Lisa Jackson's Bentz & Montoya Bundle: Hot Blooded, Cold Blooded, Shiver, Absolute Fear, Lost Souls, Malice, & an Exclusive Extended Excerpt From Devious (42 page)
Authors: Lisa Jackson
Tags: #Romance
Dear Reader,
Okay, the truth of the matter is that I loved writing HOT BLOODED. I mean, I really loved it! Maybe it was the romance and the intrigue of the city of New Orleans, or maybe it was the characters who became a part of my life for so many months, or maybe I just can’t let go. Whatever the reason is I decided to write a companion book to the first story. And that was just the beginning.
COLD BLOODED is the next thriller in what has become a series of books surrounding the characters of Detective Rick Bentz and Reuben Montoya of the New Orleans Police Department. Once again, I adored writing it. Basically COLD BLOODED picks up where HOT BLOODED left off.
Remember the murders that Bentz and Montoya hadn’t quite figured out at the end of HOT BLOODED? Well, they get their chance in COLD BLOODED, and boy, do they have their work cut out for them.
Another signature killer is on the loose in New Orleans. Women from all walks of life are being stalked, then ritualistically killed. This time the killer is very clever, leaving behind few clues. For some reason the victims seem to trust or know the man who cruelly takes their lives.
The press is going wild with the story and some of the people you met in HOT BLOODED reappear. There are a host of new characters as well, including Olivia Benchet, a woman whose dreams remarkably re-create the murders. The police write her off as a nut case, but Rick Bentz sees a connection. Not only does Olivia, a descendent of a voodoo priestess, have incredible insight into the murders, she also is the first woman in a long time who has interested Bentz. Pretty, smart, and outspoken, she’s obviously terrified of her visions.
The story really heats up when Olivia turns to a local priest for comfort, and an old secret that has plagued Bentz for years resurfaces.
Everything Rick Bentz believes in, everything he holds dear is suddenly at risk, thrust into horrifying, mind-numbing danger. Olivia Benchet and his own daughter, Kristi, become targets, and he has to face the toughest, most diabolical adversary of his career. It’s up to him to stop a COLD-BLOODED killer.
Putting an end to the terror running through the narrow streets of the city becomes Bentz’s personal mission. Even if it means compromising his career.
I hope you pick up a copy of COLD BLOODED and the other books in the series. They are, in sequence, HOT BLOODED, COLD BLOODED, SHIVER, ABSOLUTE FEAR, LOST SOULS, MALICE, and DEVIOUS, which is scheduled to be released in April of 2011! Each of the books brings Montoya and Bentz face to face with twisted killers bent on destruction. In SHIVER, Montoya meets Abby Chastain, the one woman who turns his world around. The mystery surrounding her and her mother’s death draw him into a world of smoke and mirrors.
Each book has its own story and DEVIOUS, the most recent, is not only set in New Orleans, but has roots deep into the heart of the history and culture of the city where a young, beautiful novitiate who is about to take her vows at St. Marguerite’s Cathedral is brutally murdered. At the stroke of midnight, as Sister Camille takes her last dying breath, she prays for forgiveness, and knows the sins of her past will come back to haunt all those she holds dear.
DEVIOUS is a story where nothing appears as it should, and once again Detectives Montoya and Bentz must solve the crime and understand the twisted, vile mind of a killer whose crimes seem all too familiar. To learn more, just turn the page to an excerpt from DEVIOUS!
As I said, I hope you like HOT BLOODED and all the books in the Montoya/Bentz series. You can read excerpts and learn more about the books through my Web site at www.lisajackson.com or through facebook, where I have a fan page that keeps everyone up to date on upcoming books, contests, and events.
Keep Reading!
Lisa Jackson
LISA JACKSON
COLD BLOODED
IN SEARCH OF A KILLER
“I thought I explained all this,” Olivia said. “I’ve been in to the police department before. No one took me seriously. Just like you.”
“Try me,” Bentz suggested. “Just tell me what you saw.”
‘Well … where to begin? I’d have these nightmares, more fragmented than this last one, but intense. It wasn’t a vision of someone being violently murdered like last night … but rather short images, every other day or so, of a victim being left to starve to death. She … she was trapped somewhere like a crypt of some kind and she was screaming and crying. And I felt him. His presence.”
“The killer?”
“Yes. Whoever abducted her and left her to die would come and visit her, shine a flashlight into her terrified eyes, then leave. So I only got glimpses of where she was being held, only quick images of the surroundings. Anything else?” she asked.
“Yeah, a couple of things. I’ll want a list of everyone you know. Family, friends, anyone you work with or see at school.”
“You think my friends are involved.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know who is, but if I take what you’re telling me at face value, then somehow you’re connected with the killer … right? There’s something between the two of you … I mean, I assume that’s the way it works.”
She nodded. “Sometimes …” She let her voice fade away and didn’t go on.
“Sometimes what?”
“It sounds so crazy, but sometimes I get this feeling … it’s like crystals of ice over the back of my neck, and I feel that he’s close … closer than I ever imagined …”
Books by Lisa Jackson
SEE HOW SHE DIES
FINAL SCREAM
WISHES
WHISPERS
TWICE KISSED
UNSPOKEN
IF SHE ONLY KNEW
HOT BLOODED
COLD BLOODED
THE NIGHT BEFORE
THE MORNING AFTER
DEEP FREEZE
FATAL BURN
SHIVER
MOST LIKELY TO DIE
ABSOLUTE FEAR
ALMOST DEAD
LOST SOULS
LEFT TO DIE
WICKED GAME
MALICE
CHOSEN TO DIE
Published by Zebra Books
CONTENTS
To Robin Rue, agent extraordinaire—thanks for all!
Acknowledgments
First and foremost I would like to thank the City of New Orleans Police Department for their help and courtesy, even though I bent the rules a tad to accommodate this story.
I would also like to thank the following individuals who offered their support, knowledge and expertise, without whom this book would not have been written. Thanks to Nancy Berland, Nancy Bush, Matthew Crose, Michael Crose, Alexis Harrington, Mary Clare Kersten, Carol Maloy, K.C. McNeeley, Arla Melum, Ken Melum, Ari Okano, Betty and Jack Pederson, Sally Peters, Robin Rue, Jon Salem, John Scognamiglio, Larry and Linda Sparks, Laura Stanulis, Mark and Celia Stinson, and Jane Thornton. If I’ve missed anyone, my apologies.
Prologue
He saw her.
Half-running, head bent, fingers clutched at the hood of her coat, she hurried through the darkness to the small church.
From his hiding spot beneath the magnolia tree, The Chosen One waited. His blood began to sing through his veins as he crouched in the darkness, every muscle tense, nerves strung tight as piano wire.
How easy it would be to catch her. In three swift strides he could be upon her and drag her away. While her father waited inside. That particular thought appealed to him, was warm seduction.
But it wasn’t her time, he reminded himself. There were others.
She paused beneath the overhang near the front doors, tossing off her hood and shaking her hair free. Long and wavy, the strands gleamed a tempting red brown in the lamplight. The Chosen One swallowed and felt the first stirring between his legs.
He wanted her.
So badly he ached.
Just looking at her, his senses were heightened. He heard his heart beating, felt his blood pulse through his veins, smelled the heavy odor of the Mississippi River winding dark and slow through the town where traffic whined on slick streets and sin was waged at every corner.
As she disappeared through the doors, he edged deeper into the dense foliage of the grounds to his hiding spot near the flawed stained-glass window. A tiny panel of glass had been removed and replaced by a small clear pane, giving a perfect view into the nave. Crouching, The Chosen One peered through this portal and he watched as she walked down the aisle, genuflected, then slid into the pew to take her seat next to her father. The bastard cop.
They exchanged a few words before she planted herself next to him.
Once seated, she fidgeted in the pew. Looked bored. As if she’d rather be anywhere than at evening mass with her father. She flipped her long hair this way and that, glanced at the others as they entered, slumped onto her lower back to bite at one fingernail as dozens of candles burned.
The Chosen One let his gaze move to the cop.
The enemy.
He was a solid man, over six feet. His jaw was square, his eyes deep-set and world-weary, showing his forty-plus years. Rick Bentz was a detective whose tarnished reputation had been polished to a recent sheen, his past sins forgotten if not forgiven. In his black suit and starched shirt, he appeared more uncomfortable than his daughter, definitely out of place in the house of God.
As well he should be.
Tugging on his tie, Bentz leaned closer to the girl and whispered into her ear. Immediately she stopped biting at her nails and straightened in the pew. She folded her arms over her abdomen defiantly and inadvertently raised her breasts, making them plump a bit at the neckline of her dress. White supple flesh against turquoise silk.
The Chosen One imagined what was hidden beneath that smooth fabric … rosebud nipples, virgin skin, and lower, a dark nest of curls the same reddish brown as that luxurious tangle of copper that tumbled to her shoulders.
He thought of her as the princess.
Her father’s pride and joy.
Athlete, scholar, and … a little naughty. Rebellious. It was there, in her eyes. He’d seen it before. Heard it in her deep, sexy laughter.
She glanced toward the window with her wide green eyes. The Chosen One froze in his hiding spot.
Her mouth pulled into a tiny, defiant pout.
His cock responded. Just a little twinge.
He imagined what those lips might do with the right sort of prodding … Closed his eyes, felt the cool caress of the rain running down his neck as his fingers strayed to his crotch.
His erection stiffened to full mast. Hard. Throbbing. Anticipating.
Soon, Princess
, he thought.
Soon. But I must take care of the others first. Then it will be your turn.
Be patient.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
His eyes flew open at the sound of his watch’s timer. He clicked off the alarm and bit back a swear word. That was careless. Unlike him. Angry with himself, The Chosen One took one last glimpse of the church’s interior and found the princess still staring at the window. As if she knew he was there.
Quickly he ducked from beneath the tree and jogged through the curtain of rain. He’d stayed much too long. Furious with himself, he picked up his pace, long legs sprinting easily across the wet lawn to the corner, where he turned down a narrow alley, ran three blocks, then doubled back to a parking space in front of an abandoned, boarded-over building that had once been a garage.
He was sweating, not from exertion but anxiety as he climbed into the older car with its tinted windows. He stripped off his running clothes and gloves, then folded them neatly into a leather duffel.
Soon it would be time.
Soon Rick Bentz would feel the pain of losing that which he held most dear.
But first Bentz needed to know what was at risk; he had to feel real fear—a dark, gnawing dread that would eat at him when he realized that everything he did, everywhere he turned, every place he’d once held sacred, would no longer be safe.
A smile crept across The Chosen One’s jaw as he withdrew a towel from his bag. Quickly he swiped the rough terry cloth over his face and neck. Then he took the time to check the rearview mirror. Blue eyes stared back at him. Hungry eyes. “Bedroom eyes,” he’d been told by more than one woman who was foolish enough to think he could be seduced.
But … beneath his gaze he caught the merest glimmer of a shadow, something wrong, out of sync in the reflection. As if someone were watching him. He snapped his head around, stared through the foggy rear window to see if the mirror’s reflection had caught someone peering into the car. He squinted through the raindrops and fog of condensation.
Nothing moved outside.
There was no one around on this deserted street. And yet he felt … a connection somewhere. This wasn’t the first time; he’d sensed a presence on several occasions. Each time the feeling became a little more certain, a tad more intense. Sweat rolled down his temples. His heart hammered wildly.
Paranoia … that’s what it is. Stay cool. Keep focused.
There was no one in this desolate part of town, no one who could possibly see through the smoky glass windows of the sedan on this gloomy night.
He had to calm down. Be patient. Everything was coming together.
Rick Bentz’s worst nightmare had already begun. He just didn’t know it yet.
