One Night With You: A Fatal Series Prequel Novella (The Fatal Series)

One Night With You

The Fatal Series Prequel Novella

By: Marie Force

Published by HTJB, Inc.

Copyright 2015. HTJB, Inc.

Cover by Kristina Brinton

E-book Layout by Holly Sullivan,
E-book Formatting Fairies

ISBN: 978-1942295068

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at
[email protected].

All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

marieforce.com

The Fatal Series

One Night With You
, A Fatal Series Prequel Novella

Book 1:
Fatal Affair

Book 2:
Fatal Justice

Book 3:
Fatal Consequences

Book 3.5:
Fatal Destiny

the Wedding Novella

Book 4:
Fatal Flaw

Book 5:
Fatal Deception

Book 6:
Fatal Mistake

Book 7:
Fatal Jeopardy
 

Book 8:
Fatal Scandal

Book 9:
Fatal Frenzy
(September 15, 2015)

Chapter 1

Sam Holland walked into the dank hole-in-the-wall that was O’Leary’s Bar and gave her eyes a second to adjust to the gloom. After hours outside in the broiling sun, the cool, moldy atmosphere was just what she needed. Well, that and a cold one with her dear old dad.

Skip waved to her from the far end of the bar, and when she walked over to him, he jumped up to hug and kiss her. “Hey, baby girl. You’re late.”

“Awwww,” Captain Malone said, “Daddy’s wittle girl is here.”

Since she’d known Malone for most of her life, she felt entirely comfortable giving her superior officer the middle finger, which made him howl with laughter.

“She’s all yours, Skip.” Malone threw a twenty on the bar. “God help you.”

Skip tightened his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“See you guys tomorrow,” Malone said on his way out.

Sam took the stool Malone had abandoned and popped a handful of beer nuts into her mouth as she signaled the bartender for one of what her dad was having. “You really gotta do that?”

“Do what?” Skip was the picture of innocence when he knew damn well what she was talking about.

“The whole ‘baby girl’ schmoopy schmoop in front of other cops.”

Skip’s brows stretched to his hairline. “What in the name of fuck’s sake is schmoopy schmoop?”

“The hugging, the kissing.” Sam waved her hand to indicate the full scope of his greeting. She was already regretting this line of conversation, because she knew exactly what he would say.

“You’re my daughter.”

“I’m also one of your junior officers.”

“You’re my daughter first.”

“Dad! Seriously. It’s hard enough for me to deal with my dad being the deputy chief without you acting like my dad every chance you get.”

“Honestly, Sam, I
am
your dad, and I’ll damn well act like it until the day you bury me.”

Not wanting to think about burying him—ever—she nodded her thanks to the bartender when he delivered her beer and a fresh one for Skip. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? If I recall correctly, your exact words were, ‘Hands off. Let me do my own thing.’”

“Yes! Hands off. No schmoop!”

“Sorry, that ain’t gonna happen.” He took a deep drink from his mug. “So I see you’re taking another half day.”

As he laughed at his own joke, she rolled her eyes at the almost daily comment. “Another eleven-hour half day.”

“Slacker. You know I expect better from you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Is that any way to talk to a superior officer?”

“It’s the only way to talk to my old man.”

“Who you calling old?” He pushed the beer nuts closer to her. “Want to get some dinner tonight?”

“I’d love to, but Angela talked me into going to a stupid party that I have no desire to go to, and now I’m committed, although I still hope to get out of it.”

“What’s up with the party?” Skip asked.

“A man of interest, apparently.”

“Is that right? Well, thank goodness. I thought she was going to mourn that jackass Johnny for the rest of her life.”
 

“Don’t go celebrating quite yet.”

“I’ll require a full report tomorrow. Meet for coffee?”

“After three years of meeting for coffee every day before work, you still have to ask?”

“Best part of my day, baby girl. Very best part.”

“Mine, too.” Sam smiled at his unabashed affection for her. She knew she’d made him so proud by joining the department, and continuing to make him proud was her only goal as a police officer—well, that and relieving Lieutenant Stahl of his corner office in the Homicide detectives’ pit. That was her other primary goal. Someday…
 

“So Angela’s actually showing interest in a guy who isn’t Johnny the douche bag?” Skip asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to that party.”

“You can’t actually make me go.”
 

“Yes, I can.” The look he gave her reminded her of the many times she’d tried to challenge his authority while growing up. Skip Holland got a lot done with that eyebrow.
 

“I
really
don’t want to go.” Newly promoted to detective with the Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, DC, Sam had sore feet and a sunburn after working a full day plus a three-hour construction detail following her regular shift. She wanted a cool bath, another cold beer and a soft bed—in that order.

Her sister had called her at work earlier to make her case.

“
Please
, Sam,” Angela had said. “When was the last time I asked you for anything?”

“Um, yesterday when I dropped off and picked up your car from the garage—and paid for the repairs.”

“I’ll pay you back, and you know I appreciated your help.”

“So, we’re square. I don’t have to go to this party tonight.”

“You do have to. Spencer is going to be there, and he wants me to meet him. I can’t go alone. That would be so awkward. All I need you to do is come with me so I don’t have to walk in alone and stay long enough to make sure I find him.”

“That’s not all I’d have to do. There would be showering, hair drying, makeup application and torturous shoes that most likely won’t go on over my swollen feet.”

“
Sam
…”

“
Angela
…”

“I’m begging you. I’ve called everyone I know, and they’re all busy. I
need
you.”

Sam had been on the verge of begging herself when Lieutenant Stahl walked by her cubicle, glaring at her when he saw her sitting with her feet on the desk as she talked on the phone. Even though she was officially off duty, she dropped her feet to the floor, sat up straighter and raised her middle finger to his departing back.
 

“I really, really,
really
like him, Sam. Really. Remember when I dated him for a short time when Johnny and I were taking a break? I never forgot him, and I always regretted going back to Johnny after I met Spencer.”

Since Angela hadn’t sounded excited about any guy since the painful breakup with her high school boyfriend a year ago, Sam began to waver. “How long would I have to stay?”

“No more than an hour. I promise.”

“All right,” Sam said with a protracted groan.
 

“I owe you big.”

“You already owe me big.”

“I owe you bigger.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just wait until I start cashing in all these chips.”

“Anything you want,” Angela said, her voice bright with euphoria Sam hadn’t heard in a very long time. It was well worth the sacrifice of her tortured feet stuffed into heels if it would bring back Angela’s smile. She hadn’t been herself since Johnny decided he wasn’t done playing the field and couldn’t think about getting married until he’d sown his wild oats. Unfortunately, he’d chosen to use those exact words when he ended his long relationship with Angela.
 

At times over the last year, Sam and the rest of their family had wondered if Angela would ever get over the heartbreak Johnny had left behind when he moved on without her. So if an hour in heels made Angela feel better, Sam was more than willing to forgo her night in the tub.
 

“Pick me up?”

“I’ll be there at eight.” The line went dead. Angela knew better than to give Sam time to change her mind. “Goddamn it,” Sam muttered under her breath as she stood to gather her belongings. After eleven hours at work, there wasn’t much gas left in her tank. But since there was nothing she wouldn’t do for either of her sisters, Sam trudged out of HQ into humidity that made for another stifling summer day in the nation’s capital.
 

And then she’d remembered her plans to meet her dad for a drink on the way home. This day kept getting better and better.

“Where’d you go?” Skip asked as he took a sip from his beer.

“Just thinking about Ang and this lame-ass party I agreed to go to with her. It’ll be a bunch of players trying to score.”

“Want to borrow my Taser?”

“Yes, in fact, I would.”

Skip’s deep laugh rumbled through his chest, drawing a smile from her, too. His laugh was infectious, and she loved making it happen. She downed the last of her beer. “I gotta go beautify. Can I get this round?”

“Absolutely not.” He never let her pay. “Don’t let any of those players get their hands on my baby girl.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll kick their asses if they so much as try.”

“That’s my girl. Take care of Ang. She’s not made of the same tough stuff you are. She’s soft on the inside.”

“I know,” Sam said with a sigh. “I’ll keep an eye on her. Don’t worry.”

“That’s like telling me not to breathe.” He pointed to his cheek.

Sam looked around to make sure none of the other cops sitting at the bar was looking before she planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Love you, baby girl.”

“Love you, too, Skippy. See you in the morning.”

“I’ll be there.”

After leaving the bar, she drove home to the less than fashionable townhouse she shared with three roommates in the Capitol Hill neighborhood where she’d grown up. Sam liked the convenience of living close to her dad and sisters but had chosen to live on her own rather than move in with Angela after graduate school. It’d been time for her to grow up and stand on her own two feet, and Angela would’ve wanted to take care of and keep tabs on her “baby” sister.
 

Sam had been ready to bust loose after slogging through years of school while battling dyslexia. The last thing she’d wanted was anyone keeping tabs on her. So she’d answered an ad for roommates and ended up living with two guys, Peter Gibson and Dave Maxwell as well as Dave’s brother John, who crashed there more often than Dave did. Of course, her dad, the deputy police chief, had run background checks on all of them before he let her sign the lease.
 

She’d learned it was futile to remind him that she was an adult now and didn’t need or require his approval.
 

Peter was watching SportsCenter when she came in, dropping her backpack inside the door and kicking off her shoes as she made for the fridge.
 

“Hard day at the office, dear?” he asked.