THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The jumping Chihuahua in Bree’s stomach had twenty pals
join him. Testifying had nothing on the nerves she was trying to get under
control. Facing Jake after five long, lonely months waiting to testify might be
harder than walking that snow-covered road with a gun to her head. That night
she’d known Jake would come after her. Today, she had no way of predicting how
he’d react to her just showing up.

This house with the rolling hill country backdrop was a far cry
from Jake’s one-bedroom apartment.

“So, this is the place. I’ll wait for you if you want,” Mr.
Soku, the driver, said with a foreign accent.

She’d had plenty of time to share her doubts about arriving
unannounced. Her fear had just come pouring out to her driver.

“I can’t do this, after all. Can you turn—” A bark and familiar
howl stopped her.
Dallas.
She didn’t even need to
see the puppy to know who beckoned to her. “I’ll call when I’m ready to go. It
might be as soon as five minutes.”

“I’ll be close by, Miss Sabrina. Much good fortune to you. I
wish you luck finding your happy beginning.”

“Thank you so very much, Mr. Soku.” She paid him and got out
the driver’s side door he opened, standing in the deserted street as he drove
away.

Dallas barked from behind the fence. Mr. Soku honked from the
corner, leaning out his window and gesturing that she move from her spot. She
couldn’t or was afraid to take a step. What if Jake rejected her? A vehicle
turned the corner and she had to get out of its way. There wasn’t a sidewalk so
she quickly walked down the driveway to the porch.

A door slammed and she wanted to look behind her, but that
petrified feeling had her glued, facing the bell. If she turned away, she’d keep
right on walking.
Chicken.
She pushed the doorbell
and waited. There was scratching at the door, more barking and a bit of
howling.

“May I help you, ma’am?” asked a deep, sexy voice from behind
her.

Jumping Chihuahuas, she’d missed that voice. It started all
sorts of bubbly good things inside her.

“Hi, Jake.” She turned to greet him, hand extended, hoping he’d
smile and not turn her away. Could she run in this tight sundress and heels to
catch Mr. Soku? Had it been five minutes?

The tall
marine-turned-homicide-detective-turned-state-investigator gulped. He gulped
again and looked around as if he was embarrassed to have her on his steps, let
alone near his house. “I didn’t recognize you as a blonde and in that— That’s
some dress, Bree. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I should have called.” She darted down the
single step, hearing the little howl behind the door. It broke her heart as much
as the confused look on Jake’s face.

His hand darted out, catching her bare upper arm. It was
blazing hot outside and just a couple of minutes in the afternoon sun had her
skin heated. But Jake’s touch shot a flame through every inch of her being.

“Wait. They told me you were coming to see Dallas.”

She had come a very long way to see
Jake.
Months of wondering and debating. She stepped back under the
shade of the porch and searched his dark eyes. “You look great, Jake.”

As soon as he got through the door, he ignored Dallas until she
sat in front of him. “Good girl. You ready to eat?” The dog was twice the size
she’d been five months earlier. All legs, she bounded to Bree before chasing
around the corner, sliding on the wooden floors after Jake.

Bree stayed in the entry hall, unsure about where to go and
completely convinced this had been the wrong thing to do. They’d known each
other for less than two full days. He’d moved on with his life while hers had
been in limbo waiting in protective custody.

Jake stuck his head around the corner. “Coming?”

“Your home’s very beautiful.”

“I got a good deal on it. The owners were downsizing and left a
lot of the furnishings, and Dallas needed a yard.” He scooped dog food into a
dish. “Come on, girl. You know the drill. Sit.”

The Lab plopped down, her long tail sweeping the floor as it
wagged behind her.

“You’re so good together. I’m glad you decided to keep
her.”

Jake’s face scrunched up in confusion. “You thought I’d give
her away?”

“No.” She shook her head. She wanted a do-over. Maybe if she
ran back to the front door and he answered it, she could get the speech out
she’d practiced all morning on the plane. Jake gave Dallas one last stroke and
stood, making Bree crane her neck to look him in the eye. “I’d forgotten just
how tall you were. You all healed?”

Her dress spun with her as she turned to go. She’d never come
back. Never see him again. She couldn’t do this more than once. She remembered
the slick new heels just as her feet slipped from under her and she fell into
Jake’s arms. He set her in the kitchen chair faster than she’d thought possible.
In a matter of seconds, he faced her from across the table and quirked an
eyebrow in her direction.

The warrior who had risked everything to help her and rescue
her family materialized as he tossed an envelope onto the table. “I got the
papers. You’re suing for joint custody of Dallas? You came to take away my
dog?”

“What? I didn’t—I was joking when I said I might. I’d never
take her away from you, Jake. You’re right. She’s your dog now.” She loved the
puppy who had brought them together, but she loved Jake more. “I never had any
intention of taking her away. I had this weird conversation with an attorney,
but I didn’t go through with it. I was going to use the story as an
icebreaker...not a deal breaker.”

“So it was a joke?”

“They shouldn’t have done anything at all.”

“That’s different, then. You know, I can let you have as much
time with Dallas as you want. Anytime you’re in town.” He stuck his hands in his
pockets, shoulders sort of drooping.

She stood, swaying in the stupid, sexy shoes she’d worn just
for him. She kicked them to the side and bent down next to the dog.

Dallas nudged her snout under Bree’s hand, looking for some
loving. Suddenly, it was like they hadn’t been apart. If only finding love was
that simple.

“I really came here to tell you I was wrong.”

“About?” He shot a hand through his hair and brought it back to
scratch the stubble on his jawline.

She grabbed the edge of the table, knowing what would come
next—a surge of longing for him. That simple gesture just made her weak in the
knees. “Shoot, Jake. There’s no tippy-toeing around why I came. I wanted to see
you. I missed you.”

“And Dallas, don’t forget.” He was teasing her. The twinkle was
back in his eyes.

“I missed you both. I wanted to call more than once, but the
prosecutors wouldn’t let me.”

“I didn’t know how hard to push. The last time we were together
you told Wilder we didn’t know each other. That to think we had a relationship
was stupid—your words, not mine. And to think we had more than a one-night
stand—also your words—was completely foolish.”

“I told him that so you wouldn’t get into any more trouble. I
was also very wrong. Our two days together got me through the last five
months.”

Jake’s fingers brushed a tear from her cheek and he shifted her
into the circle of his arms. He heated her core and sent shivers up her spine at
the same time. No man had ever made her feel anything close to these sensations.
His lips were close and just waiting...so she kissed him. He tasted cool, like
iced tea and lemon. His arms circled her back and pulled her close to his
chest.

Dallas whined and jumped on them both, making it impossible to
kiss through their laughter. “No need to be jealous, girl.” Bree stroked the
black, wiry fur.

“I wanted to turn you around and do that from the moment I saw
you in the street,” he said into her hair.

“I thought you didn’t recognize me?”

He latched those brown eyes to hers. “I’d be able to pick you
out of a crowd at a hundred yards. I couldn’t believe you were finally
here.”

Jake shrugged out of his coat as he dialed his cell. “I need to
send a text canceling tonight. You see, this crazy chick I knew suggested I get
therapy.”

“I did not. I just said working with Charlie helped my
uncle.”

“It didn’t take me long to realize how much Dallas was helping
me deal with stress. I found an organization that helps military vets find the
right pet and I volunteer.”

He faced her and pushed his hands through his hair. A sure sign
that he was nervous regarding whatever he was about to say. She barely knew him,
but then she also knew him so well.

“Bree, the time I spent with you—” He took her hand into his
palm, using his thumb to draw those concentric circles that drove her mad with
desire. “They were the best hours of my life. I’ve missed you every minute
since.”

He tipped her chin and tilted her world with his smile.

“You’re crying again and I haven’t even gotten to the good
part,” he whispered near her lips.

Sure enough, tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.
“There’s a better part?”

“I know it’s early and I’ll give you all the time you need. But
I fell all the way when you ran into my life. Being apart has only convinced me
that I love you.”

His lips descended and captured hers. Captured and wouldn’t
release. He wrapped his arms tight and held her as tenderly as their first kiss.
He taunted and kept their lips devouring each other until Dallas jumped on them
again.

“Definitely the best part.” She leaned her cheek against his
chest. “That’s what I came to tell you. I love you. I thought I was crazy. I
kept telling myself it couldn’t be real. It was too soon. Or just one of those
whirlwind adventures. Maybe a bond I felt because of the intense situation.”

“Me, too.” He hugged her to him, keeping her close, his breath
tickled her neck. “I kept thinking we’d see each other somewhere throughout all
this process. But the police kept us separated in Amarillo and then the state
authorities threatened me within an inch of my life not to compromise the case
again. They offered me a position with the Texas Racing Commission. I couldn’t
turn them down.”

“I wanted to call so badly. Kyle Wilder assured me they’d give
me your address after I testified. The prosecution placed me in protective
custody, locking me in a safe house in the middle of nowhere. It made Amarillo
look like a metropolitan city. I’ve had a lot of time to think. But my feelings
about you haven’t changed.”

“The state prosecutor kept telling me I couldn’t see you. And
when I called your uncle last month—”

“You talked to Jerry?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know where you were. Said the family got
one letter, but had no idea what was really going on.”

“One letter with no real details was all they’d allow.”

“No one could have convinced me I’d fall this hard or fast. Or
that I’d start missing you before we said goodbye. But I did....” His voice
trailed off as he nibbled on her neck. “I hope you’re staying for a while. Maybe
a week or two? I warned them I’d be taking off as soon as I knew where you
were.”

His burning lips left a smoldering trail across her collarbone.
She pulled back to see his eyes reflecting the desire she felt.

“As for your petition for custody.” He paused to kiss her,
leaving a burning trail from the backs of his fingers running along her exposed
skin. “If you want to spend time with Dallas, we’re a package deal. You’re stuck
with the both of us. Move in with me.”

He lifted her, twirling her through the kitchen, laughing and
playfully taunting Dallas.

“Sounds like perfect joint custody.” She kissed his furrowed
brow that she’d missed every day. “Remind me to call Mr. Soku at the cab
company. He wished me luck finding my happy beginning. I want to tell him it
worked.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from DEAD BY WEDNESDAY by Beverly
Long.

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Chapter One

Wednesday

Robert Hanson looked up from his computer screen when
Lieutenant Fischer approached his desk. He wasn’t surprised or worried about the
anger that flashed in his boss’s eyes. He knew what had put it there. Had heard
the news before he’d gotten off the elevator. Even though it wasn’t his case, it
had been enough to make him shove his half-eaten bagel back into the bag and
toss his untouched orange juice into the nearest waste can.

“Got another dead kid,” his boss said.

Robert had really, really hoped that the pattern would break.
For the past three weeks, there had been a new dead kid every Wednesday morning.
This was week four. “I heard,” Robert said.

“Did you hear he was Alderman Franconi’s nephew? His sister’s
kid.”

Robert shook his head. Franconi was tight with the mayor. The
heat was going to be turned up high. Not that every detective on the force
wasn’t already aware of the case and keeping his or her eyes open 24/7 looking
for some kind of clue.

“Where’s Sawyer?” his boss asked.

“On his way. He’s dropping Liz and the baby off at Options for
Caring Mothers.”

“Okay.” His boss started to walk away. Then stopped, turned and
edged close to the metal desk. “Carmen Jimenez still work there?” he asked, his
inquiry casual.

“I guess so,” Robert said, working hard to keep his tone
neutral. He hadn’t seen Carmen since the wedding three months ago, where his
best friend, Sawyer Montgomery, had married her best friend, Liz Mayfield.
Robert had been the best man. Carmen had been the maid of honor. Her dress had
been an emerald-green and it had wrapped around her body in a way that had made
him break out in an instant sweat.

The groom had been calmer than he’d been.

Which was ridiculous because everybody knew that Robert Hanson
never got rattled by a woman. He
managed
relationships. Not the other way around.

“Pretty woman,” Lieutenant Fischer said.

Robert raised an eyebrow. The lieutenant had been married for
twenty years and had kids in high school.

“Just making conversation, Hanson. If it’s any consolation,
probably nobody but Sawyer and me realized that it was taking everything you had
to keep your tongue from hanging out. We just know you better than most.”

Robert shrugged and tried his best to look innocent. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about, sir.”

Lieutenant Fischer let out a huff of air. “Of course you don’t.
When Sawyer arrives, get your butts out to the scene. Blaze and Wasimole are
still there. They could use some help talking to neighbors. Details are online
in the case file.”

Robert shifted in his chair and reached for his computer
keyboard. But he let his hands rest on the keys.

Visions of Carmen Jimenez weren’t that easy to push aside.

They’d danced, just once. It was expected, after all. And she’d
felt perfect in his arms. And her scent had danced around him, making his head
spin. He’d made small talk.
Nice wedding, wasn’t it? Is
your brother starting high school soon? Are you busy at work?

She responded, her voice soft and sexy, with just a bare hint
of a Spanish accent.
Very pretty. Yes, he is looking
forward to playing in the band. Always lots to do.

And when the music had ended, he hadn’t wanted to let go. But
she’d stepped away, murmured a quick thank-you and left him standing in the
middle of the dance floor.

And later, when he’d tried to catch her eye, she’d looked away,
and he wondered if it was deliberate. Toward the end of the evening, he hadn’t
had to wonder anymore. He’d finally worked up the courage to ask her to dance
again and when she’d seen him approaching, had practically run into the ladies’
restroom to avoid him.

He didn’t need it written on the damn marquee. She wasn’t
interested. So he’d forgotten about her.

Right.

Well, he was working on it.

He tapped on his keyboard and brought up the case file. In
their system, every entry was date-and time-stamped. Detectives Blaze and
Wasimole, two veterans, had been on the scene within fifteen minutes of the call
coming in at four o’clock this morning. Shortly after that, they’d entered a
brief narrative into the electronic case file and updated it twice after
that.

Victim had been discovered by a couple of sanitation workers.
They hadn’t touched the body. That was good. More than fifteen residents of
nearby apartment buildings had already been interviewed and nobody had seen
anything. That was bad.

There were multiple stab wounds, and fingers on his right hand
had been severed and removed from the scene.

That wasn’t a surprise.

The first victim had lost two fingers on his left hand. The
second, two on the right. The third, two on his left hand.

Left, right. Left, right. There was a crazy symmetry about the
handiwork but the end result was always the same. The kids were dead. Although
it hadn’t come easy. Coroner had determined in the first three deaths that the
mutilation had occurred prior to death, which meant that they’d suffered the
pain, then the blood loss; and finally the bastard had killed them by
suffocating them by covering their noses with duct tape and stuffing a red
bandanna in their mouths.

The killer hadn’t bothered to remove the bandanna once the kids
were dead.

Robert checked the notes. Yep. Victim had been found with his
nostrils taped shut and a red bandanna stuffed in his mouth. He clicked on the
pictures that had already been uploaded and started scanning them. They were
gruesome and made his empty stomach twist.

When he heard Sawyer’s footsteps, he was grateful for the
interruption. His partner shrugged off his heavy coat, pulled out his desk chair
and sank into it.

“You look like hell,” Robert said.

“It’s amazing the trouble one little tooth can cause,” Sawyer
said, his lazy drawl more pronounced than usual. “Catherine was up several times
during the night. That doesn’t happen very often.”

“How’s Liz?” Robert asked.

“Fabulous,” Sawyer answered, sounding like a very happy man.
“Although she wasn’t too crazy about me giving Catherine my leather belt to chew
on. That is, until she saw how well it worked.”

“Southern tradition?” Robert asked.

Sawyer shook his head. “Midwest desperation.”

Robert stood up. “Well, we got another kind of tradition going
on here and quite frankly, it sucks.” He pointed at his computer. Sawyer got up,
rounded the desk, stood behind Robert, and quickly read through the
information.

“Henry Wright,” Sawyer said, resting his eyes on the text that
had been added just an hour or so ago once the body had been identified.

“Alderman Franconi’s nephew,” Robert added. That wasn’t in the
notes.

“This is going to get interesting fast,” Sawyer said.

“I know the area,” Robert said. “Residential, mostly multiunit
apartments. Some commercial.”

Sawyer picked up the gloves that he’d tossed on his desk. He
pulled them on. “Let’s go knock on some doors. But take pity on me, for God’s
sake, and stop and get some coffee on the way. It’s freezing out there.”

“It’s January in Chicago. What do you expect?”

“It would be nice if it got cold enough that all the killing
stopped.”

“It’s cold,” Robert said, “but I don’t think hell has frozen
over yet.”

The two men piled into their unmarked car, with Robert driving.
He pulled out of the police lot and five minutes later, found street parking in
front of their favorite coffee shop. Once inside, he waited patiently while
Sawyer had to flash a picture of six-month-old Catherine after the woman behind
the counter asked for an update on the little girl.

Robert was damn happy for his friend. Liz was a great woman,
and given how much she and Sawyer were enjoying their adopted daughter, Robert
figured they’d be adding to their family in no time.

He wasn’t jealous.

Hell, no. He had the kind of freedom that married men dreamed
about.

Back in the car, he sipped his coffee, grateful for the warmth.
It hadn’t been above twenty degrees for two weeks, which meant that the four
inches of snow that had fallen three weeks ago lingered on. Most of the roads
were clear, but the sidewalks that hadn’t been shoveled right away now had a
thick layer of hard-packed snow, making walking dangerous.

It was dirty and grimy and very non-postcard-worthy. Even in
the high-rent area known as the Magnificent Mile, things were looking a little
shabby.

Ten minutes later, Robert left the car in a no-parking zone.
Five feet away, the alley entrance was still blocked off with police tape. He
looked around. When he’d been a kid, he’d lived just a few blocks from here. For
a couple years, he and his mom and husband number three had shared an apartment
in one of the low-income high-rise buildings. His mom still lived less than ten
blocks away.

He’d spent a fair amount of time on these streets. The area
still looked much the same. There were a couple small restaurants, a dry
cleaner, a tanning salon and one of those paycheck advance places where the
interest started doubling the minute your loan payment was late. There was a
church a block down, and the neighborhood school was just around the corner.

Buses ran up and down these streets in the daytime, leaving the
snow-packed sidewalks tinged with black exhaust.

Sawyer crushed his empty coffee cup. “Ready?” he asked, pulling
the collar of his heavy coat tighter.

“Sure,” Robert said. He tossed his empty cup over his shoulder
into the backseat.

It wasn’t hard to see where the body had been found. The
hard-packed snow was an ugly combination of black soot and fresh blood.
Detective Charlene Blaze was talking to one of the evidence techs, who was still
scraping the snow for something. He didn’t see her partner, Milo Wasimole.

“Hey, Charlene,” Robert said. “How’s it going?”

She was a small woman, maybe mid-fifties. Her first grandchild
had been born the previous week. Her face was red from the cold. “Okay, I guess.
I lost feeling in my toes about a half hour ago.”

“Lieutenant Fischer asked us to swing by.”

She nodded. “Yeah, all hands on deck when an alderman’s nephew
gets it,” she said, her tone sarcastic.

Robert understood. Hell, there were teenagers killed almost
every night in Chicago. Most of the killings were gang-related. And nobody
seemed to get all that excited about it.

But after week two, when it had become apparent that they might
have a serial killer on their hands, the cases had started to get attention.

Week three, local newspapers had gotten hold of the story,
noting the similarities in the killings. Two days later, they got television
exposure, when the twenty-four-hour news channels picked it up. Then the dancing
had started. Because nobody in the police department wanted it widely known that
three kids were dead and they didn’t have a clue who was responsible.

“Press been here yet?” Robert asked.

Charlene nodded. “Oh, yeah. Can’t wait to see tomorrow’s
headline.” She nodded goodbye to the evidence tech, who was putting away his
things. “I know you guys already have your own caseload but I have to admit, I’m
appreciative of every set of eyes I can get. This is getting really creepy.
Based on what we know at this point, this was a good kid. Fourteen. Just made
the eighth-grade honor roll. Played the trumpet in the middle-school band.”

Robert had read the files of the other three dead kids and knew
they had similar stories. First victim had been thirteen. Second, fifteen.
Third, fourteen. All male. All good students. All without known gang ties. “Any
connection to the previous three victims?”

“No. All four lived in different parts of the city and went to
different schools. We don’t have any reason to believe they knew each other or
had common friends.”

Robert shook his head. “Nobody ever said it was going to be
easy.” He pulled his gloves out of his pocket. “Sawyer and I’ll start knocking
on some neighbors’ doors. Maybe we’ll get lucky and somebody saw something.”

* * *

C
ARMEN
J
IMENEZ
SWAYED
back and forth with six-month-old Catherine on her
hip. “I can’t believe how big she’s getting,” she said to Liz, who was busy
making coffee. “I saw her just a few weeks ago and she already looks
different.”

“I know. I’m almost grateful that her regular babysitter got
sick. It’s nice to bring her to work with me.” Liz pushed the button on the
coffee machine.

“Did Sawyer get her room finished?” Carmen asked.

Liz smiled. “It’s gorgeous. I can’t believe he had the patience
to stencil all those teddy bears. You should come see it. We’re getting pizza
tonight. You and Raoul could join us.”

“Raoul has band practice tonight. Even so...” She stopped.

Liz frowned at her. “What’s wrong? You look really
troubled.”

“Nothing,” Carmen denied automatically. Then remembered this
was Liz, her best friend. “I was going to say that even so, he probably wouldn’t
want to come with me. I haven’t said much, but I’m worried about Raoul.”

“What’s wrong with your brother?” Liz reached for Catherine and
settled the little girl on her own hip.

“He’s not talking to me. By the time I get home from work, he’s
already in his room. He comes out for dinner, shovels some food in, and retreats
back to his cave. I’m lucky if I get a few one-word answers.”

“He’s an adolescent boy. That’s pretty normal behavior. Aren’t
you almost thirty? That automatically makes you too old to understand
anything.”

“I know. It’s just hard for me. It seems as if it was just
weeks ago that he and his best friend Jacob were setting up a tent in our living
room, laughing like a bunch of hyenas until the middle of the night.”