Don't Say a Word
Rita Herron
Groomed by a covert group of elite killers, Damon left the secret society to join the FBI after a mission went brutally wrong and an innocent woman died.When his brother is arrested for murder, Damon investigates and finds a "Jane Doe" who holds the key to the case, along with a darker terror– one that threatens to expose Damon's deadly secrets and destroy them all. Despite the danger, he's drawn to the nameless beauty, igniting a passion that burns hot between them.But with a madman out to silence her forever, Damon knows he must deny their love. And to stop the man responsible, he must return to the one place he has desperately tried to leave behind– the dark shadows of a killer's mind…
Don’t Say a Word
Rita Herron
To all the soldiers fighting for our country
and our freedom—you are the real heroes!
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
May, New Orleans
THE WOMAN HAD NO FACE. No voice. No name.
Dr. Reginald Pace studied her near lifeless form as it lay on the shiny surgical table. The harsh fluorescent lights glared off her charred skin and raw flesh, painting an inhuman picture.
Her silent, vacant eyes begged for mercy. For death.
But the voice inside his head whispered that he could not fulfill her wish. It proclaimed that her body craved the transformation only his gifted hands could offer.
As a plastic surgeon, he saw the ruins of people’s faces and bodies on a daily basis. But never had he beheld a sight like the one before him—the very reason he’d made a deal with a demon to get her. She was the perfect one for his experiment.
Mangled, charred skin had peeled away from the severed tendons. Lips that once held a feminine smile now gaped with blisters and raw flesh. Bloodshot eyes, blinded by pain, had flickered with pleas for death before he had swept her under with the bliss of drugs.
His healing hands would piece her back together.
His healing hands and time…
Layer by layer he would rebuild her. Repair severed nerve endings, damaged cartilage. Replace tissue. Mold the monster into his beauty.
Without a face, a name, a picture, he could shape her into whatever he chose.
The woman of his dreams, God willing. She would be his creation. His to keep forever…
He gently brushed the remnants of her singed hair from her hairline. She would be in agony for a while, but he would be there with her every step of the way to offer her comfort.
And she would recover; he wouldn’t rest until she did.
A smile curled his mouth as he picked up the scalpel to get started. Yes, she would thank him in the end.