Open Season
Authors: Linda Howard
LOOK FOR THESE HEART-POUNDING NOVELS OF ROMANTIC SUSPENSE FROM NEW YORK
TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
LINDA HOWARD
Handsome, rich, sexy,
deadly
....
MR. PERFECT
“Sexy fun.” —
People
...and don’t miss
ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN NOW YOU SEE HER KILL AND TELL SON OF THE MORNING HEART OF FIRE AFTER THE NIGHT
PRAISE FOR THE SENSATIONAL
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLERS OF LINDA HOWARD
OPEN SEASON
“A perfect mystery for a late summer weekend. It’s part romance with a dollop of suspense.”
—
The Globe & Mail
(Toronto)
“This book is a masterpiece. Howard hooks us with a devastating opening prologue, then paints such visual pictures of her characters that they live.”
—
Rendezvous
“The irrepressible Daisy Minor has a way of freshening everything.”
—
The Palm Beach Post
“This lighthearted novel takes a dark turn when Daisy herself becomes prey.”
—
People
“A modern-day version of the fairy tale about the ugly duckling that grows into a magnificent swan. . . .”
—
The Orlando Sentinel
(FL)
MR. PERFECT
“A frolicsome mystery. . . . Jaine Bright lives up to her name: she’s as bright—and explosive—as a firecracker.”
—
People
“Mr. Perfect
really scores. . . . Part romance novel, part psychological thriller, [it] is both a frightening and funny look at the plight of the modern woman searching for an ideal mate.”
—
New York Post
“There is nothing quite like a sexy and suspenseful story by the amazing Linda Howard! . . . Funny, exciting, gripping, and sensuous. . . . One of her all-time best!”
—
Romantic Times
ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN
“A high-suspense romance. . . . Howard’s trademark darkly sensual style and intense, layered plot will delight her fans.”
—
Booklist
“Ms. Howard has made the character [of John Medina] irresistible.... A fascinating novel of suspense and sensual tension.”
—
Rendezvous
“Heart-pounding sensuality and gripping tension made it impossible to put this page-turner down until the very end. . . . John Medina is quite a hero.”
—
Old Book Barn Gazette
“[A] sexy thriller. . . . Another explosive hit.”
—
Romantic Times
“Watching [hero John Medina] in action, à la James Bond, is exhilarating....”
—Amazon.com
NOW YOU SEE HER
“Steamy romance morphs into murder mystery....”
—People
“An eerie, passionate, and thrilling tale. . . .”
—
Romantic Times
“Sensual, page-turning.”
—Amazon.com
KILL AND TELL
“Linda Howard meshes hot sex, emotional impact, and gripping tension in this perfect example of what romantic suspense ought to be.”
—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)
“A riveting masterpiece of suspense. Linda Howard is a superbly original storyteller.”
—Iris Johansen,
New York Times
bestselling author of
And Then You Die
SON OF THE MORNING
“Linda Howard offers a romantic time-travel thriller with a fascinating premise . . . gripping passages and steamy sex.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A complex tale that’s rich with detail, powerful characters and stunning sensuality. . . . It’s no wonder that Linda Howard is the best of the best.”
—CompuServe Romance Reviews
Books by Linda Howard
A Lady of the West
Angel Creek
The Touch of Fire
Heart of Fire
Dream Man
After the Night
Shadow of Twilight
Son of the Morning
Kill and Tell
Now You See Her
All the Queen’s Men
Mr. Perfect
Open Season
Published by POCKET BOOKS
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 | POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com |
Copyright © 2001 by Linda Howington
Originally published in hardcover in 2001 by Pocket Books
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN 13: 978-0-671-02758-2
eISBN 13: 978-1-4391-4079-6
ISBN 10: 0-671-02758-1
First Pocket Books paperback printing June 2002
20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Cover art by Tom Hallman
Printed in the U.S.A.
I’m blessed with many, many friends, without whom I couldn’t operate. They aren’t in any particular order, but they are:
Kate Collins, an editor who never let me see her sweat, even though everyone else around her was in panic mode; Robin Rue, agent and friend and number one cheerleader; Gayle Cochran, who is always there when I need her; Beverly Beaver, whose love shelters all of us; Linda Jones, with her steadiness and quirky sense of humor and good advice; Sabrah Agee, with her laughter and endless sources of legal information; Liz Cline, who literally makes it possible for me to function; Marilyn Elrod, whose friendship is always there, like a rock; my sister Joyce, who has been side-by-side with me since childhood. . . . Like I said, I’m blessed. Catherine Coulter, Iris Johansen, and Kay Hooper are irreplaceable in my life. And let’s not forget the Clud Club—they know who they are.
By the way, there was a real Buffalo Club, though the only resemblance it bore to the one in the book was the name and the fact that it served alcohol. The real Buffalo Club burned to the ground many years ago, but it was the stuff of legends.
OPEN SEASON
PROLOGUE
C
armela nervously clutched the burlap bag that held her other dress, some water, and the small package of food she had been able to save for the trip north, across the border. Orlando had told her that they wouldn’t be able to stop, for food or water or anything, until they reached Los Angeles. She was locked in the back of an old truck that bounced and swayed, throwing her from side to side if she didn’t manage to wedge herself into a corner and brace her back and legs in the small
V,
making sleep impossible because the moment she relaxed, she was sent tumbling across the rough wood bed of the truck.
Carmela was terrified, but determined. Enrique had gone across two years before, and he’d said he would send for her. Instead he had married an American, so he could never be deported, and she had
been left with her dreams destroyed and her pride in shreds. There was nothing left for her in Mexico; if Enrique could marry an American, then so could she! And she would marry a rich one. She was very pretty; everyone said so. When she married her rich
norteamericano,
she would find Enrique and thumb her nose at him, and he would be sorry he had lied and betrayed her.
She had big dreams, but she felt very small, bouncing around in the back of the truck as it charged across uneven ground. She heard grinding metal as Orlando changed gears, and a soft exclamation of pain as one of the other girls banged into the side of the truck. There were three others, all young like her, all wanting something better than what they had left behind in Mexico. They hadn’t exchanged names, hadn’t talked much at all. They were too preoccupied with the danger of what they were doing, and both sad and excited: sad at what they were leaving behind, and excited at the prospect of a better life. Anything had to be better than nothing, and nothing was what Carmela had.
She thought about her mother, dead for seven months, worn out by a lifetime of hard work and having babies. “Never let Enrique touch you between your legs,” her mother had lectured, time and again. “Not until you are his wife. If you do, then he won’t marry you, and you’ll be left with a baby while he finds another pretty girl.” Well, she hadn’t let Enrique touch her between the legs, but he had found another girl anyway. At least she hadn’t been left with a baby.
She had understood what her mother meant, though:
Don’t be like me.
Her mother had wanted Carmela to have more than she’d had. She hadn’t wanted her to grow old before her time, forever laden
with a baby in her arms and another in the womb, and dying before the age of forty.
Carmela was seventeen. By the time her mother had been seventeen, she’d already had two babies. Enrique had never understood Carmela’s insistence on remaining a virgin; he’d been, by turns, angry and sullen at her steadfast refusal to let him make love to her. Perhaps the woman he had married had let him do that to her. If that was all he wanted, then he had never truly loved her at all, Carmela thought. Good riddance! She wasn’t going to waste her life mourning a . . . a fool!
She tried to keep her spirits up by telling herself everything would be better in America; everyone said that in Los Angeles there were more jobs than there were people, that everyone had a car, and a television. She might even be in the movies, and become famous. Everyone said she was pretty, so perhaps it was possible. The fact, however, was that she was seventeen and alone, and she was frightened.
One of the other girls said something, her voice drowned out by the laboring engine, but the tension came through. In that moment, Carmela realized the other three were as frightened as she. So she wasn’t alone, after all; the other three were just like her. It was a small thing, but she immediately felt braver.
