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  Books by Fern Michaels

  Fancy Dancer

  No Safe Secret

  Wishes for Christmas

  About Face

  Perfect Match

  A Family Affair

  Forget Me Not

  The Blossom Sisters

  Balancing Act

  Tuesday’s Child

  Betrayal

  Southern Comfort

  To Taste the Wine

  Sins of the Flesh

  Sins of Omission

  Return to Sender

  Mr. and Miss Anonymous

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  Christmas at Timberwoods

  The Sisterhood Novels:

  Crash and Burn

  Point Blank

  In Plain Sight

  Eyes Only

  Kiss and Tell

  Blindsided

  Gotcha!

  Home Free

  Déjà Vu

  Cross Roads

  Game Over

  Deadly Deals

  Vanishing Act

  Razor Sharp

  Under the Radar

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Lethal Justice

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  The Men of the Sisterhood Novels:

  Fast and Loose

  Double Down

  The Godmothers Series:

  Classified

  Breaking News

  Deadline

  Late Edition

  Exclusive

  The Scoop

  E-Book Exclusives:

  Desperate Measures

  Seasons of Her Life

  To Have and to Hold

  Serendipity

  Captive Innocence

  Captive Embraces

  Captive Passions

  Captive Secrets

  Captive Splendors

  Cinders to Satin

  For All Their Lives

  Texas Heat

  Texas Rich

  Texas Fury

  Texas Sunrise

  Anthologies:

  The Most Wonderful Time

  When the Snow Falls

  Secret Santa

  A Winter Wonderland

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas

  Making Spirits Bright

  Holiday Magic

  Snow Angels

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let It Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  FERN MICHAELS

  CRASH AND BURN

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2016 by Fern Michaels

  Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either 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.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such a person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in this book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Kensington Books Hardcover Printing: September 2016

  First Zebra Books Mass-Market Paperback Printing: January 2017

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4065-1

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4066-8

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4066-3

  VD1_1

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A FAMILY AFFAIR Teaser

  Prologue

  The young woman walked down the familiar path that she alone had created. It was bordered on both sides by wild, fragrant ferns. She loved the scent of them, of the wet earth, the brush, and even the smell that the trees gave off. This was her place, her secret place. She came here in the spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Sometimes just to be here, other times to sit and think; and sometimes, like now, to take a dip in the little crystal pool, which was all her own, before going to bed.

  This secret place, which she considered all her own, was usually quiet and peaceful, but in the summer months, especially now that it was late in August, she could hear the going-away parties a mile or so down the road. The summer educational camps were closing for the season. All the students had left this morning. She’d seen and heard the buses as they trundled up the hills to take the students back to their families.

  That night was the going-away party for all the counselors. She’d lived through the sounds of them for twenty years, not that she knew what the noise was all about until she was twelve or so. From that day on, her mother and the others in the little community made sure that all the young girls were inside, safely hidden away from the revelers, who too often tried to make their way to gawk at the strange hippies who lived here in the little community. But she was twenty now and not exactly a young girl who needed her mother’s protection to keep her safe.

  As she walked along the path, a nymph in a free-flowing white-muslin gown, her feet bare, flowers in her hair, she knew she shouldn’t be out here tonight—the night of the counselors’ going-away party. But she had spent the entire day with her dying mother—combing her hair, crying, singing to her, crying, reading to her, crying some more. Feeding her or trying to feed her, but her mother said it hurt t
oo much to swallow. She’d asked for more pills, and the girl had given them to her, knowing it couldn’t hurt. Not now. It wouldn’t be long now, another day or so, the doctor from the small town had said. She didn’t want to think about that. Not now, not tonight. Tomorrow, she would think about it. Tonight, all she wanted to do was dip into her little pond and let her thoughts be washed away.

  She took off her gown, folded it neatly, and slid into the cool, bubbling springwater. It felt delicious. She closed her eyes, but the blessed peace that she always felt here in her secret place eluded her. She could hear the partying counselors laughing and bellowing to one another. College boys. Mostly rich college boys having a good time before they went back to their studies. She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It had turned orange from the bonfire that always signaled the closing of the camps. She hated the intrusion in the quiet life of the small community she and her mother were a part of.

  The stars seemed to be incredibly bright tonight, she thought—so many sparkling diamonds winking down on her. There was a full moon, too. Her mother said bad things happened when the moon was full. She wasn’t really sure if she believed that or not. Her mother said a lot of things she wasn’t sure about. When she was younger, she had believed everything. But as she got older, she had started to ask questions. Her mother always answered, but the answers weren’t always to her liking. Her thoughts turned sad. In a few days, her mother would be gone, and she would never hear her opinions again. She would miss her mother. The woman had always been in her life, her rock. She’d had a father for only five days. At least he had lived to see her born before he passed away from some sickness whose name she couldn’t even pronounce. Her mother said that he was a good man, a wonderful man, because he had provided for them and all hundred friends who still lived in the little community in the hills.

  It would be her responsibility to take over the community once her mother was gone. She dreaded the day she had to put on her mother’s robes. Life was not going to give her any alternatives, so she had to step up and run the community. There was enough money in the bank, her mother had told her, because her father had been very, very rich. The property alone, she said, was worth many millions of dollars.

  The girl blinked. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed that the bonfire was already dying down; the sky was now black, but it was still filled with blinking diamonds. The full moon was the only light in the dark night. It was also quiet. Too quiet. She could hear the trees rustling, but not the crickets. And yet there was very little wind—actually, none at all, so how could the trees rustle? She felt her body go tense in the cool water. There must be someone nearby; otherwise, the crickets would still be singing their evening song. She paddled to the edge of her private pond and got out. She stood still for a moment, a silhouette frozen in the moonlight as she listened for the sounds she’d heard earlier. Hearing nothing, she bent over to pick up her white-muslin gown, which was as soft as a baby’s cheeks from so many launderings.

  That’s when she heard the voices. She wasn’t sure exactly what a drunken voice sounded like, since there was no drinking alcohol in the community, but she assumed that was what she was hearing. The remarks were crude and ugly. She wanted to run home, but her private path back to the house she shared with her mother was blocked by five men, who looked very young. They were obviously departing camp counselors.

  Four of them came at her then, all at once. Even in her panic, she could clearly see one young man back away. He was shouting something to his friends, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying because the others were grabbing at her, touching her in places she wasn’t supposed to be touched. She cried out, asking them to stop. They just laughed at her feeble efforts to avoid them. She turned to the one young man standing alone, and cried out for him to help her. He disappeared into the darkness, and she was left alone with the drunk men, who kept shouting gibberish as they threw her to the ground and attacked her, one after the other. Her last conscious thought before she slipped into a black void was that she had to remember the gibberish. She had to remember—“qg4 +qg6” and “bf7 bxf3.”

  The girl woke slowly, remembering very clearly every single detail of what had happened to her. The moon was low in the sky, which had to mean that several hours had passed since the attack. Her body hurt. She felt like she was bruised from head to toe. She wasn’t sure if she could even stand, so she rolled her way down to her little private pool and into the cool water. She almost fainted at the shock to her body. She closed her eyes.

  She wanted to die. Just die. But she couldn’t die. It was her mother who was dying. She had to take care of her mother in her last hours. How, she wondered, was she going to do that in her condition? By sheer willpower, she answered herself.

  The girl stayed in the pool for a long time, time to gather her strength and to repeat over and over the gibberish she’d heard as the men pummeled her. Gibberish she would never forget as long as she lived.

  It was an hour before dawn when the girl finally felt she was strong enough to climb out of the water and make her way down the fern-bordered path to her mother’s cabin. The soft white-muslin gown felt like sandpaper against her bruised body.

  The girl crept quietly up the different paths that led to the wide array of cabins in which her mother’s friends lived. She quietly let herself into the house and down the hall to her mother’s room, which smelled of sickness and overripe fruit. She tried to be quiet, but her mother heard her.

  “Where have you been, honey? I’ve been calling you. Please, can I have a pill?”

  “Of course, Mama. It was hot. I went down by the little pond. I lost . . . track of time.”

  She shook two pills into the palm of her hand and helped her mother sit up so she could swallow them.

  “What’s wrong?” her mother said. “Did something happen? I can feel your tenseness. You’ve been crying, I can hear it in your voice, and it has nothing to do with me. Tell me what happened.”

  Because never in the whole of her life had she lied to her mother—she, in fact, did not even know how to lie—she told her what had happened down at her little pond. She told her about the gibberish she’d stored in her memory. Her mother stopped her and told her to immediately write down what she remembered. “In the morning, our friends will help you. You will have to file a police report. Can you describe them?” The girl nodded. Like she would ever forget their ugly, leering faces? “The day will come, my darling girl, when those words will be important. Do not ever forget them. I don’t know when that will happen, but it most definitely will happen. Can I please have a pill, honey?”

  Even though she’d just given her mother two of the pain pills, she gave her another one. No one should have to suffer the way her mother was suffering. Unless it was the four men who attacked her.

  As the sun began its climb to the horizon, the woman in the bed slipped into eternal sleep, the weeping girl’s hand in her own.

  Chapter 1

  It was early. Just barely past seven in the morning, when Alexis Thorne carried her cup of steaming coffee, the first of the many she would consume on this blustery early-October day, over to the huge, plate-glass window and stared down at the nearly empty parking lot. Her BMW was the only car in the lot so far that day. She sipped at the hot coffee just as another vehicle, Nikki’s bright red Jeep Cherokee, swerved off the street and into the parking lot and came to rest next to hers. She smiled to herself. As was always the case, she and Nikki were the first ones into the office, beating each other out by a bare minute or two. She laughed out loud when she saw Nikki look up at the window and snap off a salute. Alexis did the same, unsure if Nikki could actually see her past the glare of the bright, early-morning sun on the window.

  Alexis continued to watch her boss as Nikki sprinted across the lot like a gazelle. Alexis was holding out a matching mug of coffee when Nikki blew into the firm’s kitchen. “Beat you by seven minutes, boss.”

  “Traffic was a be
ar this morning. Bumper to bumper two lights back, and I even left ten minutes early this morning. Hmmm, this is good.”

  “New coffeepot,” Alexis said, giggling. “What’s on the agenda today? Anything earth-shattering?”

  “Not on my part. I have a ten o’clock appointment this morning. I don’t even know what it’s about. Mitzi said the woman refused, yes, absolutely refused to discuss with her why she wanted the appointment. Very mysterious. My new girl is due at eight thirty to finalize her divorce. I plan to leave at noon if nothing else comes up.

  “Listen, Alexis, we need to talk here. I really want to make you a partner in the firm. Why do you keep fighting me?”

  “Because you have already done enough for me. You pay me way more than I’m worth, and we both know it. I’m happy with the health benefits. This is your firm, Nik. Yours and yours alone. I know what you had to do to get to this point, and I’m not going to take any of that away from you. If the day ever comes when I think I deserve a partnership, I’ll let you know. Another thing—I really, really do not want to be perceived as the firm’s token black partner. I know full well that you and the other associates don’t look at it that way, but there are lots of other people who will.”

  “If anyone ever deserved to be a partner, Alexis, it’s certainly you. Without you at my side, we never could have handled those two class-action suits. You did more than I did, and you know it. You need to be rewarded for all your hard work. Because of those two big wins, we suddenly became the go-to firm for class-action suits. That’s the reason I’m hiring this new girl. And I have two more I’m considering.”

  “One more time, Nik. You did reward me with that super-duper end-of-the-year bonus that made my eyeballs pop out of my head and let me buy that monster sitting in the parking lot. I don’t need or want anything more. Can we stop talking about this now?”