She found herself watching his lips.
It was crazy. And yet somehow she needed to feel something besides this stifling fear and overwhelming outrage. She needed to feel anything but that.
“I need you to hold me, Krueger.” She hadn’t meant to say out loud what she felt. But she needed this too badly to pretend she hadn’t meant the words.
He didn’t hesitate. Those strong arms went around her and pulled her close against his chest. Claire laid her cheek there and closed her eyes. When his hands started to move slowly over her back, she could feel the urgent pull of his desire and knew for certain she wasn’t in this alone.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing aged nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a daycare centre, a hospital and a department store. Later, with the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at PO Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, USA or visit her website at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for picking up my newest novel, Staying Alive. Writing this book was a pleasure, and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
During the process of bringing these characters to life I wrote some of my own past into the story. My sister and I became estranged many years ago. For more than a dozen years we did not see each other or even speak. It was a dark time in my life. Like Claire and Whitney in this story, a tragic event brought my sister and me back together. We shared our regrets, and we cried our hearts out and in the end I had my sister back.
Also, like Claire Grant, I grew up in small-town Alabama. I hope you will enjoy Claire’s story. And if you can take one thing away from this story, please take this: love is far stronger than anything on earth…all you have to do is let it guide you.
Very best regards,
Debra Webb
Staying Alive
DEBRA WEBB
The characters in this book are very special to me. The events that take place between these sisters were drawn from a very real place in my heart. This book is dedicated to Mary Ann, my beloved sister. I thank God every day that I have her back in my life.
Prologue
“The transport is set for 1:00 p.m. tomorrow.”
Habib Nusair absorbed the information without comment though the news was not what he had hoped for. There was no time for second-guessing now.
From his high-rise apartment he stared out over the city of Seattle, Washington, his hatred searing through him with such force that he shook with the roar of it.
This had been his mistake.
His miscalculation.
But he would right that grave injustice no matter the price.
Today.
“Assemble a team of four to include me,” he said to the man who waited nervously for his response. “Our timing must be precise. There is no margin for error.”
“Habib.” The man who served as his personal advisor moved closer. “The risk is far too great. Allow me to serve in your stead. You know I will not fail you.”
Habib glared at him, anger snarling inside him. “No. I will make this right. I will not bring shame on my father’s name by sending someone else to right my wrong.”
His confidante humbly bowed his head. “Of course. I will inform the others that our retaliation is imminent.”
Habib turned his attention back to the view beyond the glass. He would strike quickly with a blow that would bring the imperialist pigs to their knees.
He had waited his whole life for a moment to shine outside the shadow of his father.
Now the time was at hand.
No matter that the coming strike had been motivated by an error in judgment, he would ensure that his error evolved into a monumental turning point for the cause.
He would not fail.
Chapter 1
Claire Grant cradled her cup of coffee and inhaled deeply of the rich aroma. She closed her eyes and relished the heavenly scent.
Five minutes of peace in the teachers’ lounge. That was all she needed.
Everything had gone wrong this morning, starting with a soggy trip to school. The rain would do her flowers good, but it did nothing for her mood.
From the arrival of her first student until the fourth-period bell rang and the group filed down the hall for art class, she hadn’t had a moment of quiet time to herself. To make matters worse, it was Monday. No one wanted to be at school on Monday, especially not a room full of fifth graders. They wanted to sleep in as they had done on Saturday and Sunday. Plus, Saturday-morning cartoons were far more entertaining than math, history and science.
Claire wasn’t immune to the curse of Blue Monday herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in…until this weekend. Now she, too, paid the price. Her usual patience had thinned far too early in the day for comfort, hers or her students. And the day was scarcely half over.
Maybe this cup of coffee and a few minutes of peace and quiet was all she needed and she would be good to go. She hoped.
The entire fifth-grade wing was now gloriously silent. The rooms, even the halls, were absent of the usual noises of running feet and teasing banter. The next forty minutes were not to be taken for granted.
The first sip of caffeine-infused heat was no letdown. The savory brew tasted every bit as good as it smelled. Darlene Vernon must have made this pot. No one at Whitesburg Middle School made coffee the way Darlene did. Claire felt certain that whoever created Starbuck’s had lifted the house recipe from Darlene. Claire had to smile when she considered the probable name the popular coffee house chain would have ended up with had Darlene been the one to conceive the idea. Something like Brewing with Darlene or the Grind, she imagined. Her friend had a fiercely wicked sense of humor for a middle-school teacher.
Speak of the devil.
“I hope your morning is going better than mine,” Darlene noted, that famous sense of humor apparently having gone temporarily dry.
All fifth-grade students spent fourth period in one of three places, physical education, art or music, giving the teachers a free period for planning and, usually, a much-needed break. It looked as though Claire wasn’t the only one extra thankful for the respite today.
Claire leaned against the counter next to the coffee station and shot her friend a challenging glance. “Would you like to compare war stories?”
Darlene fired back one of those skeptical looks, her eyebrow arching upward like a ticked off cat’s back. “Matthew Pearson cut off both of Tessa Mott’s braids.” She faked a smile. “I win.”
“You’re right,” Claire admitted, stunned, “you do win.” She sipped her delicious coffee, trying not to imagine poor little Tessa’s shock at seeing her waist-length braids on the floor.
“Poor you,” Claire mused,