Read Killer Cupid (The Redemption Series: Book 1) Online
Authors: Maeve Christopher
Killer Cupid (The Redemption Series: Book 1)
Killer Cupid
Maeve Christopher
Published by HNI Books
Copyright © 2012 Paula M. Scully
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION ®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events and establishments is entirely coincidental.
Editor:
Janet
Hitchcock
Cover: Calista Taylor, CoversbyCali.com
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Karen Frisch Dennen,
Janet
Jones, Mary Ellen Latschar, Barbara LeClerc, Jeanne Paglio, Barbara Scully, Chris Senechal, and
Carolyn Sullivan
. You’ve helped me so much with this series
—
reading, re-reading, and giving valuable feedback. You’re the BEST!
Contents
Killer Cupid
Chapter One
David
Senator Joe Everett took the fighting chair, though he was not interested in fishing this trip. Perhaps it was a need to get business out of the way, so he could enjoy the holidays.
David Henning took a beer from the cooler and handed it to him. His bodyguard intervened and poured it into a glass. The Senator toasted him with a glass full of foam. “Henning, we’re both busy men, and I know you have better places to be today – judging from those lovely ladies I saw you with recently.”
He put the glass down on the cooler. “I’m thinking Albert Santoro has outlived his usefulness.”
“Really?” David took a seat on the bench across from Everett. He was surprised at the news. “Hasn’t he been paying you?”
Everett made a face. “That’s not the point, David. He’s the lowest of the low.”
David had to smile. “And drug-trafficking is such a noble profession.”
Everett grimaced. “I think with Santoro out of the way, we can both do a lot better. You’re a smart, capable guy. You could easily take over his business and grow it. I have no doubts.”
“And neither do I. But I’m not sure the time is right.”
“I am. Just do what you need to. Get him out of the way, and I’ll support you.”
David rose from his seat and scanned the deck. “I’ll start today.”
“Good. Let’s get this boat turned around. Head to shore.”
David stepped back, and Senator Joe Everett watched open-mouthed as his five bodyguards fell like tin soldiers. When the first man plummeted off the side of the boat, he conveniently dropped his gun at the Senator’s feet. He struggled out of his chair and grabbed it, as the second man landed in front of him, spattering him with blood and beer.
His last bodyguard went down. Senator Everett blinked away the droplets and raised his weapon. David shot him through his right arm, and he slumped back into his seat. The gun hit the deck, and Everett gripped his arm in an attempt to stop the blood flow.
“Cupid! You’re Cupid! You’re not David Henning.”
David took the guns and tossed them overboard. He put his weapon in his belt and removed the Senator’s foot from the guard’s back, then heaved the body into the ocean.
“There. That’s a bit tidier.” David took a seat across from Everett.
The Senator was persistent. “I said – you’re not David Henning. You’re Cupid. The assassin.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Five professionals
—
five bullets
—
right between the eyes. Who else can shoot like that?”
David grinned. “No one.”
The Senator’s attention turned to his bloody arm. “Why are you here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’ve upset people even more powerful than yourself. Now, have you anything more to say before you go?”
Debbie
“What’s become of my little angel?” Mama’s bellowing carried through all thirty rooms of our house. Sometimes I’d sit in my closet to get away from the sound of her voice. But not today.
I slipped out the kitchen door, as she complained to Daddy about the embarrassment I caused them with my donation to the Christmas fundraiser. I smiled at the thought of my revenge, and headed next door to my friend Cindy’s by the back way. The Bainbridges’ chauffer, Peter, was in the driveway polishing the Bentley. I was in luck
—
he loved peanut butter chocolate bars almost as much as I did.
“Peter, I need to go to the pharmacy and the bakery. Can you take me?” I smiled sweetly, and he opened the door for me.
“Is Miss Bainbridge joining you today, Miss Aldridge?” He always insisted on calling me Miss Aldridge. But I never let Cindy know when I was going to the pharmacy. I sometimes kept Mama’s prescription blood pressure and sleeping pills. Plus I could stock up on laxatives without a bunch of questions too.
“No. I’m in kind of a hurry. I need some baked goods for one of Mama’s charity events. Would you like a dozen peanut butter chocolate bars?”
We headed into Beverly Hills. Peter talked at me in his rearview mirror. “Miss Bainbridge was so impressed with your gift to the fundraiser. It caused quite a stir.”
I felt myself blushing. Sweat started to pour, and I squeaked out a lame reply. “Oh.” When I carved and painted hundreds of anatomically correct tiny hearts for Christmas ornaments, I hadn’t considered Cindy and her mom would see them at the charity fundraiser. I was only interested in upsetting my parents.
They forbade me to take medical illustration in college. They said it was inappropriate for a young lady of good breeding. They even went to the Dean with a list of material I would be permitted to study. I’d pretty much given up hope of ever having a life of my own.
But Cindy planned to have a get-together on New Year’s Day, and she was going to introduce me to the younger brother of a friend of hers. My parents would never have to know. It’s not like I expected he’d like me. But I was still pretty nervous about it. So I figured I could slim down a few more pounds before the party. I was about 104 pounds and 5’8” tall. My goal was to get under 100.
***
By Christmas Eve I was feeling fat and bloated, despite all the measures I’d taken. I was worried that boy would be at the Bainbridges’ dinner party. A bit unsteady from worry and purging, when I saw the massive tree in the foyer, I almost fell flat on the floor. I heard Mama gasp, and Daddy swore under his breath.
The branches were adorned with exquisite tiny white lights and hundreds of delicate anatomically correct heart ornaments. Cindy and her parents hugged me and praised my incredible artistic ability. They told me there was quite a bidding war for my original ornaments. My parents kept quiet.
The glow of the tree created a soft backdrop for the guests celebrating in the adjacent candlelit dining room. Merry conversation and laughter filled the mansion as three generations of the Bainbridge family and their guests enjoyed a sumptuous holiday dinner.
Frivolity came to a sudden end when Daddy swore at me. “Damn it Debbie! Can’t you behave like a normal young lady and eat the food on your plate? What’s wrong with you? It’s Christmas for – Pete’s sake. There couldn’t be more food on the table. You’ve got to like something here. You haven’t eaten a bite.” His temple visibly throbbing in anger as he yelled, Daddy was forced into silence as he choked on his words.
Mama slapped him on the back. “George!”
I cowered over my plate. The fork trembled in my hand. Daddy wouldn’t forgive me for instigating his outburst in front of all these people. No matter the Bainbridges had been their best friends forever.
Red-faced, Daddy took my plate and added mounds of vegetables and potato. “Here now, young lady. Eat this!”
“Yes Daddy,” I whispered.
I carefully sliced a piece of meat into tiny shreds and pushed them around the plate. I tried to focus on the little pieces, blending them into the colorful vegetables. But I could see Daddy’s face deepen to purple watching me.
Mrs. Bainbridge rose from her seat with the gravy boat. “Would you like some gravy for your potato, honey?”
I nodded. My voice wouldn’t work. I tried not to look horrified as drops of gravy pelted the potato. I did the best I could to scrape the meat away from the liquid. I loved Mrs. Bainbridge, and I didn’t want to upset her. I could feel everyone watching in an uncomfortable silence.
Gradually hesitant conversation resumed at the table. I focused on my plate, examining the color and texture of each vegetable. The fork and knife kept moving, occasionally testing their consistency. I felt the pain and tightness in my throat dissipating as I drew myself into my own world.
I was startled by my best friend’s melodic voice telling a story of a Christmas long past. I listened intently. Cindy Bainbridge was the older sister I never had. Through the years, I’d often wished Cindy’s family could adopt me. Now, at age nineteen, that would be ridiculous, though it remained one of my fondest desires.
I wondered why such a beautiful young woman would have anything to do with me. Cindy was the epitome of the All-American girl, the athletic blonde, blue-eyed cheerleader with the perfect smile. Her thick wavy hair was cut in a sophisticated style that framed her face, falling just below her chin. At twenty-three, she had a youthful glow, though there was an agelessness about her manner. She carried herself with an air of elegance and aristocracy. Cindy looked every inch the princess – her gracious demeanor commanded the attention of the entire table.
I swallowed a lump of squash with an embarrassed cough. It served only to remind Daddy of my poor progress with my meal. As the maid reached for my plate,
Daddy grabbed the woman’s wrist. The plate and silverware hit the table with a loud clatter.