Faces of Evil [4] Rage (37 page)

“The two executions were carried out by rebels against our clique. They have been taken care of.”

She supposed, like Captain Allen said, that saved the taxpayers the cost of an investigation and a trial. Not to mention housing in whatever jail the perps ended up in. But that view was wrong.

“Mr. Lopez also said that I should tell you that the problem you had in the BPD has resolved itself. You are no longer in danger from that source. He believes you have yourself an
angel de la guarda
.”

Another wave of tension rippled through her. “What does that mean, Mr. Debarros?”

“You need not worry, Chief Harris, you have a guardian angel.”

The call ended.

Jess stared at the phone. She stamped her foot. “What is with all this angel talk?” Frustrated, she tossed her phone into her bag and grabbed her keys. “Shopping is what I need.”

If she found a sofa she’d have to call Harper. Unless the store provided delivery. She laughed at herself. She’d never heard of thrift stores providing delivery services but who knew.

Maybe she could rent one of those trucks by the hour from the Home Depot. Couldn’t be that different from driving a car. Then again, she’d still need Harper’s strong back.

Or Dan’s.

She’d figure it out.

She opened the door and instantly jumped back.

“I was just about to knock.”

Daniel Burnett stood in her doorway. “You can’t call before you show up at my door?” What was it with men these days? They thought women were just moping around the house waiting for them to appear?

“I had to drop off a couple of antiques in the neighborhood from the silent auction the other night. I thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to have an early lunch.”

“You making deliveries in that fancy Mercedes of yours?”

He shook his head. “I’m using my dad’s truck.”

“Your dad has a truck?”

“Ford F150. Crew cab. 3.7 liter V-6. Flex fuel,” he bragged, though she had no idea what all that meant.

“Yes,” she enthused. “Lunch would be awesome. You don’t mind helping me run a few errands, do you?”

His gaze narrowed with suspicion. “What kind of errands?”

“I need a few things.” She smiled. “I promised to make you dinner here tonight. I’ll make it extra special.”

“Is that a bribe?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

He came inside, forcing her to back up a step, and closed the door behind him. “Give me a little preview and I might be persuaded.”

She dropped her bag to the floor and reached for the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll take my time undoing every one of these buttons.” She kept going until she’d reached the one that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. “Sorry I can’t get to that one.” She gave him a wicked look. “Unless I do this.” She tugged the button at his waistband loose. The sound of his fly lowering made him groan. She pulled his shirt loose and finished the unbuttoning.

“Then,” she flattened her palms on his chest. He shivered. “I’ll explore all this delicious territory.” She smoothed her palms over his chest, down his rib cage, her heart ached at the feel of the scar Eric Spears had left him with. She banished thoughts of that bastard. This was hers and Dan’s time. No one else mattered. He was breathing heavily. The idea that he was so ready for more had her burning up. A fire for him had been smoldering deep inside her all week. “But I’m a little greedy so that will never be enough.”

She pushed his jeans and briefs down his thighs. “Hmm.” Her fingers wrapped around him. He shuddered.

Just to torture him, she backed up a step and kicked off the flip-flops, slid her sweats and panties down her thighs, leaving them in a puddle on the floor as she reclaimed the space between them.

She leaned against him. “Then…”

“Then,” he echoed as he grabbed her up and twisted around until her back was against the door. “I’d do what I’ve been dying to do all week.”

Her body melted against the hard planes of his. “And what’s that?”

He pressed into her, filling her slowly and completely. “Make love to you.” He kissed her nose. “Again.” He kissed her chin. “And again.”

Her hips moved against his, pressing him deeper. She moaned with pleasure. “Good answer.”

Her phone chirped, signaling she’d received a text, but she didn’t care. All she wanted right now was
all
of Dan.

It was so good to be home.

A high school graduation party ends in a death.

More than a decade later, an invitation to a special class reunion is sent.

And so begins a series of murders that will test Deputy Chief Jess Harris as a chilling game of retribution is set in motion …

Please turn this page for a preview of

Revenge

Revenge… its delight is murder, and its end is despair.

—Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

9911 Conroy Road, August 9, 10:45 p.m.

T
he room went as black as a tomb.

“Oh, shoot.” Jess Harris heaved a beleaguered sigh. She tossed the now useless hair dryer onto the bed. This was the second night in a row the power had gone out on her. “One of the perks of living in a historic—aka
old
—home,” she muttered.

Reaching forward into the darkness to prevent any collisions, she shuffled across the room. She hadn’t been here a week, and small as the place was, she still didn’t know it by heart. In her defense, she was hardly ever home. A cop’s life was rarely calm or routine.

Where the hell had she left that flashlight her landlord had given her? By the kitchen sink? On the table? Wait… she squinted—tried her best to see as her eyes focused to the darkness—maybe she’d stuck it out of the way on top of the fridge. One of these days she had to get organized.

Deciding the vintage appliance was the most likely place she felt her way there and ran her hand as far back and over the top as she could reach. A smile of triumph slid across her lips as her fingers closed around the plastic flashlight.

She nudged the switch with her thumb and a beam of light cut through the blackness. Some of the tension bunching her shoulders ebbed. “Hallelujah.”

Now what?

At this hour chances were Mr. Louis, her landlord, was in bed. It wasn’t as if she really needed the lights back on since she’d planned to hit the sack herself as soon as her hair was dry. Jess ran a hand through the still-damp ringlets. But, she did have food in the fridge that needed to be kept cold. Besides, this was the second time that breaker had gotten thrown by her hair dryer. According to Mr. Louis that wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d promised to call an electrician today. She’d gotten home late so there’d been no opportunity to ask him if the problem was fixed.

“Obviously not,” she muttered as she tapped her thigh with the flashlight sending its beam back and forth over the wood floor. “Well, hell.” No use standing around here putting off the inevitable.

There was just no way around it. She’d have to go down to the garage and take care of the breaker herself. Resetting the damned thing wasn’t a big deal. Not really. After getting Dan out the door last night, she’d hurried through a shower and switched on her hair dryer and
poof
the lights had gone out—just like tonight. Thankfully her landlord had still been puttering around in his kitchen then so she’d knocked on his door.

He’d explained that her apartment and the garage were on a subpanel, which also clarified why there was no service disruption in the main house when her lights went out. Inside the garage last night, she’d carefully watched him reset the breaker and even remembered which one it was. Fourth from the top.

“Easy as pie.” Jess shoved her cell phone into the pocket of her worn-comfortable robe and strode to the door. She could do this without bothering her elderly landlord.

On the deck outside her door, she verified that Mr. Louis’s house was indeed dark before descending the stairs. She hoped the side door of the garage wasn’t locked. That could be a problem. Damn it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. People generally locked all doors at night. Then she’d have no choice but to bang on his door.

“Don’t borrow trouble, Jess.”

At the garage’s side door the knob turned without resistance and she was in. Thank the Lord. She roved the flashlight’s beam over the cavernous space to get her bearings. Smelled like wood shavings and vaguely of oil. Last night she hadn’t really noticed. She’d been too focused on how to get the power back on in her place. This go-around her curiosity got the better of her.

There was just one vehicle in the garage, a classic, black Cadillac Eldorado. That she had spotted last night. The car fit the man, she decided. The thought of Mr. Louis and his horn-rimmed glasses behind the wheel of that big, formidable-looking automobile reminded her of a character straight out of
The Sopranos
. Like the money man or the bookie.

The exposed stone walls were lined with shelves on three sides, all were neatly organized with cans of paint and tools. The brush lying across the top of a can of white paint had her remembering and wondering about her landlord’s sudden decision to freshen the door to her apartment the other evening. She should ask him about that. Not that it really mattered to the homicide case she had just closed at this point but he needed to understand that in her line of work sometimes trouble followed her home. And if some jerk decided to leave her a personal message it was essential that she see it—all of it, no matter how unpleasant—before it was whitewashed.

The sooner she made that point clear to him the better. Maybe tomorrow when she spoke to him about the electrician.

Jess padded across the rough concrete floor and settled the light on the gray metal door of the breaker box. She opened it and sure enough breaker number four from the top had jumped into the off position. Might not technically be considered off but it was off as far as Jess was concerned.

“So you don’t like my hair dryer, is that it?” She reached up and snapped the breaker into the on position. She watched for a moment to ensure it wasn’t going to repeat its unruly behavior. When the breaker remained in the proper position she closed the door to the box and turned to go. She stubbed the toes of her left foot and cringed.

“Damn, damn, damn!” She hopped on one foot while she stretched the injured toes. Aiming her flashlight at the offending object, she glared at the large wooden box. Looked like a homemade toolbox. Something else she hadn’t noticed last night. Tucked against the wall it really wasn’t in the way. She just hadn’t been paying attention to what she was doing. She would definitely pay attention next time. Her aching toes curled in agony.

Something on the floor had her looking twice at the space just left of the box. The floor was a little uneven and not smooth at all. Looked as if it had been poured in sections in different decades. But the small round object that had snagged her attention glittered in the light… silver. Jess leaned down and picked it up. A ring. Not just a ring… a
wedding band
.

She couldn’t read the inscription since her glasses were upstairs. The ring made her think of the one she had stopped wearing recently, only this one was larger, a man’s maybe, and hers had been gold—

The garage filled with flickering lights.

Her breath stalled somewhere in the vicinity of her throat and she squinted at the flood of harsh fluorescent glare.

“Is there a problem, Chief Harris?”

Mr. Louis waited at the door she’d entered and left standing wide open maybe two minutes ago.

Uh oh.
Busted. So much for not pestering the man. It was a wonder he hadn’t barged in toting a twenty-gauge. Jess shoved her hand, along with the ring, into her robe pocket. “Just that breaker again.” She smiled, knowing damned well she must look as guilty as sin. “I should’ve known better than to use my hair dryer until I checked with you. I hope I didn’t disturb you.” She gestured to the breaker box. “I thought I could take care of it myself this time. It’s so late and all.” She clicked off the flashlight and tried to analyze his face. He didn’t exactly look annoyed. Maybe frustrated or unsettled.