Carolina Rain (3 page)

Braxton stared at the asphalt. Josh
studied
Chloe, then
glanced
at
Sophie
, then back to Chloe. Even under the circumstances, it was hard not to dive into his incredible blue eyes. She pushed the thought away
, for now
.

“We’re hoping that Michael Garity, the one who stabbed Manny, shows. You both know he fell off the edge of the earth after the hotel camera saw him sprint
through
the exit door and down the steps.”

“We had no luck on our end eider,” said Braxton. “Da man had his plan togedder for sure, and we couldn’t find a hair from his damn head.”

Chloe’s eyes softened but stayed steady. “Why would you think that he’d show up here?” she asked.

“Yeah, why? We all know these guys don’t return to the scene, alone
to
a damned
. . .
funeral,” said Sophie, more curious than ever.

“It’s about the profile. This guy
may have been
some kind of Argyle disciple
,
”
said Josh.

“
Really
? Well, why the hell not? Every freaking sicko on the planet seems to have met that bastard. Even our own Max Tucker. But I think you’re all paranoid. He couldn’t have influenced that many people,” said Chloe.

“His profile says he could. Manny thought so too,” said Josh.

“Shit. Why won’t that psycho
bitch stay dead?”
asked
Sophie
.

Josh shook his head. “The
G
ood Doctor was one of a kind and we all know how he planned for everything right up to, and after, Manny took care of him. Anyway, we
’d
checked Garity out
completely befor
e
his hire
. We knew he had roots in Ireland and, as much as we like to hire American pilots, he was a good fit for the FBI. He had a great record as a pilot and passed the background and psych testing with flying colors. But about a year ago, he started missing work and then had a couple run-ins with his supervisors. They put him on probation and he seemed to straighten out.”

“I guess not,” said Sophie.

“
You’re right
,
”
said Josh, sighing
. “We went over his phone records, checked his credit card records, etcetera, and
—
based on what we
’ve
found
—
figured that he must have been following Manny for a few months. Hell, he was even at the pub where Manny proposed to Chloe.”

Chloe’s eyes glistened
,
but she stayed silent. Sophie could only imagine what was going through her mind. The most amazing night of her life and Argyle had already planned to take it
away from
her
,
and Manny along with it. S
ophie
wasn’t one for believing in
evil spirits
but
,
if she’d ever met anyone who fit
into
that suit, Doctor Fredrick Argyle
had worn it to a
tee.

“So, because of
this possible, and I mean possible,
association with Argyle, you think
Garity
’s going to show?”

“We do and
. .
.”

Chloe interrupted
, nodding.
“I think he has no choice. It’s the only way for him to get closure and affirmation that he’d done what his master had wanted.”

“So
,
since Garity hasn’t seen the body, in his twisted-ass reality, Manny’s not dead,” said Sophie, still trying to reconcile putting the words "Manny” and “dead” in the same sentence.

“That’s what the other BAU profilers think,” said Josh.

“Yeah, but d
ey
not be no Agent
Manny
Williams,” said Braxton.

“Who is
. . .
was?” said Josh
softly
.

“Okay, say that’s right, that he’s going to show. He’s pretty hard to miss. He was a little overweight and about six-two,” said Sophie.

“Yeah, but there are ways to blend in. He could have lost weight, shaved his head, and
grown
a beard, whatever. I mean, look how many black suits and ties are here,” said Josh.

“
W
e could miss him?” asked Chloe, a hard edge in her voice.

Sophie knew Chloe was starting to think that she might get a chance to confront Manny’s killer. She felt her heart jump at that thought
too
. Maybe they
both
would.

Shrugging, Josh spoke. “
W
e could. It’s his goal to get out of this with his ass intact
but
,
so far
,
we’ve not even knowingly smelled his deodorant.”

“And dats if we be right and Garity shows,” added Braxton.

“Like I said, I think he
has
to,” said Chloe.

Sophie
knitted her brow together
. “I think Chloe’s right
,
but maybe he doesn’t want to fly under the radar. Maybe he wants to make the six o’clock news. Maybe he
—
”

She
was
disrupted
by yelling at the side entrance of the funeral home where Jen Williams and the others were standing. Sophie spun around and her heart sank somewhere past her knees. Alex was yelling and pointing to a man in a dark suit, a tall man with long black hair who had
appeared
out of nowhere. The man hesitated like a shoplifter who’d been discovered, took a wild swing at Alex, missed, then pulled a huge black handgun from his coat. He grabbed Jen, his large right hand over her face, and pulled her through the door into the funeral home, firing shots
a
t
random
a
s he did.

CHAPTER-4

Lance Morgan loved his life. Who wouldn’t? He
’d
n
ot
had to scrap or claw or fight for anything. Being born with a silver spoon tucked firmly in his mouth had never been the curse for him that others ranted on about so philosophically. Idiots. The rich were bestowed with privilege beyond comprehension, especially in America. Yet people in his
rare, special
class, even a couple of his superficial Harvard friends,
had
put guns in their mouths or swallowed a bottle of pills
.
He shook his head and sipped his morning brandy.

He
hadn’t had
to roll out of bed at some ungodly hour, punch the clock, and then return home from the mindless function of stamping out bumpers on a forty-ton press or shuffling paper in buried files that no one would see again. He
had not done
a tour of duty flipping burgers or bagging groceries as a teen because his father wanted him to learn the meaning of a day’s work.

He smiled. Good old daddy. He’d almost forbid
den
his only son to associate with those kinds of people, let alone work with them. Some
folks
would call the Morgans snobs, elitists in fact
. B
ut when the term billionaire was printed in front
—
or in back
—
of your name, who gave a rat’s ass what others thought? Not him, thank God. In his mind, cultivated by the way his father had taught him, not by words
,
really, but by his actions, he was superior to most and deserved the privileges that went with superiority. Any fool could see that.

Standing, he worked his way to the Olympic-sized pool but stopped at the gold-trimmed fifteenth
-
century French mirror. He ran his fingers over his face and smiled. He
was
handsome. Dark comple
xion
, coal
-
black hair, piercing brown eyes flecked with gold. Not to mention
,
he was as well conditio
ned as any professional athlete
and
,
at only thirty-two, he looked the part.
Throw in an inexhaustible checkbook and it was virtually impossible for women to resist him, and none had
. . .
ever.

Lance
continued his stroll t
hrough the twenty-five-thousand-
foot mansion that s
a
t back
from
the Atlantic Ocean
. His thoughts churned while he
watched the waves amble toward the North Carolina shore as he placed his drink on the marble table
running half the length of the expansive verandah
.

In spite of all the women he’d had,
that
type of
life
could become boring, in a rich-bastard sort of way. After all, how many women can one man have before even the act of sex,
in any fashion or appetite, beca
me just another thing to do? He was a member of the
m
ile-
h
igh
club, the one-hundred-mile-per-
hour club, the top
-
of
-
the
-
mountain club, and even the scuba
-
diving club. All giving him a different thrill, but already done nonetheless.

T
hat had all changed four nights ago when he’d met
Lily
. She had captured his imagination, and then put a hand, literally, on his desire of desires, which, incredibly, he never knew existed. Maybe it was love, an emotion more than new to him, or maybe it was the unexplainable power she seemed to hold over him. When they were in the throes of their games, he sometimes felt like an insect and she was the boot
. . .
and he
welcomed
it. After
two
sessions
with her, he was as addicted to what she did for him as any addict jonesing for the next fix
. . .
perhaps worse. The thought of losing that feeling was unthinkable. And
,
furthermore, she knew it. Never in his life would he have thought it possible for a woman, any woman, to cast a spell over him like she had.
Mind-boggling
and
delectable
at the same time. Maybe there was something about the old adage that one learns something new every day.

Reaching for the
Courvoisier L'Essence de Courvoisier
brandy, he drained the last drop just as his cell vibrated in his shirt pocket. Looking at the screen, he smiled. His Lily, with her
unique gifts, was on the line. His heart rate rose and his hands began to shake. With the house to himself for another two months, they’d be free to do whatever, whenever
. And
they would
.

Desperately trying to gain his composure, he answered. “Yes, dear Lily. Are you at the gate?”

Her velvet voice said she was. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the
huge iron
gate with the app on his smartphone and then he was back to her.
“I’ve been waiting impatiently all morning.”

Her laughter was far more intoxicating than the brandy. Then her phone went silent. Just like her to start the game already. Fine by him.
Let the games begin.
It only made his
anxious
anticipation, and lust, soar into the stratosphere.

Lance moved to the door and opened it just as she limped around the final bend of the driveway. He frowned. Her Beemer was nowhere in sight. Maybe that was smart. No one would know he had company. Even in his world, privacy was only a pipedream.

Once she’d gotten
to the opened door, she reached for his hand.
“Hi Lance. It’s so good to see you, not to mention
do
you.”

Lifting her off the ground, he held her tight. “I can’t wait,” he whispered.

“Nor can I. Put me down and get inside. This will be the day your mind won’t be able to handle.” Then she kissed him on the lip, biting as she did.

Warm blood coursed to the corner of
his mouth as he shut the large m
ahogany door, and he reveled in it.

Lance Morgan turned toward his new love, gave her his most charming look, then
,
without warning, spun to his knees. His lips and face were tingling as a million pins and needles stabbed him repeatedly. His skin turned to fire
and
,
just as quickly, there was no feeling at all. The next
horrible moment he was flat on the floor, unable to move
or even blink. Y
et his brain was on full alert.