pacing. . . . A highly entertaining read.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(4 stars)

“A first-rate addition to the Laura Griffin canon.”

—
The Romance Dish
(5 stars)

“Be prepared for heart palpitations and a racing pulse as you read this fantastic novel. Fans of Lisa Gardner, Lisa Jackson, Nelson DeMille, and Michael Connelly will love [Griffin's] work.”

—
The Reading Frenzy

“
Far Gone
is riveting with never-ending action.”

—
Single Titles

“A tense, exciting romantic thriller that's not to be missed.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Karen Robards

“Griffin has cooked up a delicious read that will thrill her devoted fans and earn her legions more.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Lisa Unger

EXPOSED

“Laura Griffin at her finest! If you are not a Tracer-a-holic yet . . . you will be after this.”

—
A Tasty Read

“Explosive chemistry.”

—
Coffee Time Romance & More

“Explodes with action. . . . Laura Griffin escalates the tension with each page, each scene, and intersperses the action with spine-tingling romance in a perfect blend.”

—
The Romance Reviews

SCORCHED

Winner of the RITA Award for Best Romantic Suspense

“A sizzling novel of suspense . . . the perfect addition to the Tracers series.”

—
Joyfully Reviewed

“Has it all: dynamite characters, a taut plot, and plenty of ­sizzle to balance the suspense without overwhelming it.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(4½ stars)

“Starts with a bang and never loses its momentum . . . intense and mesmerizing.”

—
Night Owl Reviews
(Top Pick)

TWISTED

“The pace is wickedly fast and the story is tight and compelling.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“With a taut story line, believable characters, and a strong grasp of current forensic practice, Griffin sucks readers into this drama and doesn't let go.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(Top Pick)

UNFORGIVABLE

“The perfect mix of suspense and romance.”

—
Booklist

“The science is fascinating, the sex is sizzling, and the story is top-notch, making this clever, breakneck tale hard to put down.”

—
Publishers Weekly

UNSPEAKABLE

“A page-turner until the last page, it's a fabulous read!”

—
Fresh Fiction

“Laura Griffin is a master at keeping the reader in complete suspense.”

—
Single Titles

UNTRACEABLE

“Evolves like a thunderstorm on an ominous cloud of evil. . . . Intense, wildly unpredictable, and sizzling with sensuality.”

—The Winter Haven News Chief

“Taut drama and constant action. . . . Griffin keeps the suspense high and the pace quick.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

Thank you for downloading this Pocket Books eBook.

Sign up for our newsletter and receive special offers, access to bonus content, and info on the latest new releases and other great eBooks from Pocket Books and Simon & Schuster.

or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com

For Abby

CHAPTER 0

Laney Knox blinked into the darkness and listened. Something . . . no.

She closed her eyes and slid deeper into the warm sheets, dismissing the sound. Probably her neighbor's cat on the patio again.

Her eyes flew open. It wasn't the sound but the light—or
lack
of light—that had her attention now. She looked at the bedroom window, but the familiar band of white wasn't seeping through the gap between the shade and the wall.

She stared into the void, trying to shake off her grogginess. The outdoor lightbulb was new—her landlord had changed it yesterday. Had he botched the job? She should have done it herself, but her shoestring budget didn't cover LED lights. It barely covered ramen and Red Bull.

How many software developers does it take to change a lightbulb? None, it's a hardware problem.

Laney looked around the pitch-black room. She wasn't afraid of the dark, never had been. Roaches terrified her. And block parties. But darkness had always been no big deal.

Except this darkness was all wrong.

She strained her ears and listened for whatever sound had awakened her, but she heard nothing. She
saw nothing. All her senses could discern was a slight chill against her skin and the lingering scent of the kung pao chicken she'd had for dinner. But something was off, she knew it. As the seconds ticked by, a feeling of dread settled over her.

Creak.

She bolted upright. The noise was soft but unmistakable. Someone was
inside
her house.

Her heart skittered. She lived in an old bungalow, more dilapidated than charming, and her bedroom was at the back, a virtual dead end. She glanced at her windows. She'd reinforced the original latches with screw locks to deter burglars—which had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she felt trapped. She reached over and groped around on the nightstand for her phone.

Crap.

Crap crap crap. It was charging in the kitchen.

Her blood turned icy as the stark reality sank in. She had no phone, no weapon, no exit route. And someone was
inside
.

Should she hide in the closet? Or try to slip past him somehow, maybe if he stepped into her room? It would never work, but—

Creak.

A burst of panic made the decision for her, and she was across the room in a flash. She scurried behind the door and flattened herself against the wall. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her heart pounded wildly as she
felt
more than heard him creeping closer.

That's what he was doing. Creeping. He was easing down the hallway with quiet, deliberate steps while she
cowered behind the door, quivering and naked except for her oversized Florence and the Machine T-shirt. Sweat sprang up on the back of her neck, and her chest tightened.

Who the hell was he? What did he want? She had no cash, no jewelry, just a few thousand dollars' worth of hardware sitting on her desk. Maybe she could slip out while he stole it.

Yeah, right. Her ancient hatchback in the driveway was a neon sign announcing that whoever lived here was not only dead broke but obviously home. This intruder was no burglar—he had come for
her
.

Laney's hands formed useless little fists at her sides, and she was overwhelmed with the absurd notion that she should have followed through on that kickboxing class.

She forced a breath into her lungs and tried to think.

She had to think her way out of this, because she was five-three, one hundred ten pounds, and weaponless. She didn't stand much chance against even an average-size man, and if he was armed, forget it.

The air moved. Laney's throat went dry. She stayed perfectly still and felt a faint shifting of molecules on the other side of the door. Then a soft sound, barely a whisper, as the door drifted open.

She held her breath. Her heart hammered. Everything was black, but gradually there was a hole in the blackness—a tall, man-shaped hole—and she stood paralyzed with disbelief as the shape eased into her bedroom and crept toward her bed. She watched it, rooted in place, waiting . . . waiting . . . waiting.

She bolted.

Her feet slapped against the wood floor as she raced down the hallway. Air
swooshed
behind her. A scream tore from her throat, then became a shrill yelp as he grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall.

A stunning blow knocked her to the floor. Stars burst behind her eyes as her cheek hit wood. She scrambled to her feet in a frantic dash and tripped over the coffee table, sending glasses and dishes flying as she crashed to her knees.

He flipped her onto her back, and then he was on her, pinning her with his massive weight as something sharp cut into her shoulder blade.

She clawed at his face, his eyes. He wore a ski mask, and all she could see were three round holes and a sinister flash of teeth amid the blackness. She shrieked, but an elbow against her throat cut off all sound, all breath, as she fought and bucked beneath him.

He was strong, immovable. And terrifyingly calm as he pinned her arms one by one under his knees and reached for something in the pocket of his jacket. She expected a weapon—a knife or a gun—and she tried to heave him off. Panic seized her as his shadow shifted in the dimness. Above her frantic grunts, she heard the tear of duct tape. And suddenly the idea of being silenced that way was more horrifying than even a blade.

With a fresh burst of adrenaline she wriggled her arm out from under his knee and flailed for any kind of weapon. She groped around the floor until her fingers closed around something smooth and slender—a pen, a chopstick, she didn't know. She gripped it in her hand
and jabbed at his face with all her might. He reared back with a howl.

Laney bucked hard and rolled out from under him as he clutched his face.

A scream erupted from deep inside her. She tripped to her feet and rocketed for the door.