Danger in Paradise (20 page)

About the Author

Katie Reus fell in love with romance at a young age thanks to books she'd pilfered from her mom's stash. Years later she loves reading romance almost as much as she loves writing it. However, she didn't always know she wanted to be a writer. After changing majors too many times, she finally graduated with a degree in psychology. Not long after that she discovered a new love. Writing. She now spends her days writing dark paranormal romance and sexy romantic suspense. For more information on Katie please visit
her website
.

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Keep reading for extras including a deleted scene from DANGER IN PARADISE, a preview of KILLER SECRETS (a sexy romantic suspense novella), and for a preview of DEADLY OBSESSION (a full length novel). Both AVAILABLE NOW.

Deleted Prologue from Danger in Paradise
Copyright © 2011 Katie Reus

12 years ago

Mac Jennings guided his sixty foot Wellcraft through the Atlantic, thankful for the calm seas. He hadn’t caught any fish and all he wanted was to put his feet up and drink a cold beer. And if he was really lucky, maybe Anita would stop by after her shift at the hospital. Their relationship wasn’t serious and never would be. But it was fun. He glanced at his watch and sped up when a dark shadow about twenty yards in front of his boat caught his attention.

“What the hell is that?” he mumbled. The moon and stars perfectly illuminated the coastal Florida water.

He’d been trolling these waters for years. Before he went to Vietnam and the many years since he’d been home. He knew where every inch of grass, reef, and pieces of sunken boat were located. His first thought was shark, but he wasn’t near a reef and it was fairly shallow. Not prime feeding ground.

Mac kicked the boat into neutral and grabbed an oar he kept on board for emergencies. As the boat pulled up close, something painful tightened inside him. “Can you hear me?”

A young girl floated along with the tide, face up. Long dark hair pillowed around her face and body. Streams of crimson surrounded her small form in the calm seas. Reaching down, he plucked her from the ocean, surprised at how light she was. Her eyes were open and her chest moved, but she’d been badly injured.

“What’s your name?”

No response, but at least her startling pale bluish gray eyes had awareness. When he moved, her eyes followed him. He grabbed a towel and wound it around her leg as tight as possible.

He rushed down to the cabin and laid her on one of the beds. She wasn’t secure there, but he needed to get her to safety. She had two bullet wounds that he could see, one on her shoulder and another on her leg. For a split second he thought about calling the Coast Guard, but the girl was beautiful, young, and shot. The combinations could mean a whole mess of things and none of them were good.

The sex slave trade was unfortunately alive and well and he wasn’t so naïve as to think such things couldn’t happen in his country. If someone had dumped her to die, chances were they could just as easily pick up his transmission as the Coast Guard. And if they had more resources, they might reach him first. Not to mention, by the time anyone got here, he could have had her to the hospital already.

He returned to the top deck and revved the boat as fast as possible through the shallow water. He radioed his friend Frank who also happened to be a retired cop. “Frank, come in. Can you hear me?”

Static rustled briefly. “What’s up man? You just finish up?”

He ignored the question. “Are you at the marina?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Meet me at my slip in five minutes. Bring that extra set of keys to my jeep. And make sure the engine’s running when I get there.”

“What’s going on?”

“See you in five. Out.” He didn’t have time to explain. The girl was maybe thirteen or fourteen years old and she’d lost a lot of blood. He guessed she was Cuban by her darker coloring, but her skin had paled considerably. Not a good sign.

Once he made it to the marina, Frank helped him stretch her into the back seat of the jeep. His only word was “shit”, but beyond that he hadn’t said anything else. Just as well. He didn’t have answers. Frank drove and Mac sat in the back seat and put as much pressure on her wounds as he could.

Frank squealed to a stop in front of the emergency room doors and Mac jumped out. Anita stood at the information desk talking to one of the other nurses when she saw him. Immediately she sprung into action.

“My God Mac! What happened?”

“I found her floating not too far from the marina. She’s been shot twice.”

Anita started shouting orders like a drill sergeant and before he could blink, two men in green scrubs came and took her away on a gurney. Before Anita could follow he grabbed her arm. “Don’t call the police yet.”

“What?” She whirled on him, surprise in every line of her face.

“Just wait until she comes out of surgery. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I’m not saying don’t call them, I’m saying wait until she’s awake. Did you see the dress she was wearing?”

Anita nodded. “Yeah, it probably cost more than I make in a year.”

“Can you hold off calling?”

Her jaw clenched, but after a brief pause she nodded. “Done.”

Eight hours later, Mac still sat by the young girl’s bedside in the ICU. She’d come out of surgery two hours before, but he didn’t want to leave her alone. Alone in a white sterile room that had the nauseating scent of a hospital. If she woke up by herself and panicked, he’d never forgive himself.

He, Frank and Anita were working on keeping the incident quiet for the time being. People in Key West liked their quiet lives and they didn’t mind looking the other way if necessary. Locals looked out for each other and everyone on the mainland could be damned. If the locals could look the other way, he had friends in DC who owed him favors. A lot of them. He might not have to call one in, but his gut told him otherwise. When the girl woke up, he’d have his answers.

He nodded off, wasn’t sure how long he’d been out when he was awakened by a hoarse voice. “Who the hell are you?”

He sat up and found himself staring into her unusual grayish blue eyes. Eyes that had seen too much. “I’m Mac. I found you.”

He resisted the urge to shift under her intense scrutiny. “What happened?”

His head cocked to one side. “You tell me.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “What’s your name?”

She blinked but no response.

“Okay, what were you doing floating out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean wearing a cocktail dress?” A dress that was much too sophisticated for someone her age. A telling sign in itself.

Just off the coast of Florida, the ocean was considered international waters. Wealthy ‘business’ men held parties and soirees on yachts and God only knew what went on out there. Everyone in The Keys knew about it but the government had their hands busy trying to stop the influx of cocaine into Miami from Cuba and South America. Unfortunately everything else took a back seat. An icy fist tightened around his heart at the thought of what she might have gone through.

Tears welled up and she glanced away.

Maybe a simple question would put her at ease. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” Her voice was small in the quiet room.

He cleared his throat. “You were shot. Twice. We’re supposed to contact the police in the case of—”

Her head swiveled back to face him and real, unabashed fear played across her pale, drawn, features. The first true sign of emotion he’d seen. “No! You can’t, he’ll find me.”

“Who will find you?” Maybe this wasn’t what he’d originally thought. She spoke perfect English, but she was still scared of someone.

She swallowed hard, the sound over pronounced in the small room. “Please don’t call.”

He tried one more angle. “Do you have any family? Is someone looking for you?”

She snorted, but her eyes darkened, belying a deep rooted sadness. “I have no one.”

What was he getting himself into? He’d already lost a wife and daughter. He liked his life simple. How could he even think about helping some strange girl?

When he didn’t respond, she pushed up and tugged at one of the IVs in her arm.

He started to stop her, but decided against making any quick movements or physically touching her. “Stop, we’re not going to involve the police. Just sit back and rest.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Turned out he was going to have to call in a couple favors after all.

 “Do you promise?” She left the IV alone and settled back against the pillow, but he didn’t miss the cautious gleam in her eyes.

“I promise.” And he meant it.

With those two words, something flared in her eyes. And even though he didn’t know her, something inside told him the emotion was foreign to her.

Hope.

Killer Secrets
Copyright © 2011 by Katie Reus

Eve Newman pressed her back up against one of the stone pillars at the entrance to the Underwood’s long, winding driveway. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing here but for the tenth time in the last hour she regretted her decision to put any credence to that anonymous email.
‘Want the story of the year? Underwood mansion. Nine o’clock. Tonight. Don’t trust anyone and don’t be seen.’

The cryptic message annoyed her. As one of the few journalists in the small town of Hudson Creek, Texas, she’d had no choice but to follow up on the lead. She certainly wasn’t going to give the story to someone else and her curiosity wouldn’t let her ignore it.

Since she’d grown up here—and had attended a few high school parties at the mansion courtesy of Tara Underwood—she knew exactly where the security cameras were and how to avoid them.

Squashing the twinge of guilt at using that knowledge against her friend’s parents, she peered around the pillar. A full moon hung in the sky illuminating only one car. The District Attorney’s Mercedes. Made sense Richard Underwood would be home. She doubted he’d sent her the email because what could Richard be doing to warrant such a mysterious message?

Frowning, she glanced down the long street. The upscale neighborhood was quiet tonight. Still she tucked her long hair into the thick knitted cap she’d brought and pulled it down low on her head. Without it, her strawberry blonde hair would be like a beacon for anyone to see. Wearing all black and feeling like a thief, she gritted her teeth and sprinted toward the closest oak tree on the property.

Using the darkness and shadows as her friend, she hurried toward the six foot wall surrounding the property. Her heart pounded wildly and her palms were clammy inside her gloves. She hadn’t even told her boss where she was going. But she wasn’t totally unprepared. Her Glock 33 was tucked into the back of her pants as a precaution.

As she crept down the length of the brick wall, the sound of a male voice shouting made her pause. She was right in line with the main house but the voice was farther away. Almost like it was outside, but too muted.
The pool house.

Careful to dodge two of the security cameras, she moved fast until she was hunkered down by a couple of overgrown bushes. The lights from the pool house were on, but the blinds were shut. She could see two silhouettes moving around inside. The shapes were too blurry to make out whether the people were male or female.

After glancing around the back of the large property to make sure she hadn’t missed any more video cameras, she pulled her cap down lower and began making her way across the grass. It was almost nine o’clock so maybe this meeting was what her anonymous email had been talking about.

A man started shouting again and her curiosity surged higher. She couldn’t understand what he was saying but his tone was angry. As she started to move closer, the very distinctive sound of gunshots erupted.

Pop. Pop. Pop. One shot right after another.

Then silence. Adrenaline surged through her like a raging river.

She was standing right in the middle of the yard like a freaking target. Not caring if any of the cameras caught her, she ran toward the cluster of bushes lining the pool house and jumped behind them. She needed to call the cops, but hiding was her number one priority. Eve held her breath and when there were no other sounds she raised her head and tried to look in one of the windows.

The blinds were drawn shut and she could barely see through the sliver between the edge of the blinds and the edge of the window. Immediately she spotted a pair of male dress shoes. Expensive shoes. From the awkward angle it looked like they were attached to someone lying on the ground. Someone not moving.

Slowly, she reached down to grab her cell phone out of her pocket. When she patted nothing, she inwardly cursed. Sure, she’d remembered her gun but she’d left her damn phone in her purse…which was in her car a few blocks over. A lot of good that would do her now.

If someone was dead or dying, she had to get help.

The sound of a door opening then slamming shut made her duck back down into the bushes. She hoped her dark clothing would help conceal her. Even though she hated to move, she withdrew her gun.

Her hand shook slightly but she’d spent countless hours on the range. When the time came, she knew she could use it if she had to. At the sound of footsteps running away, she inched above the foliage only to see the French door that led into the main house slam shut.

A light went on in one of the rooms downstairs then a few seconds later a light upstairs flipped on.

Taking a chance, she hurried from her hiding place and ran to the front of the pool house. Eve cringed as her boots thudded against the stone patio at the front of the small structure but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Her time was limited.

Easing the door open with her shoulder, she kept her gun tight in her hands. Her gut roiled at the sight in front of her. Next to the splatters of blood on the slick tile floor, the pale yellow walls seemed garish and too bright. Right beside the billiard table in the corner of the room, Allen
freaking
Martin lay on his back. His dark unblinking eyes were wide open, and a look of shock covered his handsome face. Her gut told her he was dead.

Eve hadn’t exactly liked the guy but,
damn
. She quickly peeked back out the door and when she saw no one was there, hurried over to the body. After spending months embedded with the troops in Afghanistan, she’d seen her share of dead bodies and she had a feeling he was gone, but she checked his pulse anyway.

Nothing.

Crimson slowly seeped out from the three gaping holes in his chest and was beginning to pool on the tile floor. The coppery scent of death filled her nostrils.

Instinctively she started to step back. She didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene and she really didn’t want to leave any evidence behind. She had no business being here but she did need to call the cops—even if she didn’t have much faith in their abilities. Her car was blocks over and she couldn’t waste that much time. She hoped Martin had a phone on him.

Avoiding the growing pool of blood, she felt the front of his jacket pocket until she found his cell. Once her fingers clasped around it she hurried back to the door. When she looked out she saw the light upstairs in the main house shut off.

Crap!

Whoever had done this was probably coming back. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Richard Underwood had shot Allen Martin. Sure, Martin was sleazy, but Underwood was a good, honest DA. Or she’d thought he was. Now it looked like he might be a killer.

Hurrying back the way she’d come, she paused once she was outside the fenced yard to use Martin’s phone. She dialed 911.

As soon as the operator picked up she started whispering into the phone. “There’s a dead body at the Underwood mansion. 685 Kent Ave.”

“Ma’am, can you please repeat that address?”

“There’s a dead body in the pool house behind the Underwood mansion on Kent Avenue. Allen Martin has been shot three times in the chest and he’s not breathing. Hurry!”

“Ma’am, are you telling me that Allen Martin is dead in the DA’s pool house?” Eve doubted the operator was supposed to let her disbelief show, but in a small town the woman would have no doubt where the Underwood mansion was and exactly who owned it.

She sighed at the woman’s question. The dispatcher should already be contacting a patrol car. Another strike against the police department of Hudson Creek. They’d screwed up the prosecution of the man who’d killed Eve’s parents. Why not screw this up too?

“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you. Send someone
now
. The killer is still here.” It was hard to keep her voice a whisper when she wanted to shout at the operator.

“We’re sending a patrol over but I need to know who I’m speaking to.”

Not freaking likely.

Instead of answering, Eve hung up. She couldn’t afford to say anything else. She’d trespassed on the property and admitting that to the sheriff would give him an excuse to waste hours interrogating her.

As she glanced around she realized no one must have heard the shots because the street was deathly quiet. She desperately wanted to wait around and make sure the cops showed up but knew she couldn’t. If they found her here she’d be in a world of trouble. Hurrying, she continued her escape down the sidewalk.

When the phone she’d taken started ringing, she jumped. The caller ID screen said restricted.

“Hey, I hear it,” a thick, accented male voice said from behind the fence of the Underwood’s place.

Panic jumped in Eve’s chest. She pressed the end button, effectively silencing the call as she started running down the sidewalk. Her boots thudded loudly but there was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to turn it off completely but didn’t have time to waste.

“Hey! Stop!” the same voice shouted behind her a few moments later.

A sharp pop blasted through the air and the trunk of one of the trees lining the street splintered. The pop sounded again and Eve felt a gush of air rush past her face. Someone was shooting at her!

Taking a sharp right, she darted across the Hawkins’ lawn. Even though they had an incredible house their security was shit and she knew they had an opening in their wrought iron fence in the backyard. If she could just make it.

Her leg muscles strained and for the first time in years she was thankful for her daily jogging routine. Pumping her arms and legs, she cleared the edge of the house. A spotlight on the side of the house flipped on—likely motion sensors—but she didn’t pause.

It almost felt as if someone was breathing down her neck, but she knew it was fear and adrenaline surging through her. Then she heard a muttered curse farther behind than before. At least they weren’t still shooting. Probably because whoever it was didn’t want to draw more attention to themselves.

She needed to make it to the opening and hoped no one saw her slip through. Her car was on the next street over. Her heart pounded that erratic tattoo against her chest as she dove over a cluster of bushes lining the back fence.

Blood rushed loudly in her ears as she began to slowly crawl toward the opening. When the phone started ringing again, her chest tightened. They were trying to track her using the sound. She silenced it again then slid the back casing off. She’d only have a few seconds to do this. Sliding the SIM card out, she put it in her pocket then left the phone lying in the dirt.

As she continued crawling, she pulled her gun out. When she reached the small gap in the fence she shimmied under it. Ignoring the dirt coating her hands and the underbrush caught in her cap and clothes, she shoved up and ran through the neighboring backyard.

After risking a brief glance behind her, she saw she wasn’t being followed. She allowed herself a small measure of relief but didn’t stop running. Even if they were still looking for her, they weren’t going to find her. She wouldn’t let them.

Unfortunately she couldn’t go home. She hadn’t recognized the accented voice, but she couldn’t be sure whoever had been chasing her hadn’t identified her. That left one place to go.

Macklin wasn’t going to be happy to see her, but Mr. Tall, dark, and too-sexy-for-his-own-good would have to deal with it. He was one of the few people on the planet she would trust with her life.