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Rapture in Death

In Death Band 4

Praise for Rapture in Death

“Sexy, gritty, richly imagined suspense.”—
Publishers Weekly


More Praise for the In Death series

 

“Robb is a virtuoso.”—
Seattle Post-Intelligencer

 

“It’s
Law & Order: SVU—in the future.”—
Entertainment Weekly

 

“J. D. Robb’s In Death novels are can’t-miss pleasures.”—#1
New York Times bestselling author Harlan Coben

 

“Anchored by terrific characters, sudden twists that spin the whole narrative on a dime, and a thrills-to-chills ration that will raise the neck hairs of even the most jaded reader, the J. D. Robb books are the epitome of great popular fiction.”—
New York Times bestselling author Dennis Lehane
Rezension
"Sexy, gritty, richly imagined suspense."-Publishers Weekly

More Praise for the In Death series

"Robb is a virtuoso."-Seattle Post-Intelligencer

"It's Law & Order: SVU-in the future."-Entertainment Weekly

"J. D. Robb's In Death novels are can't-miss pleasures."-#1 New York Times bestselling author Harlan Coben

"Anchored by terrific characters, sudden twists that spin the whole narrative on a dime, and a thrills-to-chills ration that will raise the neck hairs of even the most jaded reader, the J. D. Robb books are the epitome of great popular fiction."-New York Times bestselling author Dennis Lehane
Portrait
J. D. Robb ist das Pseudonym der international höchst erfolgreichen Autorin Nora Roberts. Durch einen Blizzard entdeckte Nora Roberts ihre Leidenschaft fürs Schreiben: Tagelang fesselte 1979 ein eisiger Schneesturm sie in ihrer Heimat Maryland ans Haus. Um sich zu beschäftigen, schrieb sie ihren ersten Roman. Zum Glück, denn inzwischen zählt Nora Roberts zu den meistgelesenen Autorinnen der Welt. Unter dem Namen J.D. Robb veröffentlicht sie seit Jahren ebenso erfolgreich Kriminalromane.
Under the pseudonym J.D. Robb, Nora Roberts published her first Robb novel in 1995. With the In Death series, Robb has become one of the biggest thriller writers on earth, with each new novel reaching number one on bestseller charts the world over.
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  • This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

    chapter one

    chapter two

    chapter three

    chapter four

    chapter five

    chapter six

    chapter seven

    chapter eight

    chapter nine

    chapter ten

    chapter eleven

    chapter twelve

    chapter thirteen

    chapter fourteen

    chapter fifteen

    chapter sixteen

    chapter seventeen

    chapter eighteen

    chapter nineteen

    chapter twenty

    Mind games . . .

    At the flick of a switch, Eve's face flashed onto a monitor, all pertinent data split-screened beside her. A fascinating woman. Birthplace and parents unknown. The abused child discovered hiding in an alley in Dallas, Texas, body battered, mind blanked. A woman who couldn't remember the early years of her own life. The years that formed the soul. Years when she had been beaten and raped and tormented.

    What did that sort of life do to the mind? To the heart? To the person?

    It had made the girl a social worker and had made Eve Dallas into a woman who had become a cop. The cop with the reputation for digging deep, and who had come into some notoriety the previous winter during the investigation of a sensitive and ugly case.

    That was when she had met Roarke.

    The computer hummed, sliced Roarke's face onto the screen. Such an intriguing couple. His background was no prettier than the cop's had been. But he'd chosen, at least initially, the other side of the law to make his mark. And his fortune.

    Now they were a set. A set that could be destroyed on a whim.

    But not yet. Not for some little time yet.

    After all, the game had just begun.

    But I do nothing upon myself,
    and yet am mine own Executioner.

    -John Donne

    There is rapture on the lonely shore.

    -Lord Byron

    chapter one

    The alley was dark and stank of piss and vomit. It was home for quick-footed rats and the bony, hungry-eyed felines who hunted them. Red eyes glinted in the dark, some of them human, all of them feral.

    Eve's heart tripped lightly as she slipped into the fetid, damp-edged shadows. He'd gone in, she was sure of it. It was her job to follow, to find him, to bring him in. Her weapon was in her hand, and her hand was steady.

    "Hey, sweetcakes, wanna do it with me? Wanna do it?"

    Voices out of the dark, harsh with chemicals or cheap brews. Moans of the damned, giggles of the mad. The rats and cats didn't live here alone. The company of the human garbage that lined the sweating brick walls was no comfort.

    She swung her weapon, crouched as she sidestepped a battered recycling unit that, from the smell of it, hadn't worked in a decade. The stench of food gone over smeared the humid air and turned it into a greasy stew.

    Someone whimpered. She saw a boy, about thirteen, all but naked. The sores on his face were festering; his eyes were slits of fear and hopelessness as he scrabbled like a crab back against the filthy wall.

    Pity stirred in her heart. She had been a child once, hurt and terrified, hiding in an alley. "I won't hurt you." She kept her voice quiet, barely a murmur, kept her eyes on his, maintaining contact as she lowered her weapon.

    And that's when he struck.

    He came from behind, a roar of motion and sound. Primed to kill, he swung the pipe. The whistle of it stung her ears as she whirled, dodged. There was barely time to curse herself for losing her concentration, forgetting her primary target as two hundred fifty pounds of muscle and mean sent her flying to the bricks.

    Her weapon flew out of her hand and clattered into the dark.

    She saw his eyes, the glint of mayhem heightened by the chemical, Zeus. She watched the pipe raised high, timed it, and rolled seconds before it cracked against brick. With a pump of her legs, she dived headfirst into his belly. He grunted, st
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Beschreibung

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 320
Altersempfehlung ab 18
Erscheinungsdatum 01.10.1996
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-425-15518-9
Verlag Penguin US
Maße (L/B/H) 17.1/10.7/2.2 cm
Gewicht 163 g
Verkaufsrang 23130
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Fr. 13.90
Fr. 13.90
inkl. gesetzl. MwSt.
inkl. gesetzl. MwSt.
zzgl. Versandkosten
Versandfertig innert 1 - 2 Werktagen,  Kostenlose Lieferung ab Fr.  30 i
Versandfertig innert 1 - 2 Werktagen
Kostenlose Lieferung ab Fr.  30 i
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