One Wrong Step

Mayfield, Texas

8:35 a.m.

John McAllister slid behind the wheel of his black Jeep Wrangler feeling grateful for beautiful women, strong coffee, and clean getaways.

Swigging caffeine, he sped away from the Stop-N-Go parking lot and tried to decide which route to the newspaper office would make him the least late for work. Fortunately, Melanie -- or was it Mallory? -- lived in one of the nicer parts of town, not far from the business district where the Mayfield Gazette was headquartered. John had left her bed moments ago, jotted a quick note, and heard her shuffling in the bedroom as he'd slipped out the front door. He didn't like mornings after, and the combination of too much tequila and not enough sleep had made this one a narrow escape.

John glanced in the backseat, and, hot damn, his luck was holding. The dry cleaning he'd picked up on his way to happy hour yesterday hadn't been stolen, rained on, or mutilated in the bar parking lot or Melinda's -- that was her name -- driveway. If he avoided traffic snarls and changed shirts on the fly, he might actually show his face at the staff meeting before ... read full excerpt from One Wrong Step ebook