Deadly Aim
© 2004 by Patricia H. Rushford
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3943-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
“A honey of a mystery by Pat Rushford. Angel Delaney is a character with real staying power. The story will keep you flipping pages as you get caught up not only in the police procedural but also Angel’s personal life. Can’t wait for the next installment!”
James Scott Bell, author of
A Higher Justice
“Pat Rushford takes
Deadly Aim
at the mystery lover’s mind, heart, and soul in this don’t-put-it-down read. Get a Rushford rush on this twisting, turning murder express. It’s an all-nighter read. Spunky cop Angel Delaney not only solves the crime but steals your heart in the process.”
Linda Windsor, author of
Along Came Jones
and the Fires of Gleannmara series
“In
Deadly Aim
, the action is brisk and the story is enlivened by suspense, romance, and several unexpected twists and turns. As with all of Pat’s books, the characters grapple with life’s challenges realistically. Angel may find herself the center of a whole new fan club!”
Judy Frandsen, sherriff’s office employee, Salem, Oregon
“Don’t pick up Patricia Rushford’s new mystery if you need your sleep. I couldn’t put it down and was up until 2:00 finishing it. I enjoyed
Deadly Aim
from its first sentence to its satisfying conclusion. Patricia knows how to create suspense by giving just enough hints of what’s to come. What a great read! I’ll look for more in this series.”
Linda Hall, author of
Steal Away
and
Chat Room
“Deadly Aim
is a tale of pulse-pounding suspense that readers are unlikely to forget. The book has it all—memorable characters, punchy prose, dialogue that zings. Rushford has wrapped all those elements in a many-layered and puzzling plot that will keep readers turning the pages.”
Dorothy Francis, author of
Conch Shell Murders
“Pat Rushford has no equal when it comes to building complex characters and then thrusting them into intriguing situations.
Deadly Aim
is a pleasure from end to end. It provides action and emotional impact while it explores deeper issues, like loyalty and trust. I hope we’ll be able to enjoy these intriguing characters for a long time to come. Dandy plot, intriguing characters, great subtext—I loved it! Pat Rushford’s
Deadly Aim
nails the target dead on.”
Sandy Dengler, author
To Travis, my partner in crime
Contents
M
ist rolled gray and thick over the small coastal town of Sunset Cove, Oregon. Perfect weather for what needed to be done. Ordinarily he left it up to his manager to oversee the operations. But not tonight. Well, morning actually. It was nearly 3:00
A.M.
Though he’d worked with the same crew for over a year, he didn’t trust them, any of them. He’d gotten word that one of his dealers was skimming—and worse, stealing controlled drugs from local pharmacies. Of course, most dealers skimmed a little, but J.J. was getting far too greedy, even thinking about setting up his own business. He should know better than to pull a stunt like that. Nobody double-crossed Duke and got away with it.
Duke. Humph. A rich name for a rich dude. That’s all they knew about him, and that’s all he wanted them to know. Not even his manager knew who he really was or what he did.
He rolled his thick shoulders and massaged his neck muscles through his black turtleneck. He’d had a rough week. Not that it mattered, of course. For him, one day faded into another. But it wouldn’t always be like that. Two more years and he’d retire, at least from his day job.
Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the window, Duke smiled. To look at him, no one would suspect that he was anything but an upstanding citizen.
He left the window, moving silently to his closet, where he took the polished wooden case off the shelf. Opening it, he lifted his .45-caliber semiautomatic pistol out of its velvet-lined case, shoved in a magazine from his stockpile, and slipped the gun into his holster. He then lifted the silencer out of the case and dropped it into his right pocket.
His lips curled in a sneer. These babies were rare, and the government kept close tabs on who had them. Not his though. The previous owner was six feet under. When Duke was sixteen years old, after years of abuse, he’d finally gotten the upper hand over his father. And he’d been lucky enough to stash the silencer and the gun before the cops had shown up.
Duke looked down at the gun. He could’ve skipped the silencer. Sunset Cove’s finest would be too far away from the docks to hear anything, and most of the residents would be asleep. But he wanted the added insurance.
He donned a drab olive rain slicker and jammed his feet into iron-toed work boots. The jacket stretched tight across his shoulders as he tied the laces.
Ten minutes later he entered the condemned brick building and made his way to the far end, through what had once been an office, and out to the dock. The old dock rocked and moaned in protest as he moved into the darker shadows of the building, where J.J. wouldn’t be able to see him. While he waited, Duke watched the lights across the bay and up the hill where Sunset Cove’s wealthiest residents lived.
Some day
.
He sniffled and used the back of his hand to wipe his nose—blasted fog always made his nose run. He didn’t like having to be out here in the open and so close to where the drugs were stored. Didn’t like having to deal with these punks on a personal level.
But Duke couldn’t help chuckling quietly to himself. J.J. would think he was coming up in the world. Maybe, if the kid believed in God, he would be going up. Doubtful though. The guy had done time for messing up his girlfriend’s face with a knife, among other things. J.J. wasn’t exactly what you’d call religious. But then neither was Duke.
Duke stiffened when he heard the pilings groan. He drew the .45 out of his holster, attached the silencer, and released the safety.
“Don’t come any farther,” Duke warned, lowering his voice to the familiar growl he used when he talked to these punks. His godfather imitation.
“Uh—okay.”
The kid sounded nervous. Good.
“Word come down you wanted to see me. What’s happenin’?”
Duke liked watching the kid squirm, just like he’d enjoyed watching his father plead with him. Too bad. He had the upper hand and intended to keep it.
“Somethin’ wrong?” J.J. reached inside his jacket.
Duke tensed, then relaxed, when J.J. pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “You tell me.”
J.J.’s hands shook as he held the lighter to his face. The whites of his eyes glowed yellow. “This don’t sound so good.” He took a drag and blew smoke out of his nose. “Somebody been rattin’ on me. Cause if they have—”
“You got the money from last night’s take?”
“Yeah.” He lifted a pack off his shoulders. “Seventy-five hundred.”
“That’s all?”
“Hey, man, what’re you saying?” J.J. set the bag on the dock and took a step away from it.
“The usual take for a weekend night is ten grand,” Duke reminded him.
“You thinking I kept some of the money? Cause if you thinking that, you’d be wrong, man.”
Duke stepped out of the shadows.
J.J.’s startled gaze went from the gun to Duke’s face. “You set me up, man. You’re the...”
The look on J.J.’s face escalated to terror, then froze as a bullet tore into his chest.
C
an I buy you a cup of coffee?” Angel Delaney said as she looked over at her partner. She and Eric Mason had been driving around in their squad car for over an hour, and she needed to stretch.
Eric was one of those TDH kind of guys. Tall, dark, and handsome. He was a little shy and a little full of himself too. But then, why shouldn’t he be? His thick brown hair always settled in perfect order, no matter which way the wind blew. He had long lashes that framed his eyes and a smile that made a girl’s toes curl. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, slim hips—men spent hours at the gym carving out muscles like his. Had circumstances been different, Angel might have been interested, but she made it a point not to date any of her fellow officers.