Allison Brennan - If I Should Die: A Novel of Suspense

Praise for Kiss Me, Kill Me

[A] riveting new series Lucy continues to be a fascinating and enticing character, and her ongoing development adds depth to an already rich brew of murder and mystery. Brennan rocks!

RT Book Reviews

Praise for Love Me to Death

A world-class nail-biter Brennan is in the groove with this one.

New York Times bestselling author L EE C HILD

This pulse-ratcheting romantic suspense from Brennan delivers intense action, multifaceted characters, and a truly creepy bad guy [A] fast-paced, engrossing read.

Publishers Weekly

Twists and turns in this dark drama make it creepy and compelling in the extreme!

RT Book Reviews (starred)

Praise for Original Sin

Brennan shows a deft command of all things both normal and otherworldly in crafting one of the best tales of its kind since Dean Koontz and Stephen King were still writing about monsters. There is no shortage of those here and the result is a new genre classic.

Providence Journal

Praise for Fatal Secrets

A master of suspense, Brennan does another outstanding job uniting horrifying action, procedural drama and the birth of a romancea prime example of why shes tops in the genre.

Top Pick, RT Book Reviews

A fast-paced, action-packed romantic suspense.

Romance Junkies

Praise for Sudden Death

Brennan knows how to deliver.

New York Times bestselling author L ISA G ARDNER

This very satisfying read presents loads of action that keeps the pages flyingand makes one wonder how much is pure fiction and how much of it could really happen.

BookLoons

Praise for Tempting Evil

Tempting Evil is an old-fashioned potboiler in all the right ways, chock-full of tried and true hallmarks of the genre.

The Providence Journal

If I Should Die is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Allison Brennan
Love Is Murder by Allison Brennan copyright 2011 by Allison Brennan
All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

B ALLANTINE and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to Rench Audio for permission to reprint an excerpt from Big Branch music by Rench, lyrics by Tomasia, performed by Gangstagrass featuring Tomasia. Available at www.renchaudio.com. Reprinted by permission.

Love is Murder was originally published as an ebook in 2011.

eISBN: 978-0-345-52042-5

Cover design by Scott Biel
Cover photograph (woman): Tom Grill/Getty Images

www.ballantinebooks.com

v3.1

Whos the outlaw, quick on the draw
Cast the first stone if you dont have a flaw
Who fills the jails, who lives above the law
White collar, black market, whos rich, whos poor

Big Branch, Gangstagrass feat. Tomasia

Guilt led him down the dark, cold passage many times that winter.

The weeks of unrelenting snowfall kept most people indoors, huddled in houses with poor insulation and roofs threatening to cave under the pressure of snow and ice. TV newscasters called this an epic winter, though upstate New York had seen it all before.

Jamming his ski poles into the deep snow, he slid to a halt at the main entrance of the abandoned Kelley Mine. The sun inched over the smooth, round mountains, chiseled against the blue sky. He stared at the entrance, frozen in fear and deep pain, as the clear February morning crept up to minus twenty degrees as dawn broke.

The rock and wood barrier appeared impassable, but a hollow spot to the leftvisible from only one anglegave easy access to the mine. He removed his skis and slipped through the opening into the dark tunnel, storing his equipment in an alcove off to the right.

Numbing cold had already seeped into his bones through the many layers of clothing, but he was used to it. Trekking down the main tunnel, he hunched over to avoid hitting his head, a flashlight illuminating the area right in front of him.

The only sounds were his footfalls on the frozen ground and the blood pumping through his veins, its relentless roar an echo in his head. As the tunnel slowly led him deeper into the mountain, his anxiety fueled his imagination. She wasnt there. She was a ghost. She would seek revenge.

He bit back a strangled sob. In life, she had been kind and smart and forgiving. Would she be different in death?

His foot slipped on the edge of a deep hole, rocks falling down the vertical exploration shaft.

Stupid, he whispered, as he pushed his back against the rough wall, trying to calm his racing heart. Dammit, he had known about the hole in this passage! How could he have wandered so far into the most dangerous area of the mine and missed the turn? There were a dozen exploration shafts and he knew exactly where they were because he had the only set of maps that had been updated by the last engineer, with all the added tunnels and shafts marked.

In the years since the mine closed, a half dozen people had lost their lives here. Everyone had heard the stories. Like three decades ago when Paul Swain and his pals were getting stoned in the mine, and Mike Stine fell to his death down one of these shafts. They never recovered his body. Some people didnt believe it was an accident, but no one dared question the Swain family. Lawson Swain had kept Spruce Lake alive until his death, when Paul took over. And even though he was in prison on drug charges, most people suspected Paul was still very much in control of criminal enterprises in Spruce Lake.

But the truth was far more terrifying.

Ten yards back he found the right tunnel. Thirty feet down, it spilled out into an open space, not much bigger than a long, narrow garage, which had long ago stored mine equipment. Two tunnels shot off the room. He didnt know where they went. Hed never been this far into the mine, except

He turned his flashlight toward the woman who haunted him.

She was unchanged, lying so peacefully he could almost pretend she was sleeping. His eyes burned.

He knelt at her side, reached out to touch her, then stopped himself.

Im so sorry. His voice broke and he began to shake. Gutless. This should never have happened. She should never have died.

He bowed his head and prayed for forgiveness. For strength.

He prayed for survival.

He remembered not her death but her smile, her sassy mouth, her quick wit. Hed loved her.

Love? Youre a fool. You killed her.

He hadnt killed her, but hed let it happen.

And you think theres a difference? Woe is the man who ignores the truth.

He remained kneeling until the cold was so bitterly unbearable that he feared he wouldnt make it back out. Would that be so bad? To die here? Every time he came, he thought the same thing. Take a few pills, lie down next to her, sleep. The subzero temperature would take care of the rest.