James Patterson - Honeymoon

Copyright 2005 by James Patterson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Little, Brown and Company

Time Warner Book Group

237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

Visit our Web site at www.twbookmark.com

First eBook Edition: February 2005

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-7595-1322-8

Books by James Patterson

THE ALEX CROSS NOVELS

London Bridges

The Big Bad Wolf

Four Blind Mice

Violets Are Blue

Roses Are Red

Pop Goes the Weasel

Cat & Mouse

Jack & Jill

Kiss the Girls

Along Came a Spider

THE WOMENS MURDER CLUB

3rd Degree (with Andrew Gross)

2nd Chance (with Andrew Gross)

1st to Die

OTHER BOOKS

santaKid

Sams Letters to Jennifer

The Lake House

The Jester (with Andrew Gross)

The Beach House (with Peter de Jonge)

Suzannes Diary for Nicholas

Cradle and All

Black Friday

When the Wind Blows

See How They Run

Miracle on the 17th Green (with Peter de Jonge)

Hide & Seek

The Midnight Club

Season of the Machete

The Thomas Berryman Number

For more information about James Pattersons books, visit www.jamespatterson.com

BOOKS BY HOWARD ROUGHAN

The Promise of a Lie

The Up and Comer

For Suzie & Jack.

Love, Jim

For my beautiful bride, Christine.

Love, Howard

WHODUNWHAT?

THINGS ARENT ALWAYS as they appear.

One minute, Im totally fine.

The next, Im hunched over and clutching my stomach in sheer agony. What the hell is happening to me?

I have no idea. All I know is what I feel, and what I feel I cant believe. Its as if the lining of my stomach is suddenly peeling away with a corrosive burn. Im screaming and Im moaning, but most of all Im prayingpraying for this to stop.

It doesnt.

The burning continues, a blistering hole forms, and the bile trickles out of my stomach with a sizzling... drip... drip... drip... over my entrails. The smell of my own melting flesh fills the air.

Im dying, I tell myself.

But no, its worse than that. Much worse. Im being skinned alivefrom the inside out.

And its only just beginning.

Like a firework, the pain shoots up and explodes into my throat. It cuts off all air and I struggle to breathe.

Then I collapse. My arms prove useless, unable to break the fall. Headfirst I hit the hardwood floor and bust open my skull. Blood, plum red and thick, oozes from above my right eyebrow. I blink a few times, but thats all. The gash doesnt even factor in. Needing a dozen stitches is the least of my current problems.

The pain gets worse, continues to spread.

Through my nose. Out to my ears. Right smack into my eyes, where I can feel the vessels popping like bubble wrap.

I try to stand. I cant. When I finally manage to, I try to run. All I can do is stumble forward. My legs are leaden. The bathroom is ten feet away. It might as well be ten miles.

Somehow I make it. I get there, lock the door behind me. My knees buckle and, again, I collapse to the floor. The cold tile greets my cheek with a horrific crack! as my back molar splits in two.

I can see the toilet but like everything else in the bathroom its moving. Everything is spinning and I reach for the sink, arms flailing, to try and hold on. No chance. My body begins to thrash as if a thousand volts are coursing through my veins.

I try to crawl.

The pain is officially everywhere, including my fingernails, which dig into the tile grout and inch me forward. I desperately grab the base of the toilet and drag my head up over the lip.

For a second, my throat opens and I gasp for air. I begin to heave and the muscles in my chest stretch and twist. One by one, they tear as if razor blades are slashing through them.

Theres a knocking on the door. Quickly, I turn my head. Its getting louder and louder. More a pounding now.

Were it only the grim reaper to put me out of this excruciating misery.

But its notnot yet, at leastand thats the moment I realize that I may not know what killed me tonight, but I know for damn sure who did it.

PERFECT COUPLES

NORA COULD FEEL Connor watching her.

He always did the same thing when she packed to leave on one of her trips. Hed lean his six foot three frame against the doorway to his bedroom, his hands buried in the pockets of his Dockers, a frown tugging on his face. He hated the thought of their being apart.

Usually he wouldnt say anything, though. Hed just stand there in silence as Nora filled her suitcase, occasionally taking a sip of Evian water, her favorite. But that afternoon he couldnt help himself.

Dont go, he said in his deep voice.

Nora turned with a loving smile. You know I have to. You know I hate this, too.

But I already miss you. Just say no, Noradont go. To hell with them.

From day one, Nora was captivated by how vulnerable Connor allowed himself to be with her. It was in such sharp contrast to his public personaa very rich and hard-driving hedge-fund manager with his own successful company in Greenwich, with another office in London. His puppy-dog eyes belied the fact that he was built like a lion. Powerful and proud.

Indeed, at the relatively young age of forty, Connor was pretty much king of all he surveyed. And in Nora, thirty-three, hed found his queen, his perfect soul mate in life.

You know I could tie you up and keep you from leaving, he said jokingly.

That sounds like fun, said Nora, playing along. She lifted up the top of her suitcase, which was lying open on the bed. She was searching for something.

First, though, could you maybe help me find my green cardigan?

Connor finally chuckled. He got such a kick out of her. Good jokes, bad jokesit didnt seem to matter. Do you mean the one with the pearl buttons? Its in the master closet.

Nora laughed. You were dressing up in my clothes again, werent you?

She headed for the cavernous walk-in closet. When she returned, green sweater in hand, Connor had moved to the foot of the bed. He stared at her with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

Uh-oh, she said. I know that look.

What look? he asked.

The one that says you want a going-away present.

Nora thought for a moment before flashing a grin of her own. She dropped the sweater on a chair and slowly walked up to Connor, purposefully stopping just inches from his body. She was wearing only her bra and panties.

From me, to you, she whispered in his ear, leaning in.

There wasnt that much to unwrap, but Connor took his time anyway. He gently kissed Noras neck, then her shoulders, his lips tracing an imaginary line downward to the jutting curves of her small, pert breasts. There he lingered. One hand stroking her arm, the other reaching around to remove her bra.

Nora shivered, her body tingling. Cute, funny, and very good in bed. What more could a girl ask for?