Read Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead Online
Authors: Lena Diaz
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #Contemporary
Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead (41 page)
A terrible suspicion flashed through her as she thought about what Pierce had just said. “Wait a minute. I talked to Logan less than an hour ago. Jacksonville is at least three hours away. Are you in town on a case?”
He didn’t look like he wanted to answer. The tiny lines at the edges of his eyes crinkled and his mouth hardened into a flat line. “I don’t live in Florida anymore. I live here now.”
Her breath left her in a rush.
Pierce lived in the same city she did.
That thought pounded at her like a drumbeat, as though a hand were squeezing her heart and pressing against her lungs.
It shouldn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter that he lived so close. It shouldn’t matter that she could run into him at the grocery store, or pass him on the street. It shouldn’t matter that she could reach out right now and run her fingers across his golden skin.
It shouldn’t matter, none of it.
But, damn it, it did.
She cleared her throat, twice, before she trusted her voice again. “How long have you been here?”
The EMT flicked a glance at her and set the gauze down. “You can lower your arms now, Agent Buchanan.”
Pierce eased his arms down, watching her with a wary expression on his face. “A couple of months.”
Two months?
He hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d moved when he’d seen her at her brother’s wedding. She hadn’t told him she’d moved either, but then, she’d had no desire to talk to him since he was so busy with the ridiculously young, beautiful redhead he’d brought as his date.
She’d probably missed her curfew to hang out with him at the wedding reception.
But
Logan
must have known that Pierce had moved to Savannah. Pierce was like the brother Logan had never had, especially after everything they’d been through last year saving Amanda from a serial killer. And he wouldn’t have asked Pierce to check on her if Pierce was hours away in Jacksonville.
“Logan knows you live here, doesn’t he?” She didn’t bother to wait for his reply. She already knew the answer. “He should have told me,
before
he talked me into buying a house here.
You
should have told me.”
“What difference would it have made if you’d known?” he asked. His brows drew down in a dark slash. “Would you have run away again?”
She blinked at his well-aimed barb and took a step back. She wished she could step back from the truth just as easily. He was right. She
had
run away from him.
But not for the reason she’d told him.
“Mrs. McKinley?” a voice called out from behind her.
Startled, she whirled around, and stumbled against the curb.
“Whoa, there.” The policeman who’d spoken to her grabbed her elbow, steadying her. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
She grimaced when she put some weight on her ankle.
“Let’s have the EMT check that.”
“No, no, I’m fine.”
The policeman gave her a skeptical look. “If you’re sure, I’m supposed to escort you to the station. Lieutenant Hamilton wants to question you some more. And you’ll have more privacy away from this crowd.” He nodded toward the curious onlookers behind the police line. “Is there someone you want me to call to meet you there? Your husband?”
“There’s no one to call. My family doesn’t live around here. And my husband is . . . dead.”
Madison tried to put weight on her bad ankle again, but as soon as she did, a sharp pain shot up her leg and she had to grab the policeman’s arm for support.
“Get into the ambulance, Madison.” Pierce scooted over on the gurney to make room. “The police can question you later.”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to be secluded in the back of the ambulance with Pierce, especially a
curious
Pierce who might barrage her with questions all the way to the hospital.
Then again, she could use the opportunity to try to convince him not to tell Logan what had happened. If the gunman was who she thought he was, the life she’d tried to build for the past year and a half was about to come crashing down. She needed some time to figure out what to do and how to protect her family.
She took a wobbly step forward and grabbed one of the metal handles by the ambulance door.
The EMT opened his mouth as if to protest but promptly closed it when Madison stared at him in challenge. She hauled herself inside and plopped down on the bench across from Pierce. The EMT spoke through the glass window to the other EMT driving the ambulance, then pulled one of the doors shut.
“Just a minute,” the policemen called out, stopping him before he could close the other door. “Agent Buchanan, the lieutenant wanted me to let you know that he called your boss, like you asked. Agent Matthews said he’ll meet you at the hospital with your fiancée.”
Daphne du Maurier winner LENA DIAZ is the author of the popular Nursery Rhyme series for Avon Books. A former computer programmer, she lives in Northeast Florida with her husband and two children. Lena is a TV and movie junkie, preferring crime dramas like
Criminal Minds
and
NCIS
.
Lena is currently writing the next installment of the Nursery Rhyme series to add to earlier books
He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not, Simon Says Die
, and this novel,
Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead
. Visit Lena at www.LenaDiaz.com.
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Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead
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By Zoë Archer
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By Monica Murphy
By Cheryl Harper
By Codi Gary
An Excerpt from
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by Zoë Archer
The Ether Chronicles continue when Kalindi MacNeil retreats to a desolate, deserted island after surviving the devastating enemy airship attack that obliterated Liverpool. Kali soon discovers she’s not alone. Captain Fletcher Adams, an elite man/machine hybrid—a Man O’ War—crashed his airship into the deserted island, never expecting to survive the wreck. But survive he did.
H
er heart climbed into her throat. Edging along the gravel-covered base of the hills, she moved slowly onward, telling herself stories of goddesses who’d braved hordes of demons without fear.
Yet she was no goddess. Only a woman, completely on her own.
A shape appeared out of the mists. A large, dark shape. Heading right toward her. It moved noiselessly over the gravel in spite of its size.
She grabbed her revolver, aiming it at the shadow.
It immediately stopped moving. Then it spoke.
“You’re not from the Admiralty.”
A man. With a deep, rasping voice. As if he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
Even through the heavy mist, she saw that he didn’t hold up his hands, despite the gun trained on him.
“No,” she answered, her mouth dry. “Not the Admiralty.” Yet she didn’t want to tell him where she
was
from. She had no idea who this stranger was.
“Anyone with you?” he demanded. He spoke with an air of command, as though used to obedience.
Despite the authority in his voice, she kept silent. Telling him she was alone could endanger her. At least she was armed.
He didn’t seem to care about the revolver in her hand. He moved closer, emerging from the fog.
Oh, God. He was big. Well over six feet tall, with shoulders as wide as ironclads. His body seemed a collection of hard muscles, knitted together to make the world’s most imposing man. He had black hair, longish and wild, as if he hadn’t seen a barber in some time, and a thick beard, also in need of trimming. He stood too far away for her to see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze on her, dark and piercing, hyper-vigilant, like a feral animal’s.
And he stepped still nearer to her.
“My father was in the army,” she said, her voice clipped. She raised her gun. “He was a crack shot. He trained me to be one, too. Stay where you are.”
She thought a corner of his mouth edged up in a smile, but the beard hid his expression. “I’d knock that Webley out of your hand before you could pull the trigger.”
Words poised on her lips that no man could move that quickly—he was still ten feet away—but those words faded the more she looked at him. His massive hands could likely crush a welder’s gas tanks. But more than the raw strength he exuded, a palpable but unseen energy radiated from him, something barely contained.
She couldn’t tell whether she was fascinated or terrified. Or both.
“You’re doing a poor job of putting me at ease,” she answered.
Again, that hint of a smile. “Never said I wanted to put you at ease.”
“Not another step,” she snapped. Instinctively, she moved back, out of striking distance. But as she did, her left boot caught in the rocks, and she stumbled.
Unseated, the stones tumbled down in a small rockslide. They knocked her down, twisting her leg at an unnatural angle. She sprawled on the ground.
Instantly, the stranger darted forward, a frown of concern between his brows.
She kept the gun pointed at him, despite lying awkwardly upon the rocks. “Back. I’m fine.”
“Your leg—”
Her skirts had come up, revealing both her limbs.
The stranger must have been civilized at one point, because he quickly turned his gaze away.
“Go ahead and look,” she said. “I gave up on modesty months ago.”
He did, and when he saw her leg, he cursed softly. “Mechanical.”
An Excerpt from
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by Monica Murphy
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Monica Murphy launches her sexy Billionaire Bachelors Club series with the story of Archer and Ivy: a lavish bet, a night of carnal desires, and a forever they never thought possible . . .
Ivy
“W
hat is this?” I take the wadded-up fabric from his hand, our fingers accidentally brushing, and heat rushes through me at first contact.
“One of my T-shirts.” He shrugs those broad shoulders, which are still encased in fine white cotton. “I knew you didn’t have anything to wear to . . . bed. Thought I could offer you this.”
His eyes darken at the word “bed,” and my knees wobble. Good Lord, what this man is doing to me is so completely foreign that I’m not quite sure how to react.
“Um, thanks. I appreciate it.” The T-shirt is soft, the fabric thin, as if it’s been worn plenty of times, and I have the sudden urge to hold it to my nose and inhale. See if I can somehow smell his scent lingering in the fabric.
The man is clearly turning me into a freak of epic proportions.
“You’re welcome.” He leans his tall body against the doorframe, looking sleepy and rumpled and way too sexy for words. I want to grab his hand and yank him into my room.
Wait, no I don’t. That’s a bad, terrible idea.
Liar.
“Is that all then?” I ask, because we don’t need to be standing here having this conversation. First, my brother could find us and start in again on what a mistake we are. Second, I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that I’m completely naked beneath the robe. Third, I’m still contemplating shedding the robe and showing Archer just how naked I am.
“Yeah. Guess so.” His voice is rough, and he pushes away from the doorframe. “Well. Good night.”
“Good night,” I whisper, but I don’t shut the door. I don’t move.
Neither does he.
“Ivy . . .” His voice trails off, and he clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. Which is hot. Oh my God, everything he does is hot, and I decide to give in to my impulses because screw it.
I want him.
Archer
L
ike an idiot, I can’t come up with anything to say. It’s like my throat is clogged, and I can hardly force a sound out, what with Ivy standing before me, her long, wavy dark hair tumbling past her shoulders, her slender body engulfed in the thick white robe I keep for guests. The very same type of robe we provide at Hush.
But then she does something so surprising, so amazingly awesome that I’m momentarily dumbfounded by the sight.
Her slender hands go for the belt of the robe, and she undoes it quickly, the fabric parting, revealing bare skin. Completely bare skin.
Holy shit. She’s naked. And she just dumped the robe onto the ground, and she’s standing motionless in front of me. Again, I must stress, naked.
My mouth drops open, a rough sound coming from low in my throat. Damn, she’s gorgeous. All long legs and curvy waist and hips and full breasts topped with pretty pink nipples. I’m completely entranced for a long, agonizing moment. All I can do is gape at her.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and wait for my brother to come back out and find us like this, or are you going to come inside my room?”