Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (67 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Mark was flying high. Sure, last night had been rough. Killing Chad had not been easy. Yeah, he hadn’t really pulled the trigger and had watched the poor SOB do it to himself. But that was all okay, because he was moving up the ranks now.

After killing Chad, he, Connor, and Thomas had gone to some guy’s yacht. His last name was Johnson and all Mark learned was he was one of the power players. They played out the same basic scenario as with Chad only this time, they forced their victim to hang himself. It was brutal and ugly and yet in some deviant way, Mark realized he’d enjoyed every second of it.

Smug and feeling pretty damn good, he’d taken a chance and had gone to Hamilton’s funeral where he’d seen his lady love. Oh so sad.

Leaving the service, he got a call on his cell from Thomas. “Hey brother, looks like it really is your lucky day. You have a meeting to go to. Here is the address. Be there in an hour. Give the guard your name and you can go on in.”

An hour later, Mark found himself in the foyer of an amazing estate waiting for whoever he was supposed to be waiting for.

Nerves knotted his stomach.

After a few minutes a good-looking guy came through a set of double doors to the left. He was tall, blonde, tan, fiftiesh, what could only be called distinguished. Mark stood. He was happy he had on his only suit. The man reached out his hand. “Mark Pritchett. Nice to meet you. I am Peter Redding.”

Mark was speechless. He had hoped. He had thought maybe he would be meet Redding. Not many people knew who he was. But Mark knew. He’d been close enough to Chad to know. He sputtered, “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Follow me, Mark.” Mark did and Redding offered him a drink, which he eagerly accepted.

Now this was more like it. This is exactly what he had been waiting and hoping for.

“I understand you did a good job aiding a couple of other soldiers last night.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Redding nodded. “I know it was not an easy task. Many times in the line of duty we will have to do things that are, simply put, not easy. But you did it, and you did well. I heard from Chad you had been doing a good job for us. What with surveillance on the doctors and reporting in about Dr. Hamilton.” Redding took a sip of his drink and tskd, tskd. “Weak and dumb on his part. Which leads me to Dr. Morales. Kelly Morales. I know you had been reporting to Chad on her comings and goings and, well, with his unfortunate demise, we need to replace him. You will now report directly to me.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” Mark took a deep gulp of his drink.

“Now that we have put the old business to bed, what can you tell me about the good doctor?” Redding pulled a photo of Dr. Morales out of his desk. “Pretty thing. Too bad she’s a Latina. Isn’t that the politically correct term?” He laughed. “Tell me about her. What does she know?”

Mark tried to keep himself from showing any nerves. “You know, sir, there’s not much to tell. I mean, she doesn’t know anything, really. It’s more what she suspects. Or what I think she might suspect.”

“Go on.”

“I’m only theorizing.” He was going to do his best to impress this man. “However, the cops are now shadowing her every move. She seems to be watching her back a lot. She’s asked questions and caused some anxiety. You obviously heard the conversation Hamilton had with her, the one that got him iced. I think she’s smart and afraid.”

Redding leaned back in his leather chair.

“You know what I think?”

“Sir?”

“I think it’s time for me to meet Dr. Morales.” He handed Mark a card. “Bring her to me.”

“You don’t want her dead? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Mark asked.

“Not necessarily. In spite of your recent…work…I don’t care much for murder. It attracts the police. Dr. Hamilton’s situation needed to be handled quickly, so the steps we took with him were unfortunate but also necessary. And, the other deaths, well, those were a necessity. But this Dr. Morales may actually be useful to us. Call this number when you have her and I will give you instructions. But don’t hurt her.” He shook his head.

“I, uh, wow, sir. I don’t know if it’s possible. She’s got security twenty-four-seven.”

Redding sighed heavily. “Mark, you witnessed first-hand what happens to people who can’t get jobs done correctly. Correct?”

“I did, sir.”

“Good. Then you will figure out how to bring Dr. Morales to me.” He smiled. “Quickly. And I suggest you not screw it up.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Oh and you no longer work at the hospital. You have just been promoted.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Redding stood and walked around his desk. He put his arm around Mark. “You’re welcome. Now go get our girl.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Ryan wished he hadn’t told his wife to ditch her cell phone. Yes it had been for her safety but now he had no way of knowing where she was and if she and the girls were safe. He knew his wife well. Jeanine did not always like being told what to do and she had now had some real time to think about things and what they might be up against. What if she hadn’t listened to him and gone straight to their cabin to wait for him? He’d wanted to get his family out of the country first. Give them a head start. Now, Ryan realized what a selfish bastard he truly was. Sending his wife and kids on this mission had been cowardly. But he hadn’t known any other way at the time. In fact, he still didn’t. If he had abruptly left Frauen, Redding and his freaks would have definitely gone after his family. At least this way, they had a chance.

Ryan knew his wife was resourceful. She was also brave, funny, and sweet. As he tried to close his eyes and sleep, he could hear the jarring street sounds from below. His thoughts went back to Georgia Michaels and the chance encounter he’d had with her three years earlier.

He’d liked Georgia. When The Brotherhood employed him, after scaring him to death and blackmailing him, they decided to wine and dine him.

They flew him from New Jersey to Los Angeles where he was introduced to Chad Wentworth. The last name hadn’t meant much to him then. He certainly hadn’t connected Chad with the senator at the time. Wentworth took him to a fancy restaurant, offered to buy him expensive hookers, which he’d had zero interest in, and handed him oodles of cash. He knew all of it came with a price and he was being watched—always.

He met Ms. Michaels briefly. Chad asked his driver to swing by his condo. He’d    forgotten something—something that turned out to be a Rolex for Ryan.

While Chad was inside, Ryan rolled down the limo window, badly in need of air. A petite blonde woman approached the car. “Hey, can you ask the driver to move? I need to get my car out and you’re in the way.”

“Sure. No problem,” Ryan replied. The woman stuck her head in the window. “Sorry. I’m a reporter for the L.A. Times. Just thought I’d see if there was someone important or famous in the car. It’s my job.” She winked. “So?”

“So what?” Ryan asked.

“You important or famous?”

“Nope. Just a chemist.”

“Ah. Right.” She stuck her hand through the window. “Georgia Michaels. Gem for short. “A chemist, huh? Cool. What’s your name?”

“Dr. Horner. Ryan.”

“You work on anything interesting, Ryan? Like, I don’t know, genetics, cures for cancer? Something I could write a good story about? I am always looking for a decent scoop.”

Of course he couldn’t tell her the truth. “No. I don’t do anything very interesting at all.”

“Well, if you ever have something to share, here’s my card. Call me or shoot me an e-mail. I never forget a name or a face. I’m into details. Have a good evening!” She handed him her card, flashed him a smile, and waved good-bye.

After that brief meeting, Ryan decided to see what types of stories she typically wrote. He was shocked to see she’d been the lead reporter on The Petersen murders for The Times. Eventually he decided to reach out to her. For some reason, he felt if anyone could help, it would be Georgia Michaels.

As he closed his eyes, he prayed Jeanine had already spoken to the journalist and she’d begun to put two and two together. Maybe if he made it to the States, the story would be out and Peter Redding would be in jail, along with his cronies. Maybe.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“Let me get this straight,” Melanie said. She took a sip of the Chardonnay she’d just poured for herself and Jeanine. She read Ryan’s note again and looked up at her old friend. The twins were playing in the family room, while the women sat in the kitchen drinking wine. Melanie’s nine-month-old son was upstairs, sleeping. “You two were at this party and Ryan was getting bombed, or so you thought…”

Jeanine nodded.

“Then he handed this to you?”

“No, he took me outside and handed it to me.”

“Holy shit.” Melanie drank some more wine.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, honey, either your husband has gone completely bonkers, which I have not ruled out, and neither should you…” She pointed a manicured finger at her, “Or something horrible has happened to him, or could happen to the family. That’s why he told you to leave.”

“Yes,” Jeanine replied softly and brought the wine glass up to her lips. She could see her friend was trying to register all of this, just as she had been doing for the past two days. “I know it sounds crazy. I do. That’s why I came here. After leaving Germany, going to Paris, cutting the girls’ hair, my hair, doing all of this crazy stuff, I started thinking maybe Ryan has been losing it.” She shrugged.

“I’d say.”

“But, you should have seen his eyes, Melanie. He was so scared and, I don’t know, but I really believed him.”

“What about this journalist, Gem Michaels? Do you know how he knows her or what the story is there?”

“No. Just that I was supposed to get a hold of her. I called the paper and left her a message.”

“What did you say?”

“That I was married to Ryan Horner and it was urgent I speak with her. I left her my cell number, but as I told you, Ryan said I was supposed to get rid of the cell. I don’t know. I have no idea what to think. I mean, how am I supposed to communicate with anyone, if I get rid of the cell phone? Say we are in some kind of trouble, wouldn’t that have all been left behind when I left Europe? I started thinking maybe that’s why he sent me so far away.”

“I don’t know. I think you should call the police,” Melanie said.

“And tell them what? My husband has sent me on a wild goose chase from Germany to New Jersey, and I am supposed to contact some journalist in LA., and tell her to look into my husband’s company that he works for?”

Melanie raised her eyebrows. “You have a point. Look, maybe all you need is a good dinner, some more wine, and sleep. In the morning, try and give Ryan a call and demand to know what in the hell is going on.”

Jeanine sighed. Maybe Melanie was right. The further away she got from Ryan and Germany, the less and less any of this made sense.

“Robert won’t be home until late tonight. He’s taking some clients out for dinner. Maybe we should go out ourselves.”

“Oh, I don’t know. What about the kids?”

Melanie waved a hand. “Bring them. Oliver is a good baby and he should be up soon.”

“I don’t know if I can say the same for the twins.”

“Don’t worry about it. We can go over to our tennis club. They have decent food and a play area.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now come on. Something tells me you need to do something to feel normal.”

Jeanine agreed.

Two hours later, the friends were full, a little buzzed, and Jeanine was pretty convinced her husband had gone off his rocker, which bothered her even more than the idea that they were in some kind of trouble.

“Hey, would you drive home? I think I had too much of that sangria,” Melanie said.

“Sure.” Jeanine had noticed her friend drinking more glasses than normal. Likely it had to do with the bizarre story.

As they got closer to the house, the twins started whining about not getting dessert. “Girls, that’s enough,” Jeanine said.

“Oh, hon, let’s take them to Cold Stone, it’s only a few blocks from my place. I don’t ever get to see you guys, let me spoil them. I have some coupons on the fridge. Swing by the house and I’ll grab them.”

“Please, Mommy,” Chloe called from the back seat.

“Sure. Yes. Let’s go have ice cream!”

A few minutes later Jeanine pulled up in front of Melanie’s house. “I’ll be right back.” Jeanine watched her go inside the house and waited a few minutes. Melanie had to have gone to the restroom. It was taking her too long. She caught a glimpse of something in her rear view mirror—a man was walking toward the car with a strong sense of purpose, one of his hands in his jacket pocket. She glanced back to the house and knew immediately she was in trouble. Melanie opened the front door and collapsed, blood staining the front of her blouse. Another man ran out of the house and towards the car.

Jeanine punched it, tires squealing, as gun fire sprayed the side and back of the vehicle.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Kelly napped after the funeral. She was wiped out. When she woke, the first thing to hit her was the amazing smell of garlic bread and something else. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was already past six o’clock. What in the world? Then it donned on her Tony must have taken over the patrol for the night, and was making dinner. She couldn’t help but smile. Then felt silly for doing so. She rolled out of bed and looked at herself in the dresser mirror. The stress wasn’t wearing well. When this was all over, she was going to load her horse into the trailer, make the long drive home, and spend two weeks in the Kentucky blue grass—get back to her roots. She had some vacation time coming. Then a horrid thought hit her, what if this was never over? What if Jake’s killer was never brought to justice and young women kept coming into ER with complications and dying?

She shook off the thought and pulled her hair back into a pony-tail. Mascara pooled under her eyes from tears and fatigue. She wiped her face with a damp cloth. Stevie T stretched out on the bed and let out a soft meow—obviously annoyed his human-sized heating pad had dared leave the bed. She reached across the sheets, scratched Stevie under the chin, and called the NICU to check on her patients, especially Baby S. Everything was status quo according to the charge nurse.

Walking down the hallway, she spotted Tony in the kitchen. He had his back to her and was standing over the stove, stirring a pot full of something. “That smells wonderful,” she said.

He turned around, spoon in hand, and smiled. “This is one of my mother’s specialties—Puttanesca sauce.”

“Yum. But why did you do this?”

“I figured you probably had a hell of a day and a nice meal would do you some good.” He handed her a glass of red wine.

She raised her brows. “Is this part of the patrol job? Or maybe I’m getting the upgraded version?”

He laughed. “Technically it’s my night off.”

“Oh. What gives?” Her stomach sunk.

“I thought we might be able to talk some more.”

“And…?”

“Well, I…I’m working this case and you are a part of my case, and…oh god damn, I was just trying to do something nice.”

She looked down. “I’m sorry. I appreciate it. Can we start over?”

“Sure.”

She held up her glass. “To starting over.”

He clinked glasses with her and they each took a sip.

Kelly sat down at the kitchen counter and drank her wine. “I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful. I guess I’m not used to anyone making me dinner, and considering the circumstances, I definitely didn’t expect you to.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but just because I’m a cop doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart.  I wanted to do this.” He took a spoon and skimmed the top of the sauce. Holding his hand underneath, he carefully reached it across the counter and offered her a taste.

Kelly took a bite, feeling awkward at the intimacy of the moment, but the earthy, tangy taste of the sauce instantly removed the tension. “Oh my goodness, that is delicious!”

He smiled and nodded. “I know.”

His smile was pretty damn delicious, too.

As he continued to fix dinner and Stevie T found Kelly’s lap, their conversation turned toward family. They were both trying to avoid discussing murder, sick babies, or why Tony was there in the first place.

“Tell me about your little boy,” she said.

“Ah well, he’s a great kid. He really is.”

“I’m sure.”

“It hasn’t been easy though. Raising him. Not because he’s a bad kid, obviously.” He laughed.

“My parents are getting older and they really help me out a lot. Without having a mom around, it has been kind of hard. We lost her to cancer. The docs did everything possible but she lost the battle after two years. I think the hardest part for me to deal with is knowing he will never really understand how much his mother loved him. I mean, I can tell him, but he’ll never know first-hand.” He looked at her and she felt herself getting drawn in by his dark, magnetic eyes.

“Don’t be so sure about that. Your little boy will know exactly how much his mom loved him.”

He glanced at her quizzically. “What do you mean? What makes you so sure?”

“My mom died when I was a little girl. A car accident. Rainy night and, well…” she waved a hand, fighting tears. “Lost control of the car. I was seven. I’m not sure how old your son was when his mom died.”

“Only two.”

Kelly nodded. “He’ll still know. I see babies every day. Very sick kids. And I see their parents. I see very devoted, loving parents, I see some who are disconnected, detached…and then there are those who never show up. The babies who thrive are the ones with family who come every day, who talk to them, and, if they can, hold them. My little strugglers are those babies who have no one outside the medical staff to care for them. Of course, we love them and do what we can to make them feel cared for and wanted, but there is something about having a parent there, and the maternal bond is very strong. I am certain your son was bonded to your wife, who was probably a wonderful person.”

“She was. She really was.”

“I also know first-hand what it’s like being a kid who lost a parent at a young age. Like I said, I was seven. Not as young as Lucas, but still young enough, and when my mom died, I thought I would forget her. It scared me. But you know what?”

“What’s that?” He poured her another glass of wine.

“Whenever I am feeling really down or things are not going well—kind of like lately—I feel a warm presence around me. It’s hard to explain, but I know it’s my mom. I know she’s guiding me in some way. And I know she is letting me know things are going to be all right. I am sure Lucas can feel that sometimes.” She laughed wryly. “I don’t mean to sound hokey.”

He sighed and smiled at her, shaking his head. “You know, you’re not hokey at all, Doc. In fact, I think you’re pretty cool. You surprise me at every turn.”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Stevie T let out a meow, breaking the tension. She laughed. “Stevie T is rather opinionated.”

“I guess so,” Tony said.

“Feed him once and you will have a friend for life.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, see me and cats...we don’t really do well together.”

“Oh, you’re one of those cat haters?”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m a dog guy. Lost my shepherd last year on a bust.”

“Oh wow. I am sorry.” The poor man had definitely had his share of troubles.

“Yeah. So, no cats.”

“You never know, Stevie T is special. He might grow on you.”

“Hmm. Not too sure about that, but I suppose stranger things have happened. So, you know a little bit about me and my family. What’s your story?” he asked.

“I grew up in Kentucky. Lexington.”

“Horse country.”

She smiled. “Yep. Blue grass all the way.”

“Horses?”

“Of course. My dad was an assistant trainer for years and then finally saved up enough and is now doing his own training. He might even have one or two horses in his barn this year who could win him some big money.”

“Cool. I had a horse when I was a kid,” he said.

“You did?”

“Trigger. Old quarter horse. My dad grew up on a ranch here out in Norco. His family moved over to the states when he was a baby. My grandparents always had horses back in Italy, so once they moved to California, they got more horses and Dad grew up around them.”

“I think your dad and I have some things in common.” She laughed.

“I think so. My mom was never much into them though. She came over for a vacation with her family, met my dad, and never went home. They got married, started a family, and then when I was about eight or so, he bought Trigger for me.”

Kelly clutched her heart. “That is so sweet. How romantic. I mean your parents’ story.”

“It is, but after fifty years of marriage, the two of them fight like cats and dogs.”

Kelly laughed. “So the horse. Tell me about Trigger.”

“I thought we were talking about you.”

“No. No.” She waved a hand. “Your story is more interesting.”

“Doubt it. But yeah, Trigger. We boarded him at the equestrian center because my folks didn’t own any property to speak of. I rode for a couple years until my sister took him over. We had him until he colicked and died when he was twenty-eight.”

“I feel fortunate to still have a horse. A mare. Her name is Sydney but I call her Syd. I board her over at the L.A. Equestrian Center.”

“Maybe one day you could take me out there.”

Once he said it, they both blushed and took a sip from their wine glasses. He immediately turned back to the stove. “Oh. Looks like it’s ready.”

She rubbed her hands together. “Let me get the plates.” Kelly stood and walked around the counter. She grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard. He took them from her and scooped up the pasta, handing her a piece of bread.

“Want to eat in front of the TV?” she asked, figuring maybe it would ease back whatever was going on between them. At that moment, sitting at her dining room table eating a meal he had prepared for her seemed a bit too date-like. Maybe TV would diffuse any chemistry between them.

“Sure. Oh, I brought backgammon with me. Maybe we could eat at the table and then play a game?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be a bit more, um…yes. Let’s eat at the kitchen table.”

Over dinner and without the television on, Kelly told Tony about her life as a kid breezing race horses. Why she had chosen to go to medical school and how she’d wound up in L.A. The talk was easy and the food amazing.

“I have to ask,” he said while finishing up the dinner.

“What’s that?”

“Your name? Kelly. It’s, well, it’s…”

“Not exactly Latina?” she said, reading his mind.

“No.”

“My mother loved Grace Kelly. She named me Kelly Grace.”

“That’s very...”

“Silly.”

“No. It’s, it’s, it’s cool. Sweet. It makes sense. You don’t look like Grace Kelly but you certainly are as beautiful. Oh wow. I’m sorry. Out of line.”

“I’m not complaining, Detective.” She smiled and the heat she had been feeling between them all evening intensified. “Want some dessert?”

“Love some,” he replied.

As she cleaned dishes, he scooped them some ice cream. She turned to get some spoons and bumped directly into him. “Sorry.” He held her gaze for several seconds. Neither of them moved.

He broke the silence. “What’s going on here? Between us?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

He took the spoons from her hands. “I should leave. Maybe call in another officer.”

She didn’t answer.

“Forget it.” He kissed her. Soft and slow at first. It quickly turned intense and passionate. Before either of them knew it, they didn’t care what was going on between them. What they did know is it felt amazing. As they made their way to her bedroom, they forgot why he was there, and how they had met.