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Chapter One

                 IT WASN’T the rumble of approaching thunder that woke Lissa Sanderson some time after midnight. Nor was it Mooloolaba’s tropical heat that had

prompted her to leave the houseboat’s windows open to catch whatever breeze was coming o􀀨 the river. It wasn’t even her seriously serious

financial situation that had kept her tossing and turning for the past few weeks.

It was the sound of footsteps on her little jetty.

Unfamiliar footsteps. Not her brother’s—Jared was overseas, and no one she knew would be calling in at this ridiculously unsociable hour.

A shiver scuttled down her spine.

Lifting her head of the pillow, she heard the leafy palm fronds around the nearby pool clack together and the delicate tinkle of her wind

chimes over the back door as the sound of approaching footsteps drew closer. Heavy and slow but with a sense of purpose.

Her thoughts 􀀯ashed back nine months to Todd and ice slid through her veins. The Toad wouldn’t be game to show his face in this part of

the world again. Would he? No. He. Would. Not.

Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, she scanned the familiar gloom for her heavy-duty marine torch then remembered she’d used it

to check the new leak in the ceiling and left it in the galley. Damn it.

The jetty belonged to the owners of the luxury riverside home that was rented to wealthy holiday-makers, but her lease on the private dock

wasn’t up for another two years. February was low season and the house had been vacant for the past couple of weeks. Maybe new tenants

had arrived and were unaware that the jetty was off-limits?

That had to be it. ‘Please let that be it,’ she murmured.

The carport she used to gain access through the back yard and from there to her boat was security coded—who else could it be? She told

herself not to overreact. Not to give in to the unease that had stalked her these past months. Both doors were secure, windows open but

locked. Mobile phone beside her bed, both Jared and her sister, Crystal, on speed dial.

The footsteps stopped. A weighted thump vibrated through the 􀀯oor, tilting it ever so slightly beneath her feet for a second or two. The

resulting ripple of water lapped against the hull and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

Someone was on her deck. Right outside her door.

Okay, now she could be o􀀷cially scared. She pushed up, grabbing her mobile and punching in numbers, then stared at the black screen. No

charge. Great. Just great. Heart galloping, she darted to the bedroom doorway. From here she had a clear view down the length of the boat to

the glass door where a light drizzle sheened the deck—and the stranger.

Tall. Male. His outline glistening with moisture.

Too broad-shouldered for Todd, thank God, but it could have been the hunchback of Notre Dame, his silhouette sharpening as silvery sheet

lightning edged in bronze flickered behind him.

In the clammy air her skin chilled.

Then the hunch lifted away from his shoulders and she realised it was some kind of du􀀹e bag. She pressed a 􀀺st to her mouth to sti􀀯e the