Kiss of Deceit

K ISS OF DECEIT

He grinned sinfully. “I don’t think what just occurred would fall under the category of funny business. I don’t know about you, but the thought of screwing you heats my blood, not tickles my funny bone.” “Do you have to be so crude? Screwing?” Her gaze widened. “Is that what you’d call it?” “What would you call it, LeAnne?” He advanced on her until they were mere inches apart again. His hot breath spanned her cheeks. She would be lying if she said she did not desire this man. The juncture of her thighs still throbbed from his touch. “Making love?” he whispered softly. “It’s a more civilized way of putting it,” she said, shifting her stance. “There’s nothing civilized about what I’d like to do with you. Besides, making love means there is love involved. Am I right?” She might have laughed had he not been so serious. Instead, she remained silent. “You planning on falling in love with me, Detective?” “No,” she stated, hoping she was never that unwise. “Then it’s screwing.”

P RAISE F OR K ISS OF DECEIT

“4 Stars…a well-written thriller where the characters expose their flaws and weaknesses. Ms. Rasey has real potential for suspense.” —Jill M. Smith Romantic Times

“…Another racy romantic thriller by Pat Rasey, will keep the heart pounding, the blood boiling, and the most hardened of readers entertained. Combining extremely sexual and sensual moments with the pursuit of a ruthless killer who's parting deceitful kiss means murder, this novel is a must read.” —Cindy Penn Word Weaving

“4 Stars! I liked this book and would put it on my keeper shelf. It’s not for the faint-hearted and the author gets into the mind of the killer very well. She gives us a riveting story that is hard to put down and you’ll find yourself busy turning the pages to find out the identify of the killer and cheering for the unlikely love between LeAnn and ‘Snake.’” —Brenda Gill Simply eBooks

“…Powerfully written characters, morally challenging situations and emotionally twisting plots have become a trademark of Patricia Rasey’s writing. Once started, this book is nearly impossible to put down. If the good ol' whodunit mystery doesn't snare your interest, the forbidden sexual attraction between Snake and LeAnne will. With enough detail to run the imagination screen inside your head, Kiss Of Deceit is a definite must-read!” —Aimee McLeod

“Rasey weaves a whole host of intriguing characters throughout her story. Creating the challenge of trying to guess who is really guilty and who is innocent. And just about the time you think you have it, she throws in a hairpin curve and you’re right back where you started. I read this book in one sitting, unable to tear myself from its clenches. And I got to the end thinking, all was right with the world once more, the good guy wins, the bad guys loses, the lovers live happily ever after. Then Rasey, threw in a curve. Powerful, Sizzling and Taunting. This is a volatile read!!!” —P.J. Johnson

ALSO B Y P ATRICIA A. R ASEY

Deadly Obsession Eyes Of Betrayal Facade The Hour Before Dawn Kiss Of Deceit

With Authors Charlotte Boyett-Compo & Kate Hill Twilight Obsessions

KISS OF DECEIT BY PATRICIA A. RASEY

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

KISS OF DECEIT AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC P.O. Box 50251 Bellevue, Washington 98015

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2002 by Patricia A. Rasey ISBN 1-59279-002-X Cover Art © 2002 Trace Edward Zaber Rating: R Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

DEDICATION

To my two teenage sons, Nick and Tory, who brought me the meaning to unconditional love. I love you guys—this one’s for you! To Pete and Arlene Miller, a more wonderful set of parents I could not have been blessed with and loved by. And to Harold and Wanda Rasey, who accepted me as a daughter-in-law, but loved me like their own. And to my Lord and Savior—Jesus Christ.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Sheriff John Nye, who lent his time and knowledge to me, and gave me an inside peek as to how the Sheriff’s Office is run. To Linda Schambarger, Dennis Wheeler, and Greg Kieffer who were all instrumental at giving me a tour of the Correctional Center of Northwest Ohio (CCNO), so that my descriptions in Kiss Of Deceit could be as authentic as possible. To Marv Yagel, owner of the Napoleon Harley Davidson Shop, who gave me a tour and answered my endless questions about motorcycles and mechanics. And to Steve “Red Dot” Kemp for answering my questions about bikers and listening to me drool on about my story. Any mistakes are of my own making and are indeed at no fault to those who lent their hand to answer my questions. And last but certainly not least, to Trace Edward Zaber, my editor, my friend, who lent his time, skills, and many talents (not to mention his ear from time to time) to help me perfect Kiss Of Deceit. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

KISS OF DECEIT

PROLOGUE 1998 His hands shook, blue veins standing out against white skin. They weren’t overly large hands by any means, but oh, the power they possessed. And what they had actually done—as if they weren’t a part of his own body. As if they had acted on their own accord. Of course, they had. Certainly he could not be guilty of something of this magnitude. But the excitement—nothing compared. Just thinking about it again brought on a rock-hard erection. From his vantage point in the bathroom, he looked back at the bed. She was perfect in every way. Her blond hair cascaded over the side of the bed like a waterfall, one curl falling gently into another. Her face was turned away from him, but he had memorized every curve, every 1

KISS OF DECEIT line. Her body, though slightly flawed with stretch marks telling of an earlier pregnancy, was almost faultless. Her nipples, large and distended, areola darkened from passion, pointed slightly out to the sides. Her hips flared gently to her legs, long like those of a ballerina. He released a small groan as he remembered how quickly her face had gone from sanguine to full of terror. Her eyes actually bulged like something from a horror scene. Her mouth opened, gasping for air, and her hands grabbled at his, wrapping tightly around his wrists. But he released her before she passed out; killing her had not been in the plan. Watching the color return to her face as life rushed back full force had been half the fun. And she had liked it, too. She said she loved the way it kept him hard. He didn’t tell her that without the danger, she left him cold, flaccid. Never in his menial life had he maintained an erection for such a long period of time. For once, he was in control. And just when she had begun to relax, he slipped his hands deftly around her slender throat as he pumped furiously into her. She gripped his wrists, drawing blood as her nails ripped the surface of his skin. He liked the sting, the feel of his blood as it trickled down his arm, the sound of her red acrylic tips snapping off in her struggle. When he finally collapsed on top of her, sweat dripping from his brow, he waited to hear her gasps of air, her intake of much-needed oxygen. This time it wasn’t there. Her chest lay still. Her eyes were open, but they stared blankly at the ceiling. Had he actually killed her? Panic seized his gut like a vice. He slapped her face a few times, jerking her head to the side. He tried to resuscitate her, breath life back into her. Nothing. Perspiration trickled into his eyes, stinging them. Dumb bitch, why didn’t she tell him to stop? She wasn’t supposed to die. What a weak, 2

KISS OF DECEIT stupid slut. He chuckled—half disbelieving, half amused—but then his gaze strayed down to her pale face and lifeless eyes. His stomach began to revolt. He ran to the bathroom, and retched into the toilet. Now, as he stared at her from the opened doorway, she almost looked serene lying there as if she were sleeping and would wake at any moment. Funny, how death had made her somehow prettier, even sexier. At least, this way, she would never again open her mouth. The thought left him smiling. After jerking his pants up over his hips, he tossed the used condom into the toilet and flushed. He grabbed a towel and made quick work of wiping every surface he may have touched, then threw the cloth aside. No one could ever know. After grasping a rose from the vase on the bathroom counter, he pulled the sheet over her naked body. In mock salute, he kissed the blood-red flower and haphazardly tossed it atop the sheet. Then, with a remorseless chuckle, he stole into the night.

3

KISS OF DECEIT

CHAPTER 1 2000 “Marcus Gallego.” Marcus’s ominous form turned slowly on his bar stool, then rose to his full six-foot-four height, glaring down on LeAnne McVeigh. His eyes, dark as night, bore something akin to evil. Clearing her throat, she continued. “You are under arrest for the murder of your wife, Jillian Gallego. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right…” Her gaze swept the bar as her voice went through the motion of reading him his rights. She had done this many times before and could probably do it in her sleep. Except, this time was different—this time the man was strong enough to take off her head, and good-looking enough to sweep her off her feet. Marcus simply chuckled, mocking her. The sound, deep and 4

KISS OF DECEIT rumbling, seemed to travel from the soles of his worn leather boots up through the broad expanse of his chest. Of course, the two deputies accompanying her could have done this, saving her the trouble, if not the embarrassment. But she had wanted to be in on the arrest. This was her case. Besides, the deputies were here to watch her back. LeAnne knew better than to enter a bikers’ bar alone to arrest one of their kind, and certainly would not have dared, had the bar been full. “Place both hands on the bar, Gallego,” she instructed, motioning for one of the deputies to pat him down. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “You got the wrong man, lady.” LeAnne clenched her teeth. Sure, she was a woman, but she would be damned before she would allow him to think her any less of an adversary than the deputies accompanying her. “Hands on the bar, Gallego,” she repeated, taking a step forward. The two deputies fidgeted, obviously nervous at her putting herself within the tall man’s reach. His jaw twitched as he seemed to weigh his options, then finally did as she instructed. Tom, the larger of the two deputies, kicked Gallego’s feet farther apart, then frisked him. Tom laid Gallego’s change, keys, and wallet on the bar as murmurs from the other patrons increased. Tom stepped back. LeAnne grasped Marcus’s wrist, wrenching his taut arm behind his back. She slapped the cuff around it, the sharp clack easily carrying through the now-hushed room. “What the—” he gritted between his clenched teeth as he jerked on his arm, nearly tearing it from her clasp. But with a strength someone her size could not seemingly possess, she pulled his arm back behind him, pushed his chest down on the polished but scarred bar, and cuffed his wrists together. “Don’t push me today, Gallego,” she hissed. “I sure as hell am not in the mood.” Then snatching a fistful of his worn brown leather, she 5

KISS OF DECEIT jerked him upright. “You’re going downtown.” “What about my bike?” LeAnne wanted to laugh. Here she was hauling his sorry hide to the station for the murder of his wife and the only thing he could think about was his precious Harley. “Not my problem now, is it? Get someone else to take it home,” she stated in a stern voice, daring him to argue. She knew she posed no threat to a man of his caliber, but with two armed men accompanying her, he might think twice before harming her. He nodded his dark head at a salt and pepper-haired biker with a beard reaching to his chest. A beer-belly parted his vest as the sides of his rear spilled off the stool. This man held no similarities with the one she held in her grip; she doubted Marcus Gallego sported even an ounce of fat. “You take my bike home, Rebel,” he stated more than asked. “Lock up my house—feed the dogs.” “No problem, buddy.” The man smiled a missing-toothed grin. “Just need your keys.” Marcus turned his head to look down on LeAnne, a sneering smile on his face. LeAnne’s heart flipped in her chest. His smile could melt the coldest of hearts; his gaze could turn any warm-bodied female’s insides into a pile of quivering mush. This man could charm the skin off a snake. “My keys…” he tugged on his arms. “…Would you mind?” LeAnne grasped them from the surface of the bar and tossed them to the gray-haired biker, who caught them in mid-air. “You know I would have enjoyed this even more had you taken the keys from my pocket yourself, sweetheart,” Gallego said, his smile growing to full-blown. “We’re among friends here; no reason to be shy.” Hoots and hollers grew in intensity as the bikers seemed to mock 6

KISS OF DECEIT the law’s presence. Heat traveled up her neck and warmed her face. The best plan of action was to get Marcus Gallego out of his habitat before the scene turned ugly. LeAnne raised a brow and grinned at the formidable opponent. “Don’t flatter yourself, Gallego. If I had the notion to reach into your pocket, I doubt there’d be much there to find.” Laughter filtered about and the noise of the bar amplified. “I think she’s got something for you, Snake,” a tall, thin man with stringy hair and a sparse beard called from his stool at the end of the long bar, earning him low chuckles. Tattoos littered every inch of his bare skin. “Lady pig,” came from beside Rebel, while yet another said, “Hey Snake, she looks good enough to eat.” Having had enough, LeAnne jerked on his wrists, causing him to groan slightly from the pain as the cuffs tightened. She pushed him through the bar, ignoring the catcalls. Definitely not one of the better parts of the job. Female deputy sheriffs around Henry County were rare—not to mention she was their sole homicide detective. * * * Snake paced his six-by-eight-foot holding cell like a King Cobra backed into a corner. Pale yellow bars held him captive from three sides. A yellow, cement wall completed the back quarter. He couldn’t stand still, had he wanted to. Blood pumped furiously through his veins as his agitation grew. They had the wrong man. And now, because of it, no one was looking for Jillian’s real murderer. He stepped up to the steel-barred door, centering his anger in each long stride, and tightly clasped the cold metal, his knuckles blanching white. How the hell would he ever get out of this one? Three years ago, he had walked into Deja Vu, a strip club in Toledo, Ohio. An event which irrevocably changed the course of his life. Now, looking back, he wondered, had he the power, would he change a thing? 7

KISS OF DECEIT Doubtful. The night he had first laid eyes on her was still fresh in his memory, as if it had been only yesterday. A leggy blonde with large breasts that could have only come from silicone danced in front of him as he took a seat at the bar with his buddy, Blade. The rest of his friends opted for the bar next door that served liquor. The dancer’s small rib cage tapered to an even tinier waist, which Snake could easily span with his two hands. Turning her back on him, her small fingers unhooked the clasp to her lace brassiere as her hips swayed in time to Warrant’s “Cherry Pie,” a song he could no longer hear and not think of Jillian. Toying with the audience, she slowly slid the fabric away, purposely keeping her back to Snake. She tossed the bra aside, turned around, then ran her palms down her chest and abdomen, hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties and pushed them down her slender legs to lie in a silky pool at her feet, never once taking her eyes off Snake. His eyes held fast; his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He had never before been so close to a full-blown erection in public; he normally had a will of iron and self-control. He shifted uneasily in his chair, not wanting to embarrass himself, and looked at Blade, who whistled through forefinger and thumb from the chair beside him. Glancing back at the stage, Snake watched as she gyrated to the music and wrapped her slender body around a chrome pole. He could easily imagine her long legs encompassing his waist as she seemed to put on a show solely for him. One year later, standing in front of his Harley and dozens of other bikers, Snake pledged to love, honor, and trust the stripper he had come to know as Jillian until death parted them. And love her, he did—like no other. Now Snake rattled the old yellow bars in aggravation. Jillian Gallego lay six feet under, and in here, Snake could do nothing about it. He, too, wanted to catch the killer, probably more so than the cops, but 8

KISS OF DECEIT now his hands were tied. His two-year marriage had certainly been a rocky one, and more times than not, Snake wanted to ride off into the sunset and forget the day he ever laid eyes on his wife. But he could not change his heart had he wanted to. The fact remained, he fell hard for Jillian. And if for nothing else than that love, he vowed to find who had taken her life and see that the SOB paid with his own. “Damn,” he cursed the cell. How the hell did he ever expect to uphold that vow if he was found guilty and sat the rest of his rotten days behind bars? Snake resumed his pacing. He had to find a way to get out of here— prove his innocence. But how? None of his friends, outlaws in their own right, would dare come within feet of the sheriff’s office, let alone the Corrections Center of Northwest Ohio, CCNO, where the cops were probably, at this minute, preparing to send him. No, in this one, he was completely alone. The door to the main part of the sheriff’s office opened, then slammed shut, sending a draft of cool air down the hallway and into his cell. Soft-soled shoes made contact with cement as someone made their way to his cell. Snake stopped his pacing, hooked his thumbs in the band of his jeans and waited for the approaching deputy. He saw her legs first. His gaze stayed on them only briefly, then swept up her lean body past her hips to her breasts, and finally came to rest on her cool green eyes. Definitely an attractive woman. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Gallego.” Marcus narrowed his eyes. One side of his lips quirked upward. “Stop with the bull, Detective. The name’s Snake.” “Okay, Snake.” She slightly nodded her head. “In a few minutes, we’re going to take you to CCNO where you will be booked. You are charged with the—” “So, you told me.” 9

KISS OF DECEIT “You have a right to seek council,” she reminded him. He had been wrong. She wasn’t merely a pretty face, she was downright stunning. “I told you—I didn’t do anything.” “Then one will be appointed for you.” He shrugged. “All right, we can do this your way.” “Which is?” “I don’t have anything to say.” “You can make this easy on yourself, you know.” He raised one brow. “And how’s that, Detective?” “Confess.” Snake chuckled, his lips curving upward, then he tilted back his head, chortling loudly. But as quickly as it began, it ended; his facial muscles tightened as he glared at the female deputy. He approached the bars and slammed his palms against the cool metal, making her jump. “Get this straight, Detective.” He hissed, feeling the ache of his jaw clear to his temples. “I didn’t kill my wife. So stick that in your pretty little derriere a while and contemplate it.” Her cheeks reddened as her chin lifted a notch. “Well, that’s not the way I see it, Snake. And what I say is going to count. Winning over my opinion can only be a plus to you, so I suggest you keep your crude comments to yourself. Now is there anything you might want to tell me and save me the trouble of having to find out on my own?” Snake considered telling her the truth. But what good would it do? In her mind, he was already guilty without the benefit of trial. “I told you, I have nothing to say.” * * * LeAnne clenched her jaw. This man infuriated her, and she would be damned if she knew why. She gave him every opportunity to prove to her she had been wrong. And yet here he stood, refusing to say a word. For some reason she wanted him to prove her wrong, wanted him to be innocent, and just maybe it was for nothing more than wanting to 10

KISS OF DECEIT champion the underdog. She knew all the evidence in the case pointed to him. In a homicide, a good detective always looks first at the spouse, should there be one; overwhelming statistics proved this theory more times than not. He had no alibi, his DNA and fingerprints were at the scene, no sign of a struggle, and he had motive— One hell of a motive. Snake Gallego’s wife had been messing around behind his back, making a mockery of both him and their marriage. He had even been overheard telling his boss how much he wanted to strangle the life from her. “The way I see it, Gallego,” LeAnne said, beginning to pace in front of his cell, “you found out Jillian was sleeping around on you. Not only that, but she wasn’t even trying to hide it. You couldn’t handle the fact she had been warming someone else’s mattress, or that all your friends knew about it as well. You were being made a laughingstock. “You went home on the day in question; she had on a slinky little number, because she knew you had found out. She wanted to seduce you out of your anger.” LeAnne stopped pacing and looked at Gallego. His face was taut with suppressed rage. “Am I close so far?” “Go on,” he said tightly. “I think you argued, threw things around the house, broke a few framed pictures, a couple of lamps, some dishes. The more she cried, the angrier you got. But that excited her, didn’t it?” “Would you like to find out, Detective?” LeAnne’s gaze snapped up to his. “I think I could live without your kind of seduction, Gallego.” She stiffened her shoulders. “The way I see it, Jillian got more than she bargained for.” “Which part, Detective? The foreplay…or the climax?” His unruffled composure grew to one of malevolence. A shudder passed 11

KISS OF DECEIT through her. She suddenly felt blessed for the steel bars separating them. “No.” She cleared her throat. “I think the foreplay was what she asked for, after all—she liked it rough.” Snake grinned. “And you would know this?” “There wasn’t any marks on her body indicating a struggle, no defense wounds, Snake. But what she hadn’t bargained for was the climax. You tied her wrists to the post of the bed with your bandannas.” “Her wrists were tied to the bed?” LeAnne could see the unanswered question in his eyes, telling her he might not have known that fact. Nothing more than a good job of acting. “As if you wouldn’t know.” Again, he slammed his palms against the bars, rattling them. LeAnne’s heart thudded in her chest. “I said I didn’t know,” he gritted through clenched teeth, moisture gathering in his eyes. “The last time I saw her, she was alive.” “As I was saying,” LeAnne turned her back on him and resumed pacing, “you tied her wrists, had intercourse, then in the process, wrapped your fingers high around her throat, eventually snapping the hyoid bone. In fact, I think you enjoyed it so much that you tortured her first.” “What?” He yelled loud enough to bring her to a standstill and make her gape at him. “You think I tortured her? You’ve really gone too far. Lady, you’re delusional.” LeAnne stepped up to the bars, yet far enough away that he would not be able to grab her, had he the inclination to strangle her next. “The autopsy shows there were slight hemorrhages inside Jillian’s eyelids.” Snake’s fingers curled around the bars. LeAnne could easily imagine them wrapped around Jillian’s throat. “Meaning?” The word was husky yet controlled. “Meaning the killer took his time strangling her. Tightening his 12

KISS OF DECEIT hands around her throat to near unconsciousness, then allowing her to breath again, only to start all over. We estimate the torture went on for a period of forty-five minutes to an hour—no sign of struggle, no defense wounds.” Snake stumbled backward, looking as though he had just received a severe blow to the stomach. Falling heavily onto the mattress, he hid his face in the palms of his hands, saying nothing. After a few moments of silence, LeAnne whispered his name, thinking maybe he had thought her gone. He turned to look at her, his gaze haunted. “Do you have anything you want to tell me before going to CCNO?” Snake jumped to his feet and approached the bars, wrapping his fingers once again around the yellow steel. “Yeah,” he hissed. “Get the hell out of here.”

13

KISS OF DECEIT

CHAPTER 2 “So what did he have to say for himself?” Joe asked. “Nothing,” LeAnne grumbled as she took a seat in a finely-crafted leather chair opposite the sheriff. A large oak desk separated them. Certificates and plaques littered the papered walls as well as a painted picture of the sheriff, given to him as a gift. The portrait, with its incredible likeness, seemed to capture his warm demeanor. Joe smiled pleasantly. His classic good looks had earned him his fair share of women, but LeAnne had never been one of them. They had been friends for years, since she joined the force, but that was as far as it went. LeAnne couldn’t get beyond their relationship as it stood. And friends did not make great lovers, at least not in her past experience. Besides, once you slept with someone, there was no turning back. She had made it clear to Sheriff Joseph Drake, there would never be any more between them. And now she had a fiancé to consider. “You know I don’t believe you for a minute,” he said. “I’ve known 14

KISS OF DECEIT you for too long, LeAnne, not to know when something is bothering you. Marcus Gallego has rattled your cage. What did he have to say?” LeAnne released a shaken breath, glanced down at her feet, then back at the sheriff. “I’m not so sure he’s guilty.” Joe snorted and rolled his eyes. “Good God, LeAnne, don’t let his handsome face distort the facts. I’m sure he’s charmed many women with those looks, but don’t allow it to keep you from seeing what’s right in front of your face. We can place him there—DNA, prints.” “He lived there. Christ, Joe, if you go through my house, I bet you’ll find my prints all over the place, too.” “True enough, but what about the seminal fluid? We found stains on the sheets; granted it wasn’t a neat sample, because it had been mixed with the victim’s own body fluids, but the standard blood and saliva tests of both parties were done—the rape kit proves they had sex. Found pubic hairs were consistent with his.” “So, they had sex. It was his wife, for crying out loud. Why do you think he volunteered the samples?” “It was a smoke screen. Of course we’re to assume they had sex— that’s what husbands and wives do. So by volunteering his samples, he’s not saying they didn’t have sex. He’s trying to make us think he didn’t kill her. Why would the killer volunteer what would ultimately convict him?” Joe stood and walked to the window, glancing out at the Henry County Bank across the street. “What I don’t buy is this man made love to his wife after he found out she was having an affair. Sex, maybe, but there was no love involved. He wanted to punish her.” He looked over his shoulder at LeAnne, his eyes incredulous. “I sure in the hell wouldn’t want to make love with my wife, after hearing she was screwing half the county.” “You’re not even married,” she scoffed. “Anyway, it wasn’t half the county.” “That’s beside the point.” He rested one shoulder on the window 15

KISS OF DECEIT frame, crossing his arms over his chest. “If it were Chad, your fiancé, what would you do? Hell, AIDS is always an issue. I don’t know, seems a bit of a stretch to me to believe Marcus and Jillian were having casual sex, when he knew she was sleeping with someone else.” “I don’t think anything was casual about Snake and Jillian’s relationship—least of all the sex.” LeAnne leaned back and rubbed her jaw. “Besides, what about the third pubic hair we found? It wasn’t consistent with either Snake or Jillian.” “So, it was her boyfriend’s,” he replied, causing her gaze to flit back to his. LeAnne looked at him in awe. How could he possibly suggest… “She had sex with him, too? Same day? Didn’t shower between her lover and husband? Come on, Joe.” The sheriff glanced back out the window. “It’s not only possible, it’s probable.” “Then what about DNA? The only seminal fluid found was Gallego’s.” Joe retook his seat in the high-backed leather chair. He took a sip of coffee from the green ceramic mug on his desk, then returned his attention to LeAnne. “That’s where the latex residue the lab found comes into play. The boyfriend wore a condom. Still proves nothing. Look, LeAnne,” he tapped his finger on the desktop, “the motive proves everything. Gallego had one—we don’t know the boyfriend did.” “How do you know?” “If you’re so sure Gallego didn’t do it, find the boyfriend. Prove he had a motive and then we’ll talk again.” He raised his palms and shrugged. “Otherwise, we have an open-and-shut case. Marcus Gallego was pissed off at his wife for sleeping around, had sex with her and, in the process, strangled her to death. It’s in the prosecutor’s hands now.” “Marcus Gallego must be a sadist, then.” Joe’s gaze snapped up to LeAnne’s. “Excuse me?” 16

KISS OF DECEIT “A sadist,” LeAnne repeated. “The autopsy shows he strangled her off and on for a period of over forty-five minutes. That’s torture in anyone’s book.” “So, he tortured her; that fact has already been proven. I still don’t understand what you’re getting at.” “I don’t know.” She drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting it. “I was just thinking back to some of the courses I took. It seems, in similar cases, the killer’s sexual draw comes from being in control— manually strangling the victim. I mean, why take forty-five minutes to do it? If it was Marcus, then why not kill her immediately? He’s ticked off, remember?” Joe took in a deep breath, leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “You might have something. I’ll go with you on this one. Check out some of Gallego’s old girlfriends, see if he had any sexual oddities. Something about this torture doesn’t sit right with me, either. Call it intuition, but I don’t think a man just starts torturing women overnight—even if he is severely ticked off at his wife. Meanwhile, I’ll check Gallego’s past records.” * * * Marcus sat in the back of the deputies’ cruiser, watching the houses and businesses turn into trees and vast flatland as they traveled down State Route 6 to 34. Cornfields scattered one side of the road; beans rose on the other. His ankles were shackled together, while a chain led from them up to his arms, where it connected with the cuffs on his wrists. Wire mesh separated him from the two deputies in the front seat and the back doors opened only from the outside. Once again, Marcus was completely alone. He had been for most of his life, having no family to speak of. His mother and father had divorced when he was at an early age, his mother leaving for California, thinking to find a better life. Which she must have found, for he never heard from her again. 17

KISS OF DECEIT His father tried his best, but he worked around the clock, placing Marcus at his grandparents’ most of the day, when he wasn’t at school. Grandma and Grandpa had both passed away before his graduation. He had no brothers or sisters, and his father died from a heart attack nearly a year ago. Probably worked himself to death, the doctor figured. Other than Jillian, his family had been his friends, and now he was alienated from them as well. Snake shifted in his seat, rattling his chains, causing one deputy to glance behind. “Don’t get any wise ideas, Gallego,” he said with an annoying laugh. “What the hell do you think I can do from back here?” Marcus asked sarcastically, earning him another snigger from the deputy in the passenger’s seat. “This one’s a real wise guy,” he said to the driver, slapping him with the back of his hand in the upper arm. “With a face as pretty as his, he’s going to need his wits, where he’s headed, or he’s liable to wind up someone’s back door.” “Screw you,” Gallego said, laying his head back on the seat, closing his eyes. Both deputies chuckled. How in the hell did he get himself into these situations? Damn Jillian for not using better judgment. If she would have just kept her legs closed for once in her life… Long, silent moments later, aside from the occasional squawk from the police radio, the driver said, “You’re home, Gallego,” and pulled the car around to the sally port of the correction center. Large fenced gates, trimmed with razor wire, opened to allow the cruiser passage, clanging loudly behind them as they sealed off any possible exit, much like a large boulder rolled in front of the opening of a cave. A cold shiver passed down Snake’s spine. He had been in for misdemeanors before, but never for something as serious as murder. Never for hard time. Snake wondered if he would ever be free to ride 18

KISS OF DECEIT his Harley again, or if the rest of his days would be spent inside the razor-wired fence of some state pen. He vowed, if he ever got out and found Jillian’s real murderer, he would jump on his Softail and never look back. It was time to leave Henry County and their judgmental attitudes far behind. Too bad he hadn’t realized it sooner. One of the deputies opened the door and, grasping him by the upper arm, assisted him out of the car. Snake stood, looking at the red-bricked prison. Corrections Center of Northwest Ohio. CCNO, his new home. The doors to the intake vestibule buzzed. One deputy opened them and allowed the other to escort Snake inside. He took small steps, the chains rattling with every movement, reminding him how dire his present situation actually was. The officers quickly patted Snake down, then took him to a holding cell where they removed his constraints, and he awaited the booking process. He had been through this before, except this time it called for him to sit in a cell rather than the waiting area. This time, murder one loomed over his head like a vulture circling in for the kill. The cell seemed smaller than the one at the sheriff’s office. One corner sported a shiny metal cot with no mattress, while the other had a toilet combination sink and a piece of steel bolted firmly to the wall for a mirror. Here they had no bars, but white cement blocks for walls, and a steel door with a long, thin window. Everything appeared sterile. Snake supposed the chalky color lent to the illusion. He sat on the cold, steel bed, raking his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, and leaned against the cool cement-block wall. Surely, they couldn’t prosecute an innocent man. Something had to point to his innocence. But at this point, he had no alibis, no one to count on. Maybe the time had come to seek a lawyer and not some courtappointed patsy. But he had little money—not the kind of money a 19

KISS OF DECEIT lengthy trial would require. The detective running the case slammed into his thoughts. LeAnne McVeigh. She wanted him put behind bars for the rest of his life. There was no doubt, in her eyes, that Marcus Gallego had strangled his wife to her death on the night in question. She would be the one presenting the case to the prosecutor. Now, three long months past Jillian’s death, Snake sat alone and glanced upon his hands. His fingers were long, his hands rather large. Large enough to wrap around even the thickest of throats; strong enough to squeeze the life from someone. But of course he hadn’t—nor had he ever possessed the inclination. Somehow, he needed to convince Detective McVeigh of that. Winning over my opinion can only be a plus to you. If he were ever to get out of here, he knew the key lay in LeAnne McVeigh’s hand. She would be his ally. He had no one else. Keys rattled, drawing his attention. A woman of average build and height stood at the door. A bun secured her brown hair at the nape of her neck. Her blue uniform top stretched taut over large breasts. He supposed, with her warm brown eyes and pale young skin, she could be deemed pretty, though not his type. He more preferred blondes. The steel door swung open easily on greased hinges as she stepped into the cell, accompanied by an officer wearing a blue blazer with a gold patch attached to the breast. “Marcus Gallego,” she said, looking at his commitment paper, which contained his case number and what he had been charged with. “On your feet. We need your prints and mug shot.” Silently, Marcus followed her out of the cell. She led him to a pale blue Touch Print machine to take his fingerprints. She first took his right hand and rolled the tip of each finger over a plate of glass, electronically taking a picture of his prints, then finished with his left. He was asked to stand in front of a poster on the wall, used as a background and a measurement for his height in the mug shot. He 20

KISS OF DECEIT looked straight into the video camera, then turned to the side; his case number would be added to the bottom. She handed him a blue property bag and a red uniform, then led him down a long hall to a small room. She handed him a blue mesh bag. “Strip. Put your belongings in the bag. Any money you have will be put in a commissary account for necessities. If you do not have any money, you’ll receive a complimentary packet for your hygiene needs. Questions?” “Just one,” he said, narrowing his gaze. “When can I see Detective LeAnne McVeigh from the Henry County Sheriff’s Office?” * * * Candles lit the small dining area of her home as she entered the house. A forest-green cloth draped the table with her grandmother’s china dishes and crystal wine goblets decorating the surface. An opened bottle of red wine sat at room temperature in a silver bucket. A rich, roast beef aroma drifted about the room, causing her stomach to growl, proving her hunger. The door to the kitchen opened. Chad came into the room carrying two food-laden plates, steam rising from them. Her old, patched apron draped the front of him, protecting his sweater and pleated trousers. “Smells delicious,” LeAnne said, shrugging her arms from her blazer. “Beef Burgundy?” “Your favorite,” Chad said. He set down the plates, then hastened over to LeAnne, helping her out of her jacket. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “This is quite a surprise, Chad.” She took the offered seat. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Chad jerked the apron over his head, tossed it aside, then took his own chair. He grasped the deep red wine and poured them each a glass. “You closed one of your biggest cases today. I thought I’d make supper and help you celebrate.” She grinned, wishing she felt as lighthearted. Truth be told, the 21

KISS OF DECEIT boulder on her shoulder weighed even more now that Marcus Gallego sat behind bars. “The case is in your hands, Mr. Prosecutor.” LeAnne was not about to tell Chad she hadn’t exactly closed it. A fact he would not welcome, wanting to prosecute this case as expediently as possible. He viewed it as an easy win. “Exactly.” He punctuated his statement with a broad smile. “All the more reason you should be smiling. But I detect this bliss is only a facade. What’s the matter, babe?” Anyone would consider Chad Baker an attractive man and quite a catch. Most woman in Henry County would be lucky to call him her own. He stood six feet tall, with a sculptured body that came from years of lifting weights. Seemingly vain about his appearance, Chad always checked the mirror before leaving the house and glanced in store windows to see if his dark blond hair, lightly streaked with gray, was out of place. But these were little things, things LeAnne overlooked. He offered security, companionship, and, of course, love. Chad never failed to show her how much he loved her. And with their fast-approaching wedding date, he had been all the more attentive. Chad Baker stated on many occasions, he could not wait to make LeAnne his wife. LeAnne at first thought it odd that he would select her over someone who could stay home, clean the house, and have his kids. With LeAnne, work always came first; it had to. Chad assured her, though, it was perfectly all right with him if they never had kids. LeAnne had yet come to the same conclusion. “I was just talking to Joe this morning,” she began, toying with the California blend of vegetables, before popping a steamed carrot into her mouth. Between bites, she added, “I’m not sure Marcus Gallego murdered his wife. Something doesn’t feel right about it.” “It’s not up to you anymore. Let the jury decide.” He cut a piece of beef in two and plopped it into his mouth, then said, “Christ, babe, 22

KISS OF DECEIT you’ve worked this case for three months. You said you thought the husband did it; you just needed proof. Now you have it: the DNA results. Let it go. It’s over.” LeAnne stared at her plate. How could he be so flippant about the life of another human being? What if she had been wrong, and Marcus Gallego didn’t do it? There were too many unanswered questions for her liking: the third found pubic hair, the latex residue. Obviously detecting the path her thoughts had taken, Chad stroked her cheek. “You did the right thing, babe. You’ll see. Just yesterday you had thought so, too. What caused the sudden change of heart?” “I was the one who arrested him today.” “You? What on earth for?” Her gaze came back to his. “I know the guys could have done it themselves, but it was my first big case.” “This gave you a change of heart?” He clasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s only anxiety. Let it go. Forget it. Let me do my job now.” “I know.” She tried her best to give him a reassuring smile; she shrugged. “But after meeting the man…I don’t know.” “Okay.” He placed his fork on the table and took a large swallow of wine. “It’s obvious we aren’t going to get through this meal unless we talk about it. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” She suddenly felt silly. Chad was right. Until this afternoon, when she had walked into the bar and handcuffed Gallego, she, too, thought him guilty. The sheriff’s warning traveled through her thoughts. Don’t let his handsome face distort the facts. Exactly what she had been doing for the past few hours. “I’m sorry, Chad. You went to all this trouble, and all I’m doing is ruining it. You’re right, as always; let the jury decide his fate. If Marcus Gallego is found guilty, then he’ll have to pay the consequences.” “I’m going for the death penalty on this one.” 23

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne nearly choked on her food, sending her into a coughing fit. She grasped her wineglass and took a long pull, then blotted her lips with her napkin. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine.” She paused, containing her surprise. “You can’t be serious. On what grounds?” “Committing murder in the process of perpetrating a felony—rape.” LeAnne narrowed her gaze. “That’s quite a stretch, isn’t it? He’s her husband, for crying out loud. You don’t think a jury will buy that for a minute, do you? Maybe killing her during the heat of passion…” His cheeks flamed. “Who the hell’s side are you on? This man tied his wife to the bed, tortured her, then killed her. Does that sound like something done in the heat of passion?” “Well, no—but the death penalty? What if we are wrong? What if the jury convicts an innocent man?” Chad shook his head in disbelief. Standing abruptly, he took the plates from the table and entered the kitchen, his jerky movements showing his sudden change in temperament. Moments later, he returned with two bowls of fresh-cut strawberries and whipped cream, the agitation still prominent across his stern face. LeAnne knew she owed him yet another apology. She had no idea what had come over her. “Look, I’m sorry. I guess it’s because my work has never before sent a man to his death. I’m not so sure I could handle it.” “Come here.” He smiled, the tension already alleviating, softening his gaze. He took her hand and led her into the living room where he pulled her down beside him on the couch, still holding one bowl of berries. He set it on the coffee table, then pulled her legs over his. LeAnne snuggled into the pillows forming the corner of the sofa. He took a berry, dipped it into the cream, then held it to her lips. LeAnne bit into the sugary delight and licked the remaining cream from her lips. 24

KISS OF DECEIT “You drive me crazy, you know,” Chad said, smoothing the stray hairs away from her face. “I could spend eternity staring into those green eyes of yours.” The smile left her face. “You’ll get the chance,” she said, thinking of their forthcoming nuptials. “I know,” he whispered, then pulled her into his embrace, his mouth slanting over hers. LeAnne wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, desperation spurring her kiss. Security—her safety net. A growl escaped his throat as he slipped one arm beneath her legs and one behind her back, rising from the sofa. Breaking the kiss, he said, “I know it’s still early—” The phone rang, cutting off his words. LeAnne smiled at the bad timing. “I better get that.” He lowered her feet to the floor, then patted her on the derriere. “Be quick about it,” he said with a wink. LeAnne picked up the receiver, keeping her eyes on Chad as he pulled his sweater over his head. Heat spread through her like warm honey. LeAnne clipped a quick “Hello” into the phone. “LeAnne, Joe Drake here. Sorry to bother you at home, but I just received a call from CCNO. Marcus Gallego wants to talk to you.” LeAnne’s gaze flitted from Chad’s to the wall opposite her. “What?” she asked in astonishment. “Why?” “Don’t know—may want to give us a confession.” “Hasn’t he sought a lawyer yet?” “He’s waived his right, thus far. Anyway, I think you better get over there right away. He was adamant about speaking to you.” LeAnne glanced at Chad, whose hands were on his hips. “I’ll leave now.”

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KISS OF DECEIT

CHAPTER 3 LeAnne’s fingers shook in anticipation as she sat in the small closed room off the visitation area at CCNO. She toyed with her pen, doodling on the pad in front of her to alleviate some of the mounting tension. What on earth could Snake Gallego want with her that was too important to wait until morning? The air conditioning unit blew a steady stream of air into the room, causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms. LeAnne ran her palms down her forearms, trying to smooth out the bumps. The door opened, and Marcus Gallego stepped in, followed by two officers. Even without the officers accompanying him, his presence alone would have filled the room. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into his angry, deep-brown eyes. His face had been etched in stone, every curve, every line made of granite as he glared back, his gaze unwavering. A day’s growth of beard littered the hollow of his cheeks, making the cleft in his chin less 26

KISS OF DECEIT prominent. His brown hair lay freely over his shoulders. The prison uniform stretched over his broad chest, the color red only calling attention to the already large size of him. A tattoo of a snake wound up his right biceps, the head disappearing beneath the sleeve of his uniform. “Please, have a seat,” LeAnne said, finding her voice. She looked at the two officers behind him in blue blazers and tan pants. “May I speak to him alone?” The first nodded his gray balding head, “We’ll be just outside the door if you need us,” then walked out behind the other. The door slammed shut, making LeAnne jump. All the doors in CCNO clamored closed, the sound echoing down the long corridors. No one would move about quietly within these walls. Marcus folded his handcuffed hands on top of the table, the soft soles of his shoes scuffing across the tiled floor. “You wanted to see me?” LeAnne asked, still unsure about her decision to run headlong into the pre-dusk hours to see a man she had charged with murdering his wife. Yet something had drawn her here. LeAnne depressed the record and play button on her microcassette; a small light glowing red. “Do you mind if this is recorded?” He shook his head. “You have the right to seek an attorney, Snake. Maybe you should have one present when speaking to me. I’m not so sure I’d be acting on your best interest.” If not for the sake of being honest with him, she had to protect her case from a legal standpoint. His jaw tensed as he narrowed his gaze. His eyes seemed to bore through her, read her every thought. Finally, in his deep, throaty voice, he said, “I told you, Lady, I’m innocent. I didn’t kill my wife.” “Then you need an attorney, Snake, not me. Do yourself a favor.” He shifted in his chair, glanced over his shoulder at the door, then leaned in. “What I need is someone to believe me. I think if you review your facts, maybe, just maybe, you might come up with another 27

KISS OF DECEIT possible angle.” “Give me an angle to look at, Snake. I don’t want to see you convicted of a crime you didn’t commit either.” The sincerity in his eyes astonished LeAnne. Here sat a man with no alibi the night of his wife’s death, with every possible reason to commit the wrongful doing and evidence stacked against him, and yet she believed him. “It’s just— ” Marcus sat back in his chair, his movements abrupt and angry. “What? Because I ride a Harley? Hang out with the wrong kind of people?” His jab at her character struck a nerve, bothered her that he would suggest she had stereotyped him. “Of course not. I look at the facts. And right now, there isn’t a whole lot to point in another direction. “Jillian was having an affair. She is at home screwing some guy’s brains out while you’re at work repairing bikes at the Harley-Davidson shop in Napoleon. You find out, you go home to confront her, and what? Make love to her? You have to admit it seems a bit of a stretch. Especially after you told your boss—in front of his wife, no less—that you wanted to wrap your fingers around her pretty little throat and strangle the life from her.” She paused. When he said nothing in his defense, she asked, “It wasn’t her first infidelity was it?” Snake’s face reddened; his gaze snapped to hers. His brown eyes sizzled like burning coals. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Are you suggesting…?” “In a million years, I couldn’t fathom why Jillian would want to be unfaithful to you. Then again—I don’t know you. But this wasn’t her first time, was it?” Marcus inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. “My wife had never been good at keeping her legs together, Detective. All it took was a look in her direction, and she was promising favors to people she had no business being with.” “So why stay married to her?” 28

KISS OF DECEIT He chuckled. “I loved her.” She sat back in her white plastic, molded chair and stared at Marcus. Of course he loved his wife, but this bordered on blind devotion. If she ever caught Chad sleeping with another woman, she would send him packing faster than a bullet leaving the chamber of a gun. Not really wanting to examine his admission, LeAnne continued. “If what you are telling me is true, and let’s say I believe you, then I’m going to need proof—solid proof. The county prosecutor already has a good case against you. Do you know who Jillian was seeing?” “It’s not like she paraded them in front of me.” “Do any of your biker buddies know?” “Damn, lady.” He chuckled. “Don’t you think if they knew, I would? None of my friends would have kept that knowledge from me.” “What about family? Hers? Yours?” His demeanor went from lukewarm to ice cold. LeAnne sensed his withdrawal. “I don’t have any family.” A muscle in his cheek ticked. All tension she had eased from him returned full force. “Jillian’s family disowned her when they found out what she did for a living. Do you think she’d go running home to Papa about every Peter, Paul, and Mary she slept with?” LeAnne’s brows shot heavenward. “Mary?” “What?” Marcus chuckled again as he brought his wrists against his abdomen and leaned back in the chair. “My wife’s being bisexual comes as a shock to you?” “I wasn’t expecting it, if that’s what you’re getting at. But you knew about this?” A smirk grew on his face. “Sometimes I watched. Does that bother you, Detective?” “Why should it?” Even though for some unknown reason it did, she would never admit as much. “Did you ever have sex with the other 29

KISS OF DECEIT female?” “Hell, no.” Snake rolled his eyes at the irony. “Jillian would have thrown a fit. One thing Jillian Gallego was, was jealous, green with it. I could watch, but intercourse with the other woman was out of the question.” “Sort of double standard.” His expression darkened. “Had I known she was straddling half the men at the club, I might not have cared what she thought and taken advantage of the situation when I had the chance.” Snake stood abruptly, sending his chair crashing to the floor, giving her his back. LeAnne wondered what thoughts flitted through his mind. One of the guards peered into the window, but LeAnne motioned him away. Snake’s shoulders heaved and, for a moment, LeAnne feared he might be breaking down. Then suddenly, he turned to face her, his gaze distant, haunted, his eyes dry. “Would you have slept with any one of them had you known?” LeAnne asked quietly. His teeth clenched. “No.” “Is there anything else you can think of that might help you?” Snake glanced back at her. “Do you believe me?” “I don’t know,” she answered in all honesty. “But I do have doubts of my own. Someone called 911 from your house the night Jillian was murdered. Do you have any idea who that might be?” “No—and I take it that means you don’t either.” “We have his voice on tape, but, no, it was anonymous.” She paused, looking him square in the eye. “If I believe even the slightest amount that you didn’t kill your wife, I won’t close this case until I’m positive you did.” His brown eyes softened. “Thank you.” “For what? I haven’t done anything yet.” “But you will.” LeAnne stared in awe at the man standing across from her. How 30

KISS OF DECEIT could he put his trust into her? Her—someone he didn’t know, someone who had put him behind bars in the first place. And then, as if he had read her mind, he finished with, “Because you’re all I have,” and depressed the stop button on the recorder. He turned away from her, then motioned for the guards to take him back to his cell. LeAnne did not move until he had walked completely from her sight and she heard the last of the large doors slam in finality. “Damn him.” Her words echoed. Damn him for making her feel responsible for his whole future. * * * Adrenaline coursed through his arteries as he waited on the stoop for her to answer the door. His palms perspired. The first death had been a total accident. But, oh, he had felt alive for the first time in his life. Now it seemed a lifetime ago; as if he had waited an eternity. But this, this one had been planned, right down to arriving at her back door unannounced. He had meticulously handpicked this victim, tracked her, knew her schedule almost better than he knew his own. She lived in a remote area, not a house for half a mile, and an obvious easy lay. Women always were. Too quick to spread their legs, and all too eager to screw over their old men. Being blessed with magnetic charm, he had made it his vocation to see them pay. The door swung open. Her wide-eyed look of surprise went to one of genuine delectation. She opened the door wider and beckoned him in. He was careful not to touch a thing. Never make it easy; let the clueless sheriff’s office run circles around themselves. “Frank’s not home,” she said, turning away and leading him into the darkened house. Dusk filtered through the windows. “I know,” he said, following like he was some obedient puppy. For that alone, he would kill her. He was the one in control—he was the one in power. And soon, he’d prove it to her, show her his superiority. 31

KISS OF DECEIT She reached into the refrigerator and grasped a bottle of OJ. After gently shaking it, she twisted the cap off the Tropicana and took a large swallow. Her hair had been severely pulled back severely in a tight ponytail, the loose strands damp from her early-evening workout. Exactly how he knew she would be. He could smell her perspiration, easily imagine her writhing beneath his tightening clasp, cutting off her airway. His erection grew, straining against his white briefs beneath his jogging pants. He shifted his stance, his wind suit making a swishing noise caused from the sudden movement. Her gaze drifted down his body, as though she were appreciating some skirt-chaser and he was no better than a dog. Her eyes came back up to his. A tiny smile crept up her collagen-injected lips. His stomach knotted; his brow broke out with sweat. “Do you want some?” she asked, her tone suggestive. She had noticed his rock-hard erection; she hadn’t missed the strain on his jogging pants. She thirsted for more than the Tropicana. Holding out the half-empty bottle of OJ, she said, “Juice,” her gaze wanton. “No,” he replied, his hands clasping and unclasping at his sides. “You never were much of a talker—but then again, that’s not why I like you.” “Like me?” Bile rose in his throat. How dare she suggest there was anything more than a good lay between them? She giggled, shoving the nearly empty bottle of juice into the refrigerator, then advanced on him like a pussy needing to be petted. She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with the strands of hair lying at his collar. His muscles contracted; his biceps twitched. “What would you call it?” Her grin turned wicked. Satan would be proud. “Lust?” The word rolled off her tongue like the purring of a well-satisfied feline. 32

KISS OF DECEIT He gripped her pony tail and yanked her startled face back to look him in the eye. “Why waste the time?” She shrugged out of his grasp, only because he allowed her to, her eyes wide and wary, then turned her back on him. “No need to be such a dick. All good things come to boys who wait.” Boys! The word echoed about his head like a litany. “I’ve waited.” Heat traveled up his spine as his ire itched through his soul like the lit end of a fuse crawling toward dynamite. She glanced over her shoulder, then crooked her finger at him. As if she were the one in control! For now, he would allow her that and followed her silently, stealthily. Once in her bedroom, her smile grew; her stance became cocky. She had the vagina, so, therefore, she thought she could manipulate him. But he didn’t move. All good things come to boys who wait. He stood stationary, watching her every lithe movement. She laughed, her grin malevolent. “Can’t wait to play?” She slowly pulled her black tee over her head as putting on a show. Just like all the rest. Hooking her thumbs in the band of her bicycle shorts, she slid them down her slender hips. A gray sports bra and matching thong hugged her well-toned body and accented her milehigh legs. Blood coursed through his body, ending with a dull thud in his nearly painful erection. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a red bandanna, ripping it in two. Her eyes rounded slightly, then softened when his intentions dawned on her. The sleaze must die. “You are bad.” She giggled, then hopped on the bed and offered him her wrists. He walked over to her, yanked one wrist and tied it to the spindled bed post, causing her to squeal like a stuck pig. Ignoring her 33

KISS OF DECEIT discomfort, he leaned over her and secured the other. Obviously forgetting the slight pain, she squirmed seductively like a kitten wanting attention. A lump lodged in his throat. She would rot in Hell before the night ended. “Don’t make me wait, Sid.” He hadn’t given her his real name, nor would he ever use the same one twice. “I want to feel you inside me.” He grasped the thong, playing her game, and slid it slowly down her long legs, allowing his fingers to gently brush across her hot, inner thighs. She moaned. His gut knotted; his jaw clenched. Bitch—a two-timing whore. He suddenly felt sorry for Frank. Hell, he was doing the sorry excuse for a man a favor. Climbing on the bed between her spread knees, he jerked his pants down past his hips. He withdrew a condom from his pocket, hastily tore it from the package, and with shaking fingers, put it on. Not wasting another moment, he thrust angrily into her, his hips pumping furiously as hers rose greedily to meet him. “Yes,” she screamed, it echoing about from ear to ear. Yes! Yes! Yes! Damn, he hated her—wanted to destroy her. His skin crawled; his fingers itched. His hands encircled her throat and squeezed. The languid movement of her hips became more like a bucking bronco as she squirmed and tried to throw him off. Her violent thrashing only fueled his actions. The incubus within his loins unfurled. His breathing quickened; his lips twitched. Her eyes ballooned as she pulled desperately on the binds that held her. Her mouth gaped and her attempts at air became futile. He quickly withdrew his hands, not yet wanting to kill her, and listened to her gasps. Her eyes filled with horror. “What…” she croaked on a dry throat. “What…the hell…are you 34

KISS OF DECEIT doing?” Without an explanation, he again wrapped his fingers tightly around her throat, his thumbs overlapping her larynx. Her body lashed about like a fish out of water. Her arms tightened. She yanked desperately on the restraints. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes, soaking strands of her hair and pooling in her ears. Once again he released her. She gasped for oxygen. Her reddened face blanched white. “Please, God…please…don’t hurt me,” she begged, she cried. He chuckled menacingly, the sounds of her pleas only fueling his licentiousness. “Dear God,” she mumbled. “He won’t help you now,” he hissed, before wrapping his hands once more around her throat. And he had an hour to prove it to her before anyone noticed his absence.

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CHAPTER 4 LeAnne fumbled in the dark with her keys, cursing herself for not changing the burned-out bug bulb on her porch. A mosquito buzzed by her ear, as if to prove her point, causing LeAnne to swat at empty air. The streetlight did little to illuminate her porch since the house partially shielded the door from full view of the street. Finally getting the key into the hole, she opened her front door, stepped from the shadows, and tiptoed in, not sure if Chad had fallen asleep. She had noted his black Lexus in the driveway, figuring he planned to continue their interrupted night. But with the house completely dark, she supposed he had gotten tired of waiting and fallen asleep. LeAnne laid her jangling keys and purse on the breakfast counter before locking up her 10mm semi-automatic in her secretary. Making her silent way to the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, tossing them in the wicker basket just inside her room’s opened doorway. She 36

KISS OF DECEIT closed the bathroom door before turning on the light, not wanting to disturb Chad. The vanity mirror hung directly across from the light switch; the glare of the bulbs momentarily blinded her. Once her eyes adjusted, LeAnne could not help but look at herself. Her normally pale skin sported a warm glow from the tanning rays of the sun, her unnaturally green eyes seemed to gleam back at her. The sun had lightly streaked her blond hair, making it appear as though it had several shades of color. Although she ran four miles every morning and lifted weights at the office gym regularly, her white brassiere and matching panties did little to flatter her. Her breasts were far too small to be considered attractive, and her waist was about as curvaceous as a twelve-year-old boy’s. Her hips had yet to flare, having had no children of her own to influence their shape. In short, she wasn’t much to look at. And before meeting Marcus Gallego, she had barely noticed. Looks had never been her focal point. Shaking off the notion that Snake would ever find her attractive when he had had someone as beautiful as Jillian, LeAnne shed her bra and slipped into a pair of plaid flannel boxer shorts and a plain white tee. She should feel damn lucky to have Chad. LeAnne shut off the light, opened the door, and soundlessly stole to her side of the bed. Her side. As if Chad Baker had already taken residence in her home and had his own side to her bed. She better get used to the idea with the wedding not more than a little over a month away. After much deliberation, she and Chad decided to sell his home and keep hers, its being more centrally located. Snuggling beneath the white satin sheets, LeAnne punched her pillow a few times then turned to her side, giving her back to Chad. The movement brought him over, his arm slipping over hers and his mouth nuzzling her nape. His soft musk encompassed her like a butterfly’s cocoon. LeAnne grasped his arm and snuggled more fully into his heat. 37

KISS OF DECEIT “You’re home,” he mumbled, his warm breath tickling the hairs on the base of her neck. “I’m sorry it took so long,” she whispered. “Did Gallego confess?” he asked, his voice not yet husky from the effects of a deep sleep. Her gut knotted. Chad was bound to be upset that she would even consider the idea of helping Gallego. “No.” “Anything I…we,” he corrected, “can use?” LeAnne rolled onto her back and glanced at him through the shadows. “He wants me to help him prove his innocence.” Why she told Chad as much, she did not know. Nonetheless she wanted his approval and no secrets to ever lie between them. His eyes narrowed to dark slits; his muscles tightened. “Christ, LeAnne. With all the evidence mounted against the SOB, you want to help set him free?” She furrowed her brow. “I didn’t tell you, yet, that I would.” He let out an aggravated humph, as though he already knew she had no other choice. After all, in this job, she sought the truth as well as justice. “Are you?” LeAnne snuggled against him, knowing he would not take the news well. “I told him I’d look into it.” Chad jerked away his arm and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Jesus, you never learn, do you?” Using her hands as the pillow, she turned to her side and glanced at him through the dark. She could see his withdrawal; certainly not the way she hoped the night would turn out. But then, again, the entire evening had not gone her way. “For some reason, I don’t know, I believe him.” His gaze flitted back to hers. “And what facts do you base that on, Detective?” She shrugged, not giving him an explanation. Chad had a way of 38

KISS OF DECEIT holding grudges and could stay mad at her for days. With only a short time before they were married, she certainly didn’t want him angry. She ran her hand down his muscled chest. “Don’t go off half-cocked, Chad. I didn’t say I was going to get him off,” she said, thinking about her choice of words. Definitely doubleedged, and the possibility of the second meaning left her holding her breath. “Then what are you saying?” Shaking off the wanton images, she replied, “I told him I’d review the facts—that’s it.” “Did you tell him to get a lawyer—he’s going to need one?” “That was the first thing I told him.” “Then why the hell is he still needing your help? You know as well as I, that should be his lawyer’s job—not yours!” “I’m not so sure he can afford one and you know what the court will provide.” “Christ, LeAnne, that’s not my problem.” He turned to face her. “Or yours, for that matter. Marcus Gallego murdered his wife with his bare hands. Let him pay the consequences.” He rankled her ire; the slow burn crept from her toes and heated her ears. “Aren’t you convicting him without a trial, Counselor? The man has a right to a jury of his peers.” “And he’ll get one.” With that, he gave her his back. The cold shoulder—even from the elevated temperatures of the warm July night, she could feel his icy demeanor. “We can talk about this in the morning. Besides,” she said, her tone deepening as she ran her hand down his smooth back then placed a gentle kiss upon his shoulder, “that’s not why you came over tonight, is it?” “I’m tired, LeAnne. Go to sleep.” The potshot hurt. She knew it for what it was. He was upset that she 39

KISS OF DECEIT would even think about trying to prove Gallego’s innocence. In a sense, they would be working against one another, each trying to reach the opposite end of the spectrum. LeAnne suddenly regretted expounding her news. He would probably stew for days. She glanced at the amber glowing clock. Eleven-fifteen. Tomorrow morning would come bright and early, and she was not about to get much shut-eye. Damn Snake Gallego for getting beneath her skin and ruining her otherwise perfect life—damn him for being so appealing. An hour later, the phone rang. As she fumbled for the offensive noise-maker, it jangled again, causing Chad to stir. LeAnne picked up the receiver and mumbled, “Hello.” “LeAnne,” Joe said, not needing to announce himself, “we have another homicide.” LeAnne jerked upright as though someone had rammed a rod straight up her spine. Chad grumbled a groggy, “What is it?” “Seems it’s a possible copycat of the Jillian Gallego case,” the sheriff continued. “The husband of the victim called it in about a half hour ago. Two deputies were dispatched to the scene and called in with their findings. You better get out there. County Road P, before you get to Route 6. Doc Holliday’s house. Seems he was pulling the second shift in the emergency room. Found her when he got home.” “You call Bob Reese?” she asked. The Sheriff’s Chief Deputy had helped her with Jillian Gallego’s case. LeAnne wanted him to be along on this one as well. “As soon as I hang up with you.” “Tell him about the possible copycat to the Gallego case. I want him there ASAP.” * * * After retrieving her stocked detective’s sedan, LeAnne drove out to Frank Holliday’s home. Frank had been given the nickname “Doc” 40

KISS OF DECEIT because of rumors of some distant family ties to the old gambler of the same name. His house sat alone on a slight incline, not another residence for about a half mile. LeAnne noted the outside temperature to be eighty-two degrees. July weather rarely cooled in the evenings. She wrote the outside temperature and the time of her arrival in her notebook, then noted the exact location and type of house as well, before making her way up the brick steps. Deputy Allen Wymer stood at the door keeping track of all who entered. “She’s in the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Detective,” he said in a tone that hinted of sarcasm. It wasn’t lost on LeAnne that Deputy Wymer believed women were incapable of doing a man’s job, especially since it was her job he wanted. LeAnne nodded in acknowledgment, then entered the building. The inside temperature of the home dropped nearly fifteen degrees from the outside. The preservation of the body would fair better in the cooler temperatures, though seventy degrees was not much cooler. Two men from the coroner’s office stood on the landing, looking somewhat impatient and annoyed as she greeted them before entering the room. Deputy Tom Jenson, obviously pulling a double, since his normal was the seven-to-three day shift, stood cautiously beside the bed, hands in his pockets. LeAnne took out her thirty-five millimeter and began snapping pictures of the scene—close-ups of the victim, the walls, the surrounding furniture. The deceased’s face lay to the side, her mussed hair shrouding her from view, her arms posed crucifixion style as her wrists were still tethered to the bed posts by two halves of a red bandanna. Her legs also appeared posed, unlike the Gallego case, her ankles approximately three feet apart. No fluids stained the red satin sheets around her body and, other than the already bruising area of her throat and the slight abrasions on her wrists, there didn’t appear to have been much of a struggle. No skin or dried blood were visible beneath her fingernails. 41

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne would stake her career on the fact that this woman allowed this unknown subject, willingly or by threat, to tie her up. She either knew the perpetrator personally or he held her at knife or gunpoint. “Any sign of forced entry?” she asked Tom as she put on her latex rubber gloves. “None that we found. The husband said the back door was unsecured when he arrived home, telling him of the first sign of trouble. Said his wife was a stickler about security.” “Alarm not set?” “Nope.” “Where is he now?” she asked, walking toward the head of the bed. “In the kitchen, pretty shaken up. We told him that you’d need to speak with him before things were completely wrapped up here.” “Good.” LeAnne carefully lifted the auburn strands away from the victim’s face to see if her cheeks showed any kind of bruising, noting abuse. What she found surprised her more than any swelling ever would. Miranda Holliday had flawless pale skin, no discoloration apparent. Instead of bruises, Miranda’s cheek donned the impression of a pair of lips, a particularly bright shade of red lipstick. “Check the makeup table. See if you can find a color similar to this,” LeAnne instructed, as she snapped a few close-up shots of the lip prints. Tom walked to the table. “Looks like he didn’t bring his own. There’s an open tube lying on the counter,” he said, not touching it. Finished taking pictures of the victim, LeAnne snapped a picture of the opened lipstick. “I want to try and print this before we tag it as evidence. I don’t want to chance ruining any latent by placing it in the bag first. Don’t let anyone else enter this room while I go to my car and retrieve my fingerprinting kit.” LeAnne quickly exited, ignoring the disgruntled sighs from the men sent by the coroner, and went to her sedan. She withdrew several bags, 42

KISS OF DECEIT plastic and paper, and envelopes, as well as her kit, then returned to the house. “Has anyone seen the coroner?” she asked no one in particular as she again passed the coroner’s men, who both shrugged. From inside the room, Tom replied, “I thought he’d be here by now.” “Could be a few more hours, knowing him. What the hell did we do, interrupt his sleep?” she snapped. Sighing through her nose, LeAnne shook her head at the coroner’s obvious lack of dedication. She used a flashlight, checking the tube from all angles for prints visible to the naked eye, but finding nothing. “I know our man used this,” she grumbled more to herself than anyone. “Come on baby, show yourself.” The tube appeared free of any marks as if it had come right out of the blessed box. LeAnne twirled the dusting brush between the palms of her hand, fluffing the bristles. Taking the black powder, not wanting to use the gray or white and chance it filling in ridges on the latent, she dipped the tip into the powder. LeAnne began lightly to dust the object, hoping to see something surface. The tube appeared as clean as a chef’s sterilized counter. This killer knew what they would be looking for in the way of evidence. They were not dealing with an amateur. He had left them little to go on and she would bet the rape kit offered them no more than a residue of latex and maybe a few stray pubic hairs. “Damn.” Gingerly picking up the item with her gloved fingers, she placed the tube in an envelope and tagged it as evidence. “We’ll fume it at the office. I don’t want to take any chances.” Going back to the victim, she took a piece of tape from her kit, pressed it carefully but firmly on the area, then with one swift motion, pulled the lipstick mark from Miranda’s cheek. On the edge of the lifting card, LeAnne pressed the tape with the imprint of their perp’s lips, then labeled the card with the date, time, case number, and 43

KISS OF DECEIT location of where the print was collected, signing her initials. Although LeAnne knew they could not possibly match the lip print like a latent, she wanted her own visual record of it. One she could possibly compare to any future crime—if indeed this unknown subject struck again. And for the sake of Henry County, she certainly hoped that wouldn’t be the case. “What do we got?” Bob Reese asked as he walked through the opened door. LeAnne’s gaze snapped up to his, unaware that he had arrived. She quickly told him the specifics of what she had done thus far. “All in all, just like the Gallego case. We don’t have squat.” She turned her attention to Tom Jenson. “Go watch for the coroner. Call him again if you have to. Tell Doc I’ll be with him in a few minutes.” Tom nodded, then left the room. LeAnne turned her attention back to Bob. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed, though his black-and-gray uniform pants and shirt looked perfectly pressed. His light brown hair lay tussled about his head, his blue eyes heavy from sleep. “Bet the wife doesn’t appreciate the late-night calls.” “It’s all in the job.” Bob approached the bed and studied the lip print on the victim’s cheek. He took the offered card from LeAnne, looking over the latent. “The SOB doesn’t offer us much. Anything else?” “No, by all appearances, the house was unsecured. Our man just walked in the back door. I think he knew the victim—maybe even intimately.” “Might appear that way,” Bob agreed, “but looks can be deceiving.” “Secure the hands with paper bags, tag the binds as evidence,” LeAnne instructed the chief deputy. “It doesn’t appear the bandannas came from the scene. By viewing the surroundings, I don’t think the Hollidays owned any like them. I think our man brought them with him. That proves premeditation.” 44

KISS OF DECEIT “Maybe you should question Doc if he’s seen the bandannas before.” Bob pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “You thinking this might be the same man who killed Jillian Gallego?” “We already made an arrest on that case this afternoon,” LeAnne said, handing Bob one end of the tape measure as they began measuring the room and triangulating the victim, “but I’m not so sure he’s our man.” “A change of heart? When we talked yesterday, you said you thought it couldn’t possibly be anyone else, and I agreed. Closed case.” LeAnne’s gaze swept the room. “But what about this? You think someone’s copycatting the MO?” “We’ll check into it,” Bob said. “But if you want my opinion—I say we examine the difference. The lip print on the cheek, she’s posed like Christ on the cross—” “The only difference is the position of the legs. Jillian had one bent leg, one ankle crossing the other.” “Exactly—this one is posed. Jillian wasn’t. Besides the lip print, the other obvious difference is his choice in victims. Jillian Gallego was a high-risk victim. She stripped for a living. Why change your choice of victims and go after a doctor’s wife?” “I don’t know,” LeAnne said, knowing Bob was right. The difference in victims made no sense, likely disproving the possibility that this matched the work of their perp. “So work this case like a separate one. We don’t try to prove similarities. If there are any, they’ll pop up on their own.” Bob let the tape retract to the tape measure, then jotted notes in his folder. “You know,” he said, gazing at LeAnne, his eyes thoughtful, “this could be the work of one of Gallego’s biker buddies. You think of that? Maybe they want us to think Gallego couldn’t possibly have killed his wife. If the same murderer committed both crimes, that clears Gallego.” “Maybe.” Which of Snake’s friends, LeAnne pondered, would benefit from getting him from behind bars? Not all bikers had that kind 45

KISS OF DECEIT of loyalty. Most scattered at the first sign of trouble. “Someone call a coroner?” the old geezer croaked as he entered. LeAnne knew him to be nearing retirement. A lame attempt at a joke, but no one laughed. With black case in hand, Ahmad Rao, the county’s elected coroner, walked to the bed. After inserting his trusty thermometer up the victim’s rectum, he compared her temperature to the temperature inside the house. “Seems she died only a few short hours ago. Maybe three—three and a half at the most.” He placed two gloved fingers against her buttocks resting where a deep purplish-red was beginning to pool against the skin. The area blanched white from his touch. “She died on her back, all right. I’ll want to do an autopsy before I make any final assumptions, but my guess is, she was strangled to death.” LeAnne rolled her eyes; as if this man had told them anything they had not already figured out themselves. Dr. Rao stood, bag in hand. “Go ahead and transport her. This one is definitely dead.” He left the room. LeAnne checked her watch. One forty-five. “Oh, man.” Bob sadly shook his head. “This nutcase was getting his rocks off not even an hour before her husband was due home. What if Doc came home early?” LeAnne grinned. “I say, he knew exactly what time Frank Holliday was due home. We aren’t dealing with an amateur. No prints, no body fluids. Even in the Gallego case we had that. This place has been wiped clean.” “So you don’t think the husband’s a suspect?” “Not really, but we should check with the hospital anyway. Confirm his alibi. Never leave a stone unturned. In the meantime, you can check with NCIC and VICAP.” Bob raised one eyebrow. LeAnne knew his reluctance stemmed from the 189 Question Report he would have to do for VICAP. 46

KISS OF DECEIT “Because?” “Because I don’t want to take any chances,” she said, pulling off her latex gloves. “I’m not saying that this is the work of a seasoned killer, but things aren’t always what they appear, Bob. Some gentleman caller.” She sighed deeply with a shake of her head. “The SOB left us a calling card. A kiss of deceit.”

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CHAPTER 5 A punch struck his right jaw, his head snapping back like a blow-up Bozo-the-Clown punching bag, sending Snake stumbling backward a few feet. His hand stroked the sore whiskered area as the large AfricanAmerican man, known as Bull for his size and mean temperament, advanced on him, fists clenched at his sides. “Cocksucker,” Bull gritted through clenched teeth, one upper gold tooth gleaming in the outdoor sun. The yard filled with maximum security population as they stood in a semi-circle, watching. An earlier distraction inside, caused by another inmate in the Male Disciplinary Isolation unit, held the guards’ attention from the yard. Snake backed up a few steps; the last thing he wanted to do was tangle with a man of Bull’s size. “You in the bull ring,” Bull grinned, flashing his golden-tooth charm. “Ain’t no screw gonna help you now.” 48

KISS OF DECEIT His bald pate glistened in the hot sun as beads of perspiration gathered. His eyes narrowed to evil slits, his body scarred from getting too close to the sharp end of a knife or razor wire one too many times. “My man Boon’s in the hole ’cause you can’t keep to yourself.” Snake held his hands up in front of him as if to ward off any forthcoming blows. “I don’t want to tangle with you, Bull. If Boon had kept his hands to himself, I wouldn’t have tangled with him either.” Bull turned his head to grin arrogantly at the population. Snake used the momentary distraction to his advantage, drew his arm in front of him, and landed a single hammer-fist against Bull’s temple, dropping the big boy to his knees. Bull roared like a bear as he stumbled back to his feet, grasped Snake by the neck of his red prison uniform and slammed him against the wall. Snake’s head bounced off the brick, his teeth rattled in his head. Drawing up a leg, Snake snapped his shin into the large man’s groin. Bull instantly released Snake, falling to his knees, cupping the family jewels. “You mother,” he hissed as Snake pounced on him, delivering a blow to his nose. Blood spattered across his face and onto the cement floor. Hitting Bull again, Snake contacted his mouth, snapping his head to the side. Blood spewed like a crimson fountain. CCNO’s personal swat team, dressed all in black with helmets perched on their heads, rushed out of the secured door and into the yard, billy clubs drawn. Men were quickly ushered back to maximum security and locked down. One large guard grabbed Snake by the hair and yanked him off Bull. Two others jerked Bull’s tree-trunk arms, wrenching them behind his back. “You prick,” Bull cursed, spitting blood and his gold tooth to the ground. “You better watch your back. There ain’t enough screws to keep you alive in this block. You in for a bad time, sweet cheeks. You gonna be my bitch.” 49

KISS OF DECEIT “Screw you, asshole,” Snake spat. “You better watch your own back.” Cuffed and annoyed, Snake struggled against the guards as they dragged him back inside to the Male Administration Segregation unit. There, he knew he would be locked down for twenty-three out of twenty-four hours and kept separate from the rest of population. Two other guards escorted Bull in the opposite direction, probably to the Male Disciplinary Isolation unit. The two would be kept in different locations for the time being. With any luck, LeAnne McVeigh would get him the hell out of here before he ever had to encounter the likes of Bull again. Snake’s handcuffs were removed inside his cell as one of the guards pushed him down to the bunk. “You made yourself one hell of an enemy out there, Gallego. You’ve gone and pissed off the wrong guy. Who started it?” He rubbed his wrists from where the cuffs bit into them, not saying a word. “We can do this all night, if you want.” “Screw you,” Snake hissed. “You think Bull’s a standup guy?” He chuckled. “He’s probably in there whistling Dixie right now. He’s not going to look after your back.” “Screw you.” “Have it your way then,” the guard said, exited the room, and slammed the heavy door. “See you in twenty-three hours, sweetheart,” he said, grinning through the glass window on the door, then walked away. Snake could hear the billy club slapping the guard’s palm. “Son of a bitch,” Snake muttered, wiping his bloodied lip with the back of his hand. “Son of a bitch.” * * * “I’m sorry this took so long, Doc,” LeAnne said. The sun crested the horizon long ago, but doing the crime scene 50

KISS OF DECEIT took time. LeAnne had wanted everything she could possibly find, right down to the red cloth fibers on the gray carpeting. She would bet the lab would be able to match them to the torn bandannas tying Miranda’s wrists. By the location of the fibers, she could tell right where her boy stood when he ripped the bandanna in two, and made that notation in her sketch. Bob Reese had left a short time ago and was on his way to Bowling Green BCI lab with the bulk of what little evidence they had collected. LeAnne took a seat at the table opposite the grieving doctor, his tears long since dried. Frank looked like an empty shell of a oncehappy man. His face appeared older than his thirty-two years. The lines around his eyes were more prominent, the deep etching from his nose to the corners of his mouth seemed somehow deeper. His eyes, normally sparkling in merriment, looked like they had seen the ugliness of life— and they had. His wife, whom he had been known to dote on constantly, lay on some cold slab at the coroner’s office, ready to be split open the entire length of her torso, with Tom Jenson a witness to the autopsy. “I’m going to have to ask you some questions, Doc. They may be repetitions of the ones asked by Deputy Jenson, but I need the answers for myself. Is this all right with you?” He slowly nodded, then took a drink from his cup of coffee. An opened bottle of scotch sat on the table beside him, and LeAnne would bet, had she taken a sip from his cup, she would know where some of the bottle’s contents had gone. LeAnne took out her notebook and depressed the play and record buttons on her recorder. “What time did you return home this evening?” “Eleven-thirty,” he replied. “Mind if I smoke?” “Help yourself,” LeAnne said, giving him time to light up. Frank withdrew a cigarette and tapped the filter on the table before 51

KISS OF DECEIT sticking it in his mouth. After tearing a match from the pack, he struck it, and lit the end of his cigarette. Sulfur and smoke filled the air. The tip glowed red as he inhaled deeply, then blew twin streams of smoke from his nostrils. “I know—filthy habit,” he said, then took another pull. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Doc,” she said then paused, staring down at her note pad, “if you arrived home at eleven-thirty, why wait until eleven forty-five to call nine-one-one?” “Like I told the deputy, I walked in at eleven-thirty, noticing Miranda forgot to lock the door—no alarm, no dead bolt.” He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. He had trouble looking LeAnne in the eye, his gaze centering on the table top. “I called out to her, thinking maybe she was waiting up, but no one answered. I figured she just forgot the back door.” “Is that something Miranda had a problem remembering?” “No—like I told the deputy, Miranda was usually a stickler about the alarm and dead bolts. She watches too much television. She doesn’t work, you know.” “Because she didn’t want to?” “Both of us, really. I liked her home. Anyway,” he took another pull from his cigarette, then continued as smoke curled out of his mouth, “I locked up, turned on the alarm, and poured two fingers of scotch. It was a long night in the ER.” “Busy?” Frank chuckled non-humorously. “Dead.” He paused and glanced out the kitchen window into the distance. His gaze came back to LeAnne, then he took a drink from his coffee. He sighed. “I took my glass upstairs with me, walking softly. I didn’t want to disturb Miranda. She’s a light sleeper.” “When did you notice her?” “We have an exercise room right off our bedroom.” “I’ve seen it.” 52

KISS OF DECEIT “I thought I’d jog on the treadmill awhile, burn off some of the frustration of working the ER. When I turned on the light, it illuminated part of our bedroom. I noticed the way Miranda was lying, that she had no clothes on. “I called out her name. When she didn’t answer, I turned on the overhead light. You know the rest.” “The red bandanna, Doc,” LeAnne rubbed her wrists, “the pieces tying Miranda—did you own any like it?” Doc stared at her for a brief moment, saying nothing. Finally, he replied, “No, and I’m pretty sure Miranda didn’t either. But you can check her drawers. If she had one, I’m sure there would be others. But, no, I’ve never seen it before last night.” He pulled on the cigarette again, then blew a ring of smoke into the air. “She’s with the angels, now,” he said as if he linked his ring to a halo. “Was your wife faithful, Doc?” His gaze snapped to hers, anger flaring like that of a struck match. “What the hell is that suppose to mean, Detective?” “Please, Doc, we’ve known each other for years. Drop the formalities.” “Exactly! So why insinuate Miranda was having an affair?” “I have to look at all possibilities, Doc. You said yourself, Miranda was a stickler for security—especially living out here in the country. Why would she just leave the back door unsecured while the front was dead bolted? There was no sign of forced entry. That means the killer simply walked in the back door.” When Frank only stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, LeAnne continued. “Statistics show eight out of ten murder victims know their assailants. By the looks of this crime scene, Doc, I think Miranda knew who did this to her.” He slumped his shoulders, clasped his hands in front of him, and stared at the black-and-white tiled floor beneath his feet. “I had 53

KISS OF DECEIT suspicions,” he said in defeat. “How?” “Just the last couple of months. I’d call home and get the answering service, call her mobile—same response. She never had a good answer for where she had been. Only told me I was being overbearing.” He sighed deeply through his nose, then sat back in his chair and stared at LeAnne. “Am I a homely man?” She narrowed her gaze, bringing her brows together. “Excuse me?” He ran a hand down his smooth, square-cut jaw. Round glasses perched high on his nose, his warm brown eyes large behind them. His soft curly hair lay in waves combed back from his forehead. “Thirtytwo years is not ancient.” “No, it’s not.” “Miranda was only twenty-one. Did you know that?” he asked; LeAnne slowly nodded. “I met her at a bar uptown, three years ago. She had a hot body, a great face. And me, being a young, single doctor—I didn’t have any trouble snaring her at all. But I always wondered if she regretted it—marrying me at nineteen. She still had her whole life ahead of her.” Frank pulled out another cigarette and let it hang from his lips. “I’m trying to quit, you know.” “You suspected she might be seeing someone else. Any ideas?” “Not a clue.” “Places she frequented?” “I kept a loose rein on her, LeAnne. I knew she needed a lot of freedom. In some ways, she was still a kid. I had no choice, but to trust her. If I didn’t allow her that, she would have left me in a heartbeat. And that I couldn’t have handled.” Tears slipped from his long lashes and down his cheeks. He tossed the unlit cigarette to the table, then ran a hand down his face to rid it of the trail of tears. “God dammit,” he said, firmly rubbing his jaw as if attempting to 54

KISS OF DECEIT stop the wave of emotion. “Who the hell would want to do that to my beautiful Miranda? Goddam him!” His fist struck the table, causing coffee to slosh over the rim. He ignored the mess, glancing at LeAnne. His eyes brimmed with sentiment. “I just want her back, LeAnne…I just want her back.” LeAnne covered his fist with her hand, choking back her own need to cry. “I’m sorry, Frank. I can’t give you that, but I truly wish I could.”

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CHAPTER 6 “Did you get anything on Gallego’s past girlfriends?” Joe asked as he walked into LeAnne’s office on the second floor. Unlike Joe Drake’s office on street level, no plaques or certificates graced her walls. They were painted a pale green with a forest-colored wall border streaking about the surface, reminding LeAnne of a continuous lightning bolt gone mad. Abstract art. Papers scattered her desk from both the newest case and that of Jillian Gallego. A black phone and a silver intercom sat in the corner next to a ceramic cup containing a menagerie of pens and pencils. The room smelled of rose-scented potpourri, as LeAnne had set about a few bowls. Each and every male deputy complained, when entering her space, and never stayed long for chit-chat. The exact reason she had done it. LeAnne preferred to work alone, without distractions, and wanted to keep it that way. 56

KISS OF DECEIT She swivelled in her worn, black-cloth chair to face the sheriff. “I haven’t had the time.” Joe took a seat in the chair beside her desk and leaned one elbow on the scarred oak. “I checked into his background. No priors involving any sexual oddities. Drugs, DUI’s, reckless driving, public disturbance—all misdemeanors. “But in the last two years, he seems to have been straight. No arrests. Nothing that would warrant our attention. Nothing that would seem to lead him in this direction. But you never really know a man until you’ve ticked him off.” “Come on, Joe,” LeAnne scoffed at the idea. “You think Jillian is the first person to have ticked off Marcus Gallego? He’s thirty-two, for crying out loud.” The sheriff’s brow rose. “I believe that was your job—to check out the past girlfriends.” “And I will, the moment I get a chance. As you recall, I have another crime I’m working on.” “Miranda Holliday,” he stated, rubbing his freshly shaved jaw. “How’s Doc holding up?” “Under the circumstances, pretty well.” “What turned up in the way of evidence? Anything we can go on?” LeAnne glanced over her paperwork. “I don’t have the autopsy report yet, but my guess is strangulation. Her hands were tied just like Jillian’s—red bandanna. Purple bruising on the throat area.” “Look like the same MO?” “Yes and no.” Joe sat quietly as she leafed through her papers and the crime scene photos. She pulled out a full-length shot of Miranda Holliday and pointed at the picture. “Bob thinks the difference is in the way the legs are positioned. Miranda lay crucifixion style; Jillian wasn’t.” Joe studied the shot. “So?” “So—Miranda was posed, like an offering or something; the killer 57

KISS OF DECEIT was making a statement.” LeAnne pulled out another photo showing a close up of the perp’s lip prints. “A calling card of sorts.” “Jesus. You got to be kidding.” “Afraid not. We fumed the tube of lipstick we believe he used, but it came up clean. Plus, we have a difference in the choice of victims. Jillian was high-risk, being a dancer; Miranda wasn’t. I mean, why kill a stripper, then go after a doctor’s wife? There’s no connection between the two, no similarities. Jillian’s hair was blond, her eyes blue. Miranda had auburn hair and brown eyes.” “They both had long hair,” the sheriff pointed out. “Both young. But you don’t think this is the work of the same man, do you?” When she neither denied or affirmed the charge, he continued, “Christ, LeAnne, one minute you’re trying to prove Gallego’s innocence, where here you have the perfect opportunity—the next you’re telling me you don’t think the same man killed both women, a copycat of sorts.” “I still don’t think Gallego killed his wife.” “I take it he didn’t confess last night, when you went to see him.” “Just the opposite. He wants me to help prove his innocence by reexamining the case. He thinks there has to be another angle.” “And he still refuses to get a lawyer. Is he nuts? The courts will crucify him. He had opportunity, motive, and no alibi. He has no case. He gets up in front of the judge refusing representation—Jesus! His arraignment is coming up. Chad will eat him alive.” “He’ll plead not guilty.” “I figured as much. What did he have to say? What was the whole rush to get you out there?” “Unfortunately, Snake believes his salvation lies in my hands.” His brows rose ever so slightly, but LeAnne hadn’t missed the small gesture. “Does it?” “I’d hate to think so, because I helped put together the case we built against him.” LeAnne brushed her bangs from her forehead as an ache from her tense jaw traveled to her temples, ending with one atrocious 58

KISS OF DECEIT headache. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.” “You’ve done all right so far. I promoted you, remember?” LeAnne chuckled. “I’ve only had one suicide so far, and that was open and shut. “You’ll do all right,” Joe repeated, patting her shoulder as he rose. “You’ll hang with the best of them.” “Wymer wouldn’t think so,” she grumbled, already feeling the weight of defeat. If she lost this case, he would never let her live it down. “Wymer still lives with the whole Brotherhood mentality. No woman can do the job as well as a man.” “And if I screw up this case?” “You’re a good detective, LeAnne. Don’t let anyone convince you any other way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given you the job.” “There you are,” a deep voice boomed, drawing both of their attention. Judge John Hargrove and his son Anthony entered the office. “I’ve been looking all over tarnation and back for you. Hell, Joe, them secretaries of yours don’t even know where in the devil you are.” “Dispatchers,” Joe corrected, shaking the Judge’s hand. He slapped John’s shoulder with his free hand. “What brings you by?” “My son, Tony, here. We’re having a little engagement party for him. Seems the boy finally snagged himself a woman. There for awhile—I didn’t think I was ever gonna get them grandbabies.” Tony Hargrove’s complexion went from a healthy tan to a ruby red. Joe smiled, and shook the young man’s hand. “Well, isn’t that the best news we’ve heard all day. The next will be when you pass that bar exam. Chad Baker could probably use the help. Once he and LeAnne marry, I don’t think he’ll want to continue his sixteen-hour days.” Tony Hargrove’s dark brown hair was cut short around his ears, parted in the middle, his bangs falling mischievously across his forehead. His deep brown eyes looked like two chocolate drops plopped into a cloud of whipped cream. The contrast was stunning. 59

KISS OF DECEIT High cheek bones and a straight thin nose accented a square jaw. His lips, as lush as they were, had no right being on a man. Whomever his fiancée might be, LeAnne thought, she was one lucky woman. Hell, this man could have been a model. The last time LeAnne saw him was some six years ago. He had been merely a boy. “My goodness.” LeAnne stood. “Aren’t you all grown up.” His smile warmed his face, his complexion dark. “You do remember me?” she asked, suddenly feeling the fool if he hadn’t. The corners of his eyes turned up as his dimples made deep crevices in his cheeks. “LeAnne McVeigh,” he said, his gaze traveling the length of her. “The hottest deputy in Henry County.” Heat rose up her neck and surely reddened her face. “The only female deputy in Henry County,” she corrected. “I remember, as a boy,” Tony continued, “us guys would try to get into trouble, just so it was you who had to answer the call.” “Did it work?” LeAnne asked, only remembering a few times being called out to a disturbance involving the Judge’s son. His smile returned, this time lopsided. “Mostly not. But there were a few times.” “So who’s the lucky girl?” LeAnne asked. “Julie Hensly.” “Little Julie? The fire chief’s daughter?” Joe asked. “She went off to Bowling Green State University, a couple of years ago, didn’t she?” “That’s the one.” Tony nodded. “She’ll graduate next spring. We’re planning a mid-June wedding.” Adoration shown in Tony’s dark eyes. LeAnne wished that just once Chad would look upon her in the same way. But then, again, she and Chad were years older—much too old for puppy love. “So,” Tony continued, “Did I hear the sheriff right? You and Prosecutor Baker are going to tie the knot? When’s the big day?” “The end of August,” she replied, not feeling the elation she should. 60

KISS OF DECEIT “But don’t worry, you’ll be invited—if I ever get around to sending out those invitations. So when’s this engagement party?” “Sunday,” Judge John Hargrove’s deep voice boomed in. Had he got any heftier, LeAnne thought, they wouldn’t find a black robe large enough for him. “Out at my place. Gonna have a cookout: steaks, burgers, brats—you name it.” He reached out one beefy arm and gave his son a bear of a squeeze. LeAnne winced in imagined pain. “He’s my one and only—pride and joy. His good-for-nothing mother skipping out on us some twenty years ago—he’s all I got.” “You have Julie.” “And a finer choice I couldn’t have made.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling up from his barrel chest. LeAnne envisioned a volcano ready to erupt. John returned his attention to LeAnne and Joe. “One o’clock, Sunday afternoon. Bring yourself a date, Joe, and you, LeAnne, bring that ornery prosecutor with you. Half the county’s likely to be there. A party not to be missed!” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” LeAnne said, and meant it. Tony Hargrove may be only six years her junior, but she felt as though she had watched the boy grow up. Going to a party in his honor would be a pleasure. * * * Snake nodded toward the white receiver hanging on the wall beside the clear Plexiglas window separating them. At thirty-six years of age, Debra Lewis still could hold her own with the best of them. She wasn’t a knockout, by any means, but Snake considered her attractive in a motherly sense. After all, the woman had three children of her own— all boys. With an unruly husband like Snake’s boss and best friend, Kip Lewis, Debra had to be a strong. She had been in her share of bar fights, defending her honor, no less, over some Harley woman claiming to have been in Kip’s pants. The rumors, of course, were mostly true, but she loved her man nonetheless and stood by his side for eighteen 61

KISS OF DECEIT long years. She, however, had remained faithful—that is, until recently, and no one should be made to feel guilty for that one. But damned if Snake didn’t. “What the hell are you doing here?” he growled. “Jesus, Snake, glad to see you, too.” Her eyes centered on the dark purple bruise marring his jaw. The damn thing still hurt like hell. “What happened?” she asked, touching the glass as if she wanted to caress the mark. “Some guy tried to use me as a punching bag. Nothing I can’t handle. You didn’t answer my question. What the hell are you doing here?” Even though the Lewises had been put on his list of visitors, it was Kip he expected to see, not Debra. Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t watch you go down for something you and I both know you didn’t do.” “What the hell you going to do about it?” Snake scowled. “Christ, Debra, you’ll lose your old man. And me? I’ll be out of a job, not to mention lose my best friend. Shit—me and Kip go back a long ways.” Debra swiped away the tears, making a watery mess of her makeup. “I know you’re only trying to protect me, Snake, but I can handle the pressure. Sure, Kip’s liable to be pissed at both of us—but this is your life we’re talking about. And look at you! My God! Your jaw is nearly twice its size. What would I do, if you went down for this? I couldn’t live with myself.” Snake raked his hair back with his fingers. “I have a detective looking into this for me. LeAnne McVeigh with the Sheriff’s Office—” “Isn’t she the one who arrested you?” “But right now, I think she’s all I have.” “You have me.” Snake shook his head, his jaw tightened. The ever-so-slight contraction sent shards of pain up his jaw line. “I won’t allow you to tell them what happened that night. There has to be another angle. Let 62

KISS OF DECEIT Detective McVeigh find it.” “What angle, Snake?” She swiped away another pesky tear. “You may not be willing to go forward with this—but I have to. It was an accident. It should have never happened,” she glanced away, “but it did.” “If I had that night to do all over again—” Her brown gaze came back to his. “We don’t, Snake. There’s no use in pretending.” She tucked her blond hair behind one ear. The gesture made Marcus want to reach out and touch her. If she did this… “Think about what you might be giving up.” “You and I both know Kip’s gone out on me more times than I care to count. He’ll have to forgive me this once.” “But I was his best friend. If he can’t trust me—who can he trust?” “Don’t beat yourself over this. What happened, happened. You came to our house for comfort, someone to talk to. Kip had gone to Florida for dealer training and God-knows-what-else. When you went to leave and kissed me…” Snake flinched. He had started the roller coaster ride. And once started, there was no stopping it. He had needed her, and she had obliged. “I’m sorry. I had no right.” She slammed her palm down on the table surface. “Dammit, Snake, stop apologizing. We made love. And you know something—I don’t regret it, not one moment.” His gaze locked on hers. “If I had to do it all over again, I would. It’s that simple.” He took in her warm brown eyes, her bobbed, blond hair, her full lips. He remembered in all too much detail what it had been like making love to Debra Lewis. She had been starved, spontaneous, and wild. His groin tightened with the memory of it. “It can never happen again,” he said, a hollow ache paining his gut. “No,” she agreed, barely above a whisper. More tears slipped past her lashes. “I love Kip.” 63

KISS OF DECEIT “He’s been like a brother to me.” Damn if he didn’t loathe himself more in this moment than he had in the last three months. Not being there for Jillian had been hard enough to swallow. But this… “I’ve got to come forward, Snake.” “That doesn’t mean I happen to agree. Unfortunately, there’s little I can do about it in my present situation.” “No, there isn’t. As soon as I leave here, I’ll go see Detective McVeigh.” She paused, her gaze falling on the table. “Then, I’ll go home and tell Kip.” Snake placed his hand on the window. Debra looked up and placed her hand against his. She pulled it back just as quickly, however, like she had been stung from the near contact, and dropped it to the table. “I’m not sure you’ll have a job when you get out.” He placed his own hand back on the table. “I could use some time off to catch Jillian’s real murderer.” “And you think you can?” “I’ll die trying.” “Jillian didn’t know what a catch she had. You and me—we’re a lot more alike than I’d ever thought. She couldn’t remain faithful to you, like Kip can’t with me, but you stayed with her because you loved her.” Snake’s jaw tensed. He ignored the ache. Debra winked, then blew him a kiss, saying, “See you when you get out,” and hung up the phone. Marcus watched as she walked out of the visitation room, before allowing the guards to handcuff him and lead him back to his cell. His world teetered precariously. Not only had he lost his wife, now he’d lose his best friend as well.

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CHAPTER 7 LeAnne studied the papers before her, highlighting a few names. She ran a list of known sex offenders in the area who either were paroled or had gotten off on legal technicalities. Since part of her job dealt with lowlifes on a regular basis, she was already familiar with some of these names. The list might not lead anywhere, but it would be a start. She jotted down a few names, individuals she intended to visit, also noting their respective parole officer. The victims’ addresses glared back at her as well, documented in the various case files littering her desk. Miranda Holliday lived on County Road P, whereas Jillian Gallego’s house sat north of Napoleon, out on County Road 13. Nearly across the county from one another. If the same person killed these women, it seemed a safe bet to look in the near vicinity of Jillian Gallego’s. Repeat offenders, murderers, and rapists usually start their 65

KISS OF DECEIT crime sprees someplace close to home—someplace comfortable. Although LeAnne thought it unlikely, she could not dismiss the fact that two separate people could may have committed these crimes. So work this case like a separate one. We don’t try to prove the similarities. If there are any, they’ll turn up on their own. Bob Reese’s intuitions proved invaluable more often than not. But if the same person did commit both homicides, who says Jillian Gallego had been his first? Bob Reese had filled out the lengthy questionnaire and checked with VICAP, Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, to see if their case matched the MO of any across the country. Fascinated by the minds of those who kill, she read past case studies of the likes of Edmund Kemper and David Berkowitz, not to mention Jack the Ripper. All had extreme rage and hate centered toward women. What if someone like one of these twisted individuals landed within Henry County? A shudder crawled down her spine, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. The intercom buzzed. LeAnne jumped. “Detective McVeigh?” The dispatcher’s voice rang loud through the speaker, echoing about her room like a rubber ball bouncing off the walls. Did the woman have to talk with her mouth less than an inch from the intercom? “Yes,” LeAnne called back, chuckling. Suzy Lawson had started with the sheriff’s office a mere week ago. “There’s a Debra Lewis here to see you.” Speaking so close to the box had muffled Suzy’s voice. LeAnne made a mental note to inform her she could be heard better if she sat away from the thing. Not like any of the men in the office would oblige to help out a woman. No, they were likely laughing at the poor woman’s expense. LeAnne thought of her own early days with the sheriff’s office, learning about the Brotherhood of law enforcement firsthand. A woman would never 66

KISS OF DECEIT be a man. It was that simple. “She says it’s urgent—has to do with Marcus Gallego.” Adrenaline coursed through LeAnne’s veins. Her fingers actually trembled. “Send her up,” she said, then released the intercom button. What could the wife of Snake’s boss possibly have to tell her? LeAnne walked to the door, watching as the woman ascended the stairs to the second floor. She stood a few inches taller than LeAnne and outweighed her by a few pounds. Her blond hair bobbed around her ears and her lips sported a bright shade of red. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, puffy and red from hours of tears. LeAnne offered her hand. “Detective LeAnne McVeigh,” she said, then led her into the office. The woman sat in the chair. “Debra Lewis, Kip’s wife.” The woman smiled nervously. A woman with secrets to hide, thought LeAnne. Not wanting to waste time on less important subjects, she said, “This has something to do with Marcus Gallego?” Debra nodded and swiped at her nose with a well-used tissue. LeAnne reached for a fresh one from her box and handed it to Debra, waiting as patiently as possible. Finally, she looked up. “Snake Gallego couldn’t have killed his wife.” “And you know this because…?” Debra looked away from LeAnne, blowing air through her pursed lips. A tremendous amount of courage must have brought this woman forward. Her gaze came back to LeAnne’s. “Because Snake was with me that night.” “Snake mentioned nothing about being with you.” Anxiety channeled up her spine. In a way, she wanted to believe this woman— wanted Snake Gallego to be innocent. But on the other hand, if Snake did not kill his wife—who did? “Why wait until now to come 67

KISS OF DECEIT forward?” “Look, I have absolutely nothing to gain from this and everything to lose.” She brushed away a tear falling from her lashes. LeAnne leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms beneath her breast and said, “You have my attention.” “The day of Jillian’s murder, Snake was at work—close to quitting time, he received a call. He seemed very upset. Kip and I were worried about him. He told us Jillian had been messing around on him. Blade D’Angelo, a friend of his, had seen her earlier in the day with a guy he recognized from the club where she stripped. “Why he let her continue that lifestyle after they married, I’ll never know.” Debra paused, blowing her nose. “Anyway, Snake was furious to finally have proof. He suspected as much for a long time, but always gave her the benefit of the doubt.” “The man, did Blade know him?” LeAnne’s heart thudded in her chest—this could be the break she had been looking for. Debra shrugged. “You’d have to ask Blade.” “So Snake goes home…” “After he told Kip and me he wanted to strangle Jillian—but he says things like that. He never means them. Snake doesn’t have it in him to hurt anyone.” Impatient to get to the answers she sought, anything to help the case, LeAnne coaxed, “The part where you were with him.” “About ten o’clock that night, Snake comes knocking on my door. The kids are getting ready for bed, and Kip had flown to Florida that night after work to attend the Harley University. It’s a yearly training session for dealers. He was going to be out of town for a few days. “We put the kids to bed—they love Snake. He and Kip have been friends from way back. They’re like brothers, you know.” “You didn’t find it unusual for Snake to drop by so late?” “He came over a lot in the evenings, mostly when Jillian worked. After all, we were all pretty good friends. It was natural for him to stop 68

KISS OF DECEIT by—even when Kip wasn’t home.” “So, what happened when you put the children to bed?” Anxious to get to the end of this story, LeAnne fidgeted. If her intuitions proved correct, Debra was right. She would have nothing to gain by coming forward, and a whole lot to lose. Obviously the reason Snake Gallego refused to tell the story himself. “Snake and I sat on the couch, just talking. He had left the shop and went home to Jillian. They had a hell of a fight, and then later, he said they made love.” “You don’t find that unusual? That Snake, as mad as he was, would want to have sex with his wife?” “Snake is a passionate man, Detective. Anger can lead to sex—it often does.” LeAnne could easily imagine. She had already seen Marcus Gallego’s volatile side—surely sex with him would abandon all want of moderation. “Kip and I are always fighting, then making up. Anyway, Snake and I were together until well after midnight. Snake said, you told him that Jillian was killed somewhere between the hours of ten and eleven.” The same time as Miranda, LeAnne mused. Another similarity LeAnne had not put much thought into—until now. “Correct. But why wait until now to come forward?” Debra’s gaze fell to her lap as she toyed with the used tissue. “Because we didn’t just talk. When Snake got up to leave, I walked him to the door, like any other time. I hugged him, told him everything would work out for the best; Snake gave me the same advice many times. He loved his wife, you know.” “Yes,” LeAnne agreed, “I do believe he did.” “Anyway, he kissed me on the lips.” Debra looked away, as though she were remembering the moment, then glanced back to LeAnne. “I don’t think it was offered as anything more than friendship—just a peck, really.” 69

KISS OF DECEIT “And this led to more?” “You’re a woman,” Debra scoffed. “You’ve seen Snake Gallego. God, just the thought of him in bed was enough to get worked up over. He kissed me, and I responded. It was that simple. The next thing I know, we’re tearing at each others clothes and rolling on the floor.” LeAnne raised a brow. “You made love?” “No.” Debra laughed. “We had sweet, adulterated sex, and if I had to do it all over again, I would. I love my husband, but Snake is the kind of man women fantasize about.” LeAnne could easily attest to the fact. “Does your husband know?” “Not yet. He’s the reason Snake wanted me to keep quiet. I’ve cried myself to sleep many nights, wondering how I got myself into this situation. “I can’t let Snake go down for this. I had hoped something else might prove his innocence. But when I saw him today—the purple bruise on his jaw—” “Bruise?” LeAnne sent him to CCNO only two days ago. Had he already been disruptive, making enemies? “Another inmate used his face as a punching bag,” Debra said, obviously distraught over the fight. “So you can see why I waited…” “I’ll have to question your husband, again—about the trip to Florida. Check out your story.” Tears streamed unheeded down Debra’s cheeks. “He’ll forgive me because he loves me, not to mention all he’s put me through. But it’s not me I’m worried about.” She glanced at LeAnne. “It’s Snake. Kip will never forgive him.” * * * LeAnne pulled into a long, stone driveway in her tan detective’s sedan. The house sat just off of State Route 109 outside of Hamler. Bushes grew untrimmed, hiding the front porch from view. Drapes were drawn over the windows. The grass had turned to seed. Hell, if she had not known better, LeAnne would swear the house 70

KISS OF DECEIT was unoccupied. Thanking her lucky stars, if indeed she believed in them, she pulled around the side of the house and saw Blade D’Angelo’s ’62 Chevy pickup parked in the opened garage with his ’98 Harley Davidson Low Rider beside it. LeAnne stepped out of her car, rested her hand on the butt of her gun as if to check its readiness, and walked up to the back porch. A wooden sign hung crooked by the door. What you got, we ain’t buyin’. The porch, in bad need of a paint job, had several holes in the floorboards, as did the ratty-looking screen door. She rapped twice on the wood, the sound carrying as the warped frame slapped against the back of the house. A gruff voice called out from somewhere inside. “Hold on to your pants. I’m coming.” “Detective LeAnne McVeigh,” she said as Blade came into view. She held up her badge for identification. When he came close enough to see it, she instantly recognized the burly man. She never had the pleasure of arresting this one, but he had been around when she busted several of his friends. This one seemed always to elude the long arm of the law. “Yeah,” he barked. A thick sandy-blond beard covered his thick jaw. “What the hell do you want?” LeAnne cleared her throat. “Excuse me?” Taking guff from the brawny biker would promise trouble for her already-rising fit of temper. “I have a few questions.” “And tell me why I’d want to answer them?” His hair, the same sandy color as his beard, lay in wild disarray like some backwards mountain man. “It may just get Snake out of jail. Do you want to help him or not?” “Hell, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” The door screeched open as he allowed her entrance. The inside of the home was as unkempt as the outside. Dirty dishes filled the sink and littered the counter. 71

KISS OF DECEIT “Have a seat.” He offered her a metal kitchen chair with holes in the putrid green vinyl. LeAnne withdrew her notebook as she sat down. Blade went to the crust-covered refrigerator that had to be at least twenty years old, in bad need of defrosting, and withdrew a beer. He popped open the top, foam spraying a fine mist above the wide-mouth can, and took a long pull. “Want one?” he asked. A smile curved the whiskers hiding his lips. Foam clung to his mustache; he used the back of his fur-covered arm to swipe it away. “I don’t drink on duty,” LeAnne said, “but thank you for offering. The sooner we get to my questions, the sooner I’m out of your hair.” “Fine by me,” he grumbled, brushed some papers off the other kitchen chair, and took a seat across from her. “Shoot.” LeAnne turned on the microcassette recorder. “Mind if I tape this?” When he made no objections, she continued, “I’ll take your non response as a ‘no, you don’t mind.’ Did you call Snake Gallego on April nineteenth at work, possibly around three or four in the afternoon?” He shrugged his beefy shoulders. “I suppose,” he said, offering no more. “Would you care to elaborate on the purpose of the call?” “I don’t need a purpose to call him.” “Elaborate anyway.” He scratched his hairy belly that hung just below his too-short tee and just above the worn waist band of his jean shorts. “Ask Snake. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you why I called him. Ain’t none of your damn business.” “Listen, I’m not about to play games. We can either do this nicely here, or I can haul your sorry rear to the sheriff’s office. We’re in the middle of a murder investigation, and like it or not, you may have some pertinent information. “Now, let me repeat my question—maybe you didn’t hear me the 72

KISS OF DECEIT first time—What was the purpose of your phone call to Snake Gallego on the day of April nineteenth and what time did you make the call?” Blade took another swallow from his can. By the size of his two gulps, LeAnne bet the can neared close to empty. He slammed the beer on the table top and glared at her, his eyes no more than slits in his beefy face. “I called him. I don’t know at what time—probably close to four, I guess.” “And,” LeAnne coaxed, “the phone call was about?” “His old lady,” he grumbled, searching the table with his thick fingers. Beneath the rubble, he withdrew a pack of Camels and a lighter. He lit his cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into LeAnne’s face. Jackass came to mind, but she wanted this man’s cooperation. “Jillian Gallego?” she asked. A loud belch filled the air between them; the heavy smell of beer assailed her nose. “That’s right. The bitch had been screwing everybody’s balls but Gallego’s, by the looks of things. I don’t know why he kept the slut around, to be honest with you.” “So this is why you called?” “Hell, no. I saw that bitch with one of the regulars from Deja Vu.” “You frequent the strip club enough to know who goes there on a regular basis?” “Sometimes.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “I ain’t got a jealous ol’ lady or anything like that. My woman—she don’t run my life. Sometimes me and the boys would go up—enough to see this guy hanging on Snake’s ol’ lady.” “So when and where did you see her with this man?” “Trucker’s Paradise on 109. I went there Saturday morning, the nineteenth, for some slop, and who do I see all cozy in the corner? Jillian Gallego and this guy—like they got some plans together or just finished. Shoot, man, she didn’t even care when I walked into the place, knowing I would tell Snake. Just kept a cuddlin’. Know what I mean?” 73

KISS OF DECEIT “I think I do. So you called Snake?” “I waited a while. Wrestled with my conscience. Know what I mean?” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she didn’t think he had one, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. “Well, I called Snake at work—told him what I saw. That’s it, end of story. Ain’t like Snake didn’t already know she was screwing half the men at the club. He just needed proof.” “How mad was he?” “Ol’ Snake was pissed enough to spit nails. Shoot, man, I bet he laid tracks a mile long out of work.” Then, as if realizing he might be helping to nail Gallego, he quickly added, “But he didn’t kill his wife. Shoot, man, everyone knows Snake loved that bitch. She didn’t deserve him, but he would have never laid a finger on her. Know what I mean? Just ask anyone.” “He has an alibi. Someone has come forth.” “Really?” His thick brows arched toward the ceiling. “Damn glad about that. He don’t deserve to be sitting in no cell. Snake ain’t done no crime. When will he hit the street?” “As soon as I have a conversation with the county prosecutor.” LeAnne tapped the eraser of her pencil on the table top. “This man— you can identify him?” “Shoot, man, I can do you one better—I know the little prick’s name.”

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CHAPTER 8 LeAnne paced the carpeted floor of her small office, sure she would leave a track from her desk to the window and back. She felt like a juggler with one too many balls as her thoughts about the two cases jumbled around inside her. Bob Reese was due to arrive any minute, and she could certainly use someone with whom she could bounce around theories. She had called him with the identity of the man who had been seen with Jillian Gallego the morning of her death. Just as when Blade had put a name to the man, she was still slack-jawed, as Bob probably had been, though she doubted much surprised him. Had he been told someone planted a bomb beneath his seat, Bob would probably check for the validity of the fact first, then simply disarm it—not even a bead of sweat would dot his brow. He had asked her not to do a thing until he arrived; he wanted to be in on the confrontation. Confrontations. Something for which Bob Reese seemed actually to 75

KISS OF DECEIT get a hard-on. As long as she had known Bob, not much seemed to but a fire beneath him. At this point, they agreed not yet to alert the sheriff. Plan the strategy, Bob had suggested. With Snake Gallego having an airtight alibi, that left Jillian’s murderer, as well as Miranda Holliday’s, if it was not one and the same, still on the loose. And LeAnne had just been handed a lead which could break one or both cases wide open. If they could place this new lead at one or both of the scenes, they could quickly close the case. LeAnne walked to her coffeepot and poured herself a mug full. In her clumsiness, hot liquid spilled over the side, burning the web between her thumb and forefinger, attesting the fact her nerves were wound tight. She switched hands and shook off the liquid. Anticipation created more nervous tension within her than the first hill of any roller coaster ride at Cedar Point ever had, and she loathed roller coasters. Out of all the people she had thought Blade might name, this one never came to mind. My God, the attention this would bring to the sheriff’s office. Joseph Drake would not be pleased. Thank goodness they just passed the election year. Maybe this would all blow over before his four-year term ended, and Joe came up for reelection. “Is he here?” Bob asked as he walked into her office. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his black uniform shirt and rolled them halfway up his arms. Yanking on the collar, he undid the top button, then checked the time on his watch. “I didn’t want to alarm anyone. I thought we might want to present what we have to Sheriff Drake first.” After all, it isn’t every day a deputy becomes a lead suspect in a murder case, she thought. “Let’s get Joe in here,” Bob said, rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation. He took a seat on the corner of LeAnne’s desk. “I’m still waiting on lab results from the Holliday case. Thought I’d take a drive over to the BG lab after I leave here. You think we can 76

KISS OF DECEIT connect him to this Holliday woman?” “I don’t know.” Bob helped himself to a cup of coffee, then retook his seat. He blew across the liquid before taking a sip, looking at her from over the rising steam. She continued, “I knew Allen Wymer was a real jerk, but damn—I don’t think I would ever suspect him of this.” “What do we really know about him?” “He’s been with the sheriff’s office nearly as long as I have. He started the summer after me. We’re almost the same age—we graduated the same year from high school. He, too, started out as a dispatcher. And remember when I became a deputy before he did? He screamed discrimination, saying I got the job because I was a woman.” “Do you believe that’s why you got the promotion?” LeAnne’s face heated. “Hell, no! I deserved this and you know it— Wymer and I went through the same training. And what about when Sheriff Drake promoted me to detective? Wymer said he was more qualified for the job. Hell, I was the one who took all the courses on my own time. I deserved this job.” Bob grinned. “Calm down, LeAnne—I’m on your side, remember?” LeAnne conceded, though showing no humor. “What about his wife and kids?” “Ouch!” Bob winced, knowing as LeAnne, when this story came out, Wymer’s marriage would likely be over. “We should do a little investigating on our own—check into his background before he started here, maybe even after. What do any of us know about his past? We should see if he’s harboring any deep dark secrets in and out of work.” “I checked what records we have; he’s so clean he squeaks. And somehow, coming from this small town, I doubt he did anything other than a childhood prank in his past, or we would have known. I graduated with him, for crying out loud.” “But with a graduating class of about 250, did you really get to 77

KISS OF DECEIT know him? Everyone has shadows lurking in the corners. We just found one of his.” Bob’s face appeared etched in stone, all business. “Let’s get Joe up here.” LeAnne punched the intercom button. Suzy’s voice boomed back at her, causing Bob to jump. “Jesus,” he mumbled. One of the rare times LeAnne had heard Bob blaspheme. “Tell the sheriff I need to see him in my office,” LeAnne said, grinning at Bob. A small smile itched at the corners of his lips as Suzy blared back, “Right away.” Footsteps fell on the stairs, telling them Joe was on his way up. “What do you need?” he asked, even before he made it through the doorway. He stopped when he saw Bob Reese. LeAnne knew he wondered why Bob was still here and not en route to the lab in BG. “Do we have a new lead?” LeAnne indicated for the sheriff to take a seat, but he quickly declined, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I got a few places to be today, so make this quick. Something come up on the Holliday case?” He glanced at Bob. “Lab results?” Bob shook his head, but said nothing, allowing LeAnne to explain. After all, it had been her lead. “Not on the Holliday case—the Gallego,” she said. The sheriff’s eyes widened slightly. He said nothing, so LeAnne continued. “First of all, Gallego has an airtight alibi.” Tiny lines creased his brow. “Why didn’t this surface until now? Are you sure this all checks out?” “The woman had reason to fear coming forward. And of course, Snake was protecting her, so he kept silent about the whole affair.” LeAnne took a sip from her coffee, then continued. “Everything she’s told me, I can’t disprove.” Joe sighed as if in resignation. “Who is this woman?” 78

KISS OF DECEIT “Debra Lewis.” His expression told LeAnne he knew of her. “I’ve checked with her husband, Kip—he collaborates her story. He was in Florida the night Jillian had been murdered, and damned mad to find out his wife was slipping beneath the sheets with his best friend.” “So Gallego’s innocent?” “Looks that way. He couldn’t have killed his wife when he was with Debra Lewis until after four in the morning; that’s two hours after we received the 911 call. Snake didn’t arrive home until after we had transported his wife’s body to the morgue.” “Do we know who made the call, yet?” “Nope.” “Work on it. It might provide us with an invaluable clue to the murderer.” “I have, but I’ll try harder. We have his voice on tape. He sounds familiar, too, but I can’t put my finger on it yet.” “Have you told Chad? The County Prosecutor has to be the one to drop charges on Gallego.” “I haven’t seen him yet, but as soon as my day here is through, I will. Marcus Gallego doesn’t deserve to be where he’s at. He deserves my apology.” “I take it you’ll be the one to deliver the news?” “I owe him that much.” “I thought so. It’s that damn sentimental side of yours—it’s going to trip you up one of these days, LeAnne. I guess that’s what makes you so endearing.” Joe rubbed his fingers over his rounded chin. Obviously knowing he could not talk her out of it, he changed his line of thought. “So, we’re back to square one.” LeAnne shifted her stance, nervous about expounding their latest finding. She set her coffee cup down on her desk. “Not exactly. Seems we found someone who hung around Jillian quite a lot before her death. As a matter of fact, we can place her with this guy the morning of her 79

KISS OF DECEIT murder.” Joe’s eyebrows rose, though he remained quiet. “Allen Wymer,” she supplied. The sheriff stiffened his stance, then stepped further into the room. “Good God, you have to be kidding.” “I’m afraid not.” “And how did you come by this news?” “Debra Lewis set it all in motion. We knew someone had called Snake the day Jillian was murdered, and, until now, no one was giving us the identity of this person, nor did we think it important. We didn’t know if the call had any relation to the crime at all. Besides, we had Snake Gallego over a barrel and were positive he had done it. Hell, he couldn’t give us an alibi.” “So now you know the man who called Gallego.” “Blade D’Angelo. I’ve already questioned him. Seems he saw Jillian with Wymer at Trucker’s Paradise that morning and several times before at Deja Vu, where she stripped.” “Damn.” Joe rubbed his hand over his jaw as if to release the sudden tension rising. “Well, what the hell you waiting on? Get Wymer in here, pronto.” He checked the time on his watch. “I’d like to be in on this, but I have an appointment that can’t wait. When I get back, I want everything you know.” He turned to exit the office, then looked back over his shoulder. “And by the way—for now, let’s keep a lid on this. I don’t want the public finding out at this point the office may have a bad apple in it.” * * * Allen Wymer squirmed in his seat like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His normally deep, artificial tan had gone shades paler as he watched LeAnne pace in front of the table in the conference room. His jaw was so taut, LeAnne swore she could hear his teeth cracking from the pressure. Had Bob Reese not been sitting calmly at the table checking his 80

KISS OF DECEIT fingernails for dirt, looking disinterested, she knew Wymer would be all hellfire and brimstone, taking her accusations and throwing them back at her. Instead, he sat coiled in his chair like a snake ready to strike. “You don’t have shit on me,” Wymer finally hissed. “You’re going to believe the word of some dirt-bag biker over one of your own? I always knew you jerked someone to get this job. I’m just surprised the county prosecutor never caught the sheriff with his pants around his ankles and you on your knees.” Bob shifted in his seat, his heated gaze landed on Wymer. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said not a word. “Shut your trap, Wymer,” LeAnne said. “I suppose if I go to Deja Vu and get a hundred more witnesses that say you had been sniffing around Jillian Gallego, you’ll deny those allegations, too.” “Kiss my ass,” he said, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His gaze flitted back to the chief deputy, who had not moved a muscle in the last few minutes, his glare still on Wymer. “So you’re not denying you’ve been with Mrs. Gallego?” LeAnne asked. “Who the hell hasn’t?” he scoffed. “Hell, I’m surprised ol’ Bob hasn’t had a piece of that.” Bob’s jaw tightened. “Some of us have better self-control.” “Were you with her the morning of the nineteenth?” she asked. Wymer glanced from LeAnne to Bob and back. Obviously weighing his options of lying, LeAnne thought. Finally he said, “I was. But it was the last time I saw her. I wasn’t with her the night she got killed. You gotta believe me.” Sweat beads licked at his brow like droplets of water on a cool glass on a hot summer day. “I don’t have to believe a word you say, Wymer.” LeAnne punctuated her statement with a triumphant smile. “It’s my job, remember?” “Look.” With his fingers, he wiped the perspiration from his upper81

KISS OF DECEIT lip. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just don’t let this get out to my wife.” “Christ, Wymer, you think we can keep this kind of thing under wraps?” She glanced at Bob. “I don’t know, Bob, you think we ought to go to the press?” He shrugged, with a devil-may-care look, going along with her. They both knew the sheriff would spit nails if they did. “We have to give them something. We let Gallego go free—they’ll be screaming for a name.” His gaze landed back on Wymer. Bob obviously held little respect for his fellow deputy, Brotherhood or not. “I say we hand them his little pecker on a silver platter.” Wymer’s eyes darted between them. “You can’t be serious. The sheriff will be irate. Shit, something like this gets out, and you’ll ruin his career.” “That’s Drake’s problem,” Bob said, glancing down at his nails. LeAnne almost laughed at Bob’s feigned disinterest. He had Wymer sweating bullets. She let out a deep sigh. “All right, Wymer. Give us what you got, and we’ll try to keep this quiet. You know I wouldn’t do this for everyone.” Bob’s gaze snapped back to Wymer. “I say we let the little guy hang by his balls.” “Look, I’ve been seeing Jillian for a couple of months. That’s it.” Wymer raised his hands. “I swear.” “You a regular at Deja Vu?” LeAnne asked as Bob went back to feigning boredom. “Sometimes.” When LeAnne gave him a skeptical eye, he changed to, “All right, all right. I go there a lot.” “And your wife, she’s okay with this?” His face grew smug. “A man’s gotta do—” “What a man’s got to do,” LeAnne finished for him. “Jesus, Wymer, do you respect anybody?” 82

KISS OF DECEIT “Myself.” “That’s a long shot,” Bob said. Wymer glared at the chief deputy. “So you go to Deja Vu frequently”—LeAnne drew his attention back—“and you what? Get a few lap dances? Like what you see?” “I had no idea Jillian was even from Henry County when I first met her,” Wymer told LeAnne. “I saw her dance quite a few times, bought a few lap dances, that kind of thing. Next thing I know, she’s offering me blow jobs for free. What red-blooded male would turn that down?” Bob lifted his hand. LeAnne chuckled. “Shit,” Wymer grumbled before continuing. “Anyway, I took her up on it. Next thing I know, this little nympho and I are ballin’ in the back seat of my car. Man, she was some hot little number.” LeAnne raised a brow. “You weren’t worried about disease?” “She made me wear a condom, carried the things herself. But, shit, I’d have worn one anyway. Never know where that’s been. Anyway, this thing—it became regular.” “How regular?” LeAnne asked. “Enough that I’ve been out to her house while her husband’s at work.” LeAnne furrowed her brow. “Marcus Gallego works days, and sometimes so do you.” Wymer hesitated, then said, “I was on duty a few times. Okay?” LeAnne nodded. “Uh, huh.” “Look, man, she was hot for a uniform. She liked a man with authority. Jesus, what’s going to happen to me?” “I have to tell the sheriff—you know that,” LeAnne said. “It will be his call. But for now, we’ll keep this quiet. You’ll still be under investigation. You do realize this?” “Yeah,” he agreed, hanging his head. “Anything else, Bob?” LeAnne asked. “Keep your pants up, Wymer. Your wife gets wind of this”—he 83

KISS OF DECEIT grinned devilishly—“she’s liable to cut that little pecker off herself.” “Very funny. Ha, ha.” Wymer smirked. “It was big enough for Jillian Gallego to come back for more.” “I wouldn’t advertise that, Wymer,” Bob said. “It’s liable to wind you smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation. Oh”—he shrugged impishly—“I forgot, you already are.” LeAnne grinned. “You can go for now, Wymer, but stick around. I’m sure the sheriff is going to have his say when he gets back. Right now, I have a prosecutor to see.”

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CHAPTER 9 Chad sat in his chair, a pair of round-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose like the owl in a Tootsie Pop commercial, overlooking a file before him. If LeAnne hadn’t known better, she would think him to be a doctor, not a prosecutor, studying a case of life or death. But in a sense, wasn’t that his job? A cocoon of warmth surrounded her more efficiently than any security blanket. Over the past year, watching her mother die slowly from cancer, she needed stability, and Chad had been her rock. He ran one hand through his perfectly combed hair, then glanced up, obviously feeling her eyes on him as she stood silently by the door observing him. His office door stood ajar, his secretary having gone home for the day. LeAnne had passed her on the way in. Chad had an uncanny way of working too many hours. They seemed to spend little time together as of late, with her working two murder cases and him preparing for the Gallego arraignment, besides his many other duties. 85

KISS OF DECEIT Well, she was about to lighten his load. A warm smile lit his tired face. He slipped off the glasses and placed them on the desk, then rose to greet her. “Hi, babe,” he said, grasping the sides of her face and kissing her warmly on the lips. “I’ve been thinking about you, and to think I might have just conjured you up. What a surprise. Hungry?” She smiled back. “Yes, but it can wait.” LeAnne indicated for him to retake his seat, as she took the padded Italian leather chair across from his mahogany desk. “What can I do for you then?” He toyed with the fountain pen lying in front of him. From his black desk plate, Chad A. Baker, Henry County Prosecutor, stared at her in bold white letters. LeAnne felt a sense of pride for what her fiancé did for a living. He was the one to prosecute the guilty, see them put behind bars, in a way, all to protect the innocent. They were not much different; they worked the same side of the law, always had the same goal in mind. Almost always. Chad closed the case file in front of him. “Gallego’s arraignment,” he said, indicating the folder. “I know,” LeAnne agreed, her smile faltering. “That’s precisely the reason I came.” Chad narrowed his gaze; his pale blue eyes took on the quality of steel. “Christ, babe, don’t tell me you still think this scumbag is innocent. He has the right to be arraigned within seventy-two hours or he walks. Don’t make me delay this anymore.” She grimaced. “For crying out loud,” he grumbled running a hand down his tired face, then fixed her with his glare. “All right—out with it. I know that look, and usually I don’t like what you’re going to have to say.” LeAnne fidgeted, feeling much like the little girl sent to the principal’s office, knowing the end result would be the broad side of 86

KISS OF DECEIT the paddle across her behind. She hated disappointing Chad, and since he hoped for the death penalty in this one, he was not going to take her news lightly. This case would likely secure his votes in the next election. “Gallego is innocent,” she finally said. His gaze sharpened. “Care to elaborate?” he asked in a controlled voice, highly honed like the sharp edge of a katana sword. She knew she should tread carefully lest she find herself hacked cleanly in two. This definitely had to be the downside of being engaged to the county prosecutor. “Debra Lewis—” “His boss’s wife?” Chad broke in. LeAnne squirmed to the side of her chair. “She’s come forward. Seems Gallego was with her the night his wife was killed.” Chad sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and grinning smugly. Patronizing her, he said, “Of course, babe. Why wouldn’t she? After all, she’s his best friend’s wife. She comes forward and gives Gallego an alibi—Marcus goes free. Come on, LeAnne, I know you’re too good of a cop to fall for that.” LeAnne leaned forward, her ire rankled. “You think I don’t check these things out? You think I have tunnel vision and just because a part of me believes Gallego might be innocent, I won’t check all the facts?” “Come on, babe,” Chad sighed, holding his palms up in front of him. “I know you want to believe—” “No, Chad, it’s your turn to listen. I’m not here as your fiancée. I’m here as the detective running this case. If you want, I’ll call the sheriff in, and he can give you the facts himself. Marcus Gallego is innocent. He has an airtight alibi. “He was with Debra Lewis until the wee hours of the morning the night Jillian was killed, well after her time of death. I even found a neighbor willing to testify she had seen a black Harley in the drive. The nosy woman had thought it strange to be parked there so late, knowing 87

KISS OF DECEIT Debra’s husband was out of town. While he was screwing his best friend’s wife—someone else was choking the life out of his.” Chad paled, but only slightly. “And Debra’s husband? What’s he got to say about all of this?” “Don’t think he isn’t highly ticked off. Who wouldn’t be to find out your best friend is doing your wife? He was in Florida at the Harley University, out of town for a few days. Debra said Gallego came over for company and comfort.” “He got more than that,” Chad said, sarcasm oozing from each word. “Even her three boys remember Uncle Snake tucking them in.” She paused, watching Chad’s face. The anger dissipated as he seemed to close himself off, becoming unreadable. “It’s time to hang it up, Chad. It’s over. Gallego is innocent, and until I find out who did do it, we don’t have a case.” Not saying a word, he grasped the file on his desk, opened his cabinet drawer, and deposited the blue folder into in, slamming the drawer closed. LeAnne jumped. “You win,” he said, his smile cut short. LeAnne knew Chad Baker had always been a winner. Above all else, he hated losing, even if it was nothing personal. She stood, walked around the desk, and pushed on his shoulder until his chair rolled away from the desk. Taking a seat on one leg, she ran a finger down his jaw, then placed a tender kiss on his lips. His arms wrapped around her. Tracing the spot she had just kissed, she said, “Think of it this way, Counselor, we’ll have much more time to spend together.” “In my dreams,” he scoffed. His hands on her waist, he repositioned her so she straddled his lap. “You still have this case to work on. And now with last night’s homicide, you now have another.” “But I’ve always found time for my favorite guy.” She put on her 88

KISS OF DECEIT best pout, then kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose. “You know…” he paused making a show of looking around the empty room, “the office is empty. And Sherrie? She always locks up on her way out.” His smile turned up the corner of his lips; two small dimples creased his cheeks. Even at his age, there were times he could still look like an over-eager boy who had just discovered the naughty secrets of the opposite sex. She returned his smile. “Why, Counselor, I do believe your intentions aren’t of the honorable kind.” “Only of the naughtiest kind,” he growled, then covered her lips with his. * * * The air-conditioning unit blew a steady stream into the car as LeAnne drove down State Route 34 on her way to CCNO. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the black leather steering wheel of Chad’s Lexus, blanching her knuckles white. She left Chad at her house, putting together a late supper, trying his best to understand why she had to deliver the news to Gallego personally. After making love in his office, LeAnne enlightened him that she needed to see Marcus. She felt the need to apologize, not to mention feeling indirectly responsible for the bruise he sported on his jaw that Debra Lewis informed her about. Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” blared through the airwaves as she turned into the parking lot of the correctional center. Though the words would have any mother running to wash out their son’s mouth, there was a sensuality about them, sending a dull ache to those parts that should have been thoroughly satisfied. Marcus Gallego centered in her thoughts. Disgusted with herself, she turned the key, cutting the engine, and quickly exited the car. Once inside, she sat at one of the tables in the small visitation room, 89

KISS OF DECEIT waiting for Marcus to make his appearance. Hell, she thought, she would fare better in the woods with nothing more than a tree with too tall branches between her and a giant grizzly. Marcus Gallego was going to be thoroughly peeved, and she could not blame him in the least. Here she was, the one who put him behind bars, waiting to expound the wonderful news that she had made a mistake. Surely, he would understand. Wouldn’t he? Red caught her eye first, as he rounded the corner in his brightcolored uniform, hands cuffed in front of him, his face a mask of solemnity. Two officers ushered him into the room, then, upon her suggestion, left them alone. Cocksure, Marcus leaned back in his chair as if he already knew what she was there to tell him. His swollen and purple jaw looked worse than Debra had let on. “Does it hurt?” LeAnne asked. “What the hell do you think?” he grumbled, his split lip no more than a straight line. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say, feeling as though she had done the damage herself. He chuckled non-humorously. “For what?” he growled. LeAnne looked to the glass window behind him, unable to look him in the eye. She tucked one side of her hair behind her ear, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Why hadn’t she the foresight to pull back her unruly hair before coming here? After her escapade with Chad, surely she must look like she just crawled out of bed. Glancing back at him, she said, “I was wrong.” His gaze bore into her, held her mesmerized. Snake had the kind of eyes that, when they held hers, she had no other option but to stare back. “You were wrong,” he mimicked sarcastically, the last word raising in pitch. Even she could see the irony of the statement. She could have been 90

KISS OF DECEIT responsible for ruining an innocent man’s life; she could have been the one who had sent him to the chair. I’m sorry would never cut it. The fact was Snake Gallego loved his wife and would have never been able to kill her. Snake Gallego would always belong to Jillian. A lump threatened to choke the life from LeAnne, leaving her as dead as Snake’s wife. She secretly desired something she could never have as Marcus desired the one thing he could never bring back. LeAnne stiffened her spine and pulled back her shoulders. She would face the grizzly head-on. After all, she had just been doing her job. “The county prosecutor will be dropping the charges. There will be no arraignment.” His face remained impassive. “So when do I get out of here?” “Probably tomorrow—I wish I could tell you now, but these things take time.” He cocked his head to the side. “It didn’t take much time to put me in here.” “I know,” she said barely above a whisper. She didn’t know why it should matter, but it did. “Will you forgive me?” “Debra Lewis—she’s the reason the prosecutor is dropping the charges.” “Yes.” “Then tell me why I should forgive you?” “Because,” her voice rose in pitch, “I was the one who went to bat for you.” A hint of a smile itched at his lips. He baited her. “You were also the one to arrest me.” “True enough, but I put the leg work into this. I wanted to see you found innocent as much as you did.” Snake leaned in, his face mere inches from her. LeAnne did not back from his foreboding presence, refusing to be cowed. He whispered, his tone husky, “Tell me why, Detective.” 91

KISS OF DECEIT It wasn’t an order. Had it been, she might have turned and stormed from the room. Instead, she moved not an inch. “I don’t know,” she replied. Simple enough—but the truth. “Sure, you do,” he said, his gaze fixing her to her chair more firmly than his hands ever would. Marcus sat so close his breath fanned the fine hairs on LeAnne’s cheeks. “And how would you know what I want?” “You want the forbidden fruit—you want what Eve wanted so many years ago. Careful, LeAnne,” her name rolled off his tongue like a finely-tuned harp, “or you might just get what you’re asking for.” LeAnne rose from her chair, sending it rocking precariously on all fours, much like she felt as she stood so close to the edge. “You’re full of it, Gallego.” He leaned back in his chair and raised one brow. “Am I…LeAnne?” She quickly motioned for the guards to take Gallego back to his cell, then fled the small room before Gallego could even get out of his chair. How could he possibly know what she desired? At the front desk, she retrieved her gun, stuffed it into the back waistband of her jeans and pulled her jacket over it. A quiet supper with Chad was the only thing she needed. Walking out of the correction center, she didn’t glance back. With any luck, she would never have to see Marcus Gallego again.

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CHAPTER 10 The sun shone brightly, no clouds to be seen, warming Snake’s face as he tilted it skyward. He could not remember a time when it had felt quite so good. The elevated temperature had to be near ninety with no existing breeze, humidity close to reaching an all-time high. Normally, Snake might be tempted to grumble about the heat as sweat dripped between his pecs and gathered in the ripples of his abdomen. But not today. He had spent only a few short days locked away in CCNO, which wasn’t long by any standards. Truth be told, he spent more time behind bars in the past than his brief stay here. This had been nothing more than a motorcycle trip through the hills of Kentucky. But, coupled with the niggling fear of never being free to ride his Softail again on the open roads, it had seemed an eternity. And all because of…what? LeAnne McVeigh slammed into his thoughts. He wanted to hate 93

KISS OF DECEIT her, wanted to forget her. But he knew he could not. Instead, he desired her with the force of an oncoming tornado. And just like the twister, there would be no stopping it. One day he would find out just how hot the frigid detective actually was. He would lay odds, beneath the stiff exterior she carried around like a badge, she would purr like a finely-tuned evolutionary V twin engine. Slinging his brown leather jacket over his shoulder, leaving no shirt on his back, Snake walked to the battered pickup and climbed into the passenger side of the cab, slapping the driver’s hand in midair, then grasping his fingers in the way of a handshake. “Shoot, man, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Looks like someone in there took an instant dislike to you.” Blade chuckled, noting Snake’s swollen jaw and split lip. Giving it no more thought, the way Snake preferred, he turned the key in the ignition. The old truck rattled and sputtered, then roared to life. He shifted the three on the tree into gear and took off down the road. Snake never glanced back. “If I ever see the inside of those walls again it will be too soon,” Snake grumbled, staring ahead through the cracked windshield. Blade left an unlit Camel dangling from his lips. “Keep hanging around the same sorry bunch of friends you keep, I doubt you won’t wind up back in there again someday.” He guffawed. Snake smiled. “You seem to keep your ugly mug out of jail, Blade. How the hell do you do it?” “Ain’t no one smart enough to catch me yet. You gotta stay one step ahead of them. Know what I mean?” he asked, his grin mischievous. Snake was not about to doubt the validity to his wisecrack. Blade withdrew a disposable lighter from his vest pocket, wearing no shirt himself, and lit the cigarette. The tip glowed red as he inhaled deeply, then blew twin streams of smoke from his nostrils. “Where to?” 94

KISS OF DECEIT “First things first. I need a shower and shave.” Blade smirked, threw the pickup into third gear, and rumbled off down the road. Moments later, the two pulled into the long driveway leading back to Snake’s house, just off of County Road 13, not more than a mile from the county line. A two-story, white house with a Victorian tower and black shutters sat about two football fields off the road. Two black Dobermans bounded toward the vehicle, barking and jumping at the truck like two kids on a trampoline. “Shoot, man, you better train them damn dogs of yours, before one of them gets run over,” Blade said, a disgruntled look on his face. Blade never really took much to animals, though he probably, unwillingly, kept several pets in the way of mice in the mess he called home. “I wouldn’t do that, Blade, because then I’d have to take you out back and shoot you.” Bringing the old truck to a reverberating halt, he chided, “You’re sure in one helluva hurry to return to those damn walls, then.” “Not in this lifetime.” Snake laughed as he slid from the seat of the cab. Both dogs ran around the side of the pickup and lapped at their master’s face. “Rebel been feeding you guys?” He knelt on one knee, lovingly scratching each head. “You think I’d let them starve?” a heavy-set man grumbled as he rounded the corner of the house, coming from the back yard. Seeing Rebel, his beefy arms out, his bulk not allowing them to lay flat against his sides, Snake was tempted to believe that the human race actually did evolve from apes. He gathered Snake in a bear hug and slapped him on the back a few times. Snake stepped from his embrace, patting the dogs on the head as they came to sit, one on each side of him. “Glad to see you’re out, man. Glad to see it,” Rebel continued. 95

KISS OF DECEIT “Hell, them sons of bitches would eat you out of house and home.” Rebel chuckled, then led the pack to the house. “And took care of that bike of yours. I parked it and covered it in the barn over there.” Snake raised a brow. “You didn’t scratch it?” Rebel chuckled again. “Hell, you and that damn bike. I swear it’s your only love. And by the looks of that face of yours, you didn’t make many friends in the joint, either.” Inside, Rebel grasped a beer from the refrigerator and tossed it to Snake. Snake popped the top and took a long pull, then wiped his perspiring brow with his forearm. “Shit, it’s hot.” “I can take you back—” Blade began before Snake cut him short. “Yeah, you can go to hell, too, Blade.” “Shoot, man! I’ve already been there. Ain’t any of them that can keep up with the likes of me.” He rubbed his fur-covered abdomen. “I don’t doubt that a bit,” Snake said, then took another pull from his can. He easily tossed the empty into the basket by the counter. “Shoot, man, as much as I’d like to stay an shoot the breeze, my ol’ lady’s expecting me.” “Ain’t no one asked you to stay,” Rebel chided. “You better get in that old battered truck of yours and hightail it out of here, before that bitch sends a posse after your ass.” “Screw you,” Blade sneered at the heavier man; then a smile grew on his burly face. “That woman’s got you wrapped tighter than a ball of string. Ain’t no woman can tie down the old Rebel.” He tapped the center of his soft chest. “Ain’t a woman alive who’d want to.” Blade slapped Snake on the shoulder. “Gotta go.” “Thanks for the ride.” “You need anything—you call,” Blade said as he walked out the back door. The wood of the screen slapped against the door’s frame. 96

KISS OF DECEIT “I gotta get on out of here, too, but I’m damn glad to see you’re out,” Rebel said, then turned and headed for the door. “Ain’t no way you killed your ol’ lady, and it’s about time the law wised up.” “Thanks again, Rebel.” “Anytime,” he waved his hand as he walked out the back door. “Anytime.” When the screen door slammed in finality, Snake jumped. Aside from the rumble of Blade’s old truck and Rebel’s Harley as he pushed the electric start, then drove off down the stone driveway, the house was completely silent. He felt sorely alone, much like within the walls of CCNO. Sure, he had his buddies; and he had Comet and Ajax, too, who, master quickly forgotten, lay curled beneath the large oak outside the back door, but he had little else. Damn, but he wasn’t even sure he would have a job to go to come Monday morning. The one thing Snake knew, by now, Kip would be aware of the fact that he had been let out of the correctional center; that he was once again a free man. News travels fast in a small town. He doubted, though, when he walked into the shop a few short moments away, he would be a welcomed sight. Snake had little choice; Kip would not likely forgive him. But nevertheless, Snake needed to say the words anyway. He had never been more sorry about anything in his life. Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed for the shower. * * * Snake stepped off his Softail, the black paint with its red-and-gold pinstripe shining in the bright sun. The black-and-white bandanna he wore around his head kept the hair from flying into his face and the sweat from dripping on his brow. He took the silver sunglasses from his face and tucked one bow into the waistband of his leather pants. His chest, covered with nothing more than a black quilted vest, sported a gleaming silver cross suspended by a black nylon cord. His courage nearly escaped him as he stepped up to the front doors 97

KISS OF DECEIT of the shop, a neon green sign stating the fact that Napoleon HarleyDavidson closed their business on Sundays. Inhaling a deep breath, he swung open the silver and glass door and stepped into the showroom. Three Harley-Davidsons sat for display in the center of the room. To the left of the displays were seats, handlebars, and ’shields, where to the right sat an assortment of Harley wear from T-shirts to bathing suits and leather jackets. Snake walked up to the brown-and-tan counter, a guardrail wrapping the front, the heels of his boots muffled by the gray carpeting. Lindsey, a short, petite blonde, walked from the parts room to the showroom. Her eyes rounded when she saw him, her gaze taking in the wounds of his face, though she didn’t comment on them. A smile cocked on Snake’s lips. “Glad to see you, too.” He laughed. Her face reddened about the shade of a rear taillight when lit. “Of course, I’m glad to see you, but…” “Kip,” he voiced for her. “Is he here?” She pointed through the opened entrance to the back of the shop. “In the service area.” “Alone?” “Everyone else went to lunch.” She tugged on her earlobe. Snake knew, whenever Lindsey Buckner got a case of the nerves, she tugged on her ear. No doubt, the whole place knew by now he had slept with Debra Lewis. After all, with only nine people in employment, how slow did he expect news to travel? “Thanks,” he said, then walked around the counter and to the back room. He wasn’t about to cause poor Lindsey any more discomfort than he already had. Snake walked through the parts area and into the service room, where he spotted Kip kneeling before a bike, adjusting the push rods. Snake stopped when he got to the end of the long green workbench and waited for Kip to look up. Obviously not needing a visual to know who was standing in his 98

KISS OF DECEIT space, Kip said, “I wasn’t expecting you. You got some balls, I’ll give you that much.” “You knew they were letting me out.” It was a statement, not a question. “So I was informed.” “And you didn’t think this would be the first place I’d come?” Kip shrugged, continuing his work as if Snake hadn’t even taken the initiative to show up. Normally Kip never fixed the bikes himself, that was the reason he hired help. But whenever something bothered him, Kip had a tendency to pour himself into his work. “I was hoping you’d have had better sense.” “You saying I don’t have a job?” Kip slammed his wrench on the counter as he stood and glared at Snake. He gaze softened minutely, if at all, when he glanced at Bull’s handiwork, then quickly iced over. Snake thought hatred would brim the depths of his brown eyes; instead, fury radiated slowly within them, along with what only could be thought of as a tinge of pain. An ache centered in Snake’s abdomen, gripping his gut like a vise. “I’m saying, I think you need some time off.” Kip’s clipped tone turned the cam, tightening the hold on Snake’s gut. “I’m sorry,” Snake finally said. Kip chuckled non-humorously. “You think that will fix things, Snake? You think you can walk in here, tell me how sorry you are, and I’ll forgive you? Think again, my friend.” “So what? It’s over? Just like that?” Kip went back to work on the motorcycle. “You were like my brother.” Snake paced the area in front of Kip. He wished he could rant and rave, tell Kip he deserved more because of the time put into their friendship. But in truth, Snake knew he deserved no more than he got. He deserved Kip’s wrath. “It will never happen again,” Snake finally said, stopping in front of 99

KISS OF DECEIT the motorcycle. Christ, like that would ever fix things. “It should have never happened to begin with.” “True enough.” He knew he shouldn’t ask, but somehow he had to know. “And Debra—how is she?” Kip looked at Snake, malice bubbled within his eyes like a pot near to boiling over. “You want another shot at her, Gallego? She’s in the front office.” “Christ, Kip. How the hell could you think—” He stood abruptly and pointed at Snake with the tip of the wrench. “I never would have thought in the first place. But you went behind my back and screwed my old lady anyway. What the hell do you want me to say, Snake? I forgive you? I understand? Because I sure in the hell don’t. You think for one minute I would have ever screwed Jillian?” The knife cut clean through his heart, nearly causing Snake to double over. Luckily, he had an empty stomach or the urge to wretch might have overpowered him, sending him to his knees. Instead, he stood tall, shoulders back. “No,” Snake said. “I trusted you.” “And I you, my friend. Now, get the hell out of my shop, before I change my mind and fire you anyhow.” “When do you want me to come back to work?” “I don’t know.” Kip returned to his business, dismissing him so easily. “I’ll call you.” Snake stood stationary as seconds, seeming like hours, ticked by, staring down at the top of his best friend’s salt-and-peppered head. A small shuffle drew his attention down the hall, leading to the offices. Debra’s eyes locked on Snake’s the briefest of seconds, then she fled back the way she came. His gaze returned to Kip, who continued his work as if he had not known his wife had just made an appearance. But Kip had known; Snake could tell by the stiffening of Kip’s shoulders. Without another word, Snake went back into the showroom. Lindsey Buckner sat on a stool behind the counter, blowing bubbles 100

KISS OF DECEIT with her gum. “See ya, Snake,” she said between snaps of the pink goo. “Yeah.” Snake chuckled, the weight of his sins heavier now than when he had first walked into the shop. “See you around,” he said and stepped through the double doors into the blinding sun.

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CHAPTER 11 Smoke filled the bar, gathering beneath the low-hanging stainedglass lights and curling around the patrons like a phantom in a horror movie. Liquor poured and flowed freely. Here, sins compiled and no one had to atone for anything. This was the place for the weak. This was his hunting ground. He tipped the glass of soda to his lips and swallowed the clear liquid, feeling the carbonation bubbling against his esophagus. Never one to indulge much in smoke and drink, he carefully watched all who gathered. Somewhere in the bar, someone didn’t belong, leaving their husband and possible children to fend for themselves. A wife’s place was at home, beside her spouse, seeing to his every wish, his every command. Being a mother to her babies. Love, honor, and obey. He felt it his job to seek out a woman and make her pay for her infidelities. And tonight, he would find one such person. 102

KISS OF DECEIT Boredom necessitates excitement. At the end of the polished bar, a shrill giggle caught his attention. Long, blond, curler-made ringlets bobbed on her head as she smiled at a man who had a date with a bottle of steroids. Muscles bulged to unnatural proportions from beneath his tank and too-short cutoffs. His thighs flexed; his pecs jumped at command as he seemed to put himself on display for the blonde. The girl squealed like a stuck pig and clapped her hands together. Her big, sloppy breasts jiggled in a tootight tee that ended just below them. The cheeks of her derriere sloped beneath her jean shorts, giving all the men a good view of what lay beneath. Cellulite gently dotted her thighs. Slut. Had she a wedding ring on her tapered fingers, he would be all too glad to show her what adulterated devotion would get her. His fingers tightened around the glass as he quickly took another swallow and forced his gaze away. After all, he had to focus his mind on the task. Single women held no appeal to him—though they could bring dishonor to the female gender as easily as the sleaze at the end of the bar. They didn’t need him, they needed a stern husband to show them their station in life. His job came when the grooms failed to rein in their willful brides. Another female patron caught his notice, sipping gin and tonic through a slender pink straw. She caught his stare and smiled, her rubypainted lips having a natural pout to them. She flipped one side of her brunette, softly-flowing hair over her shoulder, a large carat diamond wedding band glistening in the low lighting. Anticipation slithered up his spine. He tossed a few bills on the bar, picked up his glass, and walked to the table. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, noting the three empty chairs. She smiled, her eyes flirtatious. She was the one; she had to die. 103

KISS OF DECEIT The hollow of his gut told him as much, like the looming feeling of death, what a hawk surely must feel as it descends upon his prey. With a long, red, manicured nail, she pointed to the slut at the bar. “I’m with my girlfriend, but she seems a little preoccupied with Conan up there.” “I take it you don’t find his type appealing,” he said with a smile meant to charm her. She took the bait—hook, line, and sinker. Now all he need do is reel her in; careful, not too fast, lest the drag on the line snaps it and he loses his catch altogether. “No,” she grinned. “I like men who are more…natural.” He noted a shyness in the way she glanced at the table whenever he caught her eye. She absentmindedly toyed with the hair resting over her shoulder. He chuckled. Charm, he reminded himself. “Do you mind if I sit?” He took the shake of her head as a no. “Can I buy you a drink?” “Sure,” she said, holding up her glass of ice. “Gin and tonic.” Only a matter of time. A few dates, a few bucks, a few fucks. His hand tightened reflexively around his glass. His smile grew as he waved the barmaid and ordered two fresh drinks. “You come here often?” he asked. “Not really. I’m from Liberty Center, actually—south of here. You know where that is?” The fever grew within. “I certainly do. What’s your name?” “Samantha Duncan.” “As in Duncan Paving?” “You know of them?” “I’ve heard of them.” Her smile faltered. “Are you from around Liberty Center, then?” “The general area, but I know of your husband.” “Oh,” she said, the titter in her voice betraying her nervousness. 104

KISS OF DECEIT His smile grew as he winked at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.” Her shoulders relaxed; her gaze softened. “So what’s your name?” “Shawn.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “Shawn Michaels, and I’m damn glad to meet you.” * * * A few days passed since LeAnne had last laid eyes on Marcus Gallego, but he still invaded her thoughts with the force of a runaway train. She desired him, that much was evident, and there was little she could do about it. At least now she would never have to lay eyes on him again, and like everything else, the infatuation would fade with the memory. LeAnne’s gaze fell on Chad, who worked the area like the politician he was. They were definitely on his playground. But no matter how hard LeAnne tried, she could never quite imagine herself getting use to this sort of social event. Anyone who was anybody in Henry County had turned out for the engagement party of Judge Hargrove’s son. Chad wore a pair of khaki dress shorts and a cream-colored polo top. His shirt clung to his well-toned body. LeAnne should consider herself lucky. She never missed the way single women eyed him. Standing from the folding table and chair set, she straightened her short, rayon skirt and walked to Judge Hargrove and Chad. “A private conversation?” she asked. Chad smiled warmly, his love for her apparent in his gray eyes. He placed an arm about her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Of course not, babe. The Judge and I were discussing the possibility of his son, Tony, coming to work for me when he passes the bar.” “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” LeAnne said, leaning into him. “That would certainly give us more time together.” “Jealous of my job?” Chad chuckled. “I guess that’s better than being jealous of another woman.” 105

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne cocked a brow. Jealousy had never been a part of her makeup. Besides, Chad Baker’s cheating on her was as likely as his breaking the law. He towed the line of justice. “Should I be?” He grinned, then kissed her forehead. “One more month, and I’ll show you just how devoted I am to you.” “Well, hell,” the judge interrupted. “I’ll let the two of you alone to discuss this matter. I see the guests of honor have arrived. If you’ll excuse me.” The robust judge waddled off like a penguin in his black jacket to greet Tony Hargrove and his fiancée, Julie. She appeared younger than her twenty-one years, her eyes green and her hair a soft auburn. She clung to Tony’s hand. Tony flashed a dazzling smile at his approaching father, who greeted each with a warm hug. The judge spoke a few words to them, then turned to his gathered guests. Handed a glass of champagne by his elderly secretary, he raised it skyward and said, “To the only son I ever had, who means the world to me, and to his future bride.” Cheers went up, applause filled the air, and champagne was passed. The smell of grilled steaks tempted the hungry. Judge Hargrove certainly knew how to throw a party. Moments later, Chad and LeAnne sat at a table across from the mayor and his wife, eating rib-eye steaks, herb and buttered potatoes, and little ears of corn. The shrimp appetizer long forgotten, LeAnne picked at the sauteed onions and mushrooms, not really paying attention to the conversation, her mind on the unsolved cases. She could not help but think of Jillian Gallego’s lifeless form, as her house sat about a half-mile west of the Hargrove’s. Though three months had passed, LeAnne could still see the picture of the beautiful woman fresh in her memory, just as Miranda Holliday still was. Neither of these women deserved their fate, though someone out there would beg to differ. The more she studied the cases, the more positive she was 106

KISS OF DECEIT that the same person committed both crimes. “Isn’t that right, babe?” Chad asked, interrupting her musings. She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Chad. What were you saying?” He gave a disgruntled sigh and turned to the others. “Forgive my fiancée. Her mind has a tendency to wander—especially of late.” “I can speak for myself, Chad,” LeAnne said, not liking his jealoussounding tone. He glared at her, albeit briefly, then turned his smile back on the mayor. “Steve was just commenting on the case you’re working on. He wanted to know how things were coming.” “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I was just thinking of the very thing. Being so close to the first crime scene has me rehashing the facts.” He folded his hands atop the table and gave her his full attention. “And what facts do you have? The media isn’t telling us much.” LeAnne glanced at Sheriff Joe Drake, who had just arrived with a beautiful blonde on his arm, one she had not seen before. She wasn’t sure how much of the case the sheriff wanted to divulge, so LeAnne decided to keep her answers vague. “We have two women murdered, MO pretty much the same. They were strangled in their beds, wrists tied to the posts. No sign of struggle in either case. We’re still working on a list of suspects.” “From what I’m hearing,” Steve said, leaning closer to LeAnne from across the table, his tone hushed, “that it might be someone within the department.” “I’m not ready or willing to comment on that as yet,” LeAnne said, surprised how fast word got around. Steve chuckled, rested back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Come, now, Detective, we all know Wymer has been suspended, without pay. From what I hear, his wife is spitting mad and threatening to divorce him.” 107

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne wished the men would go back to ignoring her. She faired much better. “Deputy Wymer was officially suspended, pending an ongoing investigation. Which investigation, I’m not at liberty to say.” Chad chuckled, placing a long arm across the back of her chair. “That’s my LeAnne. She won’t divulge any more than she’s told to. Don’t bother trying; she’ll budge as easily as a two-ton stone.” Steve’s substantial brow rose heavenward. “A woman to be admired. She has her standards, and follows them to the letter. You’re a lucky man, Chad.” His smile wide, Chad kissed her cheek. “Don’t I know it,” he said. “You are coming to the wedding?” “Wouldn’t miss it,” Steve said, glancing at his wife, who until this minute seemed to have ignored them altogether. “Would we, dear?” “Of course not.” She looked with her mousy brown eyes at LeAnne. Even during the car ride, since they rode with the mayor and his wife, Tamara had said little. LeAnne returned her smile. “I’m glad to hear it, but if you’ll excuse me,” she said, wanting to politely bow out of the group, “I’d like to congratulate the lucky couple.” “Of course, babe,” Chad said, patting her rear as she rose. “Don’t be gone so long you forget about me.” LeAnne laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, then walked off. She approached Tony, who stood beside the large cake, downing yet another glass of champagne. His warm brown gaze took her in as she approached; starting at her ankles, traveling up her legs, to finally meet her eyes. “Detective McVeigh,” he said, his voice husky from the effects of the alcohol. “To what do I owe the honor?” LeAnne grinned. “I do believe this is your party. Where’s your fiancée?” His gaze heavy-lidded, he indicated the back door of the mammoth house with his empty long-stemmed glass. “Why? What do you have in 108

KISS OF DECEIT mind?” “I think you’ve had one too many glasses of champagne.” “Maybe,” he agreed, his eyes glassy and his full lips still wet from the alcohol. “I don’t normally drink.” “So, why start today?” He grinned, the amusement glittering in his gaze. “It’s my party. Remember?” LeAnne laughed, then looked back at Chad, who seemed more interested in his conversation than hers. She returned her attention to Tony, leaning on the corner of the brick house, one foot propped on the wall. “I’m the one who pointed that out to you.” “So you did. What is it you want, Detective?” “Please, call me LeAnne. If you’re going to be working for Chad, I think it’s only appropriate.” “All right, LeAnne.” He leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Are you here to see you’re the first to kiss the happy groom?” “You’re not married yet,” she pointed out, suddenly rethinking her decision to approach Tony on her own. The screen door of the house slammed, drawing their focus. Julie walked down the stone sidewalk toward them. “All refreshed?” he asked, holding out his arm. She tucked neatly under his arm and cuddled up beside him. Her gaze fell on LeAnne. “LeAnne McVeigh, right?” LeAnne smiled. “I suppose my reputation precedes me.” Julie smiled, then glanced at Tony. “Actually, I’ve been jealous of you for years. Seems Tony has had a crush on you for a long time; I could never get his attention.” Heat rose in LeAnne’s face. She hoped the elevated temperatures didn’t allow her blush to be seen. “I didn’t know.” “It took me years, but I finally got him,” she said, then kissed his cheek. 109

KISS OF DECEIT Tony wrapped both arms around her. “Looks like you have me now.” LeAnne smiled. “Congratulations to both of you. Maybe when Tony passes the bar, Chad and I will have you two over for supper. We can discuss Tony’s coming to work for him.” Julie returned the smile. “We’d like that.” A rumble in the distance interrupted the hushed murmurs of voices, making the hairs on LeAnne’s arms raise. Without the benefit of sight, she knew who it would be. A black Harley made its way around the bend in the road, Snake Gallego sitting tall on its back. When it turned into the drive, a sense of doom washed over her like the waves of an impending storm. Snake parked the bike. One leg swung over the impressive piece of machinery. Wearing nothing more than a thin white tank and a pair of cutoff Levi’s, he headed in her direction. LeAnne glanced quickly at Chad, who had stopped his conversation to stare at the man approaching. LeAnne turned back to Snake. He took the silver glasses from his face. “I thought I might find you here. I know this isn’t a good time, but I was hoping I could speak to you for a second.” LeAnne grasped his biceps, her hand wrapping around the viper on his arm, and led him away from the guests of honor, her gaze continuously drifting over her shoulder at Chad. He remained seated, but his glare fixated on them. “You’re right, Snake,” LeAnne whispered. She dropped her hand from his arm, fearing the tattoo or the man sporting it just might bite. “This is not the right time. What is it that couldn’t possibly wait?” “There’s something I’d like you to see.” LeAnne looked past Snake to Chad, who seemed ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. Snake nodded in Chad’s direction. “A boyfriend?” He nearly sneered. 110

KISS OF DECEIT “Worse,” she grinned, though her amusement had abandoned her upon Snake’s arrival. “My fiancé.” He furrowed his brow. “Who is he?” “Chad Baker.” “As in Prosecutor Baker?” “Yes.” Snake chuckled, his eyes full of disbelief. “You’re engaged to the guy who was ready to send me away?” “You never asked.” He grasped her hand. “Where’s the ring?” “We decided on just exchanging wedding bands.” LeAnne pulled her hand from his grasp as Chad headed in their direction. “Besides, I don’t think it’s any of your business who I am engaged to.” “It is, if it involves me. Were you going to just let him send me up for something I didn’t do?” “You’ll recall, I was the one who tried to prove your innocence.” “Only after you put me away.” “Do you hate me for doing my job?” “If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here.” “Marcus Gallego,” Chad said as he reached them. “What brings you here to interrupt my fiancée’s day of leisure?” He placed a possessive arm over her shoulder. Marcus grinned. “That’s between the detective and me.” “Babe?” Chad asked. LeAnne knew that all Chad needed to cause a scene was her approval. She laid a hand in the center of his polo shirt. “Give me a second, Chad. Marcus has something he wants to discuss with me concerning the case.” “Maybe I should hear it.” “Afraid not, Counselor. Not until I’m ready to present it to you.” Chad’s jaw tensed. “Then make it brief,” he clipped short his words, and walked away. 111

KISS OF DECEIT “I guess that answers my question,” Snake said, eyeing her carefully. LeAnne shifted her stance. “Which question is that?” “Like I said, there is something I want you to see.” His tone went from cocksure to distress. “I want to take you someplace. Will you come?” “Why me?” “Because you’re the only one who might care.” “Contrary to what you might believe, the sheriff’s office is not out to get you, Snake. Why me?” “I have reason to believe whoever did this to my wife might have visited Jillian’s grave.” Her breath caught in her throat; her heart skipped a beat. She knew killers often visited the graves of their victims. This could be a major break in the case. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” “You’ll go?” “Let me break the news to Chad and I’ll follow you out to her grave.” She stopped suddenly and turned back. “Oh, shoot—we came with another couple, the mayor and his wife.” “No problem, you can ride with me.” He held his hand out in front of him, a grin splitting the growth of whiskers on his face. “I’ll bring you right back. No funny stuff, I promise.” This would not sit well with Chad, but LeAnne couldn’t help but take the risk. After all, what if this was the piece of the puzzle she was looking for? And certainly, she didn’t want to take the chance of any evidence being tampered with before she got out there. Once she determined she did indeed need to collect evidence, she would have Snake take her to the sheriff’s office to retrieve her detective’s car. What damage could possibly be done? “Give me a minute,” she said, her gaze darting to Chad. She headed for her fiancé. Chad was going to be more than furious. But just this once, he would have to understand. After all, what trouble 112

KISS OF DECEIT could she get into on the back of Snake Gallego’s Harley?

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CHAPTER 12 The hot July sun beat down on the top of Marcus and LeAnne’s heads, as the sleek, black Softail sped down State Route 424. The bike handled the curves in the road like a schooner cutting easily through the waters of Lake Erie. The muscles in Snake’s shoulders flexed as he leaned into each turn of the asphalt. His white tank whipped in the wind, reminding LeAnne of her own state of dress as she cautiously tucked her short rayon skirt beneath her thighs. Snake glanced back briefly when her hand left his side, then returned his gaze to the road. Neither spoke a word since leaving the engagement. Placing her hands again at his sides and resting her back against the sissy bar, LeAnne kept a proper distance from Marcus Gallego. She certainly did not want to give him false impressions. She went with him simply because someone had tampered with Jillian Gallego’s grave. LeAnne had left her fiancé, furious and disgruntled, back at the 114

KISS OF DECEIT Hargrove’s with the promise to return as quickly as possible, though it did little to assuage Chad’s wounded pride. He was liable to pout for a good many days over this escapade. But to LeAnne, her job came first. Wind blowing through her hair, she tilted with Snake into every curve. She could easily get used to this, she thought with a grin. No wonder bikers rallied against wearing helmets when the state legislature threatened to pass a law forcing the use of them. It was impossible to match the freedom of the open road with the wind in your hair and not a care in the world. Traveling down some state highway with no real destination in mind and no commitments certainly had its appeal. Everyone, at some time in their life, craved to pack up and walk away from their responsibilities; people like Snake did it on a daily basis. LeAnne found herself envying his lifestyle. Hers had always been full of complications, if not trials and tribulations. Snake downshifted gears as they neared the entrance to Riverview Memory Gardens and pulled into the drive. The gravel crunched beneath the weight of the tires as they drove up the slight incline and around the back of the mausoleum where he stopped the bike, using the muscles in his thighs to hold the heavy machinery beneath them. The rumble of the engine cut short as Snake turned the key. LeAnne lifted her leg and stepped from the bike, trying her best to hold down her skirt. Not exactly appropriate attire for riding motorcycles. She tried to wait patiently for Snake as he kicked the stand into place and stepped from the motorcycle. Anxiety plucked at the taut strings of her nerves. LeAnne could hardly stand still as she waited for Marcus to lead her to Jillian’s grave. Snake looked at her for the first time since their arrival. His gaze appeared haunted and distant, the hollows of his cheeks more prominent. Marcus Gallego seemed much older than he had only moments ago at the party. 115

KISS OF DECEIT Although she barely knew this man, LeAnne had never seen him quite so solemn, even while in CCNO. His dark brown eyes appeared a fathomless black, his jaw taut from the pressure of his clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body seemed carved of stone, reluctant to move. LeAnne fought the urge to pull him into her arms and soothe away the pain. But certainly, he would not welcome her comforting. This was something he had to deal with on his own, just as she had when her mother slowly passed away from the cancer that ate at her spirit and vibrance. LeAnne missed her mother terribly—but her father, she never would. She shook off the last thought, knowing now was not the time to dwell on it, then touched the back of his hand. He narrowed his gaze, and for a moment LeAnne thought he might jerk away from the contact. Instead, he turned his hand and grasped her fingers, intertwining them with his. His gaze softened minutely. Without a word, Marcus made a path across the freshly-cut grass, heading between the copper markers of other graves, other past lives. Faded silk lilies and daffodils, weathered ribbons and bows sorely in need of changing, sat about in copper vases attached to the markers of resting places, people forgotten in time. LeAnne followed closely behind Marcus, holding onto his grasp as she was mindful of where she stepped. Her eyes scanned the grounds, always looking, always seeking. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, nothing seemed amiss. Her attention on the path they traveled and not where they headed, she collided with Marcus’ solid form. His grasp tightened on hers. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, before her gaze landed on the marker at his feet. The hairs rose on her nape. A sense of evil whispered across the winds and hung in the air like mist falling from the clouds of an impending storm. The words, “Straight to HELL,” were scrawled in red spray paint across the bronze plate, the raised name of Jillian Gallego on the plaque 116

KISS OF DECEIT now barely legible. Red roses sprayed black, stuck in a pool of liquid, filled the center vase. “My God,” LeAnne whispered. Marcus let go of her hand, but not before she felt the slight tremble of his fingers. He hunkered down in front of the marker. His hand reached out to the red paint when LeAnne realized his intention. She gently grasped his outstretched forearm. “I’m sorry, Marcus, I can’t let you touch it. This is evidence.” Snake sat heavily on the ground and he drew his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. His gaze never strayed, fixed on the words marring the bronze surface. Straight to HELL. LeAnne sat back on her heels beside him. “When did you first find this?” “This morning,” he said, his tone husky. “When was the last time you were here?” “Yesterday,” he said, finally glancing at her. Though his eyes were dry, they brimmed with emotion. Pain, loss—fear. “Why?” “It could be important.” She kept her tone light, coaxing. The last thing she wanted was Marcus clamming up on her. “So it wasn’t this way yesterday?” His brows formed a crease over the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you think I would have told you if it was?” “I suppose so.” She laid a hand on his knee. “I’m trying to establish a time that Jillian’s murderer had been here, if indeed he is the one who did this.” “You actually think someone else might have done this? What would be their reasoning?” “I don’t know—but it is a possibility.” She paused. When he did not add to her thoughts, she continued, “Let’s just say for now it was him. Then it’s highly unlikely that he did this handiwork during the day, and if you hadn’t been here for a couple of weeks—we would have been 117

KISS OF DECEIT talking any number of nights. As it is, we know he came by sometime after dark last night.” Snake chuckled somberly. “Did you have to go to school to learn that?” LeAnne glared at him, then stood. “You really are a son of a bitch, Gallego.” Not waiting, or caring, what his reaction might be, she stormed off, no, stomped off, in search of a pay phone. She would have one of the deputies bring her the detective’s car, collect her evidence and be done with Marcus Gallego. And good riddance. She’d had about all she could take from him in one lifetime. LeAnne reached the spot where they had left his motorcycle and headed down the drive toward the caretaker’s house. Hearing the crunch of gravel behind her, she looked back about the time Marcus grasped her wrist and spun her around, yanking her against his unyielding form. Her chest slammed into his, and if it wasn’t from the sudden impact, it was from the intensity in his eyes that her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly, without warning, Snake grasped her by the neck and brought his lips down to hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not like the ones she had read in a sweet romance. This was full of lightning and electricity. Her joints numbed and her insides turned to lava. Never in her life had she been kissed with so much emotion. Desperation, frenzy, and, yes, hunger. She heard the growl from his throat as her lips yielded to his. Her body melted against him, her hands slipped around his neck. His tongue slid between her lips. Had he not had a hold on her, surely she would have fallen to a pool at his feet. Suddenly, she wondered if she wasn’t in more danger from the enigma that had wrapped her so thoroughly in his cocoon, or the evil that had played out in the graveyard the night before. Marcus let go of her wrist only to rest his hand upon the small of 118

KISS OF DECEIT her back and anchor her lower abdomen against his groin. His erection lay between them, a reminder of his intentions, as his kiss turned more carnal. Something about being in this man’s arms made the act the most natural in the world—like they were meant to be. And at the moment, a convent full of nuns would not be able to tell her otherwise. * * * He had been wrong. There lay passion beneath the stiff exterior of LeAnne McVeigh, but words could not describe the fire and magnetism between them. He had followed her, angry at her parting words. Damn her for not understanding, damn her for not caring. His wife lay dead a mere fifty feet away, and here the sweet detective was, making him forget. But he was a man of passion, a man with needs. Debra Lewis had been his only affair before or after Jillian met her fate, and he had regretted that—every last minute. Now, here he was again, desiring a woman who belonged to another. And he had no doubt that if he bedded LeAnne McVeigh, the good Prosecutor Baker would make him regret ever laying a hand on her. His life would probably become a living hell. But what else in the last three months had he to live for? Screw ethics. He moved his hand down her back and cupped the soft cheek of her derriere. A perfect fit. He felt the sudden apprehension in her kiss, but he used his skilled tongue to coax her, soothe any misgivings she might have. He left her mouth, his lips making a trek to her ear. Her breath came in short pants; her head tilted to the side. A soft moan escaped her lips. “We shouldn’t…” she whispered. “The caretaker…” “Can watch,” he said huskily before dipping his tongue into her ear. She trembled beneath his touch. “We can’t,” she said, though her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his head, telling Snake a 119

KISS OF DECEIT different story. “We can.” He nipped at her earlobe and the small silver hoop hanging there. “Chad.” “Screw him.” Her body tensed, causing him to sense her withdrawal. Removing his hand from her backside, he slipped it beneath the short skirt and silk panties, cupping her bare flesh. Her intake was sharp but she did not move from his embrace as her eyes met his. His fingers kneaded the soft skin. “Don’t,” she whispered. He knew when to back off and he was not far from it. Yet he could not resist the urge to push the boundaries. “You want me as much as I do you.” He glared at her. “Deny it.” She pushed at his chest. “You’re so full of yourself, Gallego.” He tightened his hold on the small of her back and held her firmly against his pulsing erection. “Deny it,” he ordered. When she did not, he moved his hand lower and dipped into the cleft of her thighs, feeling how close to the truth he was. Her eyes widened and her pulse beat heavily at the base of her throat. Snake grinned, then pulled his hand from her. “Deny it. You’re so wet—” “Damn you, Snake,” she spat, pushing herself from his embrace and stepping back a few steps. With her kiss-reddened lips and mussed hair, she looked like she had just stepped from the sack. Too bad it wasn’t his. The nearly painful ache in his groin told him just how much he regretted the sudden separation. There would be no soothing his ache today—maybe never. She smoothed back the hair slipping from her braid. “You’re such an egotist. You wouldn’t know how to seduce a woman if you tried.” “I don’t think I was doing such a bad job a minute ago.” 120

KISS OF DECEIT “Shows how little you know.” His ire peaked. He raised one brow. “Care for me to prove that fact to you again?” “Go to hell.” “I’m already there, sweetheart.” When she turned to stomp off in the other direction, he asked, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” “I need someone to bring my car.” “I can give you a ride back.” At the incredulous look she gave him, he held his hands up in front of him. “No funny stuff.” She looked at him like he had grown two heads, then laughed. “You already broke that promise.” * * * He grinned sinfully. “I don’t think what just occurred would fall under the category of funny business. I don’t know about you, but the thought of screwing you heats my blood, not tickles my funny bone.” “Do you have to be so crude? Screwing?” Her gaze widened. “Is that what you’d call it?” “What would you call it, LeAnne?” He advanced on her until they were mere inches apart. His hot breath spanned her cheeks. She would be lying, if she said she did not desire this man. The juncture of her thighs still throbbed from his touch. “Making love?” he whispered. “It’s a more civilized way of putting it,” she said, shifting her stance. “There’s nothing civilized about what I’d like to do with you. Besides, making love means there is love involved. Am I right?” She might have laughed had he not been so serious. Instead, she remained silent. “You planning on falling in love with me, Detective?” “No,” she stated, hoping she was never that unwise. 121

KISS OF DECEIT “Then it’s ‘screwing.’” He walked away from her, not giving her a second look. He stepped over his bike, sat on the seat, and turned the key, pushing the electric start. The bike rumbled to life before he glanced back at her. He indicated she take her seat. There was no way she was ever getting back on that bike with him. The next time the opportunity arose, she wasn’t so sure “resist” would be a part of her vocabulary. She pointed to the caretaker’s house. “No, thanks, I’ll use his phone,” she shouted over the motor. Snake shrugged, then turned the bike in the opposite direction. He turned back to look at her. “See you around.” “Yeah,” she said, then watched as he drove out of sight. Reaching under her skirt, she readjusted her panties, something she was not about to do in front of him, then headed toward the house. Pouring herself into her work, the only thing that would make her forget the last fifteen minutes of her life. Fifteen minutes that should have never happened. Christ! What had she been thinking? Besides, she had a murderer to catch, and could not afford to allow her libido to get in the way. LeAnne had a feeling Snake Gallego was something she better just steer clear from; someone she had best avoid. One taste of him and she feared she might be a junkie for life.

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CHAPTER 13 LeAnne walked up the slight incline to the caretaker’s home, still miffed at the idea of allowing Gallego such liberties. Her rear was likely to be branded with the invisible print of his hand for days. She shook her head in disbelief. With the turn her life had taken as of late, Chad would likely sniff out Snake’s scent the moment she walked through the door, never mind any explanations she might have. And then, there would be hell to pay. He would rant and rave for days, if not call off the wedding entirely. Could she possibly blame him, though? He’d have every right not to want her as his wife. Damn, once again she acted the fool. Chad was the one positive thing in her life, and she seemed to do everything in her power to throw it away. Her heart sank at the thought of betraying him. What had he ever done to deserve her and her traitorous soul? Walking up the cement driveway, LeAnne noticed the back door to 123

KISS OF DECEIT the caretaker’s house set slightly ajar. “Hello,” she called out. “Is anyone home?” No answer came. She stepped closer to the opening, peering cautiously into the interior of the house. The dark room emitted not much in the way of natural light, due to the closed blinds. LeAnne reached around the corner for a switch, and flicked it on. Nothing happened. “Hello?” she called out again. Still nothing. Scanning the interior, everything appeared normal and in its place, though a slight odor caught her attention and sent off warning bells in her head. LeAnne reached into her shoulder bag and withdrew her gun, releasing the safety. She stepped cautiously to the side of the door; gun up. With the toe of her canvas shoe, she nudged the door further open. “Is anyone home?” Finally, after moments of silence and no acknowledgment to her presence, she stepped into the doorway, her gun pointed directly in front of her. Her gaze did a quick sweep before she entered the premises. Behind the door, she spotted a prone male body lying face down on the floor and a broken lamp near his head. LeAnne cautiously stepped forward, her gun still pointed outward, then hunkered down to check the neck for a pulse. The body, a white male in his late fifties to early sixties, lay stiff and cold. Dammit, LeAnne thought as she did another quick survey of the room. What the hell was going on here? Dropping her gun arm, she knelt beside the body and lifted the head. An extension cord had been wrapped so tightly around the neck that it nearly disappeared in the folds of his flesh. The surrounding skin had turned purple from broken blood vessels. LeAnne’s gaze flitted to the broken table lamp laying on its side. The cord lay askew; no near outlets in sight. Just as she thought, a weapon of opportunity and not premeditation. This poor sap had been 124

KISS OF DECEIT at the wrong place at the wrong time. God rest his soul. She placed her fingers on the opened lids and closed the blood-red eyes just as a crash sounded from somewhere in the house. Her heart pumped furiously in her chest. She jumped to her feet and backed against the wall next to the door leading into the rest of the house. She took a deep breath. Pointing the gun in front of her, she entered the other room and scanned the perimeter. Silence greeted her. LeAnne stepped carefully through the kitchen, mindful not to make a noise, but it was hard to hear anything beyond her own short pants for breath and the sound of her blood pounding in her ears. As she willed herself to remain calm, a spatting sound of liquid hitting a solid surface could be heard over the ticktock of the clock hanging on the kitchen wall behind her. Splat!—Splat! A maddening rhythm like a Chinese water torture. Finally summoning the courage, LeAnne stepped around the door frame and into what must have been the office. A movement caught her eye. Her gasp filled the dead air. A black cat pounced from the corner of the desk. It darted past the broken glass and out the door. A pool of water slowly made its way to the edge of the desk, dripping to a puddle on the linoleum. Splat!—Splat! LeAnne slid down the wall to a crouching position as a nervous giggle erupted from her throat. The cat had knocked over the glass of water, where it rolled and landed with a crash to the floor. Just a damn black cat. Leaning her head back against the wall, she released her shaken breath and willed her heart to cease its heavy beating. The rush of adrenaline had been incredible. 125

KISS OF DECEIT Standing on her unsteady legs, she replaced her semi-automatic in her purse, then reached for the phone on the desk. Careful not to disturb any prints that might already have been there, she punched the numbers of the speaker phone with the cap of a pen. * * * Moments later, the house swarmed with Defiance County Deputies. One, standing guard, kept a running tally on all who entered the premises. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the house and part of the yard. A few deputies scanned the grass as another measured and triangulated the body and room inside. The Defiance-elected coroner had already come and gone, recording the time of death as around two in the morning. The coroner’s men stood outside, waiting for their chance at the corpse. One had a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth while he spoke casually to the other, as though they might be shooting the breeze over a beer anywhere but at a crime scene. As she reentered the premises, LeAnne shook her head at the absurd lack of concern for the dead. She had called Bob Reese with the news immediately after calling Sheriff Joseph Drake. Bob would likely pull into the drive at any moment. Even though they were out of their jurisdiction, she wanted his view of the case, thinking of the very real possibility this case linked theirs. The grave sight gave her little in the way of evidence, but had not left them empty-handed. Aside from the few chips of paint and the roses in the vase, they now had an idea of the height of their perp and that he had been wearing jeans the night before. While kneeling before Jillian’s marker, not only leaving a toe of his shoe and a knee indentation, he had caught part of his pants, probably his knee, on the corner of the brass plate. The fibers would be sent to the BG lab to be analyzed. She measured the indentation from toe to knee and guessed the perp to be about six-feet, two-inches tall. If the same person who killed 126

KISS OF DECEIT Jillian visited her grave last night, then it was a good indication this person murdered the caretaker as well. He had witnessed the man responsible for the handiwork on Jillian’s grave and, left alive, probably could have identified him. A ruthless killer could not afford such mistakes. The most disturbing thing found, however, was the fluid left in the vase. LeAnne collected a small sample in a glass vial marked and tagged as evidence. The odor strongly hinted that it was a bodily fluid—urine. It too would be sent to the lab for verification. This piece of evidence spoke of further contempt for the victim or of women in general, though not much to go on. “Look what I have here,” one of the Defiance County’s deputies said, drawing LeAnne’s attention. He lifted the caretaker’s leg, with a slipper still on its foot, to examine the toe; the other slipper had been found outdoors in the grassy area. The struggle began outside. “Scuff marks on the toe and grass stains. Look’s like our man, or lady,” he added sheepishly; LeAnne knew he didn’t believe that theory any more than she, “dragged the caretaker in from outside. By the looks of it, the old guy put up one hell of a fight.” “He was no match, though, not for a younger man probably in his thirties. This poor man never had a chance.” “What do we have?” Bob Reese interrupted as he came through the door. He wore a short sleeve, collared shirt and khaki pants. LeAnne rarely saw him out of uniform, it being his day off. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and soaked his armpits. His collar lay unbuttoned. His hair lay windblown and curling about the ears. “The heat getting to you?” LeAnne asked, never seeing Bob quite so ruffled before. He shook his head, a smirk on his face. “Air-conditioner gave out. A half hour’s drive straight into the sun is no walk in the park without the benefits of modern technology.” 127

KISS OF DECEIT “What a hell of a day for that to happen.” LeAnne chuckled. Then turning more serious, she gave her attention back to the corpse. “We have a new victim. And if my intuitions prove to be right—I think this man’s killer is the same one who murdered Jillian, if not Miranda Holliday.” LeAnne restated the facts of the case, then briefed Bob on all the evidence she had collected, filling him in with all the details: the fluid sample, paint chips, fibers. “In short—if this was our guy, our caretaker here, poor SOB, caught him red-handed, so to say. Saw his face.” Bob knelt down by the body, touched the fixed lividity. “Seems he died face down.” LeAnne gingerly lifted the thread-bare tee shirt on the victim’s back, pointing out the slight bruising on the lumbar region. “I’d say the caretaker caught our perp doing his artwork, saw him relieve himself in the vase, and confronted him. The perp gets angry, heated words are exchanged. The caretaker threatens to call the authorities. “Our man panics—knows he’s about to be exposed. He lets the old man get close to the house, then pounces on him. A struggle begins, the caretaker loses his slipper, then is dragged inside. Looking for something to do the damage, the perp yanks the cord from the wall, pushes the old man to the floor and anchors him there with his knee— hence the bruising on his lower spine. He wraps the cord around his neck and…that’s all folks. Lights out.” Bob grinned. “Pretty much the scenario I might have come up with. What do you make of the supposed urine in Jillian’s vase?” LeAnne shrugged. “Could be anything, really. My guess would be showing further contempt for Jillian—disrespect. Since I found no semen at the sight, I would say he did not visit her grave to relive the fantasy. This man wanted to leave a message. He had to have known, sooner or later, someone would pay their respects.” “It could have been disrespect for either Jillian or the person he 128

KISS OF DECEIT expected to visit—possibly the husband.” “And if he found out about Marcus’s release, then he’d know he’d visit the grave and that we’re still searching for our man. He’s cocky— knows he’s not giving us anything to go on. I say he’s controlling what evidence we find.” “You think he meant for you to find the fibers?” “Our man’s smart, knows what he’s leaving us. But is this case, I think that was a mistake. He rips the hole in his knee, but isn’t aware he left anything behind.” “If he left behind trace evidence at the grave, then was careless here, we can tie him to both places,” Bob said. “We can only hope to find those matching fibers. That clue could link the two here to Jillian’s murder. I mean, if the person who spray-painted Jillian’s marker didn’t kill her, then why worry about being seen? Why go to this length to keep the old guy’s mouth shut? If we connect this to the grave, we can connect this to the person who killed Jillian. The only difference between the way the old man died and Jillian’s death is the use of a garrote, the extension cord—with Jillian he used his hands. Why not simply use his hands?” “Either he doesn’t have the upper-body strength for the man— remember the women’s hands were secured to the bed post—or it’s just not personal. Harold, here, had simply gotten in the way,” LeAnne said. “But the women—now that was personal.” Bob and LeAnne stepped aside as the Defiance County detective and deputies finished gathering evidence, not wanting to get in their way. If Bob was correct and they found fibers to match those from Jillian’s marker, they would finally have the connecting factor. “Now if we could only match this to the Holliday murder.” “We’re working on that. The lab in BG said they would have some preliminaries ready tomorrow. Maybe something will come up.” The detective on the case grabbed a roll of wide adhesive tape and 129

KISS OF DECEIT tore off a large section. Careful not to disturb evidence, he lightly patted the carpet around the victim to pick up any foreign material. Maybe a hair or fiber that seemed out of place, inconsistent with the rest of the house. By the caretaker’s feet, the detective stopped and studied a few whitish-blue strands of cloth. “Look here.” He pulled tweezers out of his kit and grasped two small pieces of what looked like frayed material. He held them up for LeAnne and Bob’s inspection. “Jackpot.” “Son-of-a-gun.” Bob smiled. “We finally got us a break.” The detective placed the fibers in a small plastic bag and tagged them as evidence, then indicated on his sketch where they had been found. LeAnne knew the two counties would share evidence in this case since there might be a possible link to the crime in Henry County. “You know, the sooner we wrap this up, the better off we are.” LeAnne leveled her gaze on Bob. “Otherwise, we’re likely to find another victim—this SOB isn’t going to stop. And that’s what scares the hell out of me.” * * * Dusk had long since fallen as LeAnne stepped from Bob Reese’s car, thanked him for the ride home, then headed up her driveway. Her bones were worn and weary; her mind tired of thinking. She was halfway up the driveway before she noted the lights in her living room. Chad had evidently decided the confrontation for her actions could not wait. LeAnne groaned. Damn if she did not feel like just crawling in the shower and beneath her sheets. She could still smell poor Harold’s death, as the stench had lodged itself in her sinuses, her clothes, her hair—and here sat the county prosecutor waiting for answers. She opened the door and stepped in. The foyer light flicked on, momentarily blinding her. When her eyes focused, she saw Chad, all six feet of him, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring down on 130

KISS OF DECEIT her. He cocked one brow. She leaned back against the door, needing the support to keep her on her tired feet. “An explanation?” he asked, his tone condescending. LeAnne pushed off the door and tried to brush past him. The last thing she needed was Chad’s insecurities. But not allowing her the respite, Chad gripped her shoulders almost painfully, stopping her from going into the living room. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not running away from me this time. I asked for an explanation. What the hell were you doing with Marcus Gallego so late? Having such a good time you’d make me”—his voice rose an octave—“your fiancé, come home by myself? You left me at Judge Hargrove’s making excuses. What the hell were you thinking, LeAnne?” Chad wore the same expression she had seen her father wear many times. She flinched as though he might strike her. Born from old habit or genuine fear, LeAnne did not know. Chad had never struck her—but her father had. Too many times to count. She shrugged off the image and out of Chad’s grip. “I need this like I need a hole in the head,” she mumbled on her way to the bathroom. LeAnne wasn’t even aware Chad had followed until she flipped on the tiny room’s light and saw his angry reflection staring back at her in the mirror. “You won’t get me to drop this, not this time, LeAnne,” he growled. “I want an explanation. What the hell were you doing with Gallego so long?” LeAnne whirled about on the heel of her foot, fixing him with her glare. “Christ, Chad, is that what you think? That I was with Gallego the entire day? You really do have a vivid imagination.” “I don’t know, LeAnne, you tell me what the hell I’m supposed to think.” His face reddened, making his blond hair appear even lighter. 131

KISS OF DECEIT “Suppose I would have left you at the engagement to ride off with some chick.” LeAnne laughed, though she felt little humor. She could never imagine Chad ever doing something so daring. She knew he liked his little life safe. And that’s what irritated him the most. LeAnne never thought about her actions; she went by her instincts, and they weren’t always the safest path to follow—just as today’s actions had been. “Is that what you think? I rode off with Gallego to spend the day with him? God, you are delusional. Do you stand around creating scenarios in your head?” LeAnne gave him her back and grabbed a wash cloth. She placed it beneath a stream of cool water when Chad grasped her shoulder and swung her around, sending water spraying about the room. For a second, she saw her father’s dark face, the one he sported before he delivered the crushing blow. She suppose she deserved it, done things her father could not tolerate from his little princess. LeAnne had always been a willful child. Hadn’t she known Chad would react this way? But she had gone with Gallego anyway. “Look,” LeAnne said, keeping her tone soft, her best bet to soothe his ire, “I went with Snake to his wife’s grave on the possibility of new evidence—you knew that. Someone vandalized it.” Chad let go of her shoulder, his gaze softened. She could see his concern. “You’re kidding! How could anyone be so disrespectful?” LeAnne shrugged, then returned to the sink and her wash cloth. After thoroughly soaking it with cool water, she rung it out, then blotted her face. “Besides, if it will make you feel better, I wasn’t there all day with Gallego. After showing me her marker, he left when I went to the caretaker’s house to use the phone. I figured one of the deputies could bring me my car.” “So you did find something?” Rubbing the cool cloth across the back of her neck, she said, 132

KISS OF DECEIT “Someone painted obscenities on the plaque—defaced it. You can see why Snake would be upset.” “I suppose,” he consented. “What did it say?” “You know that’s privileged. But I can tell you this, I have a strong inkling, whoever killed Jillian did this.” “That’s probably a no-brainer.” “Anyway—that’s not what took me so long. When I got to the caretaker’s house, you’ll never guess what I found.” “Someone spray-painted the house, too?” “Worse.” She dropped the cloth to the counter. “A dead caretaker.” His eyes widened. “Jesus!” Then as if he realized how misplaced his anger was, he pulled LeAnne into his arms. Warmth and protection surrounded her. “God, I’m sorry, babe. I should have known—I should have trusted you. I’m still getting used to this, you know. You being a cop and all. It takes so much of your attention away from me—I get a little jealous sometimes.” She snuggled against him and wrapped her arms around his waist as the tears began to fall. His show of tenderness had been her undoing. She had remained strong and tried not to let this case get beneath her skin. After all, it was her job. But she had seen the ugliness of life, the cruelty it offered. Again, evil reared its ugly head. Chad’s hand smoothed down her hair, then slipped the band from securing her braid. His fingers separated the strands. He kissed the top of her head. “A hot shower is just the thing you need.” LeAnne wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “I suppose you’re right. After all—I can still smell the poor guy. I must stink.” “Not at all,” he said, his voice full of his ever-present charm. “I was thinking about joining you. Want the company?” LeAnne stepped from his arms and contemplated the idea, then realized it would not help in the way she needed. Exhausted, the only thing she wanted was to crawl into bed—alone. “I’m not really feeling very amorous at the moment.” 133

KISS OF DECEIT He grinned, pulled her back into his embrace, and whispered against the top of her head, softly stirring the hairs. “You have a tough job. Not everyone is cut out to do what you do, babe. I suppose that’s why I love you so much. You’re strong, unlike most women.” Then he kissed her, warm and inviting. Not taking, demanding. She wrapped her arms around his neck. But the kiss ended quickly and Chad stepped from her embrace. “You get some sleep.” He winked at her. “Rest up and I’ll see you in a couple days.” After following him to the door, LeAnne watched him walk to his car, then locked the door behind him, heading for the much-needed shower. Tomorrow began a new week. And if there was a God, when Bob Reese went to BG in the morning, the lab would have good news. News that would link all three cases together.

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CHAPTER 14 “Hylomar?” LeAnne asked, not having a clue as to what Bob Reese had just said. He stepped into her office only a few moments ago. A smile lit his face like a Christmas tree. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Bob quite so jovial. But today, something actually evoked this response, and that something was Hylomar. He pushed his rolled sleeves past his elbows, placed a foot on the metal chair beside her desk, and laid his forearms across his knee. “Hylomar,” he repeated, with a grin. “It’s certainly circumstantial, but I think it might be the link we’ve been looking for.” “I’m not sure I follow,” LeAnne said. “How would Hylomar link Jillian Gallego with Miranda Holliday?” “It’s a gasket adhesive. They use it on engines to repair oil pumps, water pumps, and the like. That’s what the lab found in the ripped bandanna tying Miranda’s hands to the headboard. Not something the 135

KISS OF DECEIT Hollidays would ever come in contact with.” Her brow furrowed. “How would the killer get this adhesive on the bandanna? That doesn’t make any sense, unless he’s a mechanic of some sort. And how does that tie Jillian to Miranda. I don’t recall finding any Hylomar in that crime scene.” Bob began pacing beside the desk. “We didn’t, and I don’t think the killer knew the Hylomar was on the bandanna.” “Then how do you suggest it got there?” Bob greedily rubbed his hands together. He definitely felt right at home with this type of work, being a good candidate for her job, had she ever felt the need to leave. He actually enjoyed putting the pieces together. Not that she didn’t, just not with as much enthusiasm. “Snake Gallego’s wife was tied by bandannas to the headboard.” “Correct,” LeAnne agreed, following his line of thinking. “Miranda’s hands were also tied in the same fashion with a similar type of bandanna. The first one was relatively clean—no found stains or anything marring the cloth. The second has Hylomar in it. The owner of the bandanna must work on motors in order to come in contact with the adhesive.” LeAnne’s eyes rounded. “Snake Gallego works on motorcycles.” Bob’s smile widened. “Bingo.” “But wait a second,” LeAnne countered; she gnawed on her lower lip. “Snake was in jail at the time of Miranda’s death. He has me as an alibi. I was talking to him at the time of the murder. What about one of his buddies? They all ride bikes. Could it be possible they work on their own motorcycles?” “A lot of them do. But we can rule out the copycat theory.” “Because…” “Because a pubic hair found on Miranda is consistent with the third pubic hair found on Jillian. Circumstantial, yes, but we also have latex residue in both cases.” LeAnne looked down at the files that the BG lab had released on 136

KISS OF DECEIT Miranda Holliday. “So whoever was doing Jillian was also doing Miranda.” “Wymer?” LeAnne’s gaze snapped up to Bob’s. “You think we could connect him to Miranda?” Bob shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t have enough probable cause to get a search warrant, and I doubt he’ll willingly give us a sample of his pubic hair or tell us what type of condom he uses.” He paused as he grasped his foam cup of coffee and took a sip. “We need a witness who can place them together. Any luck with friends of Miranda’s seeing her with another guy?” “No one’s seen her with anyone other than her husband,” LeAnne said. “But Tom Jenson said he found a woman who had heard Miranda talking about a guy named Sid.” “Sid?” Bob asked, his brows causing a deep crease over the bridge of his thin straight nose. “No last name?” “No description either.” LeAnne dropped her pen on the desk and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms beneath her chest. “Sid? Sidney? A nickname? An alias more than likely. If he planned to kill these women ahead of time, I highly doubt he uses his own name.” “Possibly, but see if we can find a Sid or Sidney in Jillian’s past. I say we find this man, we can connect him from Miranda to Jillian, Jillian to the grave, and the grave to the caretaker. The fibers at the grave came back a positive match to those found by poor Harold’s feet. We’re dealing with one man, here.” “So, because of the Hylomar then—we know our man’s a mechanic of some sort.” “Not exactly—I’m seeing another angle, too. If this man killed Jillian—it’s possible he took a bandanna from the Gallego scene. If the bandanna belongs to Snake, then it would make sense that it has adhesive on it.” “You really think he’d take a dirty bandanna? Knowing we might 137

KISS OF DECEIT find something like this on it to link our killer to the Gallego case as well?” “No. But if he pulled a clean one from the drawer—it would still have Hylomar in it. You could wash the thing twenty times and the adhesive won’t come out.” “But we shouldn’t rule out a mechanic at this point either. I say we question some of Snake’s friends again. One of them could have hated Jillian.” “I agree, but we have to also link them to Miranda.” Bob paused, rubbing his freshly-shaven jaw. “You start with Snake’s boss, Kip. Though he has an airtight alibi, he might know of someone who wanted Jillian dead or had a strong dislike for her—someone who also knew Miranda. While you’re at it, stop by Wymer’s, too. See what he has to say—ask him about Miranda, see if he squirms. Me? I’m going to pay a little visit to Blade D’Angelo. He’s certainly made his thoughts about Jillian Gallego clear when you questioned him. Though he and Snake were good friends—there was no love lost between him and Snake’s wife.” * * * Being a late Monday afternoon, Noel’s Place appeared relatively empty. Only a few scattered motorcycles and cars littered the stone parkway adjacent to the building, along with Blade’s ’62 Chevy pickup. Bob, being off duty and not wanting his actions reflecting on the sheriff’s office, parked his car and walked around to the front of the building. The first-shift crowd would just be getting settled in for a few beers. He walked through the opened door and stopped just inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Smoke hovered about the lowhanging ceiling lights and swirled about the few patrons. Ceiling fans spun slowly, stirring the already warm air, but doing little in the way of cooling the place. All conversation hushed as a stranger entered their territory. 138

KISS OF DECEIT Obviously, this was a hangout for regulars. A woman with tattoos crawling up both arms and wrapping her ankle in the way of barbed wire sat with her legs draped over a bald, aging biker with long sideburns. An over-long, salt-and-peppered goatee surrounded his slit of a mouth, while eagles’ wings and Harley-Davidson banners littered his skin. The man placed one of his tree-trunk arms on the bar, flexing his triceps as he turned his stare on Bob. A normal man might be cowed by the biker’s size, but Bob Reese was not a normal man. He chose to ignore the display. Seeing the object of his focus, Bob left the large man gaping after him and walked to the end of the scarred bar and took a seat. Blade D’Angelo reared his ugly mug and glared at him. “Do I know you?” he grumbled. LeAnne’s description of him had been right on the nose. “I don’t believe so,” Bob replied. He thumped his knuckles on the bar, attempting to retrieve the bartender’s attention. A heavy-set man, obviously a biker himself, walked over to Bob with the words “Harley Rules!” emblazoned in red with the head of an eagle across his black tee. He laid his white cloth on the bar in front of Bob and braced both arms on the edge, not saying a word. It was likely the only invitation he would get to place his order. “I’ll take an OJ and another beer for my friend here,” Bob said, tapping the bar beside Blade with his fingers. The bartender walked away. “I ain’t your friend,” Blade said, then took a pull from his draft. He picked up his lit cigarette from a black ashtray and stuck it between his lips, inhaling deeply. The tip glowed red. “But thanks, anyhow,” he spoke, the words rolling out with a cloud of smoke that curled toward the ceiling. The bartender returned with another draft and a small bottle of 139

KISS OF DECEIT Tropicana. The heavy man grasped the few bills Bob had left on the bar, then walked away without uttering a word. Bob kept his attention focused on Blade, who tried his best to ignore him. He wouldn’t allow the ratty-looking biker the discourtesy. “As nice of a guy as I am,” Bob said, shaking the small bottle then twisting the metal cap, “I didn’t just buy you a drink because you have a pretty face.” Blade sneered. “What are you, some sort of faggot?” Bob slowly set the bottle back on the counter, then stood beside the biker, placing one hand on the bar beside him. He leaned close to Blade’s ear, the heady scent of grease assailing his sinuses. “I’m Chief Deputy of the Henry County Sheriff’s Office, off duty, of course, but I have a few questions about a murder we’re investigating—and you know what? You’re going to answer them with a smile on your ugly face.” “Huh,” Blade said, turning his attention back to his draft. “I ain’t got nothing to say—go screw yourself.” Acting as though Bob wasn’t beside him, Blade tipped his draft to his bushy mouth, cigarette still dangling from his lips. With his leg, Bob knocked the stool from beneath the heavy biker, then slammed Blade’s forehead into the wooden rail of the bar on his way down. “What the f—” Blade cursed from the floor, holding his forehead and soaked from his draft. “You’re a crazy mother. You come into my territory—” Bob grasped Blade’s torn tee in his fist and, with little effort, hauled the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man back to his feet. Blade spit the soggy cigarette from his lips. All eyes in the bar quickly went back to their own business. “I go where I see fit,” Bob growled into his face. “You got a problem with that, I can haul your sorry butt to the sheriff’s office and throw you behind bars.” “On what grounds?” Blade hissed, pulling himself from Bob’s 140

KISS OF DECEIT grasp. He righted the bar stool before plopping his heavy backside on the seat. “Murder.” One word, but he finally got Blade’s attention. Blade rubbed the bump on his forehead that already had a purple cast. It looked as though it hurt like hell, too. “Shoot, man, you’re screwed in the head.” “What I am is uptight—real uptight. I suggest we start this over and you placate me. Answer my questions, and I’ll be out of your hair.” “I could turn you in for police brutality—that’s what I could do. Know what I mean?” Bob gazed about the sparsely-populated room. “Anybody see anything here?” he called. “Anybody see anything going on but me buying my good buddy, Blade, a drink?” The tattooed lady turned her eyes to the floor; the guy she had wrapped herself so thoroughly around ignored the question altogether. The bartender sneered but still said nothing as he wiped glasses clean with his cloth. The few remaining patrons turned their backs. Bob shrugged, retaking his seat. “Gee, Blade, looks like your buddies are reluctant to get involved.” Blade grumbled an unintelligible response, then took a swig from the new draft the bartender had given him—on the house. “Not that I’m not enjoying this wonderful conversation, but I’m a busy man. Let’s get down to the reason I came all the way across town just to look you up.” “The whole mile? What the hell did you do, walk?” Bob shrugged again, took a swig from his OJ. Ignoring his sarcasm, he said, “As I recall, this was the brand of juice Miranda Holliday likes.” Blade looked at Bob as though he had completely flipped his lid. His gaze narrowed to two beefy slits; his bushy eyebrows met in the center. “Who?” “Miranda Holliday—you know, Doc Holliday’s wife.” 141

KISS OF DECEIT “The one that got herself killed?” “That’s the one. As I recall, there was a bottle just like this in the refrigerator, half-finished, the night she was found.” Bob glanced at Blade. “You wouldn’t know anything about that night, would you?” Sweat beaded his bruised brow and his upper lip. “Shoot, man, I just read about it in last week’s paper. She done got herself killed a week ago Saturday.” “That she did. Do you know what you were doing last Saturday?” “That was the day they arrested Snake.” “That’s the one.” “I stayed home, I guess.” “You guess… No alibi?” Heat rose in a red path up Blade’s neck and centered in his cheeks. “What the hell do I need one of them for, unless you’re accusing me of something. You accusing?” “Nope,” Bob said, then finished off his orange juice. He carefully placed the bottle back on the bar. “Not yet, anyway.” He glanced at Blade. “You might want to think about that alibi thing, though. Maybe even the night Jillian died—April nineteenth. Remember that date?” “Sure do.” “Got an alibi?” “Like I said—you accusing me of something?” Bob sighed, then shook his head. “Nope—not yet. But, you might want to give it some serious thought—the alibi thing. You never know what we might discover in our investigation.” Bob stood and laid a couple extra dollars on the counter, winking at the bartender. “That’s for the good service.” He pulled his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and placed them on his face before turning back to Blade. Bob’s gaze dropped to the dirty red bandanna hanging from his back pocket. “Oh, by the way. You ever work on you own bike or truck? Put in oil pumps, water pumps, that kind of thing?” 142

KISS OF DECEIT “Yeah,” Blade snorted, with a chuckle. “Why?” Bob adjusted his shades, shrugged, then headed for the opened door. “Just wondering,” he said, and stepped into the sunlight.

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CHAPTER 15 The man truly did not look like a biker. He had an average build with softly graying hair, cut short and combed to the side. Very clean cut. Kip Lewis looked like a business man, but, by his reputation, could get down in the dirt with the best of them, which LeAnne planned to take the grapevine’s word on. “Mr. Lewis,” she greeted, as she approached the counter and shook his hand. “Detective McVeigh. What brings you to my neck of the woods?” Kip asked. He took a seat on a stool behind the counter. The shop was free of other people, aside from the workers who went about their respective jobs. Not surprisingly, though, LeAnne did not see Kip’s wife, Debra. She probably kept her presence at a minimum these days. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lewis, I wish I could say it’s a social call.” He smiled, his small, thin lips turning up warmly. His soft brown 144

KISS OF DECEIT eyes appeared ardent but shadowed. LeAnne could not help wondering if the dark recesses hadn’t been caused by his wife’s infidelity and Snake’s betrayal. More than likely. LeAnne couldn’t imagine what it felt like to put your complete faith and trust in someone, then find out he’s sleeping with your spouse. “If it wasn’t for official business, Detective, I highly doubt you’d be here at all.” “True.” LeAnne smiled. “I can’t say I’ve ridden on the back of too many motorcycles.” Warmth rose to her cheeks at the small reminder of her brief ride with Marcus and hoped it wasn’t visible. Her heated response to the mere thought of the man baffled her. What was it about Snake Gallego that had her acting like a schoolgirl with a secret crush? “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” Kip’s words caused her gaze to snap up. She almost thought the man had an uncanny way of reading minds, until he continued. “I can put you on a Sportster within six months. Anything bigger might take as long as two years.” She laughed uneasily at the absurd notion. “I don’t know what I’d do with it.” “Ride it—my wife has her own Harley. Bought her one, some ten years back, laid it on the ground and told her, ‘You pick it up and it’s yours.’” “I take it she picked it up.” “Damn right she did.” His face beamed with pride. LeAnne could tell Kip Lewis loved his wife. Sad, how life’s events suddenly altered lives irrevocably. He would be lucky if he ever trusted her again— especially in the company of Snake Gallego. “The hell of it is, I can’t get her on the back of mine now.” “You have matching motorcycles?” “No way. My wife couldn’t handle the size. I don’t mess around with the smaller bikes. I like my ride smooth.” Hearing the door’s bell, Kip looked over LeAnne’s shoulder. A 145

KISS OF DECEIT customer stepped into the shop and walked to the parts section. Lindsey Buckner poked her head from the parts room, blew a bubble in her chewing gum, popped it, then stepped into the showroom to help the customer. “Hi, Detective,” she said, all smiles as she walked by with an added spring to her step. “Lindsey.” LeAnne nodded in acknowledgment. She met the energetic girl the last time she came to the shop with questions. LeAnne wasn’t quite sure she had ever met another person with as much zeal. “So, Detective,” Kip said, retrieving her attention. “What can I do for you today?” “I have a few questions to ask you. May I record this? He nodded. LeAnne pulled out her recorder and depressed the play and record buttons, before leafing through her notepad several pages. “Keep in mind, Mr. Lewis, you’re not a suspect.” “God, I hope not, but please, call me Kip. I haven’t been called ‘mister’ in years. Never did like the term; makes me feel like I’m getting old.” He grinned and winked at LeAnne, telling her he knew he already was—but nowhere near over the hill. “All right, Kip.” LeAnne found the page she was looking for, then asked, “Do you use a product called Hylomar?” “Sure we do. It’s a gasket adhesive.” “Can you tell me who at this shop would come in contact with it.” Kip shrugged. “Mostly the mechanics, I guess. Don’t know why Lindsey might come in contact with it, or my wife, for that matter, but it would be possible, I suppose. Why?” “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation, but we have reason to believe the person we are looking for might possibly be a mechanic.” “I assume this all has to do with Hylomar, or you wouldn’t be asking. Hell, honey, I hate to bust your bubble, but Hylomar isn’t 146

KISS OF DECEIT exclusive to Harley’s, or motorcycles, for that matter. Any mechanic could come in contact with it. So why come to me? Could it be Snake has something to do with this? If so, then I won’t have much to say on the subject.” “I know there is bad blood between the two of you right now,” LeAnne said. Laying down her pad, she placed her palms on the counter and stared with compassion at Kip. “But my questions need answers. Your alibi the night of Jillian’s death checks out—but someone’s doesn’t. And the sooner I find this person, the better off this county is.” “You’re saying this person will kill again? Rumor has it the same person killed Frank Holliday’s wife. This true?” News traveled fast in a small town, quicker than the wheels of a locomotive on passing rails. Nonetheless, her duty was to keep as many details about their case closed from the rumor-mill, as well as the media. “Again, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details of an ongoing investigation,” she said before continuing. “Snake was, at the time of Jillian’s death, your best friend.” Kip grunted an acknowledgment. “What I need to know is who would want to see his wife dead? Who hated her enough to kill her?” Kip shrugged; his eyes were hooded. LeAnne would bet, even if one of his mechanics had something against Gallego’s wife, Kip was not about to give out that information. It would be like prying open a safe with a crowbar. Besides—this angle may or may not be the right one. Whomever the killer might be, could have very well taken the contaminated bandanna from the Gallego house and used it to tie up Miranda Holliday. “Every one of us had a beef with the way Jillian dicked around on Snake. But I’d stake my reputation on the fact, none of us would have touched her.” “Do you mind if I ask around myself?” 147

KISS OF DECEIT “Suit yourself, Detective. Just remember, they’re all bikers in their own right. I doubt any of them would tell you more than I already have.” “Are you telling me, Kip, that you aren’t being totally honest?” He placed his palms on the counter. “We protect our own. I doubt anyone among us took Jillian’s life. She belonged to Snake—everyone knew that. And no matter what we might have thought of the woman, none of us would have touched her. If she was cheating on Snake, then that was his problem. You ask me? I think she hooked up with the wrong guy. Try checking around the strip joint. I bet you’ll hit closer to home than you do here.” “We have our men checking that angle.” “Then by all means, help yourself.” His arm indicated her access to the back rooms. “There’s a couple of mechanics in the service area now; ask away.” A few minutes later, she emerged from the back of the shop with no more answers than she had gone in with. Either no one was willing to talk, or they simply had no answers to provide. “Thanks, Kip,” LeAnne said, as she noticed and recognized the lone customer in the showroom. Tony Hargrove was engaged in a lively conversation with Lindsey Buckner, both laughing and chiding each other. LeAnne had no idea that Tony rode motorcycles. As she approached, she noticed his state of dress: a black tee torn around the collar with the sleeves ripped off, faded denims sporting holes in each knee, and a bandanna tied about his head like Aunt Jemimah, hiding his dark brown hair from view. Stars and stripes saluted the sky. Probably the reason she hadn’t recognized him the minute he had entered. In an overly friendly gesture, Tony placed a hand on Lindsey’s shoulder and chuckled at something she had said. His face sobered, however, when he saw LeAnne approaching. He dropped his hand all too quickly. 148

KISS OF DECEIT “Detective McVeigh,” he said, turning his back on Lindsey, who scurried away like a mouse caught at play when the cat returns. “Mr. Hargrove,” she said, eliciting another deep chuckle from him. He towered a good half a foot above her five-eight frame. LeAnne glanced up to look into his dark brown eyes. Somehow, she didn’t recall Tony being so tall. “I’ve been called a lot of things before”—his lush lips turned up mischievously—“and ‘mister’ isn’t one of them.” “What would you like me to call you?” LeAnne asked, raising a brow. “When is more like it.” She saw a whole new side to Anthony Hargrove, one he obviously hid when in the company of his father, the judge, or his fiancée. This side she wasn’t so sure she liked. LeAnne shuffled her stance, turning her gaze to the gray carpeting at her feet. “I see I’ve embarrassed you.” His warm teasing tone brought her eyes back to his. “Don’t be. It was meant as a compliment.” Not only had her face flushed, but her ears as well. Her hair, in a tight knot at the back of her head, would do little in the way of concealing her reaction. Her best bet would be taking the conversation off herself and placing it elsewhere. “How do you know Lindsey?” she asked. His eyes briefly flitted to the blonde as she blew and popped bubbles behind the counter, her attention now on the computer screen before her. Kip had disappeared altogether. He shrugged. “I went to high school with her. But then again, I’m sure you already knew that.” “I did,” she replied matter-of-factly. “But I couldn’t help noticing how cozy the two of you seemed. More like lovers than old classmates.” His smile grew; light sparkled in his eyes. “Look who’s making assumptions. Aren’t you suppose to go by the facts, Detective? Besides, 149

KISS OF DECEIT Lindsey’s married.” “Which I also know,” LeAnne said, “but I couldn’t help wondering what Mr. Buckner might say should he walk out of the service area and find your hand placed tenderly on his wife’s shoulder.” “Fred?” Tony chuckled. “Shit—that old boy may be built like a brick shithouse, but everyone knows he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” “Even if that fly turns out to be a spider—one that’s out to nail his wife? You better be careful, Tony, or you might find yourself squashed.” “Why would you care?” “You’re coming to work for Chad in a few months. Am I right?” “So?” “Your actions might not speak well in the county prosecutor’s office.” He took a step closer, his heated stare consuming her. Tony Hargrove was no longer the boy she remembered. He had turned into a full-fledged man—one with a dark side, one she had never seen before. “What wouldn’t look good in the county prosecutor’s office,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “is the protégé banging the prosecutor’s wife.” A shiver passed down her spine. Tony Hargrove, engaged or not, was a threat to the secure little life she led, with or without the chaotic addition of Snake Gallego. She stepped back a pace and straightened her shoulders. “We both know that will never happen.” He arched a brow in challenge. “Do we?” LeAnne cleared her throat. “Of course. You’re the hometown boy everyone has on a pedestal. The one his class voted most likely to succeed. We certainly wouldn’t want that pedestal knocked out from beneath you.” “We wouldn’t—but then again, no one has to know.” “Sure they would, Tony, because we live in a small town. The 150

KISS OF DECEIT county prosecutor’s wife sleeping with his protégé would be big news,” LeAnne said, retreating toward the door. But before she got there, she stopped. “How long have you been riding motorcycles?” “A few years.” She glanced at the holes in his pants. A red stain dotted the right knee, fixing her where she stood. LeAnne thought of Jillian’s marker. Her eyes flitted back to his. “Ever work on your own motorcycle?” “No,” he replied. “Though I helped Lindsey’s old man fix my water pump once when I got stranded out at their place. I was just damn lucky he had a few spare parts.” “What were you doing at the Buckners?” Tony grinned amorally. “Banging his wife. Thank God I was outside trying to jump start my old truck, and not his wife, when the engine tied up about the time he came home.” “Yeah,” LeAnne scoffed. “Thank God.” “What’s the matter?” he asked, his gaze inquisitive. “You look like something’s got you bugged.” “It’s nothing really,” she said, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “Where did you get the red paint on your right knee?” Tony looked down at his old faded jeans and scratched at the spot with his fingernail as though it might flake off. No such luck—the spot remained stubborn. “I suppose I was out painting something.” “It isn’t everyday you paint something of that color. Not like you’d paint a building red unless it was an old barn.” “Or the color of my Harley,” he said, his eyes turning impish. “I could always take you for a ride if you’d like to see it up close and personal.” LeAnne opened the door. “I’ll have to take your word for it this time, Tony.” “You don’t know what you’re missing.” 151

KISS OF DECEIT “That very well may be.” She stepped outside. But before letting go of the door, she called back, “Give Julie my regards, will you?” then walked to her detective’s sedan. LeAnne had one more person to question for the day, and she certainly hoped her interrogation of Wymer went more smoothly than her talk with Tony Hargrove, whom she just added to her list of suspects. In a big way. * * * Allen Wymer, his wife having kicked him out, now lived in a small, two-bedroom apartment just off the Maumee River. LeAnne knocked on the second-story door as she looked down the hallway. A musty odor filled the area. Two kids ran down the steps, playing tag. LeAnne guessed them to be no more than four years old. She wondered where the mother was and why the children ran unsupervised at such a tender age. The reason police departments kept busy these days, and the prison systems were so full that they allowed criminals back on the street in record time, was partly due to the lack of attention children received. And, more and more, this seemed to be the norm. LeAnne supposed the thought should make her happy. They would never run out of criminals; thus, provided she walk the right line of the law, she would always have a job. The washed-out white door opened a crack, and a groan came from the other side as Allen recognized his visitor. “Haven’t you terrorized me enough for one lifetime, Detective McVeigh?” He said her name with such contempt, she wondered at her decision to come alone. Certainly Wymer wouldn’t lay a hand on her. “I’m sorry, Allen, about your present situation.” And she was. There might not be any love lost between the two, but she didn’t wish him ill either. He grunted in response as he held the door open wider for her to enter. “Are you?” LeAnne walked into the living area. A small, moth-eaten love seat 152

KISS OF DECEIT sat beside a varnish-worn table. Across from it sat a rocker, badly in need of caning. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’m not out to see you suffer, Wymer. I only want to see justice done—certainly you can understand.” “Of course.” His words oozed with sarcasm. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?” “Mind if I sit?” “Help yourself,” he grumbled. “I suppose you’ll be wanting coffee, next.” “Only answers.” “Then maybe you should be reading me my rights again.” “Do you need to be reminded of them?” She lifted a brow. “I’d be happy to oblige.” “Are you arresting me?” “Not today. But of course, everything you say can and will be used in a court of law. Would you like to call a lawyer?” “I waive my right for now. But if I don’t like the direction your questions are taking, I may want to stop you and consult one.” “Fair enough.” LeAnne flipped through her notepad, pulled out her microcassette and hit the record and play buttons. “You don’t mind if I record this.” Allen crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the yellowed-painted wall. “I have nothing to hide.” “As you know, we are fully aware of your relationship with Jillian Gallego.” “Repetitive.” “What I need to know is if you had a similar relationship with a Miranda Holliday?” Allen chuckled. “Are you serious?” When LeAnne did not add anything, his expression sobered. “You’re asking if I was sleeping with Frank Holliday’s wife?” 153

KISS OF DECEIT “So you are aware of her.” “Hell, yes—and of the fact she was murdered a week ago Saturday.” His face reddened. “You’re not pinning this on me as well!” “Right now, Allen, the only thing I am trying to establish is if you knew her as more than an acquaintance.” “I’ve had a few beers with her at the bar before.” “Was her husband present?” “No.” “So you’ve had a few drinks with her—alone?” Wymer chuckled again, using his bare foot to push off the wall. He began pacing the threadbare carpet. “For the record,” Allen said and stopped, looking at her point-blank for emphasis before resuming his pacing, “I never had drinks alone with Miranda Holliday. We were always in the company of her friends.” “Did you ever sleep with her?” Finally he stopped his restless walking and stood in front of LeAnne, hands on his hips. “Hell, no! Think what you will about me, but the only person I was sleeping with, besides my wife, was Jillian Gallego.” “You’ll forgive me if I feel the need to corroborate your story.” “I don’t have anything to hide. Hell, I don’t even have anymore to lose.” His arm made an arc about the room. “I have to live with my brother, who’s an absolute pig, because not only has the sheriff’s office cut me off, but my wife has thrown me out.” “I really am sorry, Allen, but you can’t blame the world for your being caught with your pants down.” “And I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before you are. And you know what, Detective?” His eyes filled with malice. “I hope I’m the one who catches you. I’d love to see you fall. I highly doubt you’re as high and mighty as you appear.” “I’m not here to trade insults with you, Wymer, as much fun as it would be. I’m here on official duty. I have questions that need 154

KISS OF DECEIT answering.” “Correction—question. You are allowed one more—then I’m going to throw your pretty little derriere out of here. So choose carefully, Detective.” LeAnne thought about it. If she told him he had no mechanical knowledge, his ego would force him to correct her, then she could ask a different question and get two answered instead of one. “Obviously, you don’t have any mechanical skills—not enough to fix anything on an engine.” Allen nodded, his brows rising in puzzlement. “So what I really want to know is what you were doing early Sunday, say around two in the morning?” “As if I have an alibi?” “Correct.” “Why? What happened?” The acquisitive look on his face seemed genuine enough. Possibly a good job of acting. “A caretaker at Riverview Memory Gardens was found dead Sunday afternoon.” “Jesus. That’s been happening an awful lot lately. Same guy?” “I’m not at liberty to tell you any of the details. Where were you?” “Here.” The distraught look on his face told her the answer to her next question. “Alone?” “Shit.” He slowly shook his head. “Alone.” “I thought that might be your answer.” His concerned look quickly masked over to one of contempt. He pushed the off button on her recorder. “That was your one question, Detective. Now, unless you’re going to arrest me for something, I suggest you get the hell out of here.” LeAnne stood, gathered her stuff, and headed for the door, where she turned. “What if I have more questions for you at a later time?” “Then you better have a warrant for my arrest—in which case, I’ll 155

KISS OF DECEIT have a good lawyer.”

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CHAPTER 16 The place crawled with patrons. Waiters and waitresses bustled about the eatery, attempting to get hot meals to the customers, lest they lose a hefty tip. And here, the tips were always hefty. What better place to lose yourself, than in the mass of a busy restaurant? Certainly, had he taken her some place a little more remote, a little less frequented by customers, then he and his date would stick out, be remembered. The last thing he wanted; the last thing he could afford. Better to be one of the throng. Besides, they were in Toledo, fifty minutes from where either of them lived—chances of running into someone they knew were slim. “What’s the matter?” Samantha asked in a voice already grating to his nerves. She sounded like the woman who played The Nanny, for chrissake. God, but it would be a pleasure to wrap his fingers around her slender throat and silence, once and for all, the irritating noise coming 157

KISS OF DECEIT from her larynx. Jesus, but she was annoying. Even the Savior of the World would be tempted to snuff out the lights of this one. His palms itched. He reflexively opened and closed his hands as they rested on the table. “You have cramps”—her eyes indicating his automatic gesture— “in your hands?” He glanced down briefly, then forced a wide smile. “Just a little on edge,” he replied, grasping a fork in one to stop the instinctive motion. “A long day at work. All I could think about was tonight. Seeing you.” Her smile turned up her cheeks as she shyly glanced away, meant to be a flattering display. To him, it was nothing more than an act. He knew what she wanted; what every cold-hearted slut did. She craved the meat hanging between his legs, as if he were nothing more than an ape evolved into a man. Men were not born stupid. At least not this man—and he surely did not think with the appendage that dangled so freely between his thighs. No, he used his brain and his inbred knowledge of the natural law. Adultery was wrong—and he had made himself punisher. Of course, murder, too, was written as a sin in the hearts of man. But this—this was justified. Just as every blow he had ever received from his Bible-toting father had been. His mother, long gone, had left his father and him, when he was just three years old, for a man who drove a Cadillac and wore $500 suits. One full-moon night, about twelve years later, he was in the back of Susie VanWarren’s mom and dad’s van. She, being eighteen at the time, had taught him all he needed to know about the opposite sex. He had been driving in hard, her moans carrying through the still night air when his father showed up and flung open the back doors. His father dragged him from the van, pants tangled about his ankles, to the woods beyond. 158

KISS OF DECEIT He could still hear the crack of the belt as it slapped and stung his tender skin. His flesh welted and bled from the bite of the leather. And with each continued blow came the passages from the Bible his father would spout, telling him what he had done was against the laws of God. Adultery, my son, is punishable by death. Slap! went the black belt. Leviticus 20:10. Whack! it split open the tender skin of his bare butt. And Deuteronomy 22:22. Slap! warm blood slipped down his buttocks to his thigh. Both clearly state that the man and the women—Whack!—guilty of an adulterous affair—Slap!—must be put—Whack!—to—Slap!—death! And never once had he uttered a sound. Sister Mary Susan had taught him to honor his father’s every word. “Shawn?” her abrasive voice filtered through his musing and brought him back to stark reality. He sat across from a woman he loathed, even if for no more reason than she should be home serving a husband who probably adored her. “Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” “I’m sorry.” He plastered his fake grin back upon his face. “I’m a little preoccupied tonight. What were you saying?” “It was nothing, really. I was just telling you I’ll need to be back before midnight. Hank thinks I’m out with Cora. And on a weeknight, we rarely stay out past then. Cora has to work early in the morning.” “The woman you were with Saturday?” “That’s the one. She stayed home and promised to check her caller ID if the phone rings. If Hank calls, she won’t answer it. She’ll cover for me.” The slut had thought this out—he probably wasn’t her first affair, but he definitely would be her last. And now, he had allowed someone else to see him—someone who could identify him. He had grown careless in his desires. 159

KISS OF DECEIT Now, this Cora, too, must die. “You don’t work outside the home?” “Hank prefers it that way.” “Kids?” “No.” She laughed as if it were an absurdity. His hands began to flex once again. God, how much more was he expected to take? “And I certainly don’t want any. It would do nothing more than mess up my figure. Besides, who wants to chase around three-year-olds all day?” Selfish bitch. He would waste little time romancing this one and cut straight to the kill. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. She would be leaving behind no one other than her husband, and dear Hank fared better without her. Done with the salad, she flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder, extracted a mirror from her purse, and reapplied her lipstick. “Do you have kids of your own, Shawn? It just occurred to me that I really don’t know anything about you. You said you’re from the same area, but no one I know has heard of a ‘Shawn Michaels.’” She giggled, hiding the offensive noise behind her hand. “Except for the WWF wrestler, of course.” Bored with her inane conversation and ignoring her comparison to his name, he pushed away his plate, laid his forearms on the table, and leaned forward. “Tell me, Samantha…” He lowered his tone, titillation bubbling beneath his well-controlled surface as he thought about the possible answers to his next question. “…What scares you the most?” Her shoulders shuddered, but he hadn’t missed the slight chill that had probably just passed down her spine. After all, she had accepted a dinner from a perfect stranger. She wasn’t merely a slut, but a stupid one at that. At least with the last two, it had taken him weeks to get into 160

KISS OF DECEIT their good graces. Her gaze drifted to the table as the waiter suddenly appeared and replaced her salad with a steaming plate of chicken and bow pasta, served in a creamy white sauce. The shape of the tiny pasta reminded him of a neck as his fingers squeezed. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said as the waiter served him his meal, then departed. “Sure you do, Samantha.” He grinned. “I mean, you don’t really know me.” “No.” “And I don’t know you.” Her eyes wide and wary, she replied, “No—you don’t. But you seem to know more about me than I do you.” He shrugged. “I’m a private man. I like my ladies and I like myself unattached. I keep my options open.” He paused, grasping her slender fingers. “And you’re right, you don’t know me. I could be a homicidal maniac or something far worse, and here you are accepting dinner from me. So what frightens you, Samantha? Me?” Her irises nervously darted back and forth as she appeared to search the depths of his eyes for answers he’d never allow her to see. No one could read his soul. “Should I be afraid of you?” she asked, a quiver in her voice. “We’re all afraid of something.” “Then what do you fear?” “Solitary confinement…being completely alone.” “You just said you like to keep your options open. If you are so afraid of being alone, why not get married—have kids?” “It’s hard to find someone, when so many are faithless.” She flinched as if he had actually struck her, and straightened her spine. “Pardon me?” “I’m sorry,” he quickly amended. He certainly did not want to push her away. The idea was to lure her, romance her. “That was uncalled 161

KISS OF DECEIT for, but you did ask. Why get married if you can’t remain faithful?” The soft lines of her face hardened. He could tell their conversation rankled her. Though he wanted to get her beneath him, at the moment, he was having trouble keeping his disdain to himself. For some reason, this woman bothered him far more than the others. Maybe it was the tiny age lines creasing her eyes and her mouth. The others could argue their young age, didn’t know better. But with age, came wisdom—and what had this one learned? “What about you—are you any better for dating a married woman?” “I suppose not,” he lied. He needed her trust, her confidence if she were to ever screw him. And to kill her, he needed her beneath him. “You haven’t told me what scares you yet. What do you fear, Samantha? What makes you crawl inside yourself?” “I don’t know—not being in control, I guess. Death.” He thought of all the things he had been taught about dying at the Catholic Boy’s school. Sister Mary Susan had waggled her finger at him countless times. “Jesus Christ is your savior. If you want to live,” she used to say, “then you had better start acting more like him.” “Christians believe they never die, but live on through Christ.” “What does being a Christian have to do with being afraid to die?” “You would believe that God is your salvation. Who should be afraid of death if they shall live?” “Then I take it you’re a Christian.” “I believe something created this world.” “Do you fear death?” “We all have to die sometime. Some of us just sooner than others.” “I suppose so.” Then, as if to change topics, she said, “It’s still early. Do you want to get out of here?” He smiled again. “I know a small, out-of-the-way place.” A reddish glow warmed her face, though her eyes told another story. She was hungry for more than the chicken pasta she had left untouched. “Are you suggesting?” 162

KISS OF DECEIT “Do you have something better to do?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “A date with death, perhaps?” She giggled her annoying little titter. “Not that I know of.” He threw a couple of twenties on the table. “Then, I say you have a date with me—one that requires me on top of you.” The look on her face told him—he had struck pay dirt. * * * Another long day at work; another long day wasted. LeAnne had gone over the cases with a fine-toothed comb, visited possible suspects, questioned repeat sex offenders let out on early parole, and still came up empty-handed. Joe Drake would soon want answers—answers she had yet to discover. Someone ended Jillian and Miranda’s life, not to mention the poor caretaker’s. And that someone was still running loose, probably stalking his next victim. Someone else would die before they ever solved the case—LeAnne could feel it in her bones as sure as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow. A shiver passed down her spine. She exited her car, set the alarm. The short sound of the horn filled the silent night, startling her as she headed up the sidewalk. She chuckled at her misplaced nervousness, her unease, and glanced at her home. The dark windows stared back and Chad’s Lexus was nowhere in sight. Obviously, he opted to go home—his home. LeAnne cursed herself again for not changing the bulb on her porch. Safety should always come first. She was a cop, for crying out loud. Fumbling in the darkened doorway with for her key, LeAnne finally found the one she sought and stuck it into the hole. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose. An odd feeling of being observed washed over her. As she turned to glance behind her, a hand shot out from the dark, 163

KISS OF DECEIT covered her mouth, and stopped short her squeal. Her heart pounded as another arm snaked about her ribs and pulled her against the solid wall of a chest. Her breasts rose and fell with her short breaths as her blood raced through her veins. LeAnne willed herself to be calm as the intruder leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Unlock the door,” in a deep, evasive voice. She did as told, all the while willing herself to remain composed. After she unlocked the door, the man pushed them through the opening and slammed it closed. Before the intruder could stop her, LeAnne flicked on the light switch. What caught her attention in the adjacent mirror, however, rent a horrified cry from her lips as the hand covering her mouth dropped away. Snake Gallego held her securely in his arms, his face battered, bloodied, and bruised. He released his hold and grunted in pain as she stepped away. His arm immediately wrapped his upper torso, which was covered by a bloodied shirt. His raspy, wheezing breaths had her guessing his arm protected broken ribs. “My God,” she whispered, touching his swollen lip. Snake flinched. “What happened?” “Who is more like it,” he mumbled. He walked with a noticeable limp further into the house and sat heavily on her sofa. LeAnne followed. “Who did this to you, Snake?” “A friend.” His sarcasm seemed somewhat misplaced as she stared at his battered face. “Who?” “Just drop it.” “Snake, I—” His jaw tightened. “I said, drop it.” She held up her hands in defense. “All right, all right. Where…where’s your motorcycle? I didn’t see it when I came up the 164

KISS OF DECEIT driveway.” He leaned his head against the couch. “I parked it out back, so no one would know I was here.” He chuckled, then grunted from the pain. “Wouldn’t want your dear fiancé to get up in arms over my sudden appearance.” “How did you know he wouldn’t be here?” “I took my chances.” LeAnne sat down beside him. Grasping the sides of his shirt, she tried to raise it, wanting to see from where the blood stemmed, but his hand interrupted her. “For crying out loud, Snake, I just want to see if we should take you to the hospital.” “No hospital.” But then he released his hold on his side and allowed LeAnne to remove his shirt. Purple bruising already marred the tanned skin in several places and blood seeped from scrapes. “Snake,” she pleaded. “Let me take you—” “No,” he growled with as much affirmation as she was sure he could summon. “All right, all right, you win,” LeAnne agreed reluctantly, sensing she would never change his mind. She gently touched one of the bruises on his side, again causing him to flinch. “Looks like you might have a few cracked ribs. Who did this to you? We should call the city.” Snake shook his head. “This is my beef.” “For heaven’s sake, Snake, let the cops—” “No,” he said again firmly. “Then why come here? I’m a cop.” “No shit,” he mumbled. His split lip had been reopened and was again bleeding. He tried to mop it with the back of his hand. “That’s not why I came here.” “Let me get you a cold washrag,” LeAnne said, then briefly left the room, returning with a plastic bag of ice and a cold rag. “Here,” she said, handing him the ice. “If not for alerting the authorities, then tell 165

KISS OF DECEIT me why you came to me?” She dabbed at his lip with the wet cloth, careful not to cause him further pain. His eyes locked with hers as a dull, throbbing ache plagued her lower abdomen. My God, she was pathetic. Withdrawing the rag, she handed it to him. The less she touched him, the better off she was. Snake ignored the gesture, but held the bag of ice to his lip. “Shit…I shouldn’t have come.” “It’s certainly too late to debate that now. Is anything else broken?” “I don’t think so.” “You really should get the blood washed off. You can use my shower.” He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Are you offering to do it for me, Detective? Because right now, I’m not so sure I can move again.” Shrugging her chin out of his grasp, she stood up from the couch— and as far out of his reach as possible. “Tell me why you came to me, Snake.” “I got the hell beat out of me and I wasn’t so sure I’d make it all the way home.” “You have other friends. Why me? And how did you know where I lived?” “It’s a small town. I asked around.” “You’ve been asking around about me?” “Yeah.” He chuckled, grasping his swollen ribs and groaning from the pain. “Why?” Even through his swollen eyelids, LeAnne could see his irises darken. His gaze intensified. “Because I want in your pants, Detective. Is that clear enough for you?” Her brows rose. “Excuse me?” “I don’t believe I have to repeat myself unless you get some kick 166

KISS OF DECEIT out of hearing a grown man grovel. I want to screw you, LeAnne.” “Would you get yourself beat up just to—” His amusement returned, cutting off her statement; he grasped at his ribs again. She wanted to run to his side, but held her stance. “I wouldn’t have gone to this extent. But right now, you have nothing to worry about, I’m in no position to get laid. I just need a place to crash for a bit.” His crudeness was nearly her undoing, though certain parts of her anatomy throbbed at the implications. She raised her tone a notch. “And there wasn’t anywhere else, you could go?” “Nope.” “Lucky me,” she grumbled, then pulled him to his feet. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then clean your wounds so you don’t get an infection. You need a shower.” A slight grin turned up one puffy side of his lip. If it hadn’t been for the movement of his cheek, LeAnne wouldn’t have caught the slight gesture at all. “Will you help me take off the rest of my clothes?” “Sorry, Charlie,” she said, placing one of his long arms over her shoulder and walking him to the bathroom. “That’s where you’re on your own. I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.” She heard the slight rumble of his chuckle, though he seemed to contain the sound to spare himself the agony. “You really do need to lighten up, McVeigh—have fun.” “I think I’m better off not knowing your type of fun.” LeAnne lowered him to the closed seat of the toilet. “Afraid?” She stared at him for a few minutes, then started the water in the shower and dropped a couple of white towels at his feet. “Not much scares me, Gallego,” she said, then made to exit the suddenly too-small room. “I say you’re wrong,” he said; his words stopped her quick retreat. 167

KISS OF DECEIT She turned at the door. “I think you’re scared of me. As a matter of fact—I think I scare the hell out of you.” “And why would I let a foul-mouthed biker like you scare me? I chew up and spit out worse adversaries than you in my job, every day.” Snake stood, his form towering over her. With one arm he pulled her flush against him. “I’m not your enemy, LeAnne,” he said, the sound feather-light. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.” “Then what is it you want?” He leaned close to her ear; his breath fanning the surface. “To taste you.” He licked the sensitive spot below her ear. “To smell you.” His nose nudged her neck. Then, barely audible, he whispered, “To be inside you…melt so far into you that you no longer know that I’m not a part of you. And then…when I’m done…I’m going to want to do it all over again.” No words could form in her muddled brain. The only image remaining were the two of them rolling around on her satin sheets and doing exactly what he had insinuated. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” She pushed at his chest, forgetting his injuries, and forced him to drop his hold with a grunt. “You’re full of yourself, Gallego.” “Am I?” Then, without a decorum of modesty, he undid the front of his jean shorts and dropped them to the floor, leaving LeAnne gaping, rooted to the floor where she stood. He grinned. “Like what you see?” Every bare inch of him was hard. The word “soft” could never be used to describe Marcus Gallego. Her face heated. The steam in the room became unbearable. “You might want to think about a cold shower, Gallego,” she said and turned from the room, slamming the door behind her. She leaned against the wood door, listening to the groans his 168

KISS OF DECEIT chuckling caused. Her imagination went rampant as she heard the change in the sound of the shower, knowing he stood beneath its steady stream. How the hell did she ever get into these predicaments? Chad had no doubt slipped beneath the sheets of his own bed by now, dreaming about LeAnne in hers. And here she was, thinking about the steam of the shower and being wrapped within Snake’s embrace. LeAnne tapped the heel of her palm against her head, cursing herself, and walked into the living room. No one ever said her life would be safe and easy with Chad. But damn, no one ever told her temptation would come in the way of Marcus Gallego either. This was going to be one hell of a long night.

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CHAPTER 17 LeAnne paced her living room like an animal trapped in a cage. Side to side, back and forth. Her carnal thoughts attested to the fact that at the moment, she was no better than an animal either. She could do this; she could control her thoughts, her desires. But right now, nothing seemed stronger than the lure of Marcus. She could certainly understand Debra Lewis’s position when she bowed to temptation and slept with her husband’s best friend. One more kiss from Marcus, and LeAnne doubted she would have the will to resist him either. Maybe she ought to break the engagement with Chad. He certainly did not deserve this kind of behavior. But he had been her rock, her haven of security. They had been through so much already. And for her to turn her back on him, with the wedding but a short month away? She never wanted to hurt him. He loved her—and yes, she supposed she loved him, too, though at the moment, her actions spoke otherwise. 170

KISS OF DECEIT Straightening her shoulders, as well as her resolve, she headed toward the bathroom door to tell Marcus just that, when a loud thump and a following moan sounded through the quiet house. LeAnne ran the rest of the way, expecting to find Snake lying at the bottom of the tub, powerless to help himself. She flung open the door. Marcus stood in the shower, blue-striped curtain pulled to the side, one hand above his head, grasping the rod, the other about his rib cage. The viper on his left biceps seductively wound up the arm holding his ribs. Nothing but a white towel wrapped his lean hips, one leg cocked up on the tub’s edge; his skin still dripped from the shower. Even battered and bruised, the picture he presented was almost too much to bear. LeAnne wanted to make a hasty retreat, but the look in Marcus’s eyes fixed her to the spot. It wasn’t fair that God had created a creature so perfect, and of course, He had placed him on this earth just to tempt her. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “No…no,” she stuttered, thinking of a befuddled excuse she might be able to come up with. Instead, she opted for the truth. “I thought you might have fallen. The thump…your groan.” His swollen lips curved gently. “I slipped getting out of your deep tub. When I grasped the rod to stop myself from falling, I pulled at my ribs.” “You’re still holding onto the rod.” “It’s going to hurt like hell, too, when I lower my arm. I was just bracing myself for the pain.” The corners of his puffy eyes turned up. Obviously, he enjoyed her uneasiness. “But thanks for the concern.” Finally, he stepped over the edge of the tub, moaning, then lowered his arm, still holding his side. “Shit. I can think of a million better ways to be spending this night.” “You might have internal injuries, Snake. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” “Just let me get my shorts on, and I’ll get out of your hair. It’s 171

KISS OF DECEIT obvious, I’m upsetting you by being here.” Like he had not already known that before he arrived. But to dispute the fact would be admittance. The sooner Snake Gallego left her house, the better off she was. “You’ll need a clean shirt or chance infecting those scrapes.” “I don’t carry extra ones with me. Got any bright ideas? I doubt anything you wear would fit me. Not that I wouldn’t mind having something of yours next to my skin.” If nothing else, he remained consistent. LeAnne cleared her throat. “Umm—Chad has a few things here that you might be able to borrow.” “He lives here, then?” “Not that it’s any of your business.” Her ire rose in defense. “But he stays here part time—the weekends. Weeknights, he usually goes back to his own home.” Snake let out a humph and shook his head. “If it was me—I’d be here every night. I wouldn’t miss a single opportunity to be inside you.” LeAnne’s face heated; her ears surely glowed red. “You wouldn’t get the chance. Besides—Chad and I will be together every night, once we’re married. Right now, we allow each other the space.” “To each his own,” he said, then stepped into his cutoffs, pulling them up over his hips and letting the towel drop to the floor. LeAnne turned her face until she heard the zipper and his answering chuckle. “Now what’s so funny?” She glared at him. “You—a moment ago, you saw all there is to see. And now, when I’m putting my pants on, you turn away, reddening from head to toe. Your shyness—it’s a real turn-on. Too bad I hurt too damn much to do anything about it.” Wanting to change the subject and get him out of her house as fast as possible, she asked, “Are you sure you can make it home? I mean, I’d hate to see you get hurt any worse.” 172

KISS OF DECEIT Marcus advanced on her until little space separated them. He glanced down. Hell, even looking like something out of a horror movie, he was oddly appealing. “Why, LeAnne? You going to let me stay the night?” She attempted to back from him, but the wall stayed her position. “I can give you a lift home. But staying here wouldn’t be such a good idea.” “Why?” he whispered, his tone husky. “I told you, I’m in no position to get laid. But if you want a rain check—” “What’s going on here?” another male voice came from the opened doorway. LeAnne turned her head as the acid in her stomach churned. She glanced into Chad’s angry eyes. Oh God, her life was over. Snake simply backed away, not looking guilty in the least as he grasped the white towel from the floor and finished drying his chest. Not one word in the way of an explanation to his presence. She was on her own; she was dead meat. “LeAnne?” Chad asked, bringing her full attention to him. “I asked you a question. What the hell is going on here?” LeAnne immediately stepped away from the wall and backed Chad out of the bathroom, hoping to defuse the situation. She closed the door behind them. Snake’s chuckle filtered through the dead air. The thick tension in the room she could have cut with a knife. “It’s not really what you think, Chad.” His brows rose. “My fiancée is standing in the bathroom with a nearly naked man, talking about getting laid.” His tone rose to a fevered pitch. “Tell me, LeAnne, which goddam part did I misinterpret!” “Chad—” She laid her hand gently on his chest and he smacked it away. “Get the hell away from me, LeAnne. Right now, I’m too pissed to 173

KISS OF DECEIT deal with this. I’m afraid if you get too close—” “What?” Marcus asked as he picked the worst time to exit the bathroom, the bloody shirt covering his torso. “You’ll hit her?” “I suggest you get back on that bike of yours and get the hell out of here.” Gallego shifted his stance and crossed his arms. The last thing LeAnne wanted was for this to come to blows, Marcus being in no condition for another fight. She grasped his biceps and led him from the room, toward the back of the house. “I think it’s best if you leave,” she whispered. “You going to be all right? If not, I can—” “Please, Marcus, believe me, you’ve done enough already.” “If he lays one hand on you—” LeAnne placed her finger against his lips, silencing him. “You’re in no position to defend me right now. Besides, I can take care of myself. Chad would never hurt me—he loves me.” Marcus shook off her touch as if offensive, then headed for the door. She sensed he intended on leaving without saying another word. “Marcus.” He turned halfway through the door. “Who did this to you?” Snake’s cheeks rose ever so slightly. She cared about him, and he knew it. “Bull Grant—lucky for me, gained his release—he’s still pissed that I knocked out his gold tooth in the joint. I guess some people just carry grudges.” LeAnne narrowed her gaze. “He did this all on his own?” Snake chuckled, then groaned. “He had a couple of buddies with him. But, hey, who said life was fair?” “Are you going to be all right?” “There isn’t much you can do about that now, is there?” She shook her head, causing him to chuckle again; his arm wrapped his ribs. 174

KISS OF DECEIT “Take care of your boyfriend, LeAnne. Right now, I think he needs your attention more than I.” He exited the house. LeAnne watched until he started his Harley, then turned the big bike and drove out of sight. She shut the back door, set the dead bolt, then spun around to find Chad standing inside the kitchen, glaring at her. The door to the kitchen swung silently behind him. “Well?” he said. She half expected him to be tapping his toe on the linoleum. For crying out loud, she was not some child to be scolded. Snake Gallego had come to her for help. What the hell had she done wrong? “Go to hell, Chad,” LeAnne said, as she meant to walk around him. He grasped her upper arm in one hand and backhanded her across the face with his other. Her head snapped backward as her cheek and the side of her mouth seared in pain. She placed her hand over the area; the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. “My God, babe,” he whispered, suddenly aghast. “I’m so sorry.” LeAnne shrugged from his grasp, and exited the kitchen. She walked into the bathroom, still smelling the scent of Snake within its small perimeter. In the mirror, she could see her cheek and lips already starting to swell. Chad stood behind her, full of remorse. LeAnne could hardly believe Chad had struck her, especially since he had told Snake otherwise, making him no better than her father. “Forgive me, babe. I don’t know what came over me.” LeAnne spun around. “Sure, you do, Chad. You don’t stop to think. You never do. Did you ever think to wait for an explanation? No—you just come in here all accusatory.” His ire rose again. She could see it in the flaming of his cheeks. “You can’t turn this around on me. I’m not the one who was standing her a few minutes ago, contemplating screwing a biker.” “Excuse me? Who said I even entertained the idea?” Heat flushed her cheeks at the small lie. “Snake Gallego came here because he was 175

KISS OF DECEIT hurt.” “Snake Gallego came here because he wanted in your pants.” LeAnne flinched at hearing Snake’s own words spoken on Chad’s lips. Somehow, Snake’s admission now made her sick—not full of desire. Hearing them on her fiancé’s lips, dirtied them, brought them down to a low level. The worst part was, she had considered the idea. “You’re full of it, Chad. Did you see his face? I really don’t think he was in any position to get my pants off.” “So you would have let him, otherwise?” She knitted her brows. “Would you stop turning my words against me! I only meant to say—that was not his reason to come here. He needed medical attention.” “Then you go to a hospital, for chrissake!” She lowered her voice, the fight going out of her. Her cheek and mouth throbbed. “He didn’t want to go to the hospital. Believe me, I offered to drive him.” “So, what’s this about a rain check?” Chad hissed as he advanced on her. LeAnne glanced at the floor. “As you recall, I didn’t agree.” No,” he said, his angry eyes baring down on her. “You didn’t say anything. Not a denial or an admission. Tell me, babe, what would have happened if I would have been able to sleep tonight? I tossed and turned in that big, lonely bed, thinking about being with you. So instead of a sleepless night, I elected to come here and see you.” “As I said, Chad, nothing would have happened.” “Because Gallego was in no position. What about next time?” “There won’t be a next time.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m marrying you, Chad. You’re the one I love.” His eyes softened slightly, but nowhere near surrendering his anger. “Love has nothing to do with sex, LeAnne. What happens when you no longer desire me? Are you going to give in to that biker?” Hell, she was not far from it now and Chad had hit the nail on the 176

KISS OF DECEIT head. What happens when they settle into a comfortable marriage? Would her temptation of Marcus end just because they signed the marriage certificate? Doubtful. “I want you to be my husband,” LeAnne said, opting for the truth. She doubted she would be able to voice not wanting Snake and have it come out believable. “That fact is not about to change.” “But who do want in your bed?” She glanced briefly back to the carpet. “I’m only human, Chad. Desiring another is not something I can control. But I can tell you this, I would never act on it, knowing that I would lose you.” Obviously mulling her admission, Chad paced the small area, hands on his hips. LeAnne wished he would say something—anything. Finally, he turned to her; his eyes now calm and controlled—almost icy. Gone was the near hysteria she had seen earlier. “I suppose I can understand. We cannot control the way we think. After all, even as a man, I can see the allure Snake Gallego could have on a woman.” He paused, advancing on her. “But control must come from inside. Maybe you need to reflect on what life might be like without me, before we can move forward. I’m going home—after you’ve thought about your actions, you may call me tomorrow. Hopefully, we can get past this one mishap.” “Chad—” He raised his hand, staying her words. “I’ve said all I have to say, babe. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He left the house through the front door. LeAnne heard his car back out of her driveway. Her heart ached as strong as her jaw, but for whom, she no longer knew.

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CHAPTER 18 “Good God Almighty!” Sheriff Drake said, whistling through his teeth. “The sheriff’s office hasn’t had this much activity since it’s been founded.” He walked an arc around the sprawled, prone body, lying face down on the floor. Because of the fixed lividity, they knew the victim died face down. Purple bruising surrounded the pale, virgin-like skin of her neck, telling of strangulation. And by the looks of it, there hadn’t been much of a fight. Either the killer out-powered her, or she knew him and willingly invited him into her home. In which case, he snuck up from behind. A blitz-style attack. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nothing taken. Her purse lay beside the sofa, undisturbed. Everything appeared in its place. No, this wasn’t a common robbery. Whoever gained entrance, came here with the intent to take this woman’s life or she severely pissed somebody off the minute they had arrived. 178

KISS OF DECEIT The woman who had placed the call sat in a flowered chair by the door, blowing her nose into a well-used tissue; her eyes red and swollen. “I don’t think this is the work of our perp,” LeAnne told the sheriff as she glanced away from the weepy woman. “Do you think we should call BCI in on this?” Joe ran his fingers through his mussed hair, attempting to make some order of it. “I think we could still use the BCI’s expertise. Give them a call, tell them the specifics. We want someone here pronto— before somebody from the coroner’s office gets any idea to come in here and move the body.” “They can’t move the body until we tell them to—I’ll leave it here all damn day, if I like.” She winked at Joe as the two men waiting for the corpse grumbled by the door, shook their heads, and stepped out into the bright sunlight. The coroner himself had yet to arrive, but LeAnne knew it could be another couple of hours. She flipped open her cell phone, put a call in to the BCI, giving the case’s specifics, then punched in Bob’s pager number. LeAnne returned her attention to Joe, who shook his head in disgust. “We have a dead stripper, a dead doctor’s wife, and a dead caretaker—all presumably related. Now this. Look—you get this damn scene done. Fingerprints, shoe prints, tire prints, fibers, whatever the hell you can find. You and Bob help the BCI process this scene, and then get back to the sheriff’s office. I think it’s time we had a serious meeting.” LeAnne shifted her stance. “I really don’t think this scene is related to the other three. Probably a pissed off boyfriend—on any account, I’m betting it’s a man.” “Great deduction, LeAnne,” the sheriff said, sarcasm dripping from each word. Anger flared in Joseph Drake’s eyes; she was about to take the brunt of it. He raised his voice. “This woman’s been strangled to death, and I’m saying it’s a close enough link to at least look at the 179

KISS OF DECEIT possibility of a connection. I’ll see you at the office.” With that said, and not giving her a chance to defend her thoughts, the sheriff stormed out of the house. There would be hell to pay when she got back to the office. She was just glad he hadn’t commented on her own bruise, though his gaze had traveled to the spot on her face frequently. Thanks to her big mouth and poor judgment, LeAnne sported a welt on her cheek and jaw line the size of a mole hill and bruising to go along with it. At this point, LeAnne hadn’t prepared an answer for anyone on how she received the mark. But she knew, once back at the office, the question would come up. Of course, she was an idiot. She had run into a doorjamb and nothing more. If they didn’t want to believe her story, then it would be their problem. Aside from the two deputies measuring the room and triangulating the body, the only other sound came from the soft sobs of the woman in the chair. LeAnne would have to question her and send her on her way, ASAP. This poor woman had gone through hell. Her cell phone rang, disrupting her reverie. She flipped open the flap. “Hello.” Hearing Bob Reese on the other end, she quickly told him the specifics and location of the crime. Bob said he would be there within fifteen minutes. LeAnne ended the conversation, then replaced the phone in her jacket pocket. She approached the woman and knelt in front of her. “Mrs.…” “Duncan,” she sniffed. “Samantha Duncan. Cora…Cora is—was my friend.” New tears washed down her cheeks as she used the damp tissue to wipe them away. Moisture gathered in her nostrils. She quickly blew her nose, then gave LeAnne her full attention. LeAnne needed answers and Samantha Duncan’s cooperation. With a dead body only a few feet away, she wasn’t about to get that here. 180

KISS OF DECEIT “Mrs. Duncan, why don’t you follow me into the next room, and we’ll let my deputies do their job.” LeAnne ushered the woman into the kitchen, where she closed the pivoting door behind them. They sat across from one another at the table, a potted fern between them. After extracting her note pad, she flipped back several pages, and took out a pen. “Mrs. Duncan—” “Please, call me Samantha.” “Okay, Samantha. Can you tell me the exact time you found Miss Smith?” Samantha dabbed the corner of her eye with her fingers, then used the same hand to rub her temple. “It’s not like I checked my watch. But I think it was somewhere around eleven.” “A.M.—about an hour ago?” “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t have waited all night to call you, for God’s sake.” “I’m trying to get the facts as perfect as I can, Samantha. This is a murder case, and it is imperative that the facts are completely correct. Even though it is ridiculous to think you found Miss Smith last night and didn’t call the sheriff’s office until eleven today—we must never assume.” “I’m sorry. I’m a little shaken.” “And understandably so. Now—so I can get back in there and do my job—I’ll make this as quick as possible. With the understanding, though, that I would like you to come down to the sheriff’s office for a more extensive interview as soon as you feel up to it. The sooner, the better.” Samantha nodded and glanced at the table surface where she clasped her hands in front of her, blanching her knuckles. “Miss Smith—Cora, did she have any enemies? Someone who might have wanted her dead?” She shook her head. A tear dropped to the table. “Cora was 181

KISS OF DECEIT beautiful. She had a lot of friends. I mean, that’s the whole reason I came over.” She glanced up at LeAnne. “Someone from where she works called me—concerned because Cora rarely missed work. She loved her job.” “Where did Miss Smith work?” “The hospital. She was a receptionist.” The hairs pricked at the back of LeAnne’s neck. “The Henry County Hospital?” “Yes.” “Did she know a Dr. Frank Holliday?” “Of course. As a matter of fact, I think she liked Frank a lot; talked about him all the time, how cute and nice he was. I think that was one of the reasons she liked working at the hospital so much. She thought one day she might even marry a doctor. But she never went out with Frank—I mean he was married and all.” “So Cora never dated married men?” “Not him, anyway. He was head over heels in love with his wife and Cora knew it. You know, it was too bad his wife died like that.” Her eyes widened and she placed her fingers over her mouth. “There’s not a connection here, is there? I mean, wasn’t the doctor’s wife strangled?” “No, Samantha—I don’t believe these cases are connected. I’m not at liberty to discuss the other case with you, but I can tell you, the only similarity is that both women were strangled.” LeAnne was not about to bring up the sheriff’s own feelings about the possible connection, so instead, she changed topics. “Was there any one man in Miss Smith’s life? A jealous boyfriend perhaps?” “Cora didn’t have a steady, if that’s what you’re getting at. She dated a lot of men; she liked to keep her options open. You don’t think one of them…?” “It’s very possible, Samantha.” The door to the kitchen swung open and one of the deputies poked 182

KISS OF DECEIT his head through. “Coroner’s here,” he said, “and Bob Reese, too.” LeAnne glanced back at Samantha as the deputy left them alone. Samantha blew her nose. “Why don’t you allow me to have one of the deputies drive you home. We can question you later at the office.” Samantha’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m fine…really.” She choked on a sob. “I’m sure you are.” She paused before adding, “I’m going to need a list of men Cora went out with—anyone you can think of, especially in the last six months. Right now, Samantha, I need to go in there and finish my job.” LeAnne checked her watch. “Can you meet me at the sheriff’s office sometime after supper?” “Around seven-thirty?” LeAnne nodded. “That would be fine.” “I’ll have my husband bring me.” “I think that would be a wise idea. I can have a deputy give you a ride home. You can pick up your car later.” “No—I can drive. Really.” “I’m sure you can, but I don’t want you backing out of the driveway and ruining any possible prints.” When she finally escorted Samantha and a deputy out of the house, LeAnne saw Bob Reese standing over the victim and Dr. Ahmad Rao checking the victim’s body temperature. “She’s been dead a good long time,” Dr. Rao said, looking at the thermometer. “I’d say she died around eleven or twelve last night. I’d like to get her into my office as soon as possible to do the autopsy. I’ll be able to give you a more accurate time then.” “Give us another few minutes, and we’ll be ready to transport,” Bob said. He dismissed the coroner with the turn of his back and approached LeAnne. “Same guy?” “I think we have a pissed off boyfriend instead.” “What makes you say that?” 183

KISS OF DECEIT “She willingly let the perp in, turned her back, and that’s when he attacked. I haven’t checked for latents yet, but I would say it’s a pretty safe bet we won’t find much. By the looks of the scene, she allowed him in the front door, and he blitzed from the back. When she was dead—he went out the way he came in.” “You think he left the door wide open?” LeAnne chuckled. “I think he was smarter than that. He closed the door all right. No one knew she was even home until Samantha found her.” “Then if our guy is no pro, we’ll find a latent.” “Samantha already destroyed what prints we might have found on the door handle when she arrived. She said she ran back out the front door and called from a neighbor’s, touching both the inside and outside doorknob.” “What about the lamps? Was there a light on?” “No.” “That means he shut off any lights when he left.” LeAnne pondered aloud. “A light left on all night might attract attention.” “We’ll check the light switches, the back of the door, and anywhere else he might have touched.” Bob paused and glanced at her swollen cheek and lip. “What happened to your face? It looks like you hit the side of a semi.” LeAnne rubbed her tender jaw. She glanced away. “It’s nothing, really. I didn’t turn on any lights when I got home last night.” She chuckled nervously; she knew how lame her concocted story sounded. But what else could she say? Chad struck her because Marcus Gallego offered her a rain check on getting laid? “I ran into a door jamb, that’s all.” Bob gazed at her skeptically. “You’ve lived there for how long and you still don’t know where your doors are—even in the dark?” “I know, pretty silly.” 184

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne grasped her fingerprinting kit and put herself to work, wanting to divert Bob’s attention from her face—and her life. “Must have hit it pretty hard to get that size of welt.” She knew he didn’t believe her for a minute. But lucky for her, he followed her lead and went to work, helping dissect the scene before the BCI arrived with their crew of technicians. * * * “What the hell is going on here?” Joe nearly screamed. In the few years Joseph Drake had been sheriff and his years as a law enforcement official before, LeAnne had never seen him this irate. “We have four dead bodies and not one goddam suspect. What the hell are you doing out there, LeAnne? Having a goddam party on the tax payers’ money?” Bob had already gone to the lab in BG and left her alone to deal with this. She would have to remember to thank him when he finally managed to make his way back to the office. “I’m sorry, Joe, but I really don’t think this is called for. It’s not like I’m not trying.” Joe stopped his pacing long enough to glare at her, fists on his hips. His sheriff’s pin glinted from the overhead flourescent lights. “Oh, really?” He advanced on her. “No, what it looks like is you’re having enough personal problems of your own”—his gaze stopped on her swelled cheek and jaw—“that maybe you aren’t paying enough attention to this case.” “Personal life aside—I’ve been spending hours on this case, going over and over what we do have.” One brow raised heavenward. “Who hit you, LeAnne?” “No one.” She laughed nervously. “I ran into a door, is all. Clumsy me.” She knew by the look on Joe’s face he hadn’t believed her any more than Bob had. But her personal life was none of their business. “What I’m saying is, I have poured my heart into this case. We had a suspect—Marcus Gallego. At the time, he looked like a damn good 185

KISS OF DECEIT suspect.” “And if it weren’t for Debra Lewis, we would have sent an innocent man away for a very long time. Any more brilliant ideas?” LeAnne squared her shoulders. “I really don’t think that was fair, sir—as a friend or a colleague.” Joe started pacing again, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “You’re right—it was a potshot. Tell me what we do have.” “Three good suspects. Allen Wymer was seen with and has admitted to sleeping with Jillian Gallego. Now we can also link him to Miranda Holliday.” Joe stopped; his eyes widened. “Wymer was dating the Holliday woman also?” “Not exactly, sir.” “Knock off the sir bullshit.” “When you treat me like an equal.” “All right—I’m sorry for the shot, but, dammit, LeAnne, we need to get this case solved and fast. Before—” “It hurts your election next term?” Fire radiated in his eyes. “Excuse me?” “I guess it’s my turn to apologize for the potshot.” He leaned against the window casing and crossed his arms over his chest. Her apology had not placated him; she would pay for her comment—probably dearly. “I was going to say, before anyone else wound up dead. What else do we have?” “Blade D’Angelo. He’s a fellow biker and a friend of Snake’s. One who is known to have no love lost for his buddy’s wife.” “Can you connect him to Miranda Holliday?” “Not yet, but we’re working on it.” “You said three suspects—who’s the third?” She stiffened her shoulders. LeAnne knew the sheriff would not like this one at all—especially if he was concerned about that election. “Anthony Hargrove.” 186

KISS OF DECEIT “What?” Joe nearly shouted. “If the judge knew you added his boy to our list of suspects, he’d be down here so fast he’d make your head spin. Where the hell did you pull this idea from? A magic hat?” LeAnne stood, braced her palms on the shiny surface of the sheriff’s oak desk, and glared at him. “I’m tired of the insinuations today that I’m incompetent. You realize, I’m not the only one running this case. Are you going to make these same insinuations to Bob Reese when you see him?” “No,” Joe stammered. “Then what the hell just crawled up your butt?” “Look, LeAnne. I’ve got pressure coming from all sides to solve this case, and fast. The public wants answers; the press is hounding me. We got three dead people now in this county, and one in Defiance County. Three of the four we believe to be connected. I want some good suspects—not some cockamamie bullshit idea about Judge Hargrove’s son.” “I saw him the other day at the Harley shop, two holes in the knees of his jeans and one leg of the pants had red paint on it.” “And?” “He’s very promiscuous.” Joe chuckled. “He’s promiscuous. That’s it?” “He lives near Jillian Gallego.” “So does Chad. Are you going to hold that against him as well?” “No,” she scoffed at the absurdity. “Tony Hargrove has admittedly slept with married women.” “Jillian? Miranda?” “Well, no—I can’t tie him to the two just yet.” “Oh, for chrissake, LeAnne. What you have is red paint on his knee, torn jeans, and an attraction for married women—which, at this point, does not include the murder victims. If Judge Hargrove got wind of this, he’d be after me to demote you. Is that what you want?” “Of course not.” 187

KISS OF DECEIT “Then I suggest you go back and reexamine your facts. Blade D’Angelo might be a good start. See if you can’t connect him with Miranda Holliday. And Wymer might not be a bad idea either; that is, as you say, you can connect him with both women. I suggest you work both angles—but stay away from Tony Hargrove.” “Is that an order?” “Call it what you want.” LeAnne’s ire rose, as did the heat in her face. She spun on her heel to exit the office. When she got to the door, he called out. She turned and glared at him. “Take care of your personal life, LeAnne—don’t let it affect your work.” “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” And she stomped off down the hall.

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CHAPTER 19 Samantha Duncan sat in the metal chair at the long table in the conference room of the sheriff’s office, her husband Hank at her side, his arm extended over the back of her chair. Her eyes looked red and puffy from a long day of crying, her nose sore from countless times of blowing it. LeAnne stepped further into the room and took a seat opposite the couple. She moved to the side the large stack of papers and files she had been looking over, hoping somewhere in the pile she’d find the answer she sought. “Mrs. Duncan, Mr. Duncan. I’m glad you could make it.” She glanced down at the thin wristband watch. “And, I see, right on time.” “We’ve been waiting nearly fifteen minutes,” Hank said, his tone testy. “I’m sorry, Mr. Duncan. I was just informed that you were in this room. Please accept my apology.” 189

KISS OF DECEIT “We’ve only arrived in here,” Samantha clarified. “We were waiting downstairs for you.” “Then I owe you a bigger apology. You should have been led here at the time of your arrival.” LeAnne thought of Suzy Lawson and made a mental note to inform the woman that she should alert LeAnne the minute someone arrives. “I will see that this problem is corrected.” “What is it you want, Detective?” Hank asked, shifting in his chair. “I really am a busy man, and I don’t have time to be ushering my wife around. Can we get this over with? Samantha has been through enough already.” “Of course,” LeAnne agreed. Jerk. Hank Duncan was about as personable as a pit bull. “Samantha, did you compile that list of men you know to have dated Cora in the last six months or so?” Samantha reached into her purse and extracted a neatly folded paper with about twelve names listed. “These are the ones I know of. But I’m certain there are a few she didn’t tell me about or that I’ve forgotten.” LeAnne scanned the paper. Quite the list for only six months; imagine if she would have asked for a couple of years. LeAnne recognized a few of the names, but no one stood out in particular. “Why wouldn’t she tell you about someone she might have been dating? You two were friends, weren’t you?” “Well, yes,” Samantha stammered. “I mean we talked about a lot of guys she liked, maybe even dated just once—but those were the only ones I could remember. Cora liked men and they seemed to like her even more.” “I see. Did any of these men seem angry when she stopped dating them?” “Not that I know of. Most of them were like Cora herself. They were out for a good time—not much else.” “Not a real good thing to do in these days. Did she always make them wear condoms?” “Pardon me?” Samantha asked, her brows meeting above the bridge 190

KISS OF DECEIT of her nose. “I’m trying to establish a possible reason for killing her—a motive. Somebody was real upset with Miss Smith, enough so to kill her. With HIV as a possibility—” “Oh, no.” Samantha shook her head from side to side. “Cora didn’t have HIV, Detective. That she would have told me.” “I’m sure she would have. But what if one of the men sleeping with her got upset about her multiple partners—worried about her contacting HIV and not telling him?” “Most men that went out with Cora knew she was promiscuous. I don’t think that sounds like a reason someone might kill her.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “You know—there was one person she went out with I forgot about. She said she slept with him just once. He said he was going to be a big-time lawyer someday. She laughed him off, told him she was far from impressed. With a daddy like his—anyone could be a lawyer.” LeAnne leaned forward; anticipation snaked up her spine. “His name? Do you remember it?” “She never told me, Detective. She said he was some spoiled rich kid, was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Cora never was one to be impressed by money—not that kind, anyway. She had a thing for doctors, like I told you before.” Samantha blushed as she looked to her lap. “Besides—she said he wasn’t very big. She said if she was going to screw something, she should at least be able to feel it.” “Is this really necessary?” Hank spoke up, pushing back his chair from the table, the legs screeching against the tiles. “What the hell does that have to do with Cora Smith getting strangled? Hell, the way I look at—she had it coming. She slept with half of Henry County, for crying out loud!” “That doesn’t get someone murdered, Mr. Duncan,” LeAnne said. “I’m trying to establish a motive and if her sex life figures into the maze, then I want to know about every aspect. Somewhere along the 191

KISS OF DECEIT line, Cora Smith made someone angry enough to want her dead.” Disgruntled, Hank settled back in his chair. Samantha patted his knee. “It’s all right, Hank, really.” “This boy,” LeAnne broke in, “you don’t know anything more about him? Who his daddy is?” “He rode a Harley.” Samantha brightened up. “A red one. I remember Cora saying the best thing between his legs was his red Harley.” Tony Hargrove. Red flashing warning signs flickered like neon in her head. Sheriff Drake had specifically asked her to stay away from him. Now, here Tony was, his name popping up into yet another murder case. This time—she could link him. Or could she? A red Harley-Davidson could hardly be called substantial evidence. But how many prominent men’s sons, who wanted to be a lawyer in this area, rode red Harleys? According to Sheriff Drake, probably too many to warrant an investigation. Yeah, when pigs fly! * * * A red bandanna, torn in two and sealed tightly in a plastic bag lay beside LeAnne on the seat of her car. She headed north on County Road 13 in the direction of Snake Gallego’s’ house, with Tony Hargrove still fresh in her mind. Joe Drake had asked, no, told her to stay away from Tony in her investigation. And of course, she would. But the Hargroves better pray that Anthony’s name stayed clear of her investigations from here on out. Should his name pop up again, the gloves would come off, and she would microscope every aspect of his life. As it stood for now, she wanted to concentrate on where the bandannas came from. If she could prove the murderer took the rag from the Gallego household and had not come from just any mechanic, 192

KISS OF DECEIT then she would be able to link Jillian’s, Miranda’s, and the caretaker’s deaths. Although, she knew in her gut, the same person took the life of all three victims. She just needed proof. The sun descended the horizon as she pulled into the long drive of the Gallego household. The gravel crunched beneath the sedan’s wheels. A lone light glowed softly in one of the front windows. LeAnne hoped that meant Marcus was indeed home, because if she were completely honest with herself, her other reason for coming here had nothing to do with the case. She needed to see for herself that Marcus had survived yesterday’s beating. Not to mention the news she had of Bull Grant’s arrest. LeAnne wanted to deliver that in person. Bull had spent few hours on the outside before breaking his parole. The city police took him back to CCNO on a domestic violence charge. Seems Bull had a beef with his girlfriend, too. Looking in the rearview mirror, she lightly ran a hand over her swollen cheek. Marcus would notice. Hopefully, though, he’d keep his comments to himself, for the last thing she wanted to do was make excuses for her or Chad’s behavior last night. The car door closed and she walked up the cobblestone to the rear of the house. With no sidewalk to the front, LeAnne knew all visitors used the rear entrance. The wooden screen door slapped loudly against the frame as she knocked. Shuffling of papers could be heard from inside and what sounded like a recliner’s foot rest slammed down. Marcus’s silhouette advanced toward the back door and was nearly upon her before she could see his dark, brooding expression. Snake did not appear too happy about her sudden presence. His gaze lowered; his brows met over the bridge of his nose. “What the hell happened to you?” he grumbled as he opened the screen door. LeAnne self-consciously rubbed the swollen area. She heard herself give the same bad excuse, “I ran into the door,” as she looked quickly 193

KISS OF DECEIT to the ground. Snake’s fingers touched her chin and brought her gaze up. “Bullshit.” “Excuse me?” “You may be able to use that bullshit line on everyone else—but I was there last night. Remember?” “I did it after you left.” “I’m not saying it didn’t happen after I left. I’m saying you didn’t run into the damn door. You ran into—” “Please, Marcus.” He studied her face before stepping aside, thankfully letting the subject drop. LeAnne entered the barely-lit kitchen, her eyes darting about. Jillian’s prone body flashed through her mind. Sprawled face-up on the white sheets. Eyes wide and sightless. Hands bound to the bed posts. Legs askew. LeAnne shook off the image, but not the fact that Jillian’s stamp seemed everywhere. The ecru lace curtains in the kitchen window; the ducks with blue ribbons about their necks, marching in a line along the wall border; the jars filled with flour, sugar, and coffee. Though spotless and dust free, the room looked as if it hadn’t been used since Jillian’s death. Snake walked into the living room, leaving LeAnne to follow quietly. A crocheted quilt draped the back of the floral sofa, while a large wreath with dried flowers hung above it. A mauve recliner sat by an end table with an attached lamp. The glowing light she had seen coming up the driveway. The only disorder to the room were newspapers scattered to the side of the chair. A thirty-two inch television sat on about twenty feet away, muted. Above it, a sixteen-by-twenty wedding picture hung of Snake pledging his vows to Jillian, Snake’s motorcycle silhouetted in the background. Unique as wedding photos go, but stunning nonetheless. 194

KISS OF DECEIT The thing that caught LeAnne’s eyes, though, was the devotion she saw in Snake’s gaze as he looked at his lovely bride. Jillian’s touch surrounded the house; her presence snaked up LeAnne’s legs and curled around her body like a mighty python, threatening to choke the life from her. “Is something wrong?” Snake asked, obviously seeing LeAnne’s distress. She had never been good at hiding her emotions. And this—this she had no business feeling distraught over. Jillian Gallego had been Snake’s wife, and LeAnne would soon be Chad’s. Clearing her throat, she turned to face Marcus. His arms crossed over his bare chest; he wore nothing more than cutoffs. She couldn’t believe she had not noticed the moment she arrived. “Don’t you ever wear clothes?” A smile itched at the corner of his lips. The swelling had alleviated somewhat. “I am. Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?” “Yes—I mean, no,” she stammered, heat rising to her ears. “What I mean is, this is your house.” “For a minute there, the way you looked around, I didn’t think you realized.” “It’s just that you’re a mechanic…a man.” “Jillian decorated the house.” “That’s pretty obvious.” He laughed. “Did you expect to find motorcycle parts littering the carpet and grease on every clean surface?” “Of course not.” “Then what did you expect, LeAnne? Jillian lived here, too.” “I haven’t forgotten.” A lengthy pause followed. “Is there a reason you came?” LeAnne reached a shaky hand into her jacket pocket and extracted the plastic bag tagged as evidence. “Have you ever seen this?” Snake laughed again. “Yeah—and several more like it. My drawers 195

KISS OF DECEIT are full of them upstairs.” “So you wouldn’t know if one of them were missing?” “Not likely.” “No way of telling if this came from your house?” “Nope. Why?” “We found this at another murder site—” “The Doc’s wife?” “Yes. Frank said that Miranda and he owned none like it. This is what tied Miranda’s wrists to her bed.” His expression darkened. “I know what you’re thinking. I was at CCNO at the time.” “I know—talking to me. I’m your alibi.” “I guess I couldn’t have asked for a more airtight one.” LeAnne grinned. “I’m just trying to see if there’s a possible connection between the two cases. If the killer took this from your house, then I can connect them.” “What made you think the bandanna came from here? It’s not like they’re unusual.” “The BCI lab in Bowling Green found Hylomar—” “A gasket adhesive.” “Yes.” “I’m not the only mechanic to use the stuff.” “I know. That’s why I brought the bandanna out for you to look at.” “I wish I could tell you positively that it’s mine, but I’d bet a dozen other mechanics in this area use some just like it.” LeAnne’s shoulders dropped in defeat. It’s not like she hadn’t expected that answer. Maybe hoped… Snake took a few steps in her direction. “What else brought you here, LeAnne?” Her eyes widened. “Um—I wanted to tell you Bull Grant was arrested this morning. Seems he used his girlfriend’s face as a punching bag as well. He went back to CCNO for a parole violation.” 196

KISS OF DECEIT He shrugged. “I suppose that’s good news—the incarceration, I mean.” LeAnne wanted to touch him, but knew it would be a mistake. Touching Marcus could be likened to an alcoholic at communion. “How are you?” “I’ll live. I told you that.” “I know, but I hated to send you away last night, the way you were feeling.” The grin on his face widened. “It’s not like there was much you could have done about it,” he said, then stepped closer. LeAnne held immobile, even when his fingers traced her swollen and purpled jaw. His smile vanished. “Maybe I should have stayed,” he whispered. “You did the right thing by leaving.” “If I would have stayed—” LeAnne stepped from his touch and gave him her back, glancing at the photo above the TV. She wrapped her arms around her to ward off the chill hardening the marrow of her bones. “You were in no shape to take on Chad. Besides, it wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve.” She hadn’t heard him move, didn’t know his closeness, not until his hand landed on her shoulder and slowly turned her around. “No woman deserves what he did.” Tears welled in her eyes; one slipped down her cheek. He used the pad of his thumb to wipe it away. “He’s my fiancé.” “I don’t care if he’s the president of the good ol’ US of A. No man has that right.” She stiffened her spine. “I was standing in the bathroom with a nearly nude man—” “I had shorts on.” “We were talking about getting laid.” 197

KISS OF DECEIT “If you recall—it was my invitation. You hadn’t agreed.” “But I didn’t say no, either.” He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then closed it. His eyes darted back and forth—as though waiting for her to deny him now. She didn’t. Snake grasped her nape and brought his lips down to hers, the kiss light, feathery, knowing that too much pressure would cause her swollen lip pain. His gentleness nearly undid her. She leaned into his solid frame. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the stairs, oblivious to any pain he still might harbor from the attack of the night before, then took them two at a time. He kicked open the ajar door at the top of the stairs, then laid her atop the clean white cotton sheets of his unmade bed. His and Jillian’s bed. Panic seized LeAnne. Her heart fluttered wildly. What on God’s earth was she doing? “I’m sorry, Marcus. I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? Goddam, but he doesn’t deserve you.” LeAnne narrowed her gaze at his misconception. She sat up and took his face between her palms. “It’s not Chad—though it should be,” she added as an afterthought. “Then what is it?” “It’s Jillian, Marcus, not Chad. And I’m afraid it always will be.” Snake flinched, pulled back from her touch, then paced to the window. Moments passed as she stared at his broad back. Finally, LeAnne stood, the mattress springs creaking, and quietly walked up behind him. She leaned against his warmth, wrapping her arms around his middle. Marcus didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her presence as he stared into the dark, empty horizon. 198

KISS OF DECEIT “I’m sorry.” He remained silent. “Don’t do this to me, Marcus. Don’t shut me out like this.” He slowly turned, his gaze frosty. LeAnne dropped her arms to her sides, suddenly wishing for his caress, his kiss, the warmth she felt moments ago. It was as though he had encased himself with ice—a northern chill radiated from him. “I think maybe it would be better if you left.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “You at least owe me an explanation.” Marcus looked back out the window. She wanted to wrap her arms back around him, but knew he wouldn’t welcome it. Not now. “You’re right,” he finally stated, his eyes glistening. His arm did a sweep of the room. “This is Jillian’s,” he said, then tapped two fingers against his chest on his heart. “And this—this is Jillian’s.” LeAnne knew Marcus had not meant to hurt her, though the thought of him never loving another left a bit of a gaping hole in her chest, but she couldn’t fathom why. Her heart held no room for Marcus Gallego either. They came from opposite worlds, entirely different guidelines. “Keep your heart, Marcus,” LeAnne said, raising on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “I’m not asking for it. But I can’t make love to you in a room that belongs to the woman who has your heart, either…nor can I betray Chad.” “He doesn’t deserve you.” “So you’ve said.” Marcus ran a finger down the line of her jaw, lightly touching the bruised area. “Don’t ever let him hurt you again.” She paused. “I won’t give him reason to.” With that, she walked from the room. The last thing she heard was the heavy creaking of the mattress springs as he sat on the bed.

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CHAPTER 20 Something bothered Bob—nagged him, really. The last conversation he’d had with Blade D’Angelo left him wondering if Blade did indeed hate Jillian enough to kill her. After all, Blade worked on motorcycles and cars by his own admission. And the red bandanna hanging from his back pocket looked curiously like the one tying Miranda’s wrists to the bedpost. He pulled into a drive, just on the outskirts of town. The front porch, in serious need of repair, leaned to one side. The windows sported venetian blinds, worn and drooping from the battering of the hot, summer sun. The cruiser door creaked as he exited the car and wiped the sweat from his brow. It had to be near ninety—and in this heat, it seemed the poorly fixed air-conditioner did little to keep the sweat at bay. Government money—some said there was a lot of it, but Bob surely wasn’t on the receiving end of any. 200

KISS OF DECEIT Bob walked up the stairs, the old wood creaking beneath his girth. It was a good thing he didn’t top the scales, or the steps would have certainly given way. Termites had taken their toll. He knocked on the door and waited. One slat in the blind slid down as a pair of beady, brown eyes peered out. Mumbling traveled from beyond the thin walls. Finally, the old door opened and a tall, rail-thin man curiously looked at him from the other side. “Are you the man they call ‘Balls’?” Bob asked, feeling ridiculous for voicing the term. “That’s what they call me,” he affirmed. “Who the hell are you? Don’t believe I’ve seen you ’round before.” Bob flashed his badge. “Bob Reese. I’m with the sheriff’s office. I’m looking into an ongoing investigation committed here in the county. Jillian Gallego—you know her?” He shifted wearily. “I knew Snake,” was his non-committal response. Bob pulled out a spiral-bound pad. “Then you knew of his wife. Would you mind answering a few questions?” He shrugged his wiry shoulders, the bones sticking up like permanent tits made in a shirt from a wire hanger. He held the door open and Bob stepped through. Bob took a quick glance around. A heavy-set woman sat in a recliner, stuffing her face with what looked like last night’s leftovers. An open bag of chips lay beside the chair with a tub of French onion dip. She licked her beefy fingers as she glanced up, but quickly went back to The Price is Right playing on the thirteen-inch snowy TV screen. “We can go on out here to the kitchen if you don’t mind,” Balls said, showing Bob the way. “Don’t want to disturb the wife. She watches Bob Barker every day. Monday through Friday.” The kitchen, though small, appeared relatively clean. The stove and refrigerator looked old enough to have come over on the ark; the 201

KISS OF DECEIT cupboards scarred and the paint chipped. Bob sat on the varnished-worn kitchen chair Balls offered him. “The reason I’m here is to ask you a few questions about Blade D’Angelo.” Balls had pulled out a chair opposite; he stopped in mid-descent. “Would you like a coffee or something? We don’t get many guests.” “Coffee would be fine,” Bob said, realizing his need for a kick of caffeine. His head pounded from the withdrawal. He had left this morning in a hurry to get to the BG lab, and hadn’t had a chance to sneak his normal five or six cups. “Black.” Balls poured them each a cup and set the chipped mug in front of Bob. Some of the liquid spilled over the side in Balls’ obvious nervousness. Steam rose and disappeared into the humid air. “What was your name again?” he asked. Bob shook the thin hand. “Bob—Bob Reese.” “Well, Deputy Reese, what is it I can do for you? You asked me about Jillian Gallego. I knew Snake all right, but his wife, she never did hang out much with him. I suppose she was too busy with that strip joint and all. My wife, Louise,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating the woman in the recliner, now with her back to them, “she didn’t like Snake’s wife too well. Said she was a whore.” Bob drummed a couple of fingers on the table. “Your wife know Jillian well?” “No, sir. She didn’t like the idea Jillian was a stripper. Said no good woman would do that for a living.” “And Blade D’Angelo—you know him?” “Me and Blade, we go back a long ways. He’s the one who gave me my name. Balls, that is. Ain’t my real name.” He chuckled. “But then again, I guess you already knew that.” “How did you get the name ‘Balls’?” “Never did stand up to nobody. Always had Blade to keep me out of trouble. He used to say, ‘Lenny—you ain’t got no balls.’ Always get 202

KISS OF DECEIT me to chuckling. I never did weigh much; wouldn’t survive in any fights or anything like that. He used to tell me I should take karate or something. I told him I didn’t have no use for that Chinese bullshit. Hell, I’d still get my ass kicked. Anyway, Blade got tired of calling me ‘No Balls,’ and just dropped the ‘No.’ Said it was funnier anyway. It just sorta stuck.” Bob grinned. “I’m not sure I’d want to go around being known as ‘Balls’—let alone ‘No Balls.’” “It ain’t so bad. Hell, Blade used to make up these stories when people asked me how I got my name. He’d tell them I was one mean son-of-a-bitch. Ain’t no one should mess with me. After awhile, some of them even started thinking I was crazy as a loon. Pretty soon, no one would mess with me. Thought I might pull a knife on them. According to Blade”—he held his fingers about a foot apart—“that damn thing was this long, too. The funny thing was I never did own a blade—he did.” He glanced briefly at the table. “That’s how he got his name— he’s always carrying one or two.” Bob tucked away that bit of information for future reference. “So you and Blade go way back?” “Yes, sir. He’s the closest thing I got to a brother. Got me a couple of no-good sisters. But I ain’t got no brothers.” “What did Blade think of Snake’s wife?” His eyes darted nervously. Bob could see he was about to lose the small man’s cooperation. He reworded his question. “Blade and Snake, have they been friends for years?” “Nearly as long as me and Blade. Blade—he’s the one who introduced me to Snake. When I first met him, I thought he was one of the meanest sons-of-bitches I ever did come across. He and that tattoo of his. People swore his bite was much worse than any damn viper. That’s how he got his name—from that tattoo, I mean. At least, I’m sure that’s how he got it. He had that name when he came to town…the 203

KISS OF DECEIT tattoo, too.” “So, how is it Blade introduced you?” Balls took a sip from his cup, then set it on the table. “You know, I can’t say as I remember.” “Was Snake married?” “Hell, no. He’s gotta be somewheres about thirty, thirty-two. He only met Jillian a few years back. I’d say he was about twenty-two, twenty-three when we met. Me and Blade, we went to school here and graduated the same year, but we didn’t start hanging around until about three years outta school. Snake came into town a few years later.” “Where was he from?” “Cleveland.” “Why come here?” “He knew Kip Lewis—Kip offered him a job. Back then, though, the Harley shop was out on ol’ State Route 6. Them were the good ol’ days.” “Is that how he met Blade?” “No—Blade worked on his own bikes. He would go out there and get parts sometimes, though.” “How did he meet Snake?” Balls cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Look, I’m not out to bust Blade on some trumped-up old charge. I know he used to deal.” Bob used the term loosely, knowing the sheriff’s office still believed Blade involved in drug trafficking. Blade D’Angelo was crafty as a fox. The law had nothing they could pin on him. Yet. “He used to deal,” Balls affirmed. “Snake heard about Blade through a friend of a friend. He bought from Blade. They became fast friends. Somewhere about that time, Blade introduced us.” “So—back to Jillian. When she entered the picture, how much did it change this camaraderie?” 204

KISS OF DECEIT Balls shrugged. “The same way it changed all of us. When I met Louise, I stopped hanging with the boys so much.” “When was that?” “About six months before Snake met Jillian.” “Was he still buying from Blade?” “Occasionally. Shortly thereafter, though, he quit using. Blade said it had something to do with that whore. He said it changed Snake altogether. Said if he had it his way, he’d see to it that bitch was through with Snake.” Balls struck a cord. Every fiber of Bob’s being told him he was on to something. “Blade called Jillian a bitch?” “And a lot more. He never did like Snake’s ol’ lady. Said she wasn’t nothing like my Louise. Blade said she had too much going on between her legs for one man to ever satisfy her. She was always ballin’ someone—not just Snake.” “Anyone you know?” “I just heard rumors. Some say she was sleepin’ with one of the sheriff’s deputies right out at Snake’s own house—in his own goddam bed. Ain’t no woman who does that is worth keepin’. That’s why I thought maybe Snake did do it.” Then he added quickly, “Damn glad he didn’t, though.” “He was exonerated. Anything else you might know about Jillian?” Balls leaned across the table. He lowered his voice. “Don’t know how much of this is true, but Blade said she was a junkie. Liked her smack, she did. Although, I think toward the end, she quit using so much.” “Jillian Gallego did heroin?” “You didn’t hear it from me. But I think that’s why Snake quit his drinkin’ and drugs. He had to take care of his ol’ lady. What good she was. She use to hang with a bunch of women when she wasn’t strippin’. They all did drugs on occasion. Some coke, some smack.” “Can you name any of these women?” 205

KISS OF DECEIT “I think I’ve said enough already,” Balls said, then finished the rest of his coffee. “It may or may not be important, but I’d hate to think I’d have to subpoena you on something that isn’t.” Balls glanced at his wife, who still paid them little attention as Bob Barker blared from the speakers of the small TV. Again, he lowered his voice and leaned in. “I only know a few names. Most of them were married. Barbara Anders—” “Anders’ Gym?” “That’s the one. Her husband runs the gym uptown. A Duncan woman—” “Samantha Duncan, as in Duncan’s Paving?” “Yep. Um—Tabitha something-or-other. I can’t remember her last name, beautiful girl, though. Oh—and ol’ Doc Holliday’s wife.” Bob’s eyes widened. “Miranda?” Balls chuckled. “Who would think a doc’s wife would be buying street coke? She had a real problem, too. It’s a good thing her husband was a doctor. She needed the money to support a habit as big as hers.” “She buy her coke from Blade?” Balls’ face reddened, affirming Bob’s question. He quickly averted his gaze. “I ain’t got nothing more to say.” Holy Cow! Bob thought, having just linked Blade D’Angelo with two dead women, possibly three. “Blade know Cora Smith?” Balls’ gaze snapped up. “She was another one who hung around that bunch. Blonde—big tits. But that bitch had no use for Blade. I don’t think she did drugs.” Bingo. Blade knew all three dead women. “If she did, she won’t any more. Cora Smith was found strangled to death two days ago.” “No shit? Ain’t that how the Doc’s wife and Jillian went out?” “Yep,” Bob said, as he rose from the table. He winked at the small 206

KISS OF DECEIT man sitting slack-jawed. “Thanks, you’ve been a big help.” “I didn’t get anyone in trouble, did I?” “Not yet. Let’s just hope you saved another woman’s life, though.” Balls started to smile, obviously proud of being so much help. Then, the smile left his face like the skin of a snake. His eyes widened. “Blade didn’t do it. I know him—he couldn’t have.” “He better hope not,” was all Bob said, then he nodded at Louise on his way through the living room, and walked out into the sunshine. * * * “I want to get Blade D’Angelo in here for questioning as soon as possible,” Bob said, swinging one leg as he sat on the edge of LeAnne’s desk. Joe Drake paced the small office, rubbing his jaw. “Good God, we have a mess here. So what you’re telling me is Blade used to deal to two of the dead women and knew the third?” “Yep.” Bob grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I say we invite him in for some questioning,” LeAnne added. “I just wish we had something more substantial than his hate for Marcus Gallego’s wife and his involvement with two other dead women.” “He’s admitted to having mechanical skills,” Bob added. “But so do a lot of people in Henry County. You know as well as I, Bob, that the bandanna could have easily come from the Gallego household.” “Did you check on that?” Joe asked. LeAnne’s ears heated at being reminded of her trip to Snake’s. “It was a dead end. Marcus said it could have, but there was no way of knowing for sure if it was his. It’s just too common of a rag.” “I saw one just like it hanging from Blade’s back pocket,” Bob said. “I still say we bring him in, try to rattle his cage.” Joe stopped his pacing. “On what charge?” Bob shrugged. “There are ways of getting him to volunteer his time…to answer a few questions.” 207

KISS OF DECEIT Joe’s brows rose. “I want this all done on the level. There’s no room for mistakes on this one. We have a madman running around, and I want him caught. At this point, we can’t assume that the Smith case is even connected to the others. We need to work it separately. See if we have a jealous or spurned boyfriend. I want to dig up everything we can find out about this Smith woman. Then…then, we’ll see if there’s a connection. Let’s not jump the gun because some drug dealer knew her. That’s not enough evidence to convince me there’s a connection.” Joe turned his attention to LeAnne. “What have you dug up on that case so far?” She cleared her throat. Sheriff Drake would certainly not like what she had to say. “I had Samantha Duncan compile a list of names—old boyfriends.” “Well, let me see it.” She handed the paper to the sheriff and he studied it for a few minutes. Finally, he looked up. “I don’t see anything significant. Did you question any of these men?” “No.” He handed back the paper. “I suggest you start. Bob can bring in this D’Angelo character.” “I sort of wanted to be in on that, sir.” Joe looked from LeAnne to Bob. “You want her there when you question D’Angelo?” “I think it might be beneficial,” he said, glancing at LeAnne. With Bob’s head turned, Joe could not have seen the wink he gave LeAnne. “All right, then, you help her with the other case as well, when you’re through with D’Angelo. You get Blade to volunteer to come in—no coercion.” Bob glanced back at the sheriff with a look of innocence. “Wouldn’t think of it.” “All right—anything else?” LeAnne swallowed the large lump rising in her throat, threatening 208

KISS OF DECEIT her air supply. “Um…one more thing.” “What’s that?” Joe asked. “This list of boyfriends. There’s one name not on the list that should be there.” “Then put it on,” Joe said as he headed for the door. “I’m not sure you’ll agree, when I tell you who it is.” Joe turned around. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who?” “Tony Hargrove.” The sheriff’s face turned beet red. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.” “He just keeps popping up.” “And how do you know he dated this Smith woman?” “Samantha told me that she didn’t know this guy’s name, but that Cora talked about a man she dated who rode a red Harley.” “You haven’t convinced me yet. Red is a pretty popular color.” “She said this guy was going to be a big-time lawyer someday and his daddy could make it happen. Not to mention the silver spoon in his mouth.” Joe worried his lower lip between his teeth and rubbed his shaven jaw. His gaze flitted from Bob to her. Finally, he said, “Still not enough,” and walked out of the office. “Dammit,” LeAnne said. “What’s the problem?” Bob asked. “Tony Hargrove’s name keeps popping up, and the sheriff won’t let me delve into it. He’s made it clear, Hargrove is untouchable.” “He might be right.” LeAnne’s gaze snapped to Bob’s. “I’m just saying, with nothing substantial, you might be borrowing trouble from the judge. If you want to investigate—then do it quietly, LeAnne. Don’t ask for unwanted trouble. We don’t want any doors closed. Besides, right now, I think we have better odds looking at Blade D’Angelo. Something stinks about that man. I say we invite him here 209

KISS OF DECEIT for a visit first thing tomorrow.” Chad Baker poked his head through the door, an impish grin on his face. “Busy?” “We’re almost through,” LeAnne said. Bob checked his watch. “It’s eight o’clock, LeAnne. Let’s call it a day.” His back to the county prosecutor, he winked at LeAnne. “You take care of that face,” he said, then left the room without acknowledging the prosecutor. Chad walked into the room, glaring at Bob as they passed. “What’s his problem?” LeAnne shrugged, certainly not up for any confrontation. “You want to get a bite to eat?” Chad asked, turning on his undeniable charm. He pulled a large bottle of white zinfandel from behind his back. “I owe you this. I’m sorry about the other night.” “Forget it, Chad.” She turned her back on him as she shoved her arms into her jacket. Chad gently grasped her arm and turned her around. “I can’t. I shouldn’t have hit you.” “I was out of line. Gallego—” His pupils contracted. “I really don’t think it’s necessary to bring up his name. It’s done. Let’s just get on with it.” Chad was right. If they were to move past this, then Snake Gallego would have to be omitted from their conversations. She smiled. “Are we eating in?” His arm coiled about her waist and drew her flush. Chad’s intentions were evident in his gaze. If they went back to her place, he wouldn’t be going home until morning. “I thought we’d pick up a pizza. How’s that sound, babe?” “I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening,” she lied, her smile false as images of the man haunting her every thought filtered through her mind. “Great then, pizza it is.” 210

KISS OF DECEIT * * * Moments later, LeAnne and Chad were on the sidewalk outside the sheriff’s office. “I’ll see you at home, then,” LeAnne said, briefly kissing his cheek before they parted. Chad walked toward the street as LeAnne headed for the back of the station where she parked her car. The distant rumble of a motorcycle drew her attention from the alley. Snake Gallego sat tall on his Softail, his silver sunglasses glinting with the setting sun. He slowly backed his bike from its parking space and, from over the rims of his glasses, glanced at her with what looked like animosity. Then the bike roared to life and he sped down the alley. A slight tug pulled at her. She shook off the notion that Gallego would have a reason to be mad at her and continued to her car, fumbling in her purse for the keys. The color red drew her attention. Her heart leapt in her throat. Painted across her windshield, still partially wet, were the words Straight to HELL. Her eyes flitted back to the spot where Gallego’s bike had been, not more than fifty yards away. He couldn’t have. When she turned to go back to the station, she ran smack into the chest of her fiancé, his mouth gaping, his eyes fixed on the red dripping paint. “What the hell?” he muttered. “I have to go back into the station. Would you mind hanging around a second and give me a ride home?” Though she felt her outward appearance remained calm, her pulse ran rapid. “I want to have this paint processed—see if it matches the paint from Jillian’s marker.” “Sure, babe,” Chad said. His hands grasped her shoulders. “Are you going to be all right?” “I’m fine,” she said, then suddenly realized that Chad was supposed to be on his way to pick up the pizza. “Why did you come back?” 211

KISS OF DECEIT “I forgot to ask what kind of pizza you wanted.” He ran a smooth palm down her cheek. “Look, babe, I’m not so sure this is a good idea for you to continue on this case.” LeAnne’s brow furrowed. “Why?” “This sick SOB may be coming after you. If anything should happen—” LeAnne shrugged out of his grasp. “This is my job. I can handle myself.” But she still couldn’t shake the image of Snake on his bike, the way he had looked at her, or the way he had taken off without acknowledging her. Surely, this was not a cruel joke. “Babe?” Chad asked as he stood close beside her. “Is something wrong?” She shook her head. “Why don’t you go get the pizza—Hawk’s, then meet me back here in a half hour. I should be finished by then.” “You’re going to do this now?” Annoyed, she glared at him. “I’m certainly not going to allow the paint to dry. It’s my job, remember?” Then she walked off, not giving Chad a chance to argue further.

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CHAPTER 21 LeAnne sat at the long table in the conference room, waiting for Bob Reese to show up. She had contacted Blade D’Angelo and politely invited him in for an interview. A lot of ground had to be covered first, because according to Blade, he was in no hurry to be in the same company of that goddam Chief Deputy again. LeAnne had no clue as to what had transpired between the two, nor did she want to know. The less she knew, LeAnne figured, the better off she would be. Blade’s impending arrival at eleven had her tired, bloodshot eyes from a nearly sleepless night, glancing at the clock. LeAnne had been up most of the night, keyed up, strategizing the interview, and going over every aspect of the case. She also could not forget the words on her car’s window. Straight to HELL. Or the thought of Marcus possibly being involved in an attempt to scare her. What other reason could have brought him by to the sheriff’s 213

KISS OF DECEIT office? It’s not a likely hangout for one of his reputation. And if Snake had not been the culprit, then someone intended on putting the fear of God into her. And unfortunately, their plan had worked. LeAnne had glanced over her shoulder quite often, as of late. Samples of the paint had been scraped and sent to the lab. The compound would be analyzed and compared to the substance scraped from Jillian’s marker. The car’s surface had been dusted for fingerprints, but unfortunately, other than her own and Chad’s, no usable latent could be found. Not that she had expected to find any. LeAnne ran both hands down her tired face, then leaned back in her chair. “What time does Blade arrive?” Bob asked, seemingly rested and full of energy as he entered the room, catching her in mid-stretch. “In about fifteen minutes,” LeAnne said, stifling a yawn. “Goodness, you could use this more than I.” Bob laughed and handed her the foam cup of coffee he just poured for himself. LeAnne shared his amusement and accepted the cup. “Thanks. I’ve been up half the night.” “I take it you and Chad made up,” Bob said as he removed his jacket. He took the large chair at the end of the table. The size of the chair and the man itself had been strategically placed to what would be Blade’s left, meant to intimidate him, show him who was in charge. LeAnne, though, would sit directly across from him, where she could best be empathetic and maybe coax out pertinent information or a confession. From a legal standpoint, LeAnne planned to cover all bases and protect her case at all costs. She grinned, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Chad is good at sympathy and understanding when he wants to be. But that’s not why I was up half the night. I was going over this case while he sawed logs.” “Then maybe tonight you can make up for time lost because of this case.” 214

KISS OF DECEIT “Actually—I’ll be alone tonight. Chad’s flying to Massachusetts this afternoon. He’s speaking at a seminar at the Boston University School of Law—his alma mater—and won’t be back until Wednesday.” “BUSL, huh? Good school.” He glanced through some of LeAnne’s notes. “You think this will get our man to open up? Sorry, LeAnne, I’m not so sure this will work on Blade.” “What do you suggest?” “I say we show him who’s boss—let him know right off the bat who’s calling the shots.” “Good cop, bad cop?” Bob grinned lopsidedly. “Except we forget the good cop.” “I’m not sure that tactic should be used. I really don’t want to chance his walking out of here or calling some hotshot lawyer before we get the information. I still say we should take the soft approach.” “It’s your case.” Blade chose that point to walk, more of a cocky gate, really, into the room. His large girth filled the space, causing LeAnne to think maybe she had been wrong. A man of Blade’s imposing size or reputation would never think of Bob Reese as a threat, even if Bob had a way with making larger men cower. Blade glanced briefly at Bob, then took his seat across from LeAnne. “I’m not being charged with anything, right?” “That’s correct,” LeAnne affirmed. “Then what’s he doing here?” He nodded toward Bob. “Bob is sitting in as a witness. Do you mind if I tape record this?” Blade’s skeptical gaze took in the small recorder. “Actually—I do.” “All right, then.” LeAnne laid it aside. “I’ll take notes. But later, when we’re through, I’ll ask you to sign a statement.” His eyes warily darted back and forth. “I thought you said I wasn’t being charged.” 215

KISS OF DECEIT “I understand your reluctance.” LeAnne leaned in a bit, attempting to make it feel more like a conversation between the two of them. “All I want is get a few questions answered. You’re not being charged with any crime. I want to point out that this interview is totally by your free will. You’ll be read your noncustodial rights, so you understand that you have the right to end this interview at any time and are free to go. There is no reason for you to have a lawyer present or one appointed for you, since you are not under arrest. Is this understood?” Blade nodded, then was read his rights. He clearly stated he understood his rights and could read and understand the English language. LeAnne started with a little background information. “How long have you lived in Henry County?” “All my life.” “And how old are you?” “Thirty-five.” “Parents from here?” “Yes.” “Other relatives? Blade’s forehead wrinkled in a downward frown, showing his perplexity with LeAnne’s line of questioning. “Most of them.” “And you live on State Route 18 just outside of Hamler?” “Correct.” “What’s your occupation, Blade?” “Is all of this necessary? You asked me here to find out about my personal life? Damn, Lady, all you need do is ask. Hell, if I didn’t have an ol’ lady myself,—shoot, man!—I might be taking you for a ride sometime.” He winked at her. “On my Harley, that is.” LeAnne’s face warmed as she again tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “We like to get a little background on everyone we interview. Sometimes this information helps us solve a crime.” “You said I wasn’t under arrest.” 216

KISS OF DECEIT “And you’re not. We need to know a few facts. I thought, since you’re such close friends with Snake Gallego, you might be able to help us out. What’s your occupation, Blade?” “I do side jobs for people. Put up porches, fix things that are broken—that kind of thing.” “A carpenter of sorts. Ever do any mechanical type work on the side?” “Sometimes.” He tugged on his ear lobe. “Mostly I work on my own stuff, but I occasionally work on other people’s.” “You have any hobbies, habits? How do you spend your leisure time?” Again, his gaze flitted between her and Bob. “Shoot, man, I like to ride my bike. Drink with my buddies. I don’t do any of that reading or exercise bullshit. I don’t have any hobbies—don’t collect nothing, either.” “You have any prior convictions?” His face reddened. “Just what are you getting at, lady?” LeAnne leaned forward. “Please understand, we are only trying to establish a few facts—see if you might have a reason to not be totally truthful with us. But remember, you don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to.” “Good, then, I don’t want to answer that one.” “Marcus Gallego. How long have you known him?” “About ten years.” “Would you say that you are good friends?” “Damn near brothers. Snake ain’t got any family.” He patted his chest with his hand. “We’re his family.” “When you say ‘we’re’—who are you referring to?” “Me, Balls, Rebel, Kip Lewis, Fred Buckner—I suppose there are others. But those are the closest ones.” “Fred Buckner, he works with Snake, right?” “That’s right. Him and his wife, Lindsey.” 217

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne glanced briefly at Bob, knowing she was about to tread on thin ice. “How about Tony Hargrove?” Blade chuckled, his eyes turning up at the corners. “Tony—Yeah, Tony’s a wannabe, all right.” “What do you mean?” “He’s hung around a few times with us bikers—wants to be one of us. It ain’t no secret, though, he screws anything with a vertical smile.” “Excuse me?” LeAnne asked, not quite understanding his statement. When she glanced at Bob, his expression hadn’t changed except for a hint of amusement. Blade indicated his lap with his hands, forming a V. “The Y, baby. Man’s supper club.” LeAnne cleared her throat. “I think I know what you’re getting at.” “Shoot, every smart man guarded his ol’ lady around that one. Tony Hargrove; he reeks of money—the easy life. And with a face like his— he don’t have any trouble getting pus…uh, I mean women into his bed. Know what I mean?” Being a first-hand victim of Tony’s charm, LeAnne had an inclination to agree. “Did he ever sleep with any of your little groups’ wives?” “From what I hear, he’s been ballin’ Fred Buckner’s wife for some time. Ol’ Tony must be crazier than a loon. Fred would kill the little bastard if he got wind.” “And you wouldn’t tell Fred?” “No way, man. Ain’t one to get involved, unless I got proof. I got no proof.” “What about Snake? His wife sleep with Tony?” Blade’s jaw tightened. “I heard rumors he was sniffin’ about Jillian’s heels. Ain’t got no proof there, either, that he ever got any of that. But it wouldn’t surprise me any.” “Why’s that?” “Jillian couldn’t keep her pants on for no one. Shoot, man, if I 218

KISS OF DECEIT would have been interested—I probably could have had her. Snake should have dropped that bitch a long time ago. Not like my ol’ lady. She ain’t out sniffin’ at any man’s heels. She knows who her daddy is.” “How much did you hate Jillian Gallego?” “I had no use for her—that’s no secret. Everyone knew how I felt. I ain’t one to mix words. Snake was my brother, man. I seen what that slut was doing to him. He was so blinded by her…uh, what she could do for him in the sack, that he couldn’t see what was happenin’ right under his nose.” “And you didn’t tell him?” “Shoot, man, he’d have believed that slut over his friends any day. Besides, the day she died, as I told you before, I called him. Told him I saw his no-good wife with a deputy out at Trucker’s Paradise. Sorry to say, but what happened to that bitch was the best thing that happened to Snake, man—the best thing.” There was no remorse for the way Blade felt in the depths of his eyes. He meant every word and didn’t think twice about voicing it. LeAnne shifted focus. “Do you know where Jillian Gallego was laid to rest?” Again, he tugged on his earlobe. “Riverview Memory Gardens.” “Have you visited her grave since the funeral?” “Why would I?” Bob shifted in his chair, his gaze accusatory. “That’s what we’re asking, Blade? Why would you?” Blade tapped the arms of the chair with his fingers. “I’d have no reason to.” “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” LeAnne said. “No,” he affirmed. “Miranda Holliday.” LeAnne watched him as he shifted his weight in the chair. “Did you know her?” Blade folded his arms across his chest and began clapping his hands against his upper arms. “Yes.” 219

KISS OF DECEIT “How well?” “She hung around Jillian a bit.” “Did you hang around Jillian?” He stopped fidgeting and sat taller. “No.” “Then how would you know Miranda did?” “I’ve been to the bar a few times where she hung with her friends.” “Friends? As in…” Blade shrugged, and held his palms upward. “I don’t know, man. Miranda, Samantha Duncan…a few others.” “Cora Smith.” He chuckled. “Now there’s a hot number.” “You like Cora?” “Hell, no. Me? Shoot, man, I just like to look. I got an ol’ lady, but I ain’t dead. Know what I mean?” He glanced at Bob, who nodded in agreement. Probably the only thing these two men might have in common. “Did you ever perform certain duties for any of these women?” LeAnne asked. Blade glanced to the floor. “I don’t know what you mean.” Bob stood and walked behind Blade’s chair, then leaned one hand on the table beside Blade. “Oh, I think you do, Blade. I think you were dealing to these women.” “Go screw yourself.” “We have information—” “You don’t have shit.” “Let me rephrase the question. Maybe you didn’t understand me correctly the first time.” Bob leaned in. “We don’t have squat on your dealing activities, nor do we care. But if someone wasn’t cooperating…well, we just might make it our business to know.” Blade shifted again. “Look, I used to deal them a little smack, a little coke. But I didn’t sleep with any of them bitches. You want to find out any more, call Tony Hargrove or that deputy who was caught 220

KISS OF DECEIT with his hands down Jillian’s pants. I’m sure they know far more than I do. They hung around that group of women. Me? I was just there when they needed something. Know what I mean, man?” Bob stepped back. “I’m sure we do, Blade,” LeAnne said. “Great,” Blade stated, then stood. “Then I think I’m through answering your questions. Am I free to go?” “We told you before, you’re free to go whenever you choose. But first, I’ll need you to read through your statement as I have written it, then sign it.” “Good—then I’m outta here.” He grasped the pen from LeAnne’s hand, scanned the page, and hastily scribbled his name on it. Blade then walked from the room, his gate a little less arrogant, and not once glanced back. LeAnne looked at Bob. “What do you think?” “I think we bring in Allen Wymer for a little Q and A.” “And Tony Hargrove?” Bob gnawed at the inside of his cheek. * * * LeAnne slammed her car door. The more she thought about it and its implications, the angrier she became. She would get answers one way or another—the exact reason she headed up his gravel drive and toward the barn. A soft light illuminated part of the yard as it spilled from the door. A shadow played about the grass, indicating an occupant inside. Two black Doberman’s lay their lazy heads on their paws by the open door, barely acknowledging her presence. If it hadn’t been from their eye movement, she would have thought them unaware of her altogether. LeAnne figured they remembered her from the last time she boldly stepped foot on his property. She had been out of her mind then, too. Her heart beat heavily as her strides slowed. She suddenly wondered at her decision to run headlong into the night and confront 221

KISS OF DECEIT Marcus. What if she had been wrong? Anyone could have painted the threat on her windshield. But Marcus had been there—something had drawn him to the alley. And why had he looked at her full of accusations and contempt? LeAnne needed answers or there would again be no sleep for her tonight. Taking a steadying breath, she entered the softly-lit barn. Matchbox 20 blared from tiny speakers of the small radio sitting on a shelf behind Marcus. He kept his back to her as he bent over his Harley, wrenching some poor bolt. The muscles in his triceps tightened with each torque. LeAnne cleared her throat, startling him. His gaze indurated when he glanced up from his work. He reached over the motorcycle and turned a knob on the radio. Silence echoed eerily through the barn. Aside from his motorcycle, a red chest of tools, and a few bedrolls, the building sat nearly empty. Marcus used a red bandanna to wipe the grease from his arms and hands, leaving black smears on his forearms; the exact type of rag which had secured Jillian and Miranda’s wrists. A shudder traveled the length of her spine as images of the two women flitted through her like stills from a thriller. “You wanted something?” he asked in his normal deep tone as he faced her head on, shaking her from her reverie. LeAnne blinked a few times; her heart fluttered madly. Why the hell had she come? She had to be crazier than a loon. Chad was in Massachusetts, and here she stood in Marcus Gallego’s barn. Not even an hour had passed since her fiancé’s phone call, letting her know he had arrived in Boston, fully intact. Secure in his hotel, he had settled in for a good night’s rest, as LeAnne stood mere feet away from a man she had no business being near. A smile itched at the corners of his lips. “Did you come here just to gawk? Should I be flattered?” LeAnne shifted her stance; heat rose up her neck and pooled in her 222

KISS OF DECEIT ears. “I had a few questions.” Marcus shook his head, clearly agitated. Giving her his back again, he gathered his tools, placing them in an orderly fashion in the red toolbox. “It’s always business with you.” His comment stung more than any wasp bite, more than any thirddegree burn. “It’s not always business.” With a clank and a thud, he dropped the rest of his tools on the narrow shelf, then slammed the drawer. The sound echoed off the walls, testing to his rising irritation. He turned to face her, hands on his hips. “Tell me, Detective, why are you here, in my barn, at ten o’clock at night? A social call?” LeAnne winced. She supposed she deserved that. “Not exactly.” “I’ll bite. Then, why?” She straightened her shoulders, and swallowed her disquietude. This time, she had been the victim. “Why were you in the alley last night?” His expression toughened; his glare fixed her where she stood. “Do you think that’s any of your business?” LeAnne swallowed. This Marcus didn’t scare her, not in a frightening matter, anyway. No, this Marcus made her blood thicken, her womb convulse, her limps numb. She might fare better facing a cornered Pit Bull. “This time it is,” she said. “Why?” She took a deep breath, then leaped in with both feet. “Because someone spray-painted on my car’s windshield the same words that had been on Jillian’s marker.” His expression went from one of anger to astonishment. Then he laughed coldly. “And your contorted little mind thinks I did it? Surely you aren’t that delusional.” “I’m not saying you did it.” 223

KISS OF DECEIT “Then what the hell are you saying, LeAnne?” He took two steps forward, she two steps back. “That because I was in the alley behind the sheriff’s office, yesterday, I could have been there to only cause you problems? If that were the case, then I damn well would have.” “What do you mean?” “I mean, I went there to see you, find out how you were doing.” His gaze took in the bruising on her cheek. “But just as I was pulling up, you come out all cozy with that fiancé of yours. A bottle of wine in his one hand, and the other in the small of your back. Not to mention that sweet little peck you gave him. I can only imagine you two in the sack. Does he make you squirm, LeAnne? Does he make your blood run hot?” LeAnne’s ire hit the ceiling. “What the hell does that have to do with you?” He grasped her upper arm, and yanked her flush against him like two planetary forces colliding. “You just don’t get it, do you? Everything you do has to do with me. The way you smell, the way you moan when I bury my tongue in your mouth. I can only imagine how you would sound had I the inclination to bury it elsewhere.” LeAnne flinched. If he were trying to shock her, he had finally succeeded. Her face heated; her ears burned. “What do you expect from me?” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t expect anything, LeAnne—it’s what I want that has a hold of my balls and won’t let go.” LeAnne attempted to catch her fleeting breath. “And what do you want?” “What you gave your fiancé last night; what kept me up until the wee hours hard enough to drive through steel. Ah, Christ—” He ended his own statement by seizing her lips with his, though certainly not soft and full of affection. No, this kiss was hard, unyielding, consuming her with fire. She had no doubt where this 224

KISS OF DECEIT would lead if she didn’t put a stop to it, but no longer did she care. To hell with morals and scruples. Tonight was about taking, worrying about the implications tomorrow, about giving what she had no right to offer. Tonight was about two people whose desire for one another had raged beyond controlling and all sane thought. Tonight—she should have just stayed home.

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CHAPTER 22 She hadn’t felt this alive or free in her life. Her body arched and ached for his touch. His silky tongue ran up the soft flesh of her inner thigh, making parts of her quiver in anticipation. Something she was unaccustomed to—something the man she had left at home never took time for. He was a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sort of guy. But not this one. He made parts of her sing, parts that she wasn’t aware knew how to carry the tune. She wiggled beneath him as he slowly slid up her body, dragging his bare flesh over hers. Coarse hair met smooth skin. His erection pulsed tantalizingly where his tongue had been. Damn, but he was good. Knew how to please a woman. Why hadn’t she met him years ago? Where had he been when she had sought the perfect mate? But time had altered her destiny and set her life into motion. 226

KISS OF DECEIT This would have to satisfy her. This would have to be enough. She curled her arms around his neck and brought his lips down to hers. Though his lips were hard and unyielding, he returned her kiss, a bit harsh and tooth grinding for her taste. But maybe, just maybe, he liked it rough. She liked things a little more gentle, but he carried her to heights she had never before reached, and if allowing him just this bit, then she would gladly hand her life over to him. Even for a few stolen hours. He broke away suddenly, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. His breathing cacophonous, it came in the form of shallow pants. She ran her palm down his freshly-shaven jaw. “Calm down, darling,” she whispered. “We have all night. He’s out of town.” A small, almost cynical smile rose on the edge of his thin lips. “Think I care?” “You should, darling. Unless you want to get caught.” “I haven’t been yet.” She giggled nervously. “Let’s hope I’m not the first, then. I certainly don’t relish getting caught with my legs wrapped around this fine trim waist.” She smiled, linking her ankles behind his back. “Or having my fingers running through the hair of your gorgeous chest.” Her hands splayed over his breast, her thumb and forefinger tweaking one flat nipple. He flinched only slightly, but enough that she caught his reaction. She purred, moving her hips so her wetness stroked his throbbing penis with deliberate slowness. He jerked. She was sure he couldn’t wait another moment and moaned with anticipation. She had waited all week for this. Hell, she had waited a lifetime. 227

KISS OF DECEIT Quick of movement, he grasped her ankle, almost painfully, and jerked it from around his waist. She gazed up at him, hoping to see what caused his sudden change in temperament. Had she been imagining the whole time? Been so wrapped up in her own self, she forgot about him? His cold eyes appeared void of feeling. “Wh—what’s the matter?” she stuttered. Dejected. Hurt. He shook off her stare and reached down beside the bed, extracting a beautiful expensive-looking silk scarf, one that she was sure she had not seen before. Her eyes rounded. “I’m not sure what it is you…you want.” Her voice broke with creeping fear. “Relax,” he barked out, more an order than a suggestion. His weight rendered her inert. “I have a little game, is all. I think you might just like it.” He lifted his bulk from her and knelt between her spread thighs. She stared in awe as the muscles in his arms bulged and he tore the scarf in two. She wiggled, panic fluttered within. “I’m not so sure I’m going to like this, Shawn.” A grin full of malice split his handsome face. “Trust me, Samantha, you’ll die loving it.” * * * Looking for a quick place hastily to settle them before LeAnne decided to flee, Snake grabbed his bedroll, shook it out, and laid it on the hard-dirt flooring of the barn. He didn’t care where they lay as long as LeAnne didn’t pick now to change her mind. He returned his attention to her as her hands fidgeted with the buttons of her blouse. Her fingers shook so violently, he swore she’d never get the job done, not in his lifetime. And as hard as he was, Marcus doubted he had much time before he shattered in tiny shards. Impatiently, he jerked his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before pulling her into his embrace and kissing her harshly, 228

KISS OF DECEIT feverishly. Had someone picked this moment to take his temperature, surely the mercury would rise with the momentum of a sky rocket. His desire made him bumbling as a schoolboy ready to shed his virginity. Christ, he had been around the block more times than he cared to count. But here, in the arms of a woman he had no right being with, LeAnne made him feel as though it were his first time. He grasped her fingers, and pulled them away from the buttons, then quickly shed each from its hole. Once he pulled the tails of the shirt from her jeans, he spread open the beige shirt and harshly shoved it from her shoulders, revealing creamy-white skin. His own fingers trembled; a lump lodged in his throat. He stared down on her lace-covered breasts as his tongue itched to taste each one—to lave at the hardened nipples and turn her quivering body to mush. His heart drummed heavily. Christ, he wasn’t going to live through this. His penis felt damn close to exploding and she had yet to touch him. He had wanted to take things slow, to leave his stamp on her. Hell, he wanted to make damn sure she never forgot Marcus Allen Gallego, for he sure in the hell would never forget her. But at the pace they were traveling, he’d be finished well before she ever got started. She shrugged the rest of the way out of her blouse, then he pulled her back into his embrace. Their sweat-soaked skin mingled, sending his anticipation to new heights. His greedy mouth closed over hers, his tongue sweeping the inside flesh of her mouth. Snake’s normally deft fingers seemed to abandon him as he fumbled with the closure of the brassiere. He cursed the maker in the way of a muffled groan, then the clasp gave way and the material slipped between them, joining the blouse at their feet. They stepped clumsily over both articles, stumbling like drunken fools. Reaching the bedroll, they nearly fell atop one another as their hands grabbled and grasped at each others’ remaining clothes in desperation. 229

KISS OF DECEIT Snake finally broke the kiss, took an unsteady breath, and propped on his elbow to look down on her. The frantic desire he saw in her darkened eyes surely mimicked his own. They had waited too long as it was. This had been coming since the time she shoved his head against the bar and slapped the cuffs on him. Even then, his blood ran hot, making him want to flip the good detective on her back, right there in front of all his biker friends. He had wanted her then and wanted her now. The time to change her mind had long since passed. “Second thoughts, Mr. Gallego?” she asked, misinterpreting his delay. “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” LeAnne smiled lazily, her palm smoothing down his coarse jaw. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up hating yourself tomorrow.” “You truly are misguided, Ms. McVeigh, because it is you who will surely wake up regretting laying with the likes of me.” “Let’s let tomorrow worry about itself.” Snake needed no further coaxing. His hand molded to her breast and his lips covered hers. Nothing could be stronger than his need to consume her, not even a raging fire fanned by coastal winds. * * * Whore. Bitch. Two-timing slut. He wrenched each end of the scarf tighter as the words echoed about his head, barely hearing her answering squeals. Her legs flailed and kicked, narrowly missing his genitals and causing him unbelievable pain. “Dammit.” He finished with the bindings, then lay back fully atop her to stop her frantic thrashing. “What the hell is your problem?” Her body stilled as her rounded gaze landed on him. “Let me go, Shawn,” was her feeble quavering demand. As if he would ever listen. 230

KISS OF DECEIT “I don’t like your game.” Whining bitch. He chuckled ominously. “Looks like you don’t have a choice. Your hands are a bit tied at the moment.” “Asshole,” she spat, jerking violently on her bindings. Her hands held fast; the material, when pulled taut, easily cut into her wrists. Blood trickled down her arm, making a crimson trek. He swallowed the extreme urge to throttle her. Beat her to a bleeding pile of pulp. Leave no marks. Samantha attempted to buck him off, but the more she fought, the stiffer his erection became. His mind reeled in hard-won ecstasy. Her fear fueled his appetite. He tightly grasped her chin, yet not hard enough to bruise. “If you would just calm down, you’ll see how pleasurable this can be.” Her thrashing stilled to a slight tremble as her bulging eyes warily centered on him. He let go of her chin and stroked her face. “There, that’s better.” “Please, Shawn—you don’t understand. I hate to be held down.” Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, making a mess of her artfully-applied makeup. “I told you before I hate not being in control.” “Of course.” He grinned. “So you’ve told me.” He gently ran a hand over her soft form, caressing each spot he touched. “And I’m here to put an end to your fears.” He positioned himself between her spread thighs, grasped a condom from his discarded jogging pants, and hastily put it on. Then in one swift motion, he thrust his throbbing erection deeply within her. Her squeal and fear were short-lived as he moved swiftly in and out. Her moans filled his ears. The quicker and harder he thrust, the wetter she became. He fought back the urge to retch at the thought of her actually enjoying his work. His palms itched; his hands reflexively opened and 231

KISS OF DECEIT closed by her head. “Shawn,” she whispered in her annoying little titter. “Let me love you. Untie my hands.” His slipped around her throat; his thumbs gently massaged the area of her hyoid bone. One snap, he thought. But where was the fun in haste? All good things come to those who wait. He increased the pressure. She gasped for air. Her arms yanked at the bindings. Forty-five minutes later, Samantha’s prone body lay on the bed, posed like Christ behind him as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He meticulously applied a ruby-red lipstick with careful precision. Kiss all the deceitful little bitches goodbye, he thought with a wicked grin, then blew the air a kiss. * * * What the hell had she been thinking? Disgusted with herself, even in the aftermath of one of the most magnificent moments of her life, LeAnne rolled to her side, giving Marcus her back. As though he sensed her self-loathing at their recent lovemaking, he wrapped an arm around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, leaving chaste kisses beneath her ear. His tongue darted out, catching her lobe. A shiver ran down her spine, reminding her how sinfully delicious it had been. But once was nearly unforgivable, twice, she could never live with. LeAnne disengaged his arm, then scooted from beneath the blanket Snake had found to cover them. With her back to him, knowing full well he watched, she stepped into her panties and jeans, then retrieved her bra and blouse. Once she finished fastening the last button, LeAnne turned to face him. Impressive couldn’t begin to describe Marcus Gallego. And looking at him now did little to still her beating heart. LeAnne nearly ran in 232

KISS OF DECEIT tears from the barn, and might have, if Marcus hadn’t thrown off the blanket and approached her with slow, deliberate strides. He grasped her wrist to keep her from fleeing. “Don’t,” he commanded with the authority of an attorney general. It was a simple word, but had the impact of a thousand. LeAnne knew Marcus didn’t want her hating herself for what had transpired between them, nor did he want her to leave. And he surely didn’t want her to regret it. But, God almighty, she already did. A tear slipped from her eyelid, though she tried desperately to contain it. He traced away the wetness with the pad of his callused thumb, then grasped her face between his palms and pulled her near to kiss her cheek. He ran his hands down her back and held her close. So close, she could feel the heavy drum of his heart against her chest. Dear God, what had she done? She would never forgive herself. How could she ever expect Chad to? “Please, Marcus, I have to go.” “Don’t punish yourself, LeAnne. Remember, ‘let tomorrow worry about itself.’” He used her own words in an attempt to soothe her. His lips were so close, his warm breath fanned her ear. “Don’t ever regret it.” More tears pushed past her lashes. “How can I not?” She stepped from his embrace and covered her mouth with her trembling hand. “I know I didn’t stop you, that I was just as much a part of this, that I even wanted you—but that doesn’t excuse it.” He took a step toward her. She held out her hand, touching his warm, smooth chest. He stood there as though his nudity were an everyday occurrence, like the sun setting over the horizon. And just as awe-inspiring, she might be quick to add. She stepped back, breaking the contact. “I have to go.” 233

KISS OF DECEIT He shook his head in disgust. His lips turned down at the corners. LeAnne thought of the day she had questioned him at the sheriff’s office. He held contempt for her then—and she wasn’t so sure he didn’t now. The snake winding up his arm was no where near as threatening as the man sporting it. “I’m sure you’re used to this,” LeAnne mumbled in a feeble excuse. Marcus stepped into the pair of jeans he had discarded. “Used to what?” “Having any woman you want.” Although he remained silent, his eyes hardened. Something brewed within their depths; the calm before the storm. LeAnne had the asinine urge to run for cover. “I’m not a whore.” Her voice rose to near hysteria. She had definitely lost it. Any moment, the guys with the straightjacket would burst through the barn doors and wrestle her to the floor. “I normally don’t sleep around. And since meeting Chad—” She placed her hand over her lips to still stupid admissions from spilling forth. Next thing she would know, she’d rattle on about how few lovers she had actually had. As if it would make a difference! Snake took another step toward her. The top of his jeans lay undone, drawing her focus. Here she was, distraught over what she had done to her fiancé, and the only thing she could think of was how quickly she could rid Snake of those jeans. “And you think I sleep around? Is that it?” “I don’t know what your lifestyle is like…” Her eyes widened. His gaze narrowed, his expression disgruntled. “Now what?” “A condom,” she whispered like a death litany. “We didn’t use a condom.” His brow creased. “You worried about getting pregnant? Or is it diseases that’s got you babbling like a lunatic?” She let out an hysterical laugh. Hell, she was hysterical. 234

KISS OF DECEIT Seeing her seriousness, he looked to the floor, stirring the dirt with his big toe. “I’m clean.” “How can you be positive?” “I am.” “How do you know?” “I’ve had tests done.” He turned away from her, his cheeks slightly reddening as he grabbed a rag and made a show of shining his bike. “After Jillian died…I found out about her many affairs. Don’t think it didn’t scare me.” He stopped his polishing, then turned and stared at her. “What about you?” “The only person I’ve been active with in the past two years has been Chad. He always uses condoms.” “Before that?” It was her turn to glance away. Here they were, acting shy over discussing something obviously personal, whereas moments ago, neither had a decorum of modesty. “Condoms were used.” LeAnne wasn’t about to tell him there had been only one other. Tommy Decker in the back of the family station wagon on senior-prom night, both of them virgins. And the worst experience of her life. “What about birth control?” LeAnne’s heart skipped a beat. “No.” “Shit.” He rubbed his whiskered jaw, then walked to the wall of the barn. He braced his arms against it; the muscles in his back bunched. Finally, he turned around. His cold eyes had damn near frosted over. Her anger flared. “For crying out loud, Marcus, you were as guilty as I.” One corner of his lip itched up. “I don’t regret one minute of it. If you’d like,” he winked, “I’ll prove that fact to you again, right now.” LeAnne shuddered in remembrance. Certainly earning him his nickname, he could easily charm her right back out of her clothes. She meant to stay in them. “Then why are you so upset?” “Because you have ways of taking the attention off of what just 235

KISS OF DECEIT happened so you don’t have to deal with it or admit that you enjoyed it.” His scowl darkened. “Second thoughts, LeAnne? Or ‘let tomorrow worry about itself?’ What will it be?” LeAnne backed for the barn door. “I…I think I should go,” she stumbled over her words in her sudden haste to flee. Marcus made no attempt to stop her from taking flight. In fact, from the loathing she saw in his eyes, she swore that her absence was exactly what he wanted. “Then go.” LeAnne dropped her gaze. “I allowed things to go too far. It’ll never happen again.” He grumbled something unintelligible as he rolled his knapsack, dismissing her. LeAnne ran to her car as though somehow distancing herself, she could deny what had occurred. But she knew, without a doubt, her dreams would be a constant reminder. Marcus Gallego would haunt her every hour. The last thing she heard before she started the car was the sound of metal crashing against the barn wall.

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CHAPTER 23 LeAnne leafed through the papers littering her desk, only halfheartedly paying attention, her mind elsewhere and her attention not on the case. She hated Marcus for crawling beneath her skin and wedging himself into her every thought. She was a detective, for chrissake. Her thoughts needed to be focused on the job, and not on what she should or should not have done, as the case may be. Thankfully, the station was fairly quiet, it being a Sunday. She certainly didn’t need the added distractions. Bob Reese likely sat at home; he, too, probably pored over files, looking for the obvious missing link. Something that seemed to escape her. She had gone over the files and interviews countless times and nothing new seemed to jump at her. Where were the connections? What was the one thing that could tie her cases together? LeAnne’s intuition told her the same perp killed all 237

KISS OF DECEIT four victims. She just needed proof. A sigh escaped her. Her shoulders slumped. LeAnne was close to throwing in the towel and calling in the Feds, though to her it would be like admitting defeat. Catching the murderer should be of more importance, though, than any cut to her ego. A crime scene photo from the Gallego case lay on the desk, partially shielded by one from the Holliday scene. Both women had been beautiful. Both had long hair. Both had been tied to the bed. Both had committed adultery. Had Cora Smith been married, LeAnne might think adultery the obvious link. But as it stood, besides being beautiful and having long hair, Cora didn’t seem to fit with the other two murders. And if the same person killed Cora, what might the possible link be in this case? LeAnne picked up Jillian’s photo and stared at the picture. Something morbid could be said about her studying the dead woman’s photo. Jillian wasn’t just another number, she was Snake Gallego’s dead wife. She couldn’t look at the picture without thinking about what transpired between her and Marcus the night before. Had it not been for the poor woman’s untimely death, LeAnne would never have met Marcus, and her life would have been… What? Better off? LeAnne could hardly agree with that, even though, logically, the answer should have been “yes.” There was no denying the underlying feeling she had for the man. Of course, she didn’t love him and doubted she ever would. After all, their lives were far too different. They walked opposite lines of the law, most of the time, and their goals in life would never run the same course. But there it was. She cared for the man, even if it wasn’t love. LeAnne moaned, then ran her palms down her face. She doubted she would survive another hour, let alone a whole day, with the path her thoughts continued treading. Needing a distraction, she reached for 238

KISS OF DECEIT the phone, punched in the number for Chad’s hotel, then waited for someone to answer. “Good morning, Diane speaking. What can I do for you?” the woman said. “Chad Baker’s room, please.” “One moment.” The line went blank. Several seconds later, the ringing began again. A groggy, “Hello,” came through the wire. LeAnne smiled. She could easily imagine Chad’s sleep-filled gaze, his mussed hair, his puffy face. “Hi,” she said simply. “LeAnne?” Rustling of sheets could be heard in the background. Then, “Babe.” “Am I disturbing you?” “God”—he yawned—“what time is it?” “It’s almost lunch. Were you up late?” Another yawn. “I met up with Buzz—you remember me talking about him?” Buzz had been his roommate in college. They had remained in contact throughout the years. “How is he?” “Great.” She heard him take a drink and swallow. “I think we ingested one too many martinis, though.” LeAnne smiled as she leaned back. She missed him. “When are you coming home?” “I told you before, Wednesday. I’m speaking at a class in the morning, then I’ll head for the airport. I should be home by supper Wednesday night. You going to make me something special?” She laughed. “Yeah, something like that.” He returned her humor. “I know, I’m the cook of the family.” “We can order out if you’d like.” “Or I can eat on the way home.” “Don’t do that. I’ll have something.” “How’s the case? Any new leads?” 239

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne sighed. “Not yet. I’ve been running over the files all morning and I can’t seem to get anywhere. All we have is trace evidence and without a solid suspect to link them to…” “You don’t have squat. So what did you do last night?” LeAnne flinched. She hated to lie, but telling the truth would only hurt Chad. The intercom on her desk buzzed, startling her. She welcomed the interruption. “I better get that.” “Go ahead. I really should be going, too, babe. Good luck on the case and I’ll see you on Wednesday. Kisses.” “Yeah, hugs,” she returned. The line went dead. “Yes,” she spoke into the intercom. “Detective,” Suzy blared. “We just received a call from Hank Duncan. He found his wife dead…tied to their bed.” “Son of a…” “I dispatched two deputies to the scene and called Sheriff Drake’s beeper. After dispatching an EMS, I called the coroner’s office. Anything else you want me to do?” “Call Bob Reese—he should be at home.” She grabbed her jacket and thirty-five millimeter, and nearly ran to the back of the sheriff’s office for her sedan. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Her perp had struck again. * * * Hours later, LeAnne knelt over the bed, still looking for clues. She took pictures, measured and triangulated the room and body, made sketches, bagged and tagged fibers and hairs, and finally was ready for the body to be removed. Bob Reese examined a few stray hairs LeAnne tagged in a plastic bag. “Medium to dark blonde,” he said. “Could belong to about anyone.” “See if it matches any we found at earlier scenes. That should 240

KISS OF DECEIT narrow it down some,” LeAnne said. “Could be Hank’s.” LeAnne shrugged. “Ask him to volunteer some samples.” “Same perp?” She glanced down at the victim. “We have her wrists tied to the bed, her legs posed. She wears what appears to be the same lip print on her cheek that we found on Miranda’s. I’d say it’s his work.” She took in the dried, brownish-red blood running down Samantha’s arms. There appeared to be slight bruising on her chin, her upper arms, thighs—not to mention around the neck. LeAnne would bet when the autopsy was finished, they would find the hyoid bone snapped and hemorrhages behind her eyelids. Samantha Duncan had been tortured like the other two, but she had not been as willing to the restraints. This one did not appear to get into kinky sex. “Where’s the husband?” “Downstairs,” Bob said. “I want to question him ASAP. Something doesn’t add up.” Bob’s gaze narrowed as he lay the plastic storage bag with the other gathered fibers for the lab in Bowling Green. “You just said you thought it’s our man’s work.” “I still do.” LeAnne checked the facial bruising with her gloved fingers. “This one seemed to put up a hell of a fight.” She looked at Bob. “What’s that tell you?” “She didn’t like her silk restraints.” Bob chuckled. “Maybe it wasn’t her style.” “The silk scarf or the bondage?” “Either.” LeAnne motioned for the coroner’s men to remove the body; the victim’s hands and feet had been secured in paper bags to preserve any DNA found beneath the nails. The coroner gave time of death at approximately twelve hours prior—give or take an hour. She returned her attention to Bob as she crossed her arms beneath 241

KISS OF DECEIT her breasts. “Jillian Gallego died three and a half months ago. Miranda—sixteen days. Our man took three months in between to possibly get to know Miranda. Who knows how long he knew Jillian before he killed her. “Let’s say he wines and dines them, gets to know their schedule, knows where they live. Every one of these women, aside from Cora Smith—and we’re not even sure she’s linked to this case—lives in a remote area. He stalks them and finds out when they’ll be alone. Then, since there is never any evidence of forceful entry—he goes to visit them while hubby is away. Their backdoor Romeo turns into their worst nightmare. Lights out.” “If that’s the case, then he didn’t take much time to get to know Mrs. Duncan. Sixteen days is a whirlwind courtship.” “My point exactly.” LeAnne grinned. “This bastard, for some unknown reason, didn’t take his time with this one.” LeAnne thought about the two times she had interviewed Mrs. Duncan. “Something bothered—maybe annoyed him. It could have been her voice.” Bob’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?” “I interviewed Samantha on the Smith case. She had a…a unique voice, sort of grating on the nerves. Maybe our guy didn’t want to waste time with this one. Or, maybe our guy is sending us a message. Maybe he doesn’t think he can be caught. He’s stepping up his game plan—or maybe getting impatient. He never leaves us any latent, no real fibers, no DNA, only a few hairs, lip prints. And if the hair is his— it rules out Tony Hargrove. His is black.” “Allen Wymer’s hair is a dark blond.” “And so are two of the three murder victims’ husbands.” Bob raked a hand through his own dark blond hair. “I’ll get samples from the last two husbands and have them compared. I don’t think we found any stray blond hairs at the Gallego scene.” “Just Snake and Jillian’s. It’s almost as if our man knows what we’ll look for. He probably wears hair nets, condoms, and wind pants, 242

KISS OF DECEIT since they don’t leave fibers behind, for God’s sake. And the binds securing her wrists, they don’t fit with the last two murders. Where do you suppose this silk scarf came from?” “Samantha’s drawer. That might be something you’ll want to ask the husband.” LeAnne picked up the ties with her gloved fingers and deposited them in a paper bag. Bob bagged and tagged the tube of lipstick that appeared to be the shade the perp used after LeAnne had carefully dusted it for prints, not found. They placed all items in a large cardboard box. “You’ll need to print the place.” “I won’t find any.” “I’m sure you won’t. Well, if you’re done with me, I’ll get this evidence over to the lab. See if they have any breakthroughs.” Bob picked the box off the floor. “Tomorrow, when I get back to the office, I’ll check with VICAP, find out if they came up with a match to the signature or MO of our man.” As Bob made his way out of the bedroom, LeAnne nodded, writing a few more key thoughts into her already thick notebook. Since Cora and Samantha were friends, and the last person interviewed in the Smith case was now the victim, she couldn’t help but think the two connected, even if Cora hadn’t died exactly like the others. She would be damned before she allowed this sick, twisted individual to take another life. She would catch him—or die trying. * * * “Mr. Duncan, how are you doing?” LeAnne asked as she took a seat across from the husband. He was grieving, though LeAnne thought not nearly as much as Doc Holliday had. He rubbed a palm over a day’s growth of beard. He didn’t appear to have lost much sleep since finding his wife the day before. LeAnne thought it appropriate to question Hank the following day, since doing the scene yesterday had taken so long. And so far, she had yet to hear 243

KISS OF DECEIT from Bob as to what he had found out from the lab or the office. Nor had she heard from Marcus. But had she really expected to? LeAnne shook off the notion; she had a job to do and thinking about what transpired two nights prior was not a part of it. Hank glared at her. “How the hell do you think I feel? Someone killed my wife in my own goddam bed, in my own goddam house.” “I’m sorry, Mr. Duncan,” LeAnne said. His cheeks flushed in rising anger. “Don’t you think you should be out there finding this madman, instead of sitting here questioning me?” “I’m afraid part of my investigation revolves around questioning you.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” LeAnne gently laid her hand atop the table between them. “Mr. Duncan—you are not under any suspicion, but still, in order to capture the real criminal, I have to rule you out. I need to question you on where you were two nights ago, when your wife met her demise.” “With a friend.” “A friend?” He looked warily at her. “A female friend.” “Uh, huh.” LeAnne glanced down at the table, writing in her notebook so Hank would not see her reaction. Does anyone remain faithful? she thought, thinking of her own infidelities. But, then again, she had yet to get married. “And this woman’s name?” He looked away, obviously weighing his options. Finally, he glanced back. “Julie Easton. She lives in Cleveland. We did some paving work for her father, who lives in Toledo, a few years back. We…uh…have been seeing each other ever since.” “And Samantha, did she know about this ongoing affair?” “Maybe. I don’t know. We rarely talked, Detective. And when we did, it wasn’t about who we were slipping between the sheets with.” “Then why stay married?” 244

KISS OF DECEIT “If I would have divorced her, she would have taken me for a mint. No prenuptial. She put up with me because she had a cushy lifestyle. I gave her everything she wanted.” “Was she having an affair that you know of?” He shrugged. “Anything’s possible, Detective.” “You make it sound like your wife wasn’t very desirable.” “She was a looker, all right. A great arm trophy, if you know what I mean.” LeAnne nodded. Hank Duncan ought to be damn glad the sheriff’s office didn’t suspect him. His alibi should be easy enough to prove. But he certainly had motive. “She just wasn’t real,” he paused for the right word, “experimental. She liked it missionary style. She wasn’t into trying anything new.” LeAnne jotted down a few more notes, then continued. “So you don’t think it’s likely she would have allowed herself to be tied up.” He let out a snort of a laugh. “Samantha liked her sex short and quick. ‘Are you done yet?’” he added in an attempt at imitating her grating voice. “If I could have, I would have divorced her long ago.” “So you aren’t aware of any affair?” “I’d tell you to ask Cora—they seemed to share everything. God, who knows—maybe even men. But then again, she’s dead, too. What the hell are you guys doing over at the sheriff’s office, anyway? Sounds like you got some madman running around that you can’t catch, and you’re sitting here wasting precious time questioning me.” LeAnne flushed. “We’ll catch him all right, Mr. Duncan. It’s only a matter of time before he slips up.” “But how many more dead women will he leave behind?” Desperate to take the attention off her and the department’s inadequacies, she asked, “Does the name ‘Sid’ mean anything to you?” “No. Should it?” “The name came up in a past investigation. I thought maybe if your wife—” 245

KISS OF DECEIT “Wait. I do recall a name. I remember walking by the kitchen one night. Samantha was whispering to someone on the phone. The name ‘Shawn Michaels’ came up.” “Shawn Michaels. Are you sure?” “Positive. I remember wondering, ‘What the hell is she doing, screwing some WWF wrestler now?’ No, I wouldn’t forget that name.” LeAnne jotted the name in her notebook. Sid Justice had also been a WWF wrestler at one time. She bit the end of her pen, then glanced up. “The scarf that tied Samantha’s wrists, do you remember it?” “I think so.” “Did it belong to Samantha?” “I doubt it. As far as I know, Samantha never wore them. We have a few colored hankies lying around the house. Blue, black, white, pink. She wore them as belts around her waist sometimes, but that’s it.” “As in bandannas?” “Yeah—but I’m sure, no scarves.” “Can I see a few of them?” “Sure.” Hank left the room for a few minutes, then returned with a half dozen bandannas. He dropped them to the table, a sea of colors. His face was thoughtful. “That’s strange.” “What’s that, Mr. Duncan.” “There’s an Indian print one—it’s missing, not in her drawer. I checked the hamper, too. I remember it specifically. We were out shopping, and she said she had to have it for one of the outfits she bought that day. I thought it was ugly.” “What did it look like?” “Browns, oranges, golds. It had a silhouette of an American Indian on it.” “If you find it, could you let me know?” “Any reason?” “Just a hunch.” LeAnne jotted a note to check with Frank Holliday. If the red bandanna tying Miranda came from the Gallego house, 246

KISS OF DECEIT and the one tying Samantha came from the Holliday house, that meant her perp was leaving a trail as big as could be. This, coupled with the lip print, meant this SOB wanted her to know which ones he took out. “That will be all for now, Hank. If I need anything else or we find out something about your wife, we’ll be in contact.” Hank walked her to the door. “Please do, Detective.” LeAnne walked out of the house. The question? Who would get the honors of wearing the Indian print bandanna belonging to Samantha? LeAnne prayed she found her perp long before he ever got the chance to use it. But at the current rate her perp moved, LeAnne doubted he would give her more than a few weeks before they found yet another body.

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CHAPTER 24 LeAnne sat across the table from a smiling Tony Hargrove, Deputy Tom Jenson in attendance, since Bob Reese was unable to attend. The smile appeared more of a smirk. Condescending. A you-don’t-havesquat-on-me type of smile. LeAnne wanted nothing more than to slam his forehead onto the table and show him what she thought of being ridiculed. Tony’s dark brown eyes gleamed, his arms crossed over his chest. Christ, he was pretentious. Her interview with Allen Wymer had found the deputy innocent of the latest crime; he had an airtight alibi, therefore exonerating him of all three. “Where were you, Saturday night?” LeAnne asked as she paced the area in front of the table. Tony had been read his noncustodial rights and agreed to be interviewed. The cassette recorder whirred on the table, as he also agreed for the session to be taped. He gave them his background 248

KISS OF DECEIT information: his family, his job, his place of living, prior records. Tony Hargrove came out squeaky clean. He shrugged his slender but muscular shoulders. “At home.” LeAnne stopped her pacing and leaned toward Tony, bracing her hands on the table in front of him. “Anyone at home with you that could corroborate this?” “Was I with anyone?” “That’s what I’m asking.” “Nope.” LeAnne eyed him carefully. His face remained quiescent; no facial movement, no twitches. “Let me see if I have this right.” She stood up. “It’s a Saturday night, and you stayed home. No date, no partying, no nothing.” “That about sums it up. Do you want to know what time I went to bed, Detective?” His grin widened. Tony certainly seemed to enjoy himself. He obviously thought because of his father, the judge, no one could touch him. Of course, she felt differently and meant to prove it. “Yes, Anthony, what time did you go to bed?” “One in the morning.” “And your father wasn’t home?” “Nope.” “You didn’t have a date with your fiancée?” “We broke up.” LeAnne raised her brows. She hadn’t heard this newest information. “Can I ask why?” “She was too possessive of my time. She didn’t like my…uh…attentions elsewhere.” He leaned back in his chair. “Why? You interested?” LeAnne cleared her throat. “I don’t think so.” “Snake got you too preoccupied these days?” LeAnne glanced briefly at Tom Jenson, who acted as though he had 249

KISS OF DECEIT not heard. “I don’t know what you mean. Besides, it’s hardly your business.” “I would have asked you over myself, had I known you were receptive to offers.” Heat rose up her neck and stung her cheeks. “I’m not receptive to any offers. I’m engaged, as you recall.” Tony’s grin turned to more of a sneer. “So you were…uh…questioning Snake late Saturday night?” Again, LeAnne glanced at Deputy Jenson, who continued his indifference. She cleared her throat again. “I’m asking the questions. Remember?” He chuckled. “I forgot. Ask away, Detective. I’m quite enjoying seeing you squirm. I’m sure good ol’ Chad would love to hear what you were doing Saturday night. Isn’t he in Boston?” Though she wanted to ignore his biting comment, she continued, knowing the time he saw her car might prove imperative to the case. “At what time did you pass by Marcus Gallego’s house?” “Why would you care? I’m sure you were too busy to notice.” Her ire peaked. LeAnne leaned in again, bracing her hands on the table surface. “What I was doing, or not doing, at the Gallego household is none of your concern. What is my concern, though, is at what time you passed by and noticed my vehicle sitting in his driveway. Your answer may or may not exonerate you of the crime committed that night.” The coroner stated that Samantha Duncan died near or around eleven o’clock Saturday evening. If Tony Hargrove passed by early, then he had plenty of time to get back across town to do the deed. If he passed by late, then LeAnne would be his alibi. No one but Marcus or LeAnne knew where she had spent her evening. Tony shrugged. “Nine—nine-thirty.” “To or from home?” “To.” 250

KISS OF DECEIT “And no one saw you?” “Nope.” Tony very well could have been heading away from home at that hour and still had plenty of time to meet Samantha Duncan. “How well did you know the deceased?” “I never slept with her, if that’s what your getting at.” LeAnne paused thoughtfully. “That’s not what I was getting at—but thanks for offering. Do you use condoms, Anthony?” Tony laughed. “Why don’t you find out for yourself, Detective. I’m a much better fuck than Snake Gallego.” LeAnne flinched. This time Deputy Jenson sat a little straighter in his chair. Bob Reese would have been out of his seat and jumping down the little prick’s throat. But not Tom; he seemed to fair better ignoring the hearsay. “My personal life is none of your concern, Anthony. As a matter of fact, I had a few questions for Marcus. That’s why I had gone to his house.” LeAnne figured it wasn’t a complete lie. She had gone to question him, just not about the case. His grin told her he did not believe a word of her feeble excuse. “And you couldn’t bring him in? Why, Detective, you can come to my house anytime you have questions. I think I might prefer it that way.” Anxious to switch the topic, she changed tactics by being blunt. “Did you wrap your fingers around Samantha Duncan’s throat? How about Miranda Holliday? Jillian Gallego?” Tony shifted in his chair. His pale face shed his smile like the cocoon of a moth. “I didn’t kill anybody. Am I under arrest or something? I know my rights. If so, shouldn’t I have my lawyer present?” “I told you before, you don’t need a lawyer. I’m not charging you with any crime, and you can end this conversation any time you wish.” He fidgeted with the cuffs to his sleeves. “I didn’t kill anyone.” “So you’ve said. Did you know these women?” 251

KISS OF DECEIT He glanced back at LeAnne, the defiance in his eyes now nonexistent. “All three of them.” “And Cora Smith?” “Her, too.” “Now, I’ll ask again. Think carefully how you answer this question, Anthony—this is part of an ongoing investigation. If you didn’t do anything, then you have nothing to worry about. Do you wear condoms every time you have intercourse?” “Yes.” “Do you ever wear jogging pants? Wind suits?” “Yes.” “How do you like your sex, Anthony?” He choked on the water he had just sipped. “Excuse me?” “Missionary? A little S&M? Bondage?” He stared at her long and hard, as though weighing his options. “All three,” he finally replied. “On top, on the bottom, against the wall, in the great wide open—any way I can get it, Detective. Care to find out?” * * * Bob Reese sat on the corner of LeAnne’s desk sipping coffee from a foam cup. He had brought with him astonishing news. Both LeAnne and Sheriff Drake were thrilled with the findings. Now, all they needed was concrete evidence to link Tony Hargrove. DNA. If they could get Tony to volunteer blood samples, they could match the DNA found on Samantha Duncan. Getting him to volunteer the samples would not be quite as easy, though. “The SOB finally got careless,” Joe said, a smile stretching across his handsome face. “Well, good God, it’s about time.” “What will we do about the judge?” LeAnne asked. “Let me worry about that. I’ll get the search warrant. With the evidence we have now, Judge Hargrove won’t be able to utter a word. I just pray it turns out to be Anthony. If it doesn’t…the judge will likely 252

KISS OF DECEIT hang us all by our balls.” Joe grinned. “Well, two of us anyway.” Bob chuckled. “Good thing we got that lucky break from VICAP, too. Sort of evens the odds a bit.” “So there’s a case at Boston University School of Law that’s two years old, never been solved?” LeAnne turned to Bob. “Look’s that way. I’d like to go up there personally and question the detectives who did the case. Maybe we can find some DNA or something that might link this case to ours.” “Certainly sounds like our man,” Joe said as he headed for the door. “I’ll let you two discuss this while I obtain that search warrant. Bob— get your bags packed. You’re going to BUSL.” LeAnne turned back to the chief deputy. “What do we have that makes you think our man could have committed a crime two years ago?” “A hunch. VICAP came up with this case and, after looking it over, it might be a long shot, but I think it’s worth delving deeper. The best thing—Tony Hargrove was at BUSL the time of the murder. He didn’t graduate until spring of ’99. This woman was murdered in late February ’98.” “Strangled?” “Hyoid bone snapped. Eyelids hemorrhaged. Torture was evident; so were the binds that tied her wrists to the bed.” “Anything else?” “She was married, had a baby shortly before this happened.” Bob appeared thoughtful. “Poor thing has to grow up without a mother.” “No lip prints or anything as significant?” “That’s the part that doesn’t fit. Whoever killed her covered her afterwards, left a red rose atop the sheet. Shows remorse.” “Which our man never does.” “Could be the beginning of his killing spree; could have been an accident. That we don’t know. But we do know—all the surfaces were wiped clean with a towel, no prints, no semen.” He paused, then asked, 253

KISS OF DECEIT “How did the interview go?” “You want to hear?” Bob raised his brows. “He let you record it?” “Yep,” she said, then depressed the play button on the small cassette player. Moments later, Bob nearly unseated himself in his chortles, whereas LeAnne found his humor sorely misplaced. Certainly, she saw nothing humorous about Tony’s blatant come-ons or his accusations where Snake had been concerned. “I’m sorry.” Bob grinned mischievously. “But you can’t help it. He had you dancing over a…‘Snake’ pit.” His laughter began anew, and LeAnne stood up to retrieve a fresh cup of coffee. “Laugh all you want,” LeAnne snapped. “You weren’t there.” “All right, all right,” he said, holding a hand up in front of him. “I give. You’re right, there was nothing funny about the way he handled his interview. By the way, what were you doing at Gallego’s at nine o’clock in the evening? Even the sheriff takes time off.” LeAnne flushed. “I just had…a…a few last minute questions I thought he might be able to clear up.” “Did you get what you wanted?” LeAnne’s gaze snapped up to Bob’s as the blood flowed hotly through her veins, heating everything in its trek. “What do you mean?” “Questions? Did you get the answers?” LeAnne quickly glanced away. “Not all of them.” “Chad still at BUSL?” “Until Wednesday,” LeAnne said, taking a sip from her cup, still not daring to look in Bob’s direction, lest he see the guilt written plainly in her eyes. “Since Joe authorized it, hopefully, I’ll fly out tomorrow. Maybe I’ll look him up while I’m there.” LeAnne smiled at Bob, knowing he willingly dropped the subject of 254

KISS OF DECEIT Snake and her. “I could tell him you’re coming.” “No, don’t do that. I don’t know how much time I’ll have in Boston. I may have to fly in and fly back out. Now, let’s talk about Tony and what we hope to find.” “If the sheriff can get the warrant, then I want to get those pants he had on in the Harley shop the last time I saw him. They had holes in the knees and red paint on them. Could have been the pants he wore to kill the caretaker. We could send them off to the lab and have them compared to the samples taken from Jillian’s grave, the caretaker’s house, and my car.” “Speaking of samples, the paint matches.” “So the paint on my car very likely came from the same paint can that our perp used on Jillian’s grave.” “Looks that way.” “And the fibers found at Jillian’s grave?” “Match those found in the caretakers house. Now all we need to do is find those jeans.” “You think they were the ones I saw Tony wearing?” Bob shrugged. “Let’s hope so.” “You also said we had DNA.” Bob smirked. “The dumb SOB left tracks on the victim’s thigh before he ever put on the condom. We have small semen samples also found on the sheet. He’s getting sloppy.” “And beneath the nails?” “Traces of blood and skin. He wasn’t so lucky this time. Samantha Duncan put up a fight and our perp is wearing the scratches to prove it.” “I hope the sheriff gets that warrant.” “You and me both. But it would help if we can get Tony to volunteer blood samples. We can see if they match the ones left at the Duncan scene.” “Even so—if we don’t find something concrete to nail him, a DNA 255

KISS OF DECEIT match could take months. More women could die.” “Not if he knows we have an eye on him.” Bob stood up and stretched, then glanced down at his watch. “I need to talk to the sheriff and see about getting that flight to Boston. Why don’t you get out of here and take it easy. Go home, catch some shuteye.” “What about the warrant?” “Joe Drake’s going to have to call in some favors for that one. It may take awhile. There isn’t anything that won’t wait until tomorrow.” LeAnne rubbed her taut brow with two of her fingers, trying to alleviate some of the tension. “Thirty-two hours have already passed since Samantha’s death. Time is crucial.” Bob chuckled. “You aren’t going to do any more tonight, LeAnne. Tomorrow’s a new day. You get that warrant and see what we can turn up.” LeAnne watched the empty doorway for a long, silent moment after Bob disappeared through it. He had been right, as always. There wasn’t much more she could do tonight. She swallowed the rest of her coffee, turned off the pot, then shrugged into the sleeves of her light jacket. The intercom buzzed. LeAnne pushed the button. “Yes.” “Detective,” the second shift dispatcher said, Suzy having gone home for the day, “a Marcus Gallego is here to see you.” LeAnne groaned, staring at the silver box. “I’ll be right down.”

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CHAPTER 25 Snake followed LeAnne out the side door of the sheriff’s office and around the building where she kept her car. The stubborn angle of her shoulders and the stiffness of her spine did little to stop the sexy sway of her hips. God, but he wanted her legs wrapped around his waist again—even if it were just one last time. He had had trouble, the last few days, getting her out of his head, though it surely wasn’t for lack of trying. Blade and Rebel had kept his sorry rear busy all day yesterday, fixing and tuning their bikes. Of course they were both adept at tuning their own, but with Snake at their disposal, why bother. Besides, it’s not like he had a lot to do these days. Later, with everyone gone, Snake had kicked back in his recliner with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. LeAnne had plagued his rolling thoughts. And today had been no different. Instead of wallowing in crazy notions about what he might have to 257

KISS OF DECEIT offer her that Chad could not, he gave up and went to the station. He had heard through the grapevine that Prosecutor Baker took a trip east and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the week, the reason LeAnne had been alone on a Saturday night. So if he couldn’t have her when Chad came home, he would sure in the hell have her now. LeAnne McVeigh would not easily forget Snake Gallego; he’d make sure of it. At the car, she finally turned to face him. Heat radiated in her green eyes like twin fires. “Just what possessed you to come to the office?” He shrugged, a grin itching at one corner of his lips. “I knew here you couldn’t slam the door in my face.” “Well, that’s just great,” LeAnne said, her voice raising in pitch. “There’s enough gossip going on about us that I’ll probably never live it down as it is. And here you are, in the flesh, adding fuel to the fire.” “Really?” Snake’s grin widened. “People are talking about us?” “Oh, that’s worth smiling about, Marcus,” she scoffed. “Are you forgetting I’m engaged?” He shed his smile and gave her his best poker face, even if it were just for her sake. Certainly, he did not want to cause a scene at the sheriff’s office. No—he wanted an invitation to follow her home. And if he got that invite, he meant to charm her right between the sheets. “Not for a minute. Besides—how could I? You seem to be good at reminding me. So what’s the gossip?” She rolled her bright green eyes. “That we’re sleeping together. Do you believe it?” Again, Snake grinned. “We are.” Her gaze snapped back to his. “Did—past tense—one time. And that was a mistake,” she quickly amended. Snake grasped her around the waist. “Are you so sure?” he whispered. She sucked in air, then struggled free of his grasp. “Are you totally insane?” He chuckled, but said nothing in his defense. 258

KISS OF DECEIT “We’re standing in the open. Anyone could see us.” “Then I suggest you invite me back to your place where we can talk about this in private.” “You are insane.” “You want to continue this here?” LeAnne made a quick glance around the empty lot, then back at Snake. “Of course not.” He shrugged. “Then I suggest you give me that invite.” “Since when did you need one? I thought you just showed up where you felt like it.” “Usually. But then, again, I never go where I’m not wanted.” Snake used the pad of his thumb to tilt up her chin. “You do want me, LeAnne, don’t you?” The slender column of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her heart pulsed in the hollow of her neck. He ran his fingers down her skin until he could feel the heavy beat of it against his fingers. LeAnne jerked away. “Follow me home before someone sees us.” She fumbled in her purse for her keys. “It’s not like you’ll easily go away, even if I ask.” Leaving her mumbling, Snake chuckled to himself as he walked around the building. He only need be asked once. Lifting his leg over the bike, he sat on the seat and pushed the electric start. The motorcycle roared to life. * * * Moments later, LeAnne stood at the rear entrance of her home, fidgeting with her key. She rarely entered her house by way of the back door, but could hardly lead him up the front steps with the gossip already milling about. Snake had parked his bike in the garage beside her car before she closed the door. The keys nearly tumbled to the ground in her clumsiness, and very well might have if Snake had not been standing so close behind her to catch them. 259

KISS OF DECEIT “Here,” he whispered against her neck. Did he have to stand so close? Damn him and his alluring attraction, for LeAnne knew without a doubt, Snake was aware of the effect he had on her. His hand closed over her fingers, boldly stroking them before closing over the key. He gently wiggled it, then the lock snapped easily out of place. LeAnne rushed into the kitchen. Cool air hit her like a blast from the arctic. Thank God for air-conditioning. But cool air wasn’t the only thing she needed; she needed space. And a lot of it. A soft chuckle came from behind her. LeAnne spun on her heel and glared at him from across the kitchen. “Just what the hell do you find so funny?” Snake snapped the deadbolt back into place, then advanced on her. The dim light hid his dark expression as he walked in the shadows. He stopped mere inches away. “You,” he finally said. He traced the line of her jaw. “What…what do you think you’re doing?” She batted away his hand. “Only what you want me to do.” “Oh, no, you don’t.” LeAnne retreated a few steps. “We came here to talk. Remember?” “Sure we did.” Marcus followed her as she backed into the living room. The door easily pivoted behind them. “So talk.” Even in the soft light, she could see the predatory gleam in his brown eyes. Marcus had no intentions of talking, let alone carrying on a conversation. And if she were truthful with herself, she wanted him—no, needed him probably even more than he did her. The night in the barn had been one of the best sexual experiences she had ever had. Already, certain parts of her body were vividly recalling their tryst. 260

KISS OF DECEIT She refused to give in so easily. “I…uh…think that maybe we should slow down. Talk—talking’s good.” He bridged the gap, snatched her wrist, and pulled her squarely against him. “You want to slow down, LeAnne?” “It might be wise.” “How slow do you want it?” he whispered, his grin cockeyed. Marcus would never hurt her; somehow she knew that. She wouldn’t have to worry about bruises, or making excuses. Though tough on the outside, he handled her like fine china. LeAnne never had a man treat her so gentle—nor did she think one walked the face of the earth that could. Not until Marcus, that is. First there was her father, who used his fist, his belt, or whatever seemed available. He put her in the hospital once when his temper had grown out of control. “Them damn steps,” he told the doctor. “You know how kids are, never lookin’ where the hell they’re going. Damn lucky she didn’t break her neck, the little fool.” And of course, the doctor had believed him. Back then, no one questioned the discipline of a child. Spare the rod and spoil the child. “The words come straight out of the Bible,” her father spouted more than once in his lifetime. Then came Chad. At first, he seemed her savior. He wanted a wife, a mother for his children. Soon enough, though, he let her know what he expected from her: obedience. He had used the back of his hand to prove his point. But he had never broken anything. And of course, he had only struck her because she deserved it. Finally, there was Marcus, who by outward appearances, would have been the poster-child for bad boys. But unlike the stigmatism placed on these men, Marcus seemed to make sure her pleasure came before his. But just her luck—he belonged to his dead wife. Well, not tonight. LeAnne would make sure, even if for just one night, Marcus 261

KISS OF DECEIT belonged to her. Second thoughts aside, she grasped the bottom of his tee and yanked it from the confines of his jeans. * * * Seeing her surrender, Marcus slowly pulled his tee the rest of the way over his head and tossed it aside. He pushed her jacket from her shoulders and to the floor, before his hands freed the buttons on her blouse. Her fingers grabbled at the waistband of his jeans and worked the button free. He nearly laughed at her haste as she pushed uselessly against the band of his jeans, attempting to shove them past his hips. Marcus chuckled, took a shaky breath, and stepped back from her. “I thought you wanted to slow down.” LeAnne flushed, her hands attempting to cover what he had undone. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, only slow the pace. Hell, he wanted to enjoy this, not like the last time. They had both been so sexually charged that it had been over before he had actually gotten started. And when LeAnne ran out of the barn full of remorse, it left him kicking himself for days. But not this time. This time, he’d take his sweet time. Snake grasped her hands and pulled them away. “Don’t cover yourself. Truth be told, you have too many damn clothes on for my liking.” Her gaze narrowed. “Then why complain?” He chuckled. “Honey, that wasn’t a complaint. It was a suggestion. You want my pants off, I’ll gladly take them off. I just want to take my time, and I certainly don’t want you regretting it. There isn’t any space for three of us in this room.” “Jillian?” So, she compared herself to his dead wife. Hell, he had been talking about Chad, not Jillian. Snake tilted her chin upward so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Jillian is 262

KISS OF DECEIT Jillian. I’ve wasted enough time thinking about someone who probably didn’t deserve it.” He knew LeAnne needed reassurance that his memories of Jillian had no place between them. He meant to give it. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said. Snake leaned down, kissing her swift and hard, then said, “Honey, Jillian is a distant memory. She went out on me more times than I could count. I’m not saying I didn’t love her. Hell, I must have, to have stayed with her as long as I did. But she’s gone now. I’ve accepted that.” “Really?” He winked. “Really.” LeAnne placed her hand above the fly of his jeans, rubbing with a painfully patient stride. “This slow enough for you?” “God, honey, any slower and you’ll have me tossing you on your back right here.” A wanton grin raised her cheeks. “Not this time. I have a better suggestion.” “What’s that?” She stepped from his embrace. “We use the bed,” she said, then disappeared through the bedroom door, leaving a trail of discarded clothing. As he said before, he need only be asked once. Snake pushed the jeans off his hips, stepped out of them, and followed her to the opened door. On a stand beside the bedroom, Snake’s gaze landed on a small framed picture of Chad Baker. He carefully laid it face down. “You can stay out here,” he said, then disappeared through the same doorway. * * * LeAnne lay in the crook of Snake’s arm as he wrapped it around her, holding her tightly even in his sound sleep. His slow, even 263

KISS OF DECEIT breathing seemed to indicate his recent satisfaction. After making love to her, he had pulled her against him and promptly fallen asleep. His soft snore soothed away her apprehensions and feelings of guilt as she cuddled next to him. She closed her eyes. This, she could get use to. Chad hated to cuddle. He preferred more to roll on his side and give her his back. LeAnne never questioned it, merely accepted it. Now, she wondered about her and Chad’s relationship—or if they even had one to go back to. Surely, Marcus would be no more ready to offer her anything other than what they already had. A quick jump in the sack. But after all that had transpired, it would be wrong of her to continue with Chad as if nothing had happened. The decision was made. As soon as he came home from Boston, she would have no choice but to break off the engagement. With that conclusion, she snuggled into Snake’s embrace, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Moments, or hours later, she could not be sure, the phone rang, startling them both. But before LeAnne could stop him, Marcus grasped the receiver. “Hello?” he grumbled sleepily into it. “Yeah, yeah…it’s okay,” he said, then replaced it in the cradle. “Who was it?” LeAnne asked, her heart thudding like a jackhammer. Marcus pulled her against him. “Wrong number,” he whispered, stirring the hairs at the top of her head. LeAnne slipped her arms around him. Dread sat in the pit of her stomach. “You really shouldn’t have answered the phone.” “I’m sorry.” He yawned into the back of his hand in a languid stretch. “I grabbed it before I knew what I was doing. Hell, I thought I was home, in my own bed.” “It could have been Chad,” she whispered in guilt. He moved with a swiftness that moments ago she swore he didn’t possess and set her slightly away. “And what if it was?” 264

KISS OF DECEIT In all honesty, LeAnne said, “I don’t know.” “He’s bound to find out sooner or later.” His tone spoke of his rising agitation even if she could not see it. “It’s just not the best way for him to find out.” “What are you going to do about him?” She sat up, pulling the sheet around herself. “Does it really matter to you?” Snake crossed his arms behind his head, staring at her, unconcerned about his nudity. “Should it?” “For heaven’s sake, Marcus, can’t I get a straight answer from you? You’re always answering my questions with one of your own.” “Why is it so important to you what I think? If you want to break it off with Chad—then do it. You don’t need my permission.” “I didn’t ask for it.” “Then what the hell do you want from me, LeAnne? I’m a biker. You’re a cop. And right now, I don’t even have a job, because I pissed off the best friend I ever had. If you’re looking for something from me, then maybe you ought to stay with the prosecutor.” Dead silence lingered like the Grim Reaper. “Is that what you want?” Snake leapt from the bed and went into the living room to retrieve his jeans, leaving LeAnne to stare after him in stunned silence. When he reappeared in the opened doorway, he ran his hand through his unkempt hair, glaring at her through the room. If it hadn’t been for the moonlight shining on his face through her bedroom window, she might have thought him uncaring altogether. As it was, something darkened his gaze; something lay beneath his carefully controlled surface. “I better go,” he finally said. “Yeah, maybe you better.” “I think I’ve caused you enough trouble for one lifetime.” Then, he turned and left. 265

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne didn’t move until she heard the back door close. Sheet still wrapped about her, she walked to the front window and glanced out. The bike started with a soft rumble, then pulled out of her garage, down the driveway, and out of sight. The last thing LeAnne saw was the stubborn set of Snake’s shoulders. She knew then that she loved him, probably always would. Even if their worlds were too far apart ever to bridge that gap. * * * Sweat beaded his brow. Steam surely rose from the top of his blonde head. Good Lord, he had never been so infuriated and forlorn in his life. He lay wide awake, the receiver of the phone still in his perspiring palm. He had instantly recognized the voice of Marcus Gallego in his own goddam home. Had he been there to be a witness to it, he might have cut the son-of-a-bitch’s heart out. With a butter knife, no less. How dare Snake screw his fiancée in his own goddam bed? Chad slammed the receiver on the cradle and roared into the darkness, not caring who he woke. LeAnne had been his. His, dammit. And now she lay like some whore beneath a rutting grease-ball biker. Chad stood on shaky legs and ran the short distance to the bathroom, bile rising up his throat like the purging of a volcano. His stomach now emptied, he looked at his pale reflection in the mirror and cried for the first time in his God-forsaken life.

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CHAPTER 26 The warrant for Tony Hargrove took little time to get; the sealing nail on his coffin being the 911 call made from the Gallego household, the night of Jillian’s murder. LeAnne had finally realized why the caller had sounded so familiar. Upon listening to it a second time, she discovered the voice belonged to none other than Judge Hargrove’s son. Sheriff Drake called in favors to obtain the warrant, leaving the judge spitting mad, his bald pate reddening the color of ripe tomatoes. They would all pay, and dearly, each and every one of them, if LeAnne’s angle did not pan out and Tony Hargrove turned out to be guilty of nothing more than being at the wrong place at the wrong time, not to mention his bad judgment in the women he chose to sleep with. Bob Reese sat beside her, rubbing his palms together, his hair mused from countless raking, barely able to sit still in the detective’s sedan. Behind them, Sheriff Drake accompanied Deputies Jenson and Henderson. Though all were in an obvious hurry, no lights flashed, no 267

KISS OF DECEIT sirens blared. There would be no warnings to alert Tony and have him jumping ship before their arrival. Hopefully, Judge Hargrove had not called the boy himself and told him of the standing warrant for his arrest. Had he not been scheduled in court this morning, LeAnne knew the judge would have raced the sheriff’s office to his hilltop home and protected his boy at all costs. The two cruisers turned into the long, circular driveway and pulled to a reverberating halt in front of the elegant, two-story estate. Large white pillars reached to the top of the house; the second story opened onto a large porch stretching the length of the home. Rich green landscaping adorned the front and graced the walkways. Only the wealth of one so prominent could afford the upkeep of a home such as this. Closed double doors, each sporting a large grapevine wreath with a blood-colored bow seemingly dripping from them, greeted the officers. All drapes on the second floor drew tight, allowing no light admittance. LeAnne’s intuition raised the hairs at her nape as she exited the sedan; her hand automatically going to the gun at her side and checking its readiness. She led the pack to the front door, where a deputy stood to either side, nine millimeters up and at the ready. Sheriff Drake came to stand beside her, Bob Reese to his right. Joe pushed the doorbell, the sound echoing about the large home. After a brief pause, a small, frail woman in her near to mid-sixties answered. “Can I help you?” she asked, dressed in a black and white maid’s uniform. Her eyes darted to the two deputies with their guns drawn; her hand fluttered over her chest. “We’re here to see Anthony Hargrove, ma’am,” the Sheriff said. “Is he in residence?” “Well, he…yes,” she stuttered. “He was just in the kitchen a moment ago. Has he done something wrong?” “We’re not at liberty to say, ma’am.” The sheriff pulled a few 268

KISS OF DECEIT folded sheets of paper from his breast pocket and handed them to her. “But we do have a warrant to search the premises and one for his arrest.” “Oh, my.” She fanned herself with a tremulous hand, her complexion going deathly pale. Joe grasped the tiny woman by the elbow and gently led her to a nearby sofa as Bob Reese called out Tony’s name. No answer. The two deputies scanned the main floor as Bob and LeAnne took the stairs, two at a time. As they reached the landing, guns drawn, LeAnne traveled the corridor to the left, as Bob went to the right. The only sound was the soft, consoling voice of Sheriff Drake as he attempted to calm the elderly maid. LeAnne poked her head into the first door. A four-poster, king-size bed with an antique quilt sat against the far wall. Rich cherry-wood furniture, highly polished, decorated the interior. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. An over-large sport coat hanging across a free-standing mirror told her this room belonged to the judge. She hastened to the next opened door, finding a powder room, connected to a bathroom. Inching further into the powder room, LeAnne saw the shower curtain rustle. Her hearing sharpened; her heart pounded in her ears. She used the nuzzle of her gun to push open the half-closed door to the restroom. The curtain fluttered. Using a horse stance, she held the gun out in front of her. “Police,” she stated, the hairs at her nape prickling. The sharp clacking of nails could be heard as a rottweiler jumped through the curtain, waggling his short stub of a tail, and nearly knocked her to the floor. LeAnne had to swallow her heart as it had lodged itself in her 269

KISS OF DECEIT throat. Dear Lord, she had almost shot the family dog, she thought with a nervous chortle as the dog bounded out of the room in search of someone else to terrorize. Bob came running into the restroom, finding her leaning on the pedestal sink. “You all right?” Bob asked. “Just a dog.” LeAnne shook her head as she headed out of the small room. “But nearly a dead dog,” she said with a laugh while Bob stayed close on her tail. At the end of the hall, they found a walk-in linen closet the size of her tiny bedroom, stocked with towels and sheets of every color and fabric. “Let’s see how Henderson and Jenson are doing.” Just about the time they started their descent, the distant roaring of a motorcycle sounded. LeAnne rushed to the window on the landing, spotting Tony Hargrove’s back as he sped down the county road. He must have walked the bike to the end of the half-mile driveway, hoping to go undetected. LeAnne cursed beneath her breath, then called out, “Henderson. Jenson.” The sound echoed down the open staircase. The two deputies came trotting in from the kitchen as she ran the rest of the way down the steps. “We didn’t see him until we were ready to head for the basement, Detective,” Tom said in an attempt to cover their mistake. “Quit wasting time talking to me and get after him. Why the hell wasn’t anyone watching the back of the house?” she asked, knowing her own error. LeAnne could have kicked herself. Jenson and Henderson sheathed their guns and headed out the front door. Sirens sounded shortly and the cruiser spun down the road after Tony. The two deputies would be lucky if they caught him with the lead Tony already had. LeAnne cursed again. 270

KISS OF DECEIT The sheriff stood at the bottom of the stairs, his fists on his hips. Would anything ever go right? She would be lucky to come away from this case with her job intact, not to mention the serious hide-chewing she’d receive. “Did you two find anything while you were pussyfooting around up there?” “No,” LeAnne said, looking to her feet. She rubbed the nap of the carpet with the toe of her shoe, not putting voice to the thoughts traveling through her mind. Sheriff Drake had berated her constantly for her screw-ups and LeAnne neared the end of her rope. Should she say anything in her defense, though, her job would truly be in jeopardy. Bob stepped up from behind, in an obvious attempt at showing his support for LeAnne. “No one could have known while we were coming in the front door, Tony slipped out back to the barn.” He quickly added a “Sir,” for good measure. Joe worried his lower lip between his teeth, staring at the two. “Well, good God then, what the hell are you standing here for, get on with it. We haven’t finished searching the house. Something has to tell us he’s our man. But I need evidence—solid evidence or Judge Hargrove will surely hang me by the balls—not to mention the heyday the press will have.” LeAnne, shaking her head, dashed for the basement with Bob in tow. Again—the election, yet far off, seemed to enter into the picture. Sheriff Drake didn’t want to be made a fool of in the public eye and chance losing. If this case became botched, she’d take the full blame. For the first time today, Marcus entered her mind. She envied him the freedom to crawl on the back of his motorcycle and ride into the sunset. No responsibilities, no worries. Her morning had been hectic from the moment she walked into the sheriff’s office. The warrant had been issued, strategies planned, and actions taken. Right now, LeAnne did not have the luxury of time to worry about what Marcus had been doing with his morning, or if he 271

KISS OF DECEIT regretted the night before. She sure in the hell did not—nor would she. Chad would have to be told the minute he came home. LeAnne could no longer be a part of his life. Just off the kitchen, the door to the basement creaked as she opened it. Darkness greeted them. LeAnne ran her hand along the smooth, painted wall until she found the light switch. Light flooded the stairwell and the well-furnished basement. LeAnne and Bob trotted down the stairs to find an unmade bed, clothes scattered about the floor, and several day-old dishes littering the surface of stands and dressers. Obviously, no one, including the maid, was permitted into Tony’s domain. Putting on latex gloves, LeAnne and Bob took sides of the room, sifting through drawers, papers, magazines, and clothes. Nothing of real importance captured their interest—until Bob pulled on the leg of a pair of jeans, partially hidden beneath the bed where they had been carelessly discarded. Two large holes spoiled the knees as a spot of red paint marred the surface above one. A smile lit LeAnne’s face. “Let’s just hope we get the results we’re looking for. Pack them up for BG.” Bob left the basement to retrieve their kits as well as plastic and paper bags for evidence collecting, while LeAnne sorted through VHS tapes stacked beneath the thirty-two inch television. Every tape was dated, telling LeAnne nothing in particular, but catching her curiosity nonetheless. She pulled one from the jacket, baring a date close to Jillian’s murder, the latest of all the dates written, and pushed it into the VCR. The picture on the screen slowly came into focus. She pushed the VCR/TV button, then pressed play on the recorder. A gasp escaped her throat; Bob halted his descent, third step from the bottom. 272

KISS OF DECEIT Jillian Gallego and Miranda Holliday lay atop Tony Hargrove’s bed, side by side, waving at the camcorder. Tears glistened in LeAnne’s eyes but did not fall at seeing the two dead women vibrant and happy. The camera zoomed in as Jillian lowered her halter and gave Tony a good view of what lay beneath. Jillian and Miranda giggled like schoolgirls, each putting herself on display for the camera; showing off for the boy/man holding the camcorder. LeAnne’s heart bled for Snake. Proof—final proof of Jillian Gallego’s infidelities. Bob finished his descent and walked over to where LeAnne knelt in front of the VCR, her mouth hanging open in awe. About the same time, the sheriff strolled down the steps to find them both rooted to the floor, staring at the screen. “What the hell,” he mumbled as he, too, came to stand beside them. “You still need more evidence, Joe?” LeAnne asked, her voice cracking in despair at the lost lives. She took her eyes from the action on the screen to look at the sheriff. He whistled low through perfect, straight white teeth. “Looks pretty incriminating. But it still doesn’t tell me he killed them.” Before long, both Miranda and Jillian had shed their clothes and rolled atop the sheets, giving Tony the show of his life. His groans and “Oh Gods” could be heard, caught by the camcorder’s microphone. The picture then jerked about, showing briefly the basement carpeting, before righting itself as Tony placed the video camera on a solid surface and pointed it at the bed. He, then, came into view as he settled between the two girls and joined the illicit affair. LeAnne hit the OFF button on the VCR and TV, leaving all three staring at the black screen. Finally, his voice husky with emotion, Sheriff Drake said, “Tag it as evidence. While you’re at it—tag them all,” and indicated the other ten or so tapes stacked on the stand beneath the TV, then headed for the stairs and out of the suddenly constricting little basement. 273

KISS OF DECEIT * * * Hours later, with a box full of tagged, but not very incriminating, evidence, LeAnne sat at her tiny desk in the sheriff’s office, feeling the weight of despair on her shoulders. Bob paced the carpet behind her, and Joe Drake sought the solitary environment of his own office, probably going over his planned speech for the judge. LeAnne stood, walked to the box, and tossed a few porn magazines on the table in the center of her room. Several pictures followed: nudes of different women from various counties, Tony with a menagerie of women and friends, Judge Hargrove, and so on. They also had confiscated a few toys: vibrators, handcuffs, and the like. Had there not been an ongoing murder investigation, Tony appeared guilty of nothing more than possessing pornographic material and enjoying kinky sex. “We put out an APB on Tony,” Bob said, leafing through one of the magazines. “It’s only a matter of time.” “Jenson and Henderson lost him shortly after they began the chase. He cut through fields and wooded areas, but they’re still out there looking. Hopefully you’re right; his red shiny Harley will stick out like a sore thumb.” LeAnne glanced at the objects. “You going to the BG lab?” Bob nodded. “Shortly. Anything you want me to take?” “Just his sheets and the jeans—hopefully we’ll find some hairs, fibers, or something to connect him.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Otherwise, we have squat. That’s probably why Drake’s in his office. He has to be mad as hell at both of us and worried about the flack he’s going to take from the judge and what bad press can do to his career. Do you think we screwed up?” “Look at this stuff, LeAnne. The only thing missing is newspaper articles collected from each murder. I say this man has the classic background. Age is a little young, but he did grow up without a mother. Maybe that’s why he hated women.” “There is one thing that bugs me, though,” LeAnne said, biting the 274

KISS OF DECEIT cap on her pen. “Tony’s barely in his twenties. The crime scenes speak of sophistication—well thought out. That usually indicates someone more mature, like early thirties. Plus—we found no collected trophies. Nothing that would indicate he took these women’s lives.” “We have the VHS tapes.” “So—they show him having sex with several women. One with Jillian, one with Jillian and Miranda, and several we don’t know. Another curious thing: we found none with his ex-fiancée. What do you make of that?” “Could be the reason they broke up. Do you suppose she found Tony’s collection?” “A good possibility.” “Maybe we ought to bring her in for questioning.” “Yeah, and maybe you should get this stuff to BG. I want the results ASAP. If the paint doesn’t match, or the fibers aren’t consistent with those found by the grave, we’re all in it deep.” * * * LeAnne sat across the table from Julie Hensly, as she toyed with the strings to her jogging pants, barely able to look LeAnne in the eye. Bob had left for BG a few hours earlier, to drop off what little evidence they had collected on his way to the airport. His flight schedule had him leaving the Toledo Airport at five-thirty this evening for Massachusetts. Hopefully, the detectives in Boston would be able to shed some light on their case. Maybe, just maybe, the DNA found from BUSL’s unsolved case of a few years back would match the DNA found on Samantha Duncan. They already knew Tony attended BUSL at the time of the murder. And if they could get matching DNA from the crimes and match that of Tony’s, her life would get a whole lot easier. “There really is no reason to be nervous, Julie,” LeAnne said, her voice soothing. She needed Julie’s cooperation, not her apprehension. “I just need to ask you a few questions about Tony.” “Is he in some kind of trouble? I guess that’s a good assumption,” 275

KISS OF DECEIT she answered her own question. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here, right?” “All I can tell you is that we have issued a warrant for his arrest. We have an APB out on him.” Julie looked away, chewing her thumbnail. LeAnne felt sorry for the young girl. Her infatuation for Anthony Hargrove lent her nothing but trouble. “Do you know where he is, Julie?” “No.” “Do you have any idea where he might go?” Again, “No.” “I understand that the engagement between the two of you was called off. Is this correct?” She glanced at LeAnne, thumbnail forgotten. “We broke up.” “May I ask why?” “Is it important to the case you are building against him?” “Could be.” Julie paused, seemingly weighing what she might have to say and if it would be of any help to the police. “Tony really isn’t a bad person.” “Then why break up?” She shrugged. “I loved Tony…I still do. Maybe that’s why I broke it off. It hurt, you know; all the other women. I couldn’t handle them.” “What other women?” “He used to tell me it was just flirting. That he had a flirtatious nature—that I would just have to get used to it. He said he never slept with any of them. They were his friends, that’s all.” “When did you ever see this flirtatious nature of his?” “When we’d go to bars sometimes. Women were always approaching him, even though we were together. He’d wink at them, pat their backsides. They would whisper things in his ear I couldn’t hear. Tony would always grin. That kind of thing.” “Did you ever see him with Jillian Gallego?” Obviously, by her expression, Julie knew about the unsolved case. 276

KISS OF DECEIT Who in the county hadn’t? “No.” “Miranda Holliday?” Tears formed in her eyes. “No.” “Samantha Duncan?” More tears. “No.” Not the answers LeAnne had hoped for. She had one left. “Cora Smith?” “He didn’t kill those women if that’s what you’re asking.” “Cora Smith?” Julie appeared to weigh her options of telling the truth or not. Luckily, she opted for the truth. “He’s given her rides before on his motorcycle.” “And where were you at the time?” “I stayed behind at the bar with my friends.” “How much time did these rides take?” Julie looked to the floor, her embarrassment reddening her cheeks. “Not long, but there was once when it took a few hours.” “You think he was sleeping with Cora?” A lengthy pause followed. Finally, Julie nodded. “The reason you broke up?” Julie leveled her gaze. “That and many other reasons. I couldn’t take the not knowing anymore. He told me he never slept with Cora…or anyone else. But I didn’t believe him.” LeAnne switched topics. “Did you ever go into his room in the basement of his father’s house?” “Once or twice. But I got the opinion he didn’t like people invading his privacy. We hardly ever stayed at his place.” “You and Tony, were you two having sexual relations?” She cleared her throat; her cheeks flamed red. “No.” LeAnne sat back in her chair. Probably the reason Julie never got to star in his X-rated features, she supposed. “We were waiting for marriage, Detective.” 277

KISS OF DECEIT “Did you ever make out—heavy petting?” Her gaze widened. “Why?” “Well, if you and Tony hardly went into his room, where would the two of you go for a little, uh…privacy.” “His dad was rarely home, and if he was, Mr. Hargrove always retired early. Ruth, their maid, usually went to her quarters following supper, which was also upstairs. Tony and I watched television in the family room most of the time. Sometimes we would neck, but I was afraid to cross that line with him.” “Afraid how?” “That maybe he wouldn’t think I was very good. I know he’s had a lot of women in his past. I was hoping once we were married, it wouldn’t matter. Turned out though…” “Turned out what, Julie?” More tears slipped down her cheek. “That it did matter. That I did care about the other women.” “So there wasn’t any part of Tony’s behavior that didn’t seem right to you—a violent side perhaps?” Julie seemed to ponder the question. “If you mean did he get angry, I guess the answer would be ‘yes.’ But I don’t think his temper was any worse than mine or anyone else’s really. I mean, he never hit me or anything like that.” LeAnne rubbed her jaw where Chad had struck her. She couldn’t help being reminded of how her father had abused her, and now her fiancé. “What about anyone else? Did he ever hurt anyone else you are aware of?” “There was this once…” She took in a gulp of air and wiped her hand beneath her nose. “Just this once he got really mad at Ruth…their maid. I was waiting for him in the family room. He had gone to the basement to retrieve something. When he didn’t come right back, I walked into the kitchen…” Julie paused again, trying to control her 278

KISS OF DECEIT trembling voice before continuing. “I guess Ruth had gone downstairs to clean up. I swear I never saw Tony’s temper like that. It’s a miracle she stayed on. If it wasn’t for the love she had for the judge…” LeAnne sat on the edge of her seat. “Like what, Julie? What did he do?” “Tony…he had pinned poor Ruth to the kitchen counter by her neck.” Julie let out a small hiccup of contained sobs. “He told her if she ever went snooping through his things again… Oh, God.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “He’d what?” “He said he’d kill her.”

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CHAPTER 27 The bright, colored balls clacked and echoed in the smoke-filled room as the cue ball struck those freshly racked. Aside from the two large men playing pool, only the bartender lent his presence to the establishment. Ignoring the two men with billiard sticks, he went about his business, washing and polishing glasses for the day’s other patrons. Blade tipped a long-neck beer to his lips and took a pull from the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thick throat. Snake leaned over the billiard table and lightly tapped the cue ball into a striped ball, easily sinking it. He studied the next shot with a practiced eye as Blade wiped the foam gathering on his bushy mustache with the back of his hand. “Eleven—corner pocket,” Snake stated, then smoothly sank another ball. “You hear the latest, man?” Blade asked as Snake made his way about the table. 280

KISS OF DECEIT Snake glanced up briefly, then tapped his stick on the side pocket. “Ten,” he said, waiting for Blade to enlighten him. He knew Blade would oblige, always being somewhat of a gossip. The ball banked off the right of the hole, stopping in the middle of the table. Blade set his beer on the corner and eyed his own shot. “Seems there’s a warrant out for Tony Hargrove’s arrest.” Snake’s interest piqued, though he cared little about Hargrove. But if his arrest had anything to do with Jillian… “Four—corner pocket,” Blade called, striking the ball. It missed by a long shot as he let out a belch before grasping his bottle and taking another swig. Snake called his shot, then glanced up at Blade from his bent over position. “Well? What the hell you waiting on? Christmas?” Blade ignored the sarcasm as he laid a forearm over his stick. “Word is, they think he’s the one who’s been doin’ all the ladies: Jillian, Miranda, Samantha. Maybe even that Cora chick. All I can say is, I’m glad Tony took the heat off me.” Snake straightened after sinking his shot and glared at Blade. “They suspected you for killing my wife?” Blade guffawed. “Imagine that. The sons-of-bitches even hauled my hide to the station for an interview.” Marcus held Blade’s gaze, unflinching. “You do it?” Blade’s complexion reddened in the dim interior. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that, man!” “Did you?” Blade grumbled something unintelligible, his irises darkening to near the color of his pupils. “Did you?” he snapped back. Snake went back to indifference as he shot yet another ball in the hole. “What do you think?” “A minute ago I would have swore to your innocence. But now, you asking me—well, hell, it’s only natural, I’d ask you the same thing. You think Tony might have?” 281

KISS OF DECEIT “I never thought about it.” “Was he sleepin’ with Jillian?” Again, Snake stood and looked Blade square in the eye. “Was he?” “Hell, Snake—you keep answering my questions with one of your own. How the hell would I know?” “You seem to know a lot about this town.” Snake bent over the table, but missed his shot. Blade aimed his ball and called his shot, then came up short of his mark. “I listen, is all. Shoot, man, with a town this small, all you have to do is keep your ears and eyes open. Know what I mean?” Snake grinned out of one corner of his mouth, raising one brow. “Did Tony ball my wife?” Blade shrugged. “Shoot, man, I hear he’s the one who made the 911 call from your house that night.” Snake flinched. “Tony called the cops from my phone?” “Yep.” Marcus nodded slowly, digesting the newly-acquired information. He rubbed his jaw with the tips of his fingers. “So, little Tony was banging my wife.” It was a statement, not a question. “Christ, how many more were there?” Though his ire should have hit the bar’s high ceiling, Snake felt reasonably controlled. Maybe he hadn’t loved his wife as much as he thought. And he would bet LeAnne McVeigh had something to do with it. “Hell, if I were you,” Blade said as he watched Snake bend over the table and eye the eight ball, “I’d be spitting mad and going after the little prick with a vengeance.” Snake sank the ball and won the game, then leaned on his stick to look at Blade, his heart not even thudding in his chest. “Nothing my wife did surprises me.” Blade blinked a few times, then grinned. “You’re messin’ with me, right?” 282

KISS OF DECEIT Snake laid his stick on the table and walked to the bar where Smoke, the bartender, placed another draft and long-neck. Blade meandered over and sat heavily on the stool beside him, accepting the long-neck Snake had paid for. “What happened to the bravado, man? Lookin’ for your wife’s killer and all.” Snake turned on his stool to look at Blade. An unlit cigarette dangled from the beefy man’s lips. “Don’t get me wrong—I want him caught. I just don’t give two hoots who was screwing her anymore. If I tried hard enough, I’d probably find a lot more she did while we were married.” “You didn’t deserve her, man.” “No, I didn’t. But then again, what kind of woman would want the likes of me?” he asked, thinking of LeAnne again. Did he have any more to offer her today than he had last night after making love to her? The answer stared him in the face. A big, resounding NO. She didn’t deserve the likes of him, no more than he had deserved Jillian. Maybe she was better off with Chad Baker, after all. His stomach churned. “What’s the matter,” Blade asked, obviously detecting his sudden self-pity. “Nothing,” Snake assured. “Didn’t you say you were hauled in for questioning?” “Yep.” “What did they ask you?” “That bitch, Detective McVeigh”—Snake flinched at Blade’s obvious lack of respect for LeAnne and Snake’s sudden-found protectiveness of her—“and that prick chief deputy questioned my hate for your loose wife.” The heat finally rose like a lit fuse winding its way toward a stick of dynamite. Whether it was for Blade’s reference to LeAnne as being a bitch or his wife being loose, Snake refused to examine. He certainly 283

KISS OF DECEIT wasn’t any more ready to admit he had feelings for the detective than before. “You did hate her.” Blade released a humph. “Like no other.” “And why was that, Blade? She was my wife. You’d think I would have hated her more than you.” Blade shifted on his stool, fidgeting with a bar napkin. “I didn’t like the way she treated you. You’re my brother, man. I’d feel that way toward anyone who stabbed you in the back.” Snake pushed the limits of friendship by asking, “You make a hit on my wife, Blade? And she what, turned you down?” Blade’s complexion turned fire red, but he refused to look at Snake. “You hit on my wife, Blade?” The man gnawed on his lower lip, hidden by the growth of bushy whiskers. “I was drunk, man.” Snake slowly nodded, not saying a word. Blade turned in his stool. “I’m sorry, man. I know being drunk was no excuse. There is none.” “You’re right about one thing, Blade, there is no excuse for making a play on my wife. But I, of all people,” he said, thinking of Debra Lewis, “ought to know how people make mistakes. So, you’re forgiven.” Blade’s eyes almost appeared misty. “Just like that? How can you be so noble? If it were me—” “It wasn’t. Besides, let sleeping dogs lie. It’s not like you did sleep with her. At least Jillian had a little taste.” Blade chuckled, even though Snake’s comment was intended as a slam. “Thanks, man.” He patted Snake on the shoulder. “You’re a true friend.” “Don’t start handing out the medals yet, hombre,” Snake said, standing. “I’ll only let it slip once. You touch what I consider mine again, I won’t be so amicable.” 284

KISS OF DECEIT “You got someone in mind?” “You’re the man with all the answers—you tell me.” “Word has it you been sniffing around that detective’s heels. Is it true?” “She has a fiancé.” “You’d let that stop you?” Snake pondered the thought. “If I want something bad enough, all the prosecutors in Henry County won’t stop me from taking it.” Snake couldn’t help thinking about how he had taken LeAnne to Jillian’s grave, meaning to show her the spray-painted marker. But when she stormed away after his callous insult, he had charged after her with the desperation of a starving man. He caught her, jerked her into his arms and kissed her, changing his life forever. He had become an addict. One taste of her sweet lips, and he had to have more, one never being enough. Until the day he had made love to her in his barn. From that moment, he had forever lost his soul. From that moment, he had never stopped thinking about her, never stopped wanting her, and never stopped loving her. “That’s the attitude,” Blade said, breaking into his musings. “Is that where you’re headed?” He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to offer her. Maybe I ought to just head home.” “Maybe. But I doubt you do.” Marcus’ grin widened. “Yeah, well I’ve never been accused of being too intelligent before.” * * * Moments later, he found himself on the front step of LeAnne’s house. The hell with the back door; let the world watch, if they wanted. Marcus Gallego cared for LeAnne, like it or not. It’s not as if he actually got to pick those he fell for. If that were the case, he sure in the hell would not have picked Jillian, or another man’s fiancée, for that matter. 285

KISS OF DECEIT As for Chad, Snake had seen the bruises left behind by his hand; the good prosecutor didn’t deserve LeAnne. Snake might not, either, but he had never struck a woman—not even Jillian, with all she had put him through. Striking a woman was nothing more than a cowardly act. He knocked on the door, then rocked back on his heels as he waited for her to answer. The scent of cooking marinara sauce wafted through the closed door. Marcus glanced at his watch, then cursed himself for arriving at the supper hour. Today Chad Baker was due to come home. LeAnne opened the door, her eyes wide with surprise. “Hi.” “I know…you were expecting someone else,” he replied, his tone not snide, although he wished it were he, and not Chad Baker, she had lovingly cooked supper for. “It’s just, I thought after last night—” He laughed. “What? One roll in the sack, and you would be able to get me out of your hair? I thought I proved that theory wrong, the first time we made love. I came back for seconds, didn’t I?” She flushed. “You don’t have to be so crude.” He raised a brow. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t crude. I did say ‘making love.’” “Would…would you like to come in?” He stepped into the foyer. “I won’t stay long. I know you’re expecting company.” Why did that thought raise the hairs on his nape? Why the hell did he care? He wanted to berate himself for falling in love with someone he had no right loving. Marcus recoiled. He had just admitted to having love for this woman. LeAnne deserved better. She turned her back, unaware of his internal turmoil. God help him, but he wanted to make love to her again—this very minute. Blood rushed through his veins and throbbed in places he wished, at the moment, to remain placid. “Chad’s due back,” she stated matter-of-factly, looking at the wall 286

KISS OF DECEIT clock, avoiding his gaze altogether. The chime bonged six times as though to make her point. “I was making supper for him.” “I could smell.” Marcus wanted to jerk her around to face him. Her anger he could handle, her indifference, he could not. Finally, she turned. Her eyes glistened with tears. “I’m sorry, Marcus. But maybe now isn’t the best of times.” He slowly nodded. “I’m not even sure why I came.” She only waited for him to continue as she swiped a finger beneath her lash, catching the drop. He grasped her finger and brought it to his mouth, suckling the salty wetness. He heard the tiny catch in her breath before she pulled her hand free. “Don’t,” she sniffed. More tears fell. “I have to,” he said, then pulled her into his embrace and kissed her with all the desperation he felt. Her lips were pliant, then hungry like his as her fingers grasped the hair at his neckline. His tongue sparred angrily with hers, possessively. It infuriated him that she could ever think of another man. But finally, she broke away; her breaths came in shaky pants. “You better go.” “Is that what you want, LeAnne?” She stared at him, apparently searching his eyes for answers. “You better think carefully how you answer, sweetheart. I won’t wait forever.” “I know,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I can’t ask you to.” “And Chad? Where does he fit in?” She hesitated. “He’s my fiancé.” “I thought as much.” Detective LeAnne McVeigh was not free to love a biker, nor would she ever be. “Have a good life, sweetheart,” he said, saluting her in finality. He 287

KISS OF DECEIT slammed the door, and the thing surely to haunt him the rest of his miserable life was the soft sobs he left behind. * * * The small, crowded room in one of the Boston Police Department Precincts held several filing cabinets, chairs, computers, and desks. Papers from past crimes, solved and unsolved, littered the walls and bulletin boards. Two detectives bent over a computer, studying the screen. Days-old smoke hung in the air, leaving the ceiling yellowed and in a bad need of a paint job. These people were overworked and probably underpaid. Bob Reese passed two other detectives, having a private conversation, on his way into the room, leaving no one but the remaining officers to help him. One of them glanced up, pushed his wire frames up his nose and squinted at him through the hazy room. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his lips, the ashes falling heedlessly to the floor. “Can I help you?” Bob walked to the desk, extending his hand. “Bob Reese with the Henry County Sheriff’s Office. I talked to someone earlier this week. He said you had a two-year-old case I might be interested in.” The larger man from behind the computer looked up at him, then stood and shook Bob’s hand. “That would be me. Phil Piazza, at your service. How was your trip?” “Smooth. I arrived late last night.” “And you’re just now getting over here?” “I hope you don’t mind, I took a trip over to Boston University School of Law first. Asked a few questions of my own.” The man warily narrowed his eyes. “Certainly. But I would have been glad to give you the tour myself.” He turned to the smaller man in round-rimmed spectacles, who obviously had made detective at an early age. “My partner, Pete Stone. He’s new; didn’t join our team until late last year. The man who worked this case with me died.” 288

KISS OF DECEIT “Related to the case?” Phil chuckled. “Nothing that glamorous, I’m afraid. A bad heart and one too many cigarettes.” “So what can you tell me about this case?” “Alison Stewart. Twenty-six years old. Married, with a newborn. She had one year left to go for her degree, I’m afraid.” Phil walked to a row of metal filing cabinets and eased open the drawer labeled ST-SW. His fingers flipped through several folders before pulling out a well-creased one. He came to stand beside a long conference table. He flipped open the folder and several pictures spilled out. “This Alison Stewart was a looker,” Phil said. “We weren’t sure what to make of it. Crime of passion, maybe. The SOB covered her before he left, even put a goddam rose on the sheet atop her.” He shook his head in disgust. “Died of asphyxiation, though. Broken hyoid, bruising around the neck.” “Petechial hemorrhages behind the eyelids?” “Yep.” He nodded slowly. “The autopsy report says she was tortured by cutting her airway off and on for a period of time. Maybe a half hour or so. Could be they got into some sort of kinky sex or something.” “No sign of a struggle?” “Not much. Her hands weren’t tied or anything like that. But we did find some DNA beneath her nails. She had to have at least scratched the SOB.” “No other clues or leads?” “We questioned everybody, including the husband. No one knew anything, and the husband had an airtight alibi. No one knew who Alison Stewart was banging on the side.” He paused, then asked, “So what you got there in Henry County that brings you all the way here?” Bob shuffled his stance. “It’s a long shot, really. I was just hoping to get the DNA and see if it matches the series of crimes we have. If it 289

KISS OF DECEIT does, then maybe we can tie our suspect to BUSL. Our lead suspect attended school there at the time of your murder.” Phil’s one brow rose. Bob had gotten his attention. “What’s the MO?” “Our man seems to pick married women between the ages of twenty to thirty-five. None had kids at home, but all seemed to be unfaithful. He consensually ties their hands, since there’s no sign of a struggle, then has sex with them, using a condom. We have no prints and, up until now, no DNA. He manually strangles each woman, torturing them for a period of up to forty-five minutes.” “How many?” Pete asked, Phil nodding in approval. “Three women with the same MO. One dead caretaker, who I think was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he could have ID’d our man. And another dead woman who died of strangulation, who may or may not be related to this series of crimes. But she was best friends with one of the women who was.” “Anything else?” Bob leaned forward, bracing his palms on the table. “He left red lip prints on the cheeks of his last two victims.” “You think he’s perfecting his MO?” “Possibly.” Bob paused, looking at the papers and photos now spread on the table. He pointed at the red rose. “What do you suppose this means?” Phil shrugged. “I’d surely like the chance to ask him.” “Just suppose for a moment that this is our man. Do you think the rose became the lip prints when our man became better at what he was doing?” “Guess you won’t know that until you find him. Maybe the DNA will be a match,” Phil said, offering little help. Bob couldn’t have asked for more, though. The DNA would be their only hope. “This old case sure is getting a lot of interest from Henry County, as 290

KISS OF DECEIT of late,” Pete said. Both men stared at him. Finally, Phil asked, “What do you mean?” Pete continued, shoving his hands deeply into his well-pressed trousers. “Henry County Prosecutor Chad Baker came by yesterday while Phil was at lunch. Said he had a case he was prosecuting back in Ohio and wanted to compare it to our old case. Said he was in town giving speeches and workshops at the law school.” Bob stood to his full six feet. “Did he look through the file?” “Yep—didn’t seem to find anything of interest, though. Just leafed through the photos and autopsy report, thanked me, and left.” “Well,” Bob said, loosening the top button of his dress shirt and pulling on his tie, “I think I’ll get that DNA sample and get back home.” “I hope we were of some help,” Phil said, shaking Bob’s hand. “You helped me plenty,” Bob said with a wink. “And with any luck, this DNA will be a perfect match and we’ll be able to close all the cases, including yours.” “You let me know first thing,” Phil said. “I’d like to be able to close this case, too, and finally put Alison to rest.” “First thing,” Bob repeated. “First thing.”

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CHAPTER 28 LeAnne stirred the marinara sauce for what seemed the hundredth time. After Snake so flippantly walked out, she poured herself into preparations for Chad’s homecoming, hoping to take her mind from the obvious: she no longer loved Chad, if indeed she ever did. The harder she tried to deny it, the worse she felt. But nothing cut to the heart more than Marcus telling her to have a good life before exiting through her front door and out of her future— their future. He couldn’t even give LeAnne the time to make a sensible decision that would affect the rest of her life. Snake’s lifestyle had always been full of snap judgments, doing everything on the spur of the moment, act now and pay the consequences later. Well, she could not conduct her life in such a reckless manner, which solidified her earlier assessment: there lie too much between them ever to bridge the gap for a relationship to develop. Marcus rode Harley-Davidsons and walked 292

KISS OF DECEIT precariously on the opposite side of the law; LeAnne drove cop cars and earnestly upheld the law. From the pot, sauce bubbled and spat, sending a spray of red spots onto her new, white top; one she had bought, more than likely out of guilt, just for the sake of Chad’s homecoming. LeAnne grasped the terry cloth towel and dabbed at the immovable stain. It held hopelessly just as the twinge to her conscience. She made her way to the bedroom to find a new blouse. Grasping a red silk, LeAnne slipped it over her head about the time the front door opened and Chad called out to her. Guilt sent her stomach plummeting, leaving the insides churning and bile slowly crawling up her esophagus. Her conscience weighing heavily, she walked from the bedroom with leaden feet, much like the death-row prisoner taken down the Last Mile. The time had come to break the news to Chad: there would be no wedding. LeAnne straightened her shoulders. No matter what had occurred with Marcus, she knew what must now be done. Chad’s smile curved his cheeks as he dropped his suitcase with a thud and opened his arms. “Babe. God, I’ve missed you.” His tone rang false, his smile a tad forced. Surely, it was her imagination and it stemmed from guilt, nothing more. LeAnne walked into his embrace. His arms snaked around her and his hands smoothed the silk covering her back. No longer did she feel cherished within his hug as she once did. Something had changed; she had. He nuzzled her neck. “You smell good, almost as good as that sauce you’re cooking. I thought we were ordering out,” he said as he pushed her away and headed for the kitchen, not glancing in her direction to see if she followed. LeAnne watched Chad and wondered what seemed different about him, more standoffish. Had he found out about her affair with Marcus? Soon it wouldn’t matter anyway—she and Chad were over. She 293

KISS OF DECEIT followed him into the other room through the pivoting door. Chad bent over the pot of marinara, test-tasting it from the wooden spoon. “Delicious,” he said, laying the spoon on the rest beside the burner and turning to her. “I didn’t know you could cook so well.” “I can, if I try. Besides, you always loved to cook,” she said. Suddenly, LeAnne felt at a loss for words, like two strangers colliding in the night. Hi, how are you? How’s the weather? She opted for the obvious. “So, how was Boston?” “Wonderful,” he replied, grasping a couple of plates from the cupboard. “The weather held up pretty much the whole trip. We had a few showers, but on the whole it stayed nice. It was good seeing Buzz, again, after all this time, too. He asked about you.” “And what did you tell him?” “That he’d have to see you for himself, when he came for the wedding.” LeAnne swallowed the rising lump; her breathing all but ceased. Now might not be the best time to inform him about her desire to cancel it, but after dinner, the time for excuses would be over. Chad turned to drop pasta into the boiling pot, narrowly missing the consternation on her face. He seemed right at home behind the stove, his way to relaxation. Moments later, they found themselves seated across from one another, to all appearances enjoying a candlelight dinner. Chad had placed two burning, tapered candles and a bottle of dry, white wine in the center of the table. The scent of garlic, from cheese bread he threw together in haste, filled the room and tempted the palate. For awhile, they ate in silence, he openly watching her, she staring more at her plate. Chad’s ever-present smile seemed to mock her, as though he enjoyed her discomfort, making her feel all the more miserable. A resident smile curved his cheeks. He had to know something had changed in their relationship since his departure. Truth be told, they hadn’t had an affinity in a long time, not since the addition 294

KISS OF DECEIT of Marcus in their lives. Chad reached across and grasped her cool, tense fingers. “You seem nervous,” he said. His eyes twinkled devilishly. “Are you afraid of something…someone?” “And who or what am I to be afraid of?” He shrugged. “You tell me. You’ve been acting skittish all night. Something bothering you? The case perhaps?” LeAnne pulled her fingers free of his. “Can’t we just finish our meal first?” “First? Sounds like you have something planned for second. Something you want to tell me, LeAnne?” His usage of her first name made her inquisitive. He had rarely used it since their engagement, preferring instead his term of endearment, “babe.” “Look—I just want to have a pleasant meal. That’s all.” “Are you sure?” She glanced down at her plate as not to allow him to see the lie forming in her eyes. “I’m sure.” “Then what about this case? Any new leads?” LeAnne’s gaze flitted up, glad for the respite and change in topics. “We have a possible lead in Boston.” “Boston?” His eyes widened. “What ever drew your attention to Massachusetts?” “VICAP. Bob checked the signature of our man, and something came up in Boston. Two years ago, seems a woman was strangled to death—tortured on and off for a period of time; just like in our cases.” “Interesting.” He flexed his hands laying beside his plate in the way of making fists. “Anything else happen?” “We have a warrant out for the arrest of Anthony Hargrove.” “The judge’s son?” He whistled low. “Sounds like you’re asking for trouble.” “Yes, but the evidence we have against him can’t be denied. It 295

KISS OF DECEIT seems he was in attendance at BUSL at the time of the murder in Boston. Coincidence?” “What do you think?” “I don’t believe in coincidences. And we can also place three of the dead women with him at one time or another.” He remained silent as he finished a mouthful of pasta, seemingly in thought. “Did you think about the names you mentioned to me earlier—Sid, Shawn Michaels? Where do you think they came from?” LeAnne had already thought of that angle. But it also seemed possible these names had nothing to do with the case. All of these women knew Tony Hargrove on a first-name basis. Even Blade stated that Tony hung out with them on a regular basis. So the usage of an alias would not be feasible. A shiver passed down her spine. Could Chad be right, and they were potentially looking at the wrong person? The wrong direction? All along, they searched for someone who hung with the group of women when they should have also been looking for a stranger in their mist. “But there’s the connection to Boston. You have to agree, that’s a big lead.” “You said you don’t believe in coincidences.” He picked up his wineglass and swirled the contents. “Maybe the Boston case isn’t connected at all. I mean, all you really have is the strangulation, right? Erotic asphyxiation.” “What?” He repeated the term, but she had heard it before. “The murder in Boston could simply have been an accident. I’ve heard of couples who practice this act of sex. By cutting off the airways, it reduces the oxygen and increases the level of carbon dioxide in the blood going to the brain. Carbon dioxide activates some physiological functions, thus stimulating the person in ways impossible to get from the normal act of making love.” 296

KISS OF DECEIT “Sort of like autoerotism, but with a partner.” Chad nodded. It might have only been her overactive imagination, but Chad’s odd hand flexing seemed more agitated. “You seem to know a lot about it. Have you ever done it?” “I think you would know if I did.” He chuckled. LeAnne rolled her eyes. “Before me.” “I know some who have,” Chad said, not really answering her question. She took his statement as a denial. “Like who?” “Buzz, for instance.” “Buzz?” “Why does that surprise you? Linda and he have been doing it for years. Nothing untoward has happened to either of them.” “But it could.” “Most certainly—accidents happen all the time. People die every day, LeAnne. You, of all people, should know that.” “Of natural causes, yes. But murder,” she paused, “not in Henry County, anyway.” “What’s murder have to do with erotic asphyxiation? It’s consensual. Both parties derive pleasure from it.” “Not when one of them dies, Chad. If the case in Boston is this, as you say, then it’s still murder. Someone wrapped his fingers around her neck, snapped the hyoid bone, and killed her. Maybe not murder one, but murder nonetheless. You’re a prosecutor. It’s voluntary manslaughter at the least.” He drained his wineglass, then looked at her with indifference. “I guess if it were my case, I’d have to go with that, I suppose.” LeAnne chuckled. “You guess? You wanted to nail Marcus Gallego for murder one. What if this was what they were doing? You just said that it’s consensual.” “Marcus showed malice, which makes it a murder two case. And besides, I could prove premeditation. He told Kip Lewis he wanted to 297

KISS OF DECEIT strangle his wife—that, LeAnne, makes it murder one.” “Except he’s innocent.” “So you say.” “He had an alibi, and you know it.” “We could no longer prove he did it. At that point, the case fell apart and you forced me to drop it. But I still say you’re blinded by his good looks. You have a soft spot for him.” He paused, gauging her reaction. Though his tone seemed gentler, his tight fists spoke otherwise. “You want him, LeAnne, don’t you?” She flinched as if Chad had struck her. Her ire slowly itched its way up her spine. Her ears burned with humiliation to the truth of his statement. Grasping her nearly empty plate, she headed for the kitchen, Chad’s chuckle following her through the pivoting door. The arrogant bastard baited her for a reaction. Had he already known what had transpired between Marcus and her? Or was it mindless speculation? The wrong number Marcus had carelessly answered the night he had spent at her house came to mind. But surely Chad would have confronted her by now, if it had been him. Not yet ready for the war of words, she filled the sink with hot, soapy water and began washing dishes. The door swung silently open as Chad approached her from the side, an apologetic gleam to his eyes. His arms slipped around her waist and he kissed her on the neck. She stiffened in his embrace. “I’m sorry, babe. I was only jesting.” “I think maybe you ought to go home tonight, Chad.” Stepping back from her, Chad folded his arms across his chest, presumably annoyed at the brush-off. “Is that what you want?” “I’m not sure I know what I want anymore.” His cheeks darkened as his eyes neared black in color. “Is it because of Marcus Gallego?” “No.” And she knew that much was truth. Her not loving Chad had little to do with how she felt for Snake. 298

KISS OF DECEIT “Then tell me what it is, LeAnne.” “I just need some time.” “I gave you time. I was gone all weekend and part of the week. Remember?” LeAnne thought of the way she spent her Monday night, wrapped within another man’s arms. And not just any man’s arms, Marcus’. “How could I forget?” “Christ, I spent my days and nights thinking about you, and when I get home, this is all I get in return?” His tone raised a notch as he mocked her. “I just need some time?” Drying her hands on a dish towel, she backed from him. The last time his anger hit a slow burn and Marcus had been the reason, she sported a bruised lip and cheek. Still not completely healed, LeAnne didn’t want a repeat of the scene. She held the dish towel to her cheek in a defensive move. Chad’s gaze fell on her lingering bruise. “Maybe we should talk.” “I am talking,” he spat. “Calmly.” Chad took a deep breath as his facial features relaxed. A Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, of sorts. “What do you want to talk about? The wedding?” “Yes, the wedding.” The time had come for truths. Backed into a corner, she had nowhere else to go. “Speaking of, I bought you something,” Chad said, his tone light and cheery. He missed her answering groan. “Consider it a prewedding gift. I left it in my briefcase by the door. Look and see. I found it in a shop in Boston and couldn’t resist.” “Why don’t you get it for me?” she challenged, feeling uneasy at sifting through his belongings. Something about his actions unsettled her. Chad had never allowed her to go through his briefcase before. “Then you’d lose the sense of the hunt. Go on, look for it.” Chad patted her on the derriere and ushered her to the door, not giving her 299

KISS OF DECEIT room to argue or a moment to tell him there would be no wedding. “You shouldn’t have,” LeAnne said, meaning it. Now how would she ever broach the subject? The longer the charade continued, the worse actor she became, but Chad seemed to take little notice. He sat heavily into her brown recliner, grasped the remote, and flipped on the television. “You tape all of my shows, babe?” LeAnne had faithfully recorded Chad’s favorite sport shows when he was out of town and couldn’t watch them. He was a sports fanatic. “The tape’s in the VCR.” “You didn’t forget RAW, did you?” She knew Chad never missed Sunday’s WWF RAW. Strange for a grown man? She supposed so, but everyone is entitled to their eccentrics. “How could I forget?” As he turned on the video recorder, LeAnne grasped his briefcase as well as his luggage, more or less from old habit, and headed for the bedroom. She heard the music and fireworks coming from the TV set as RAW began. Placing his leather case on the bed, she unsnapped it. Curiosity getting the better of her, always being a sucker for gifts, she leafed through his papers and belongings in search of the article he had bought. “Find it, babe?” he called from his seated position. “No.” “It’s in the back pocket.” His voice seemed a tad closer, though LeAnne thought it just her imagination. Nothing would drag Chad away from his big-time wrestling. Not that he believed it, but enjoyed its entertainment value nonetheless. Sometimes, LeAnne even sat through a program or two with him. She reached into the pocket, finding a small square box. LeAnne pulled out the silver container and flipped open the lid. A one carat solitaire in an antique setting gleamed at her from the black felt resting place. Tears formed in her eyes and a lump worked its way up her throat 300

KISS OF DECEIT as she held her fingers to her trembling lips. Chad had purchased an engagement ring, even though they had agreed the trinket seemed unnecessary. Now how would she ever tell him? He probably sat in her recliner at this very minute expecting her to run into his arms and smother him with kisses. Her heart lay heavy in her chest. Her limbs numbed, rendering her immovable. “Babe?” Still, LeAnne remained silent, wanting nothing more than to put the box back in the briefcase and forget ever seeing the bauble. Looking briefly at the opened case, her gaze caught on a brightly colored fabric, peeking out from the bottom of some papers and folders. Orange, gold, and brown stared at her like an offering. The room grew frigid, scattering gooseflesh across her skin. Ice washed over her and through her veins. “My, God,” she whispered. “It couldn’t be.” Her chest ached with each intake of air. LeAnne pulled the material from its hiding place and unfolded it with a snap of her wrists. The silhouette of an American Indian stood majestically in the center of the bandanna. It could only be Samantha Duncan’s missing scarf. Her world teetered precariously. She fought to catch her breath. The sounds of WWF filled the silence as her ears began to ring. Sid Justice…Shawn Michaels, two WWF stars. The stranger in the mist. It couldn’t be. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in her brain, sending sparks of bright red light shooting through her head, clouding her vision a hazy red. Her feet tripped over the carpet as she stumbled blindly backwards. One hand reached out to steady herself, finding nothing; the other felt the rising lump on her skull. A sticky wetness trickled through her fingers. And just before everything went black, she turned and stared into 301

KISS OF DECEIT the evil eyes of Chad Baker.

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CHAPTER 29 The heat index reached a scalding 114 degrees, and Bob thought it surely must break some sort of record. He used the sleeve of his black uniform to mop the sweat from his beading brow. Whose idea had it been to put the sheriff’s office all in black, anyhow? Of course his perspiration was due only in part to the heat and the faulty airconditioner of the car. The other part was LeAnne McVeigh. His foot pushed the accelerator past normal speed in a hurry to get to work and find the detective. The trip to Boston told him more than he had hoped. He knew the identity of the man they sought. To Bob, there was no doubt, and the sooner he shared his newfound information, the safer LeAnne would be. His curiosity had piqued when the Boston PD informed him of the Henry County Prosecutor’s visit to their station, asking questions of a two-year-old case—the same case Bob pursued. Of course, it seemed 303

KISS OF DECEIT possible LeAnne might have mentioned the connection to Chad Baker, but not likely. Bob had worked with LeAnne for two years now, and he had never known the detective to share her case with anyone until they had proof, even if the prosecutor happened to be her fiancé. After leaving the BPD, he had made another trip to Boston University School of Law to ask more questions. What he found out scared the hell out of him. Yes, Tony Hargrove attended the school at the time of the murder, but to anyone’s knowledge, hadn’t known the victim. But Chad Baker did, had even been seen having drinks with her on several occasions. And he had, indeed, been giving a workshop a few days prior to the murder. In Bob’s humble opinion, it was not only possible, but probable, that Chad had been responsible for that woman’s death. And if they could match the DNA fingerprint of the BPD unsolved case with their own and that of Prosecutor Baker, they would have their murderer. Hook, line, and sinker. If all his findings turned out to be true, then LeAnne could be in trouble—serious trouble. Bob pulled the cruiser into the angle parking lot in front of the sheriff’s office, threw the car into park, causing the vehicle to jerk to a halt, and jogged up to the side door. Suzy buzzed him in as he came through the first door and asked if the sheriff or Detective McVeigh were in attendance. “Drake’s in his office,” she said, “but McVeigh hasn’t reported in yet.” Hand on the inside steel door to the office, Bob paused. “She hasn’t even called in?” She shook her head, her blond curls bobbing about her head. “Nope.” He went through the steel gate and sent it clanging loudly behind him. “Hey,” someone yelled from the holding tank as he passed by. 304

KISS OF DECEIT “When the hell can I get out of here?” was followed by more colorful dialect. Probably a DUI waiting for transport to CCNO. Bob ignored the intrusion. Opening the sheriff’s office door without so much as a knock, he burst into the room. Joe glanced up, then waved Bob into a chair as he finished his conversation on the phone. Though the sheriff’s face remained placid from the interruption, his eyes darkened in agitation. Bob paced the floor instead of taking a seat. Joe’s gaze followed him back and forth. He laid the receiver on the base and looked curiously at him. “Something bothering you? You usually don’t barge into my office unannounced—especially when the door is closed.” Bob stopped his pacing, and braced his palms on the edge of the desk. “Have you heard from LeAnne today?” Joe leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I haven’t seen her since she went home last night to make supper for Chad. But I’m sure she just slept in.” Bob’s hackles rose. “She made supper for Chad last night?” “Why the alarm? The boy’s been out of town for a few days. They were bound to be happy to see one another.” “I don’t think so,” Bob said as the intercom on Joe’s desk buzzed, cutting him off. If LeAnne found out Chad’s dirty little secret, there would be nothing happy about his homecoming. Joe indicated for Bob to take a seat as he pushed the button on the intercom. “Yes?” “There’s a Marcus Gallego here to see Detective McVeigh, sir.” Her voice blared through the speaker. “When I told him she wasn’t here, he asked to speak with you.” “Send him back,” the sheriff grumbled. “Good God, what the hell is it with today? The heat? It’s got you all bumbling like idiots, and all over a woman very capable of taking care of herself, no less.” Snake walked through the door, all six feet of him, but it was the 305

KISS OF DECEIT width of his shoulders that made his size all the more opposing. Joe indicated the chair next to Bob. “Join the crowd. Bob here is looking for Detective McVeigh also. So what do you want with her?” “I went by her house this morning and she’s not home.” “So?” “She’s not here either.” “Did either of you two think about giving Chad Baker’s place a call? Good God, aren’t the two of them entitled to a little reunion? A little privacy?” Snake looked at Bob. When he said nothing, he continued. “LeAnne made supper for Chad at her place last night.” Joe’s brows drew together. “And you know this because…” “Because I was there before Chad arrived.” The sheriff nodded and waited for him to continue. “I didn’t stay long, but I could smell the food cooking. Besides, if they ate supper at her house, why go all the way out to his for dessert?” Bob curiously eyed Snake. “You know where Prosecutor Baker lives?” “Just down the road from me—about a mile.” Bob pondered. Killers and rapists often start their crime sprees near their home or place of work: their comfort zone. “When you came in this morning,” Bob asked, “did you notice any cars at his place?” “I wasn’t looking, but I don’t think so.” “What about at her house?” came from Joe. “I looked in her garage; hers was the only one there, but no one was home. That’s why I came here. I thought that maybe she had gone to work, thinking maybe Chad might have brought her.” Joe jabbed the button on his intercom. “Suzy, dial me Prosecutor Baker’s office, then patch me through.” The three men sat in silence, staring at each other. Calling Prosecutor Baker might not have been the wisest action, but with 306

KISS OF DECEIT Marcus Gallego in the room, Bob couldn’t stop the sheriff from making that call—not without voicing his suspicions regarding the killer’s identity. The phone rang, breaking the hush. Joe snatched up the receiver. “Prosecutor Baker?” He paused, then pushed the button on his speaker phone so all could hear. “Joe Drake here.” “What can I do for you this morning, Sheriff?” “Seems LeAnne is missing. She hasn’t come in this morning and she isn’t at her home. Would you happen to know where she is?” “Hmm.” Bob could almost see Chad’s smug face as he probably shrugged. “Can’t say I do, Joe. I woke up early this morning and LeAnne was sleeping peacefully; I didn’t want to wake her since I…uh…kept her up so late last night. I snuck out and went home for a shower and a change of clothes before coming to the office.” Bob looked at Snake, whose expression darkened and his jaw tensed. He would bet, by his guarded appearance, that Snake Gallego had a vested interest in Chad’s admission of his nighttime activities with the detective. “So you have no idea where she might have taken herself this morning?” the sheriff continued. “Can’t say I do.” He cleared his throat. “Did you check at her home? Maybe she was showering when you called.” “Her car was there, but she wasn’t.” “Well, sorry I can’t help you. I’m not her keeper, just her fiancé.” Bob glanced at Marcus. A muscle ticked in his tightly-clenched jaw. “Sorry to have bothered you, Chad.” “No problem. You give me a call as soon as you find her, though. I’d hate to have to worry about her the entire day.” Bob had to hand it to Chad; some acting job. The man really did sound sincere and the sheriff seemed to buy it—every false word. 307

KISS OF DECEIT “I certainly will. Thank you for your time, Chad,” the sheriff said, then turned off the speaker phone. He looked at Bob. “She’s probably running late, doing a last minute errand with a friend or neighbor. Who knows—but I’m sure there is absolutely nothing to get concerned over.” Bob fidgeted. He knew Joe was wrong, and if his intuitions proved correct, then LeAnne’s life might very well hang in the balance. Had she discovered the identity of the murderer? For LeAnne’s sake, he hoped not. Snake suddenly stood, drawing everyone’s attention. His stormy expression spoke volumes: Marcus Gallego had not bought into Chad’s sincerity. “You two can sit here and discuss the weather for all I care, but I’m going looking for her.” “And where in the hell do you intend to start?” the sheriff asked, a condescending smile on his face. “Good God, if we don’t know where to look, how will you? Be patient boy, she’ll turn up.” Snake grumbled a few expletives then stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. “So what’s with him? What’s his interest in LeAnne?” “Snake Gallego seems to have grown fond of our detective.” Joe’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m not fond of her?” “Of course you are, as well as I, but I think LeAnne’s caught more than just the interest of that biker. I don’t know what’s gone on between them, but I’d say his interest in finding her is of a different nature than ours. But that’s neither here nor there. The important thing is what I discovered while I was in Boston and I think you need to hear it. All of it.” * * * Snake hung around the empty hallway long enough to hear what Bob Reese had to say, raising the hairs on his nape. Prosecutor Chad Baker appeared responsible for murder and would be held accountable. If not by the court of law, then by Snake Gallego. Not to mention what 308

KISS OF DECEIT he’d do to the prosecutor if he dared to lay one finger on LeAnne. His palms itched to wrap his fingers around Chad’s throat and squeeze the life from him. If not for putting LeAnne’s life in jeopardy, then for causing his own recent misery. He left the sheriff’s office and hopped on the back of his Softail. Time was of the essence—if they were not already too late. The sheriff and his chief deputy could discuss strategies on finding LeAnne, but Snake meant to take action. His first stop would be her home. When he had gone to LeAnne’s, this morning, he had every intention of telling her why she shouldn’t marry the prosecutor. Though he had nothing to offer, he simply could not sit back and watch her marry someone she did not obviously love. But upon his arrival, it seemed no one had been home. The bolts on all the doors had been tightly fastened and the garage door had been down. Snake looked around, but found nothing out of the ordinary, but then he hadn’t expected to. This time was different. This time he knew her fiancé was capable of murder. Snake pulled his motorcycle into the drive and stepped off the black shining bike. He rushed to the back door, took a quick glance about, then busted the small window with his elbow. He reached in and unbolted the door, then carefully turned the knob. The dim kitchen appeared untouched. A strong scent of bleach filled his nostrils. No dishes littered the counter, no pans from the night before. Snake opened the dishwasher and spotted clean plates. The appliance sat only partially filled. A stainless steel meat mallet lay on the top shelf. He rolled the drawer outward and closely examined it. LeAnne had made pasta and marinara sauce, causing him to wonder at the purpose of the mallet. He slid the drawer back into place and stormed into the living room. Here, too, everything looked in place. Almost too neat, too tidy. 309

KISS OF DECEIT Marcus had been here enough times to know LeAnne always seemed to leave a glass or two about. Shoes lay discarded by doorways or entrances. But now, none could be seen. He ventured into the bedroom. The bed sat made with its patchwork quilt and pillows tossed neatly to the head of the bed. Another oddity. LeAnne’s bed always seemed unmade, covers tossed haphazardly across it. The bathroom bore no water spots around the sink, mirror, or faucets. The house appeared damn near unlived in. Not that LeAnne lived like a pig, but not neat as a pin either. Marcus stood there, silently contemplating the state of her home, when he noticed part of the sheet hanging from beneath the quilt. The sheet itself had not truly caught his attention, but the dark spot it seemed to point to on the beige carpet did. Kneeling, Marcus scratched at the stiff surface of the brownish-red dry spot. Flecks attached themselves to his fingers as he raised them to his nose. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Blood. Christ Almighty, had Chad used the mallet to crush in LeAnne’s skull, then quickly washed and cleaned away the evidence? Surely Chad would know what cops looked for. That would explain the overly-clean house and the half-filled dishwasher. As he snapped to his feet, his world teetered and blackness threatened. Each breath seemed a fight to draw. For the first time in his wretched life he looked to the heavens for an answer. Had he arrived too late? It suddenly occurred to him that Chad would have had to hide the body. No dead body—no foul play. Unless they had a body of strong evidence. This, too, would explain the neatness of LeAnne’s house. Chad’s home in the country would have been the perfect place to bury her. Rows of corn stood in single file around his house. He could have buried her small body far into the earth where, in the fall harvest, her 310

KISS OF DECEIT grave would go unnoticed. Dear Lord in heaven, he hoped he wasn’t too late. He ran from the house and headed for his motorcycle. * * * LeAnne awoke with a sharp, painful thud in her skull and attempted to raise her head from the soft pillow. The pain stemmed deep, from the base of her skull and through the mass of her brain. The agonizing thud seemed to drown out all sense of thought, rendering her inert. She carefully laid down her head, keeping her eyes closed. She tried to come up with a valid explanation for why it hurt like hell, but the pain seemed to win as she attempted to roll to her side, but it left her immobile. After taking several deep breaths, LeAnne tried to open her eyes. Night had obviously fallen, thankfully, for sunlight might have been too much for her to bear. Blinking several times, she attempted to focus on something, anything. Her vision clouded over, even in the dim lighting. Her head spun and bile rose in her throat. When LeAnne again attempted to roll to her side, she still found the movement impossible. She had to settle for turning her head, though nothing came but empty heaves, her mouth incredibly dry. Giving way to her helplessness and searing agony, she allowed the blackness to engulf her once more. With unconsciousness, the pain seemed bearable. * * * A soft rumbling startled her awake. Hours or minutes later, she was unsure. The thud in her brain still remained, but no longer swallowed up her senses, enabling her to think. She opened her eyes a mere crack and squinted through the dark room. A foggy haze still remained, but she could now make out the briefest of shapes. A desk sat by the far wall, a chair slightly off-center in front of it. Above it, pictures and newspaper clippings seemed tacked to the wall. LeAnne tried hard to focus on the pictures, but her head thumped 311

KISS OF DECEIT mercilessly again. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her churning stomach. What the hell had happened? The rumbling that had awakened her continued, grew in intensity. The sound seemed vaguely familiar, though she tried not to concentrate too hard on the memory of it, lest she find herself passing out once again. Baby steps; one thing at a time. She took in several deep breaths before opening her eyes and glancing in another direction: the briefest movement of her head sent shards of pain through her skull. Daylight spilled through a crack. The shaft of light seemed to be coming from a door. She tried hard to concentrate on the opening. Steep cement stairs led upwards, as though she were below ground. As if to attest to this, the scent of damp earth assailed her nose. She wiggled the fingers stretched above her head and felt a cool, dirt wall. A cellar of some sort? When she tried to pull her hands down to wipe her perspiring face, she realized something hampered her movement. Though her brain still seemed a foggy haze of pain, allowing her little if any conscious thought, it came to her. She had been bound. And for the first time since wakefulness, she realized why her mouth had been so dry— something had been stuffed in it. She couldn’t have spoken or cried out had she the energy or inclination. Scenes of the night before slowly flashed before her: Chad sitting across from her, Chad watching wrestling, an engagement ring, an Indian bandanna, raw, blinding pain. “Oh God,” muffled silently through her. The pain in her skull returned tenfold, telling her that Chad had obviously hit her with something. But where the hell had he taken her? Her world swirled and everything seemed to come at her at once. Chad Baker, her fiancé, the man responsible for the deaths of Jillian Gallego, Miranda Holliday, Samantha Duncan, Cora Smith, the caretaker. 312

KISS OF DECEIT And now he had her. The loud rumbling in her head cut short, greeting her with sudden silence. Before the inkiness of unconsciousness could swallow her again, she realized what the approaching sound had meant: Marcus Gallego.

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CHAPTER 30 Snake stepped from his motorcycle. His glance swept the side yard and surroundings. The beige-colored house sat alone, large oaks and maples partially shielding it from view. Rows of corn stood like barriers on three sides, reminding him of his earlier thought: LeAnne could be buried somewhere out there. His stomach churned. He couldn’t conceive of life without her. Cardinals could be heard along with the annoying caw of a few crows, but other than nature, all seemed deathly quiet and uninhabited. He had carefully parked his motorcycle beside the barn, keeping it purposely from view. The last thing Snake needed was some nosy passerby alerting Chad Baker of a visitor at his humble abode. After taking a quick look up the road and finding it empty, Snake jogged to the side of the house. With a hankie, he checked the knob of the side entrance. The lock held fast. A peek through the window told him Chad’s home sported no fancy alarm system, probably hadn’t felt 314

KISS OF DECEIT the need, living in Henry County. Snake’s fist, covered by the handkerchief, struck the window; glass shattered and tinkled to the linoleum. He reached in, snapped the deadbolt free and turned the handle. Once in the house, Snake glanced around, upstairs then down, in closets and cabinets large enough to hide a person, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The prosecutor seemed meticulous, no dust or dirty dishes spoiled the interior. Neat and fastidious, just as LeAnne’s house had been left. The antiseptic smell of bleach hung heavy in the air, reminding Snake of the similar scent left at LeAnne’s. Now, more than ever, Snake believed Chad must have been the last person at LeAnne’s house, making sure no traces remained. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but nonetheless, a sense of disappointment and helplessness washed over him. He knew that LeAnne needed him, this he could sense. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Somehow, LeAnne seemed more lost to him now than when she spoke of her intentions to go forth with her marriage, even after the nights they had spent in each other’s arm. Snake struck the drywall of Chad’s house, leaving a gaping hole, ignoring the pain to his fist. Christ, why had he allowed her under his skin? Why the hell did he care? He hadn’t been actually ready to offer her anything more than what it already was. Marriage and Snake were antonyms, but LeAnne and Marcus were synonyms. An equation impossible to solve. He could admit his love for her, but he could never offer her a lifetime. After one failed attempt at matrimony and the work involved to keep the relationship alive, Snake decided long ago, had he to do it all over again, he’d remain a bachelor until he took his dying breath. * * * Snake’s hands reached out, palms up, leaving a chain dangling between them. His dark eyes pleaded with her to release him. Silver cuffs encased his wrists, cuffs she had put there. Shackles bound his 315

KISS OF DECEIT feet. “No,” LeAnne shouted as a large man grasped Snake by the red collar of his prison uniform and led him away. She had been wrong. Why wouldn’t they listen? Perspiration ran down her face and stung her eyes as she fought against invisible restraints. She couldn’t let them take him. “No,” she screamed again, “he’s innocent—can’t you see—he’s committed no crimes.” But the man only laughed and continued on his slow, methodical way. “Don’t take him. He’s all I have,” she whispered hoarsely, broken sobs choking her words. LeAnne yanked at her wrists and kicked with her feet, but she was powerless to help. Tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks. Helplessness consumed her, rendering her inert. When they reached a door at the far end of the long corridor, the man holding onto Snake turned slowly, a menacing grin on his face. She stared into the eyeless face of Chad Baker. Only black gaping holes lay where eyes should have been. LeAnne’s heart stopped. A glacial chill washed over her, turning her blood to ice. “Please,” she pleaded feebly. “Have mercy on me.” “As you did me?” he roared; his eye sockets lit like twin fire-red coals. “You are nothing but a common whore. For that alone I will take away what gives you pleasure.” “Oh, God,” she mumbled over and over as she struggled madly to be free. “Oh please, God—No!” His hideous laugh returned as two black Dobermans appeared in the opened doorway, flooding her with relief. Ajax and Comet. Surely they would save Snake from a fate worse than death. But instead of attacking the ominous man, they turned on their owner. Snake stumbled dumbly backwards as the two dogs knocked him from his feet and nipped and bit at his flesh. His hands and feet bound, he had no way of defending himself as one bit at the crotch of 316

KISS OF DECEIT his pants, refusing to let go. “LeAnne!” came Snake’s agonizing wail. Nothing more, just her name, over and over. “LeAnne!…LeAnne!” With a sudden jerk, she awoke, her breath coming in shallow pants. The arduous throb in her head reminded her it had been nothing more than a dream, a repulsive nightmare. LeAnne scanned the dank interior and saw Snake no where in sight. But through the haze of her disorientation, one word could be heard above the beat of her pounding heart. One that sent hope rising up in her chest like a thousand butterflies. “LeAnne.” * * * Snake called her name for what seemed the thousandth time, knowing with a certainty no answer would come. He ran his palm down his perspiring face. Why he stood in the middle of the yard and yelled her name over and over was lost to him. Maybe it somehow cleansed his soul, freed his spirit of the guilt of not being able to find her, to help her. She had come to his rescue once, saved him from a life in prison: one behind bars, and one of the heart. Now it seemed to be his turn. After the traitorous Jillian, he thought to never care for another again. But then came LeAnne, making him realize Jillian had been a mere idol, something he gave to but that returned to him nothing; not his love, not his friendship. LeAnne was different. She loved him, Marcus Gallego, for who he was. Marcus had never felt that kind of love in his life and wasn’t sure what to do with it. Of course, she had never told him she loved him, but she hadn’t needed to. It was in the way she made love to him, with her soul, not just her body. His heart ached at the prospect of never feeling that love again. Snake headed for his motorcycle. Chad’s house had been a dead end. He had found no trace of LeAnne and the barn held no secrets. He lifted his leg over the seat of his Harley, and sat down, taking a final 317

KISS OF DECEIT glance about the yard. With a shake of his head, he pushed the start key, kicked up the stand, and held the powerful bike between his legs. It was too easy to travel back in his mind and feel LeAnne’s arms around him for the first time. Revving the engine and popping the clutch, he circled the big yard, past a pile of broken branches and twigs, down the driveway, and onto the country road. * * * Earlier, the sound of Snake’s motorcycle had grown in intensity, sending her heart pumping furiously in her chest, only to have it plummet as the rumble grew distant. She fought and screamed behind her binds. “No,” her heart cried. Desperation stole her breath and nearly sent her back into that dark world where nightmares reigned. LeAnne fought hard to maintain her consciousness. The last thing she wanted was to be totally defenseless if Chad should come back. And he would. She knew that with a certainty. Chad was not finished with her. He wouldn’t be until he saw her dead. With her hands bound tightly, she imagined she would meet the same fate as the others. Jillian Gallego, Miranda Holliday, the caretaker, Cora Smith, and Samantha Duncan. God only knew how many more lives he had taken before he moved to Henry County some five years ago. He had wormed his way into everyone’s confidence and their hearts—including hers. How could she have been so blind? Realizing that with each yank of her bind, it only tightened the hold on her wrists, LeAnne slackened the bandanna, using her fingers to try and loosen the simple knot. It took all of her energy to concentrate on the task and not the blinding thump of her skull. LeAnne worked until her fingers numbed from the angle at which she worked, cutting off some of the blood-flow. Trying to regain their 318

KISS OF DECEIT usage, she wiggled her fingers, causing them to tingle. Again she reached with their tips, barely touching the bandanna that secured her. She managed to work a nail beneath one, but only felt it snap. She whimpered in frustration, but continued to work a little slack wherein she could slip her hand free. Lost in concentration, she almost missed the sound of the returning rumble. * * * Snake almost leapt from his bike near the pile of scattered brush. Upon his first inspection, he hadn’t thought much about it and hadn’t realized it’s importance until he was halfway down the road. Clearly the pile of branches, leaves, and such were visible when he circled his motorcycle in the backyard before driving off. But having his own burn pile of waste in his backyard, he hadn’t realized the significance: someone as neat and orderly as Chad would never leave a pile of twigs lying around uncared for, leaving his yard unkempt. With a swipe of his hand, he cleared the debris, finding a cellar door cleverly concealed beneath. He grasped the worn brass handle, and with a mighty jerk, sent the old wood bouncing off the side of the house. Damp, musty air greeted him. He slowly descended the steps, allowing his eyes to adjust to the blackness. His heart thudded against his ribs at his mounting fear of finding LeAnne dead. Once at the bottom, a slight form, on what appeared to be a bed near the rear of the darkened room, negated his earlier apprehensions. Snake slid his hands up and down the dirt packed walls, finding no switch for a light. He realized probably only a bare bulb with a cord would be in a room such as this. He moved his hand about through the dark until it contacted a slim cord. Light flooded the room. LeAnne lay on the center of the bed, her knees drawn up, her wrists tied to the posts, a gag thoroughly cutting off all sound. “My, God,” Snake uttered as he took a step in her direction. LeAnne’s eyes seemed to soften as they looked at him with relief. He would make sure no harm ever came to her again. As he took 319

KISS OF DECEIT another step, her gaze left his and filled with horror, causing Snake to spin on his heel. Chad stood in the doorway, then descended the steps. A crooked smile teased his lips as he hit the bottom. Snake stared down the barrel of LeAnne’s gun. “My, my. What do we have here? A lover’s reunion?” he asked. LeAnne’s eyes widened, causing him to chuckle. “Ah, my dear, you think that I didn’t know how you and this…this baboon”—he waved the barrel of the gun between the two of them—“have been carrying on behind my back. Tsk, tsk. Shame on you. For the Lord says ‘Both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death.’” “You’re insane,” Snake hissed. Again Chad chuckled. “Some might say that, yes. But in my eyes, it is the two of you who have committed the sin against me.” “In order to commit adultery, shouldn’t one be married?” Snake asked. Chad appeared to ponder the thought. “Fornication is a form of adultery, sex outside of marriage.” “If that were so, then you are also guilty.” “Touché.” An evil smile curved his lips. “But someone must be appointed punisher. Who better than me?” “So religion enters into the equation,” Snake stated, taking a step back. If he could keep Chad talking, then maybe he could devise a plan to get LeAnne and himself out of this alive. “Depends how you look at it.” “Even so, certainly you realize murder, too, is punishable by death.” He took another step in LeAnne’s direction. “Take one more step, and I’ll blow a hole right through you,” Chad warned, causing Snake to stop, holding his hands up in front of him. Outwardly satisfied, Chad continued, “You don’t need a God to tell you that if you commit murder. The courts will see to your death.” “Where does that leave you? You have committed both adultery 320

KISS OF DECEIT and murder.” “I hate sluts—that’s where it leaves me.” Snake scanned the room, looking for something, anything to use as a weapon. A pair of scissors lay on the desk scattered with newspaper clippings, partially shielding them from view. Chad, obviously having caught Snake’s eye movement, offered, “I like to read about my crimes.” With the gun, he pointed to the wall. “Keep pictures, even.” Snake spotted several photographs of women; some he knew, some he didn’t. His wife’s picture wasn’t among them. “Are these the women you have killed?” “Beautiful, isn’t it? Every one of them was a slut—easy pickings. I go into a bar alone and go home for a good screw. Not one of them thought of their husbands.” “And what of LeAnne?” Chad’s gaze jerked to his. “What of her?” “You intended on marrying her and keeping this little secret?” “It wasn’t hurting her. Besides—she was the prize. I had picked her well.” Snake heard the sheets on the bed rustle as LeAnne struggled behind him. He took a step toward the end of the bed, giving Chad a good view of her, hoping to distract him. Chad’s eyes briefly laid on her, then came back to him as he took another step toward the desk. “You see, she hasn’t had many lovers. Just one before me. A prom night mistake. Right, babe?” he asked. LeAnne squealed in response. “Besides—he’s dead now, anyway. Bad brakes, or something like that. I heard his car hit a tree and nearly decapitated the poor boy.” Chad smiled. Caught in his own reverie, he never noticed Snake taking a few more steps toward the desk and the wall of trophies. Instead, he walked closer to LeAnne and looked down on her before giving her his back. Behind Chad, Snake saw LeAnne working at loosening her binds. 321

KISS OF DECEIT He attempted to keep Chad’s attention on him. Chad’s eyes, somewhat dreamy, focused on Snake. “You see, then there was only me. I was the only one LeAnne had ever lain with— alive, anyway. She was the next best thing to a virgin, purity.” “You are crazy,” Snake repeated. From his vantage point, he saw LeAnne struggle free of her restraints and rise from the bed. “Mr. Nut Case.” Chad’s gaze heated, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. “Then came you,” he said, ignoring Snake’s slam toward his sanity. “You had to ruin everything—put your dick where it didn’t belong. I hope you enjoyed it, Gallego, because I plan to make sure it’s the last pu—” LeAnne wrapped the binds that had held her wrists around Chad’s throat, stealing his air supply. One of his hands grabbled at the bind as the other, holding the gun, wavered. Wavered enough that Snake kicked the weapon from his hand and sent it flying across the room to the base of the cement stairs. Snake’s fist landed a blow against Chad’s nose. The sickening sound of crunching bones could be heard as sirens in the background sounded. LeAnne jerked one of Chad’s arms behind his back and pushed him to the floor, her knee anchoring the madman to the ground. Chad’s laughter echoed about the room as the sound of splaying gravel could be heard from above and the approaching car came to a halt. Seeing the path of dried blood that stemmed from somewhere beneath her hairline and down the side of her neck, Snake asked, “Are you going to be all right?” She yanked on Chad’s arm, earning her a muffled grunt. “My head hurts like hell, but other than that, I’ll be fine.” Chad’s chuckles returned, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside as Sheriff Drake and Deputy Reese descended the stairs. “Good God,” reverberated through the damp cellar as Joe Drake took one look at LeAnne. Snake helped LeAnne to her feet as Bob and Joe saw to the care of 322

KISS OF DECEIT the prosecutor. The clack of the cuffs could be heard from behind, before Snake and LeAnne ascended the stairs and stepped into the waning sunlight. * * * LeAnne couldn’t believe the nightmare had finally ended and here she stood, ready to say goodbye to the one person in her miserable life who meant everything to her. Marcus Gallego’s powerful thighs straddled his Harley. He wore cutoff shorts and a tank, much like the day he whisked her off her feet at the cemetery, only yards from his deceased wife’s grave. She had fallen in love with him then, and she still loved him now. If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you… Dear God, she couldn’t even fathom the other possibility. Tears filled her eyes as Marcus laid his warm palm against the coolness of her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he barely whispered, looking as though he were ready to step off his bike, take her in his arms, and never let go. But LeAnne would not be able to live with herself if she stopped him from taking this trip. Marcus needed to meet his mother, and she was not about to stand in the way of that reunion. She placed her hand over his. “I didn’t want to. But I’m afraid.” “Afraid of what?” A tear slipped past her lash and mingled with their hands. “That you won’t come back.” His bike had been loaded with all the necessities of a long trip: a sleeping bag, saddle bags filled with clean clothes, a shaving kit. Nothing of real importance was being left behind—except Ajax and Comet, Rebel seeing to their care…and her. Who would care for her? Funny how life changes. Before Marcus, she had needed no one to care for her. Now… Marcus set his bike on the kickstand and stepped from it, pulling LeAnne into his warm embrace. She nearly lost all her dignity by 323

KISS OF DECEIT taking to sobs and asking—pleading with him to stay. He placed his palm at the back of her head, holding her against his chest. His heart beat heavily, nearly matching the intensity of her own. “I have to come back. My home is here.” “Anyone can see to the sale of your house, should you decide to stay in California.” He tilted up her head with the pad of his thumb. LeAnne looked into his amused eyes. She saw nothing funny in her insecurities. “I said my home, sweetheart, not my house.” A smile curved his lips, then he placed a tender kiss upon hers. “My home is where my heart rests—and that, dear woman, is wherever you are.” Hope fluttered in her chest. “Are you saying you kind of like me, Snake—a rough and tough kind of guy like yourself?” He tightened his hold. “Hell, sweetheart, if I kinda liked you any more, I think my heart might swell and break from the pressure.” “How long will you be gone?” “As long as it takes. My mother, she’s all the family I have left. Hell, no one was more surprised than I when I found that letter in my mailbox. At first I didn’t want to go. She abandoned me. How could a mother abandon her child?” “But she did finally write.” “I know, and that’s what changed my mind. I have to see her and set things straight. My father loved her—hell, until the day he died, I think. That’s the woman I want to know. The woman that can completely captivate a man’s heart.” LeAnne tried to step from his embrace, tried not to think how he excluded her from being someone who could completely captivate his own heart. Obviously, he wasn’t even sure that type of a woman existed. But that type of a man did, for Marcus would forever be the captor of hers. She would go to her grave loving him. Even if he never came back. The smile on his face returned. “Hell, sweetheart, try not to look so 324

KISS OF DECEIT distraught. I have to come back, because I finally understand how my father felt. And I certainly don’t want to make the same mistake he did by ever letting you go.” Her tears finally broke lose. “Does that mean you love me?” “You bet, sweetheart—with all of my heart.” Then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her.

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KISS OF DECEIT

EPILOGUE The room hadn’t changed much since the last time she had sat in these chairs; neither had her nervousness to meet this institution’s resident. It was easy for her to travel back in time, especially since she already missed Marcus and he had only been gone a mere day. She remembered his handsomeness, even in here. Though she knew she should have feared Marcus at the time, she could not help being attracted to him. But a big difference separated now and the past—this time she abhorred the person she waited to speak to. And feared him. She could only hope he never saw the streets again. After about ten minutes of trepidation, the red of his uniform caught her attention. The large blond-haired man walked with a heavy gate into the room, shoulders back, escorted by two men in navy blazers. His eyes, dark and fathomless, held contempt. Her stomach knotted. 326

KISS OF DECEIT Feeling the need to retch from the churning bile, she swallowed several times and took a few calming breaths. LeAnne reminded herself, in here, Chad Baker could no longer harm her. “Hello, babe.” The last word he spat in disgust. “What brings you here?” LeAnne squared her shoulders. She refused to allow Chad to see her fear. “I want answers.” “Official business?” “Off the record.” “Then why come at all? Your new boyfriend not keeping you satisfied?” “Marcus is not your concern.” At that, he sneered. “Everything you do is my business, LeAnne. It always will be.” A shiver passed down her spine. LeAnne did not doubt his words for a second or the threat his statement implied. Should he ever get out, she would be the first person he would look up—and kill. “I’ve been recently informed about the woman you killed in Boston.” “She was before I met you.” “I gathered that by the dates. But the question is why—she had a child.” “I know.” “So she was married, too?” He shrugged. “Her husband was an asshole.” “And the child—you left her without a mother.” Something akin to remorse filled his eyes. “Unintentional.” “Leaving the child without a mother?” “Her death.” So she hadn’t been like the rest. “Was she the first one you killed?” He nodded. “I hadn’t intended to kill her.” 327

KISS OF DECEIT Her eyes widened. She knew nothing Chad said should shock her, but this did. “How can manually strangling her be an accident?” “Erotic asphyxiation.” LeAnne remembered the term. Something about reducing the oxygen in the brain and raising the level of carbon monoxide. He had told her once about Buzz and Linda practicing this strange and dangerous form of making love. “So what about the baby, Chad?” Again, she thought she saw remorse somewhere within his eyes. “The child has the woman’s husband to take care of her.” “The baby’s father?” “The husband she left behind. He’s not the father of that child.” “Who is?” He leveled his gaze. “Someday, when I get out of here, she’ll know me—after I settle a few scores.” The hairs rose on her nape. Again, Chad had surprised her—Chad’s being a father, as well as his belief of a release. LeAnne intended to fight that day’s ever coming to pass. She would make it a personal vendetta to see Chad Baker remain behind bars, because she knew Marcus’s life, as well as her own, would depend on it. Not wanting to pursue the topic, she asked, “What about the rest? They weren’t ‘accidents,’ as you call them.” His gaze had gone flat. “No, they weren’t.” “How many were there?” “Off the record?” She nodded. “For my peace of mind.” “If you ever repeat this—I’ll deny every word.” “I’m sure you will.” “Three.” LeAnne blinked a few times, staring at him in awe. “I count five.” A smile grew wide on his handsome face; his hands flexed. “That’s where you’re wrong.” 328

KISS OF DECEIT LeAnne counted off each person on her fingers as she stated them. “Jillian Gallego, Miranda Holliday, the caretaker at the cemetery, Cora Smith, Samantha Duncan.” He mimicked her actions as he corrected the list. “Miranda Holliday, Cora Smith, and Samantha Duncan. I killed her before I ever left for Boston, when you thought I was tucked away all cozy in my hotel.” “But I talked to you that night on the phone.” “As you recall, it was I who called you.” Again she had been duped. A part of his plan, and now without his word as proof, his unwilling alibi. She could never repeat the things he admitted. Chad would deny every word. But of course with hotel records and flight schedules, it would be easy enough to prove that he was nowhere near Boston on the night in question. “What about the other two?” The room grew icy cold. LeAnne rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. “Think about it, babe, you’re a good detective—examine the differences in the cases.” “Jillian wasn’t posed like the rest.” “Correct. That’s one for the sheriff’s office.” “She didn’t have a red lipstick print on her cheek.” “That’s two.” “She was a stripper, not a prominent businessman’s wife.” “That’s three.” “What about the Hylomar found in the bandanna tying Miranda’s hands?” “Those rags are a dime a dozen.” He shrugged. “A mechanic left one in my car the last time I had it fixed. After that, I got the idea to take one from each household and use it on the next…adulteress,” he added with a sardonic grin. “If you didn’t kill Jillian or the caretaker, then who?” 329

KISS OF DECEIT Chad fiddled with the edge of his uniform, the chains at his wrists rattling. “Where have all the suspects gone?” “Anthony Hargrove fled town. Without an APB out on him, I’m sure he will return.” “Will he?” She ignored the question. “Allen Wymer quit the force.” “And where did he go?” LeAnne shrugged. “I don’t know.” “Maybe you won’t ever. Who better at learning to disappear than a cop. Anyone else?” “Blade D’Angelo, maybe.” “And where is he at the moment?” “I never kept tabs on him. We thought we had the case wrapped up with you.” The large smile returned. Chad mocked her. “No others come to mind?” She slowly shook her head. “Certainly not your darling Marcus.” Her face heated; her ears burned. “He had an airtight alibi. Remember?” “How could I not,” he scoffed. “That case would have secured my next election.” “That’s what it’s always been about with you, isn’t it? The next election. Never mind you would have sent an innocent man to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.” “Touché.” His arrogance nearly unseated her. Had she had her gun, surely she would have pulled the trigger on the bastard and been sent behind bars herself. But who would blame her? “Well then, LeAnne, somebody must have done it. If not me, then who?” LeAnne nearly shook with the knowledge of Jillian’s killer still 330

KISS OF DECEIT walking free. If Chad had not killed her, then who? And if the same person who killed Jillian, and possibly the caretaker, had spray-painted the grave marker and her windshield… His smile split his face, almost as though he could read her mind. “That’s right, babe. Your life is still in danger. It was never me you had to fear, at least not until the night you spread your—” She covered her ears. “Shut up, Chad!” He leaned back in his chair and folded his cuffed hands over his taut stomach. “The truth hurts…doesn’t it? I’m not the only one who wishes you harm.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Someone wants to send you…Straight to HELL.” A trembling hand covered her mouth. “Maybe you won’t have to worry about me ever getting out of here.” No, it couldn’t possibly be true. “Maybe someone else will get to you first.” LeAnne stood abruptly, sending the plastic chair rocking on all fours, her tears making treks down her cheeks. “You killed all of them—I know you did!” Her voice trembled. “Are you so sure?” “You won’t do this to me.” “I won’t have to, LeAnne, because in your mind, you already think I might be right—that I might not have killed those other two.” Not wanting to give free rein to anything he had to say, lest it make it more true, she ran from the room. Chad Baker had concocted an artfully spun web of lies to scare her. Nothing more. He was responsible for all of the women’s death and the caretaker’s. …Or was he?

331

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EYES OF BETRAYAL BY PATRICIA A. RASEY

CHAPTER 1 The sun beat on the back of Doctor Whitney Montgomery’s neck, sending a bead of sweat running down the valley between her breasts. The humid August temperature had to be reaching nearly one hundred as the orange ball heated up the cloudless afternoon sky. She ran the back of her hand across her heated brow as a rumble up North Scott Street caught her attention. Looking over the shoulder of Detective LeAnne McVeigh as the two stood chatting at the corner beside the county’s court house, she noticed two large Harley Davidsons, sporting three riders, making their imposing way through the center of town. Whit’s stomach clenched as they neared. Her eyes centered on the muscular, black-haired man. He hauled his shining, onyx-colored Harley to a stop when the light turned red. As if sensing her attention, he pulled his silver sunglasses low on his nose. Whit stared into his piercing blue eyes. Almost evil in their nature. A shiver ran down her spine and pooled in her gut. Had she not known better, she’d swear the

feeling was darn near sexual. But men of his ilk did little for her. She couldn’t be seen with the likes of him and his law-breaking associates. What would people think? It would likely ruin her standing and practice in the small town of Napoleon, Ohio. After all, she had a reputation to uphold. LeAnne obviously detected Whit’s attention being diverted from their conversation and turned in the bikers’ direction. The raven-haired one smirked, pushed his glasses up his nose, and revved the engine to his large bike. His leather-clad thighs hugged the heavy machinery. What she wouldn’t do for a night with the likes of that one, Whit thought, as her knees weakened. The light turned green and the two motorcycles sped down the road, stopping about half a block away before a bar called DC’s Five Stars. The other biker, with lighter brown hair tied back by a black and white bandanna, helped the beautiful woman behind him disembark, then stepped from the bike. He took his glasses from his face, stared at the two women on the corner, and nodded before heading into the roughnecked bar. Confused by the man’s familiar gesture, Whit turned to LeAnne, who seemed to have suddenly gone on alert. Something about the trio had set her on end. “What’s up? You know them?” Whit asked. Although in the year and a half she’d resided in Napoleon, Whit had never seen the bikers in town, LeAnne obviously had. And as her current posture indicated, her dealings with them had not been good. “Unfortunately,” LeAnne clipped. Her lips became a taut line. Whit could tell LeAnne didn’t want to talk about it, but it never stopped her before. She forged ahead, never being shy about her thoughts when it came to LeAnne. They had been friends since her moving here. “Well, I must say, he certainly looks like he’d be wellworth a toss in the sheets.” LeAnne’s gaze, which had drifted down the street, snapped back to

Whit. “For crying out loud—the man had a woman with him.” A chuckle erupted at LeAnne’s misunderstanding. “Not that one. The dark-haired one with the electric-blue gaze.” LeAnne’s cheeks colored red. “Oh.” “You know him?” “The dark-haired one?” Whit’s smile grew. “Yes, the one with the leathers on and not the cut-offs.” “Never saw him before.” “We can skirt the issue all afternoon, but I’m due back at the office before long, and I know you have some case or other that needs your attention. Since you don’t know the raven-haired biker, who’s the one with the chick?” “Snake.” “Does he have a real name other than that of a reptile?” LeAnne smiled for the first time since the passing of the bikers. “I’m not being very forthcoming, am I?” Whit’s grin widened. “No, you aren’t. So who is this ‘Snake’?” LeAnne sighed. The smile shed her face like a snake sheds its skin. “Marcus Gallego.” “The Marcus Gallego who walked away from you two years ago? You never said he was a biker. You were holding out on me.” “I just didn’t fill in all the details.” Whit laid a hand on LeAnne’s shoulder. “It must be hard to finally see him, and here he comes riding into town with another woman. Not to mention he just drove by and walked into DC’s like he hadn’t been gone at all. Forgive me for saying so, LeAnne, but the man is a creep!” LeAnne slowly nodded. “But tell that to my heart.” Whit watched as LeAnne walked toward the sheriff’s office, shoulders squared. She wanted to march down the street and slap Snake upside the head. The only thing stopping her was the fact she had never been inside DC’s and wasn’t about to go now. A lot of bikers hung

there. Not her type of crowd. She stepped from the curb and headed for her shiny red Corvette. Her confrontation with Snake would have to wait. After all, she had patients to see. * * * Marcus shoved his key into the lock. The deadbolt snapped free with a click. He pushed open the door and Tate preceded him inside. He whistled low. “This is some place you have here, Snake. Cute ducks. Who’s the decorator?” he added with a chuckle, referring to the wall border portraying a single row of marching geese with royal blue bows. Snake grinned. “That would be my late wife’s doing. Jillian had a thing for ducks. Maybe I should redecorate, huh?” “Suit yourself. I just wouldn’t be doing a lot of entertaining.” Tate slapped Snake on the shoulder. “Pretty well-kept, though, for being abandoned for two years.” “Rebel probably had it cleaned, knowing I was on my way back. Would sure be nice if he brought back Comet and Ajax.” Snake shook his head. “He claims to hate the things, but I bet those two dobies are eating out of the palm of his hand. Now let’s see how thoughtful he really was.” Snake dropped his keys with a clang on the counter top and opened the refrigerator, finding a twelve pack of Coors. With a large smile, he grasped two long necks and tossed one at Tate. “Rebel’s not your typical biker.” “I see that.” Tate laughed. “I don’t know of any of my friends that would have stocked the ’fridge with beer. Hell, the sons of bitches would have probably drank it and left me the empties.” “No wonder, with the crowd you hung in,” Virginia said as she walked through the back door. “You got a nice spread, Snake. Lots of open land. I think I might just enjoy my stay.” “You better,” Snake grumbled. “I’m not about to take your sorry ass back. You want out of this county, buy a bus ticket.”

Virginia, unscathed by Snake’s retort, walked to the refrigerator and retrieved her own beer. She twisted off the cap, tossing it in the nearby trash, and took a long pull, then swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “You know, I might just hang out here awhile. I think I could get used to this country living.” Tate leaned against the counter and palmed his bottle to his chest. His expression no doubt mimicked the seriousness of the situation. “If you know what’s good for you, Ginny, you won’t ever go back. The Lords of Lucifer aren’t known to be the forgiving kind.” Ginny smiled, walked by Tate and patted his chest where his telling tattoo lay. “You ought to know, big boy.” Snake and Tate watched her nicely formed backside as she walked with a saucy sway into the living room. A thump could be heard as she sat heavily in the next room. “Don’t worry about her, Tate. She’s bitter.” “She has every reason to be. But just because I wore the colors, doesn’t mean I agreed with all of their dealings.” “She’ll come around. You did the right thing.” “Let’s hope so. I certainly wouldn’t want to bring the Lords’ wrath down on Henry County.” “You know as well as I do that if we hadn’t gotten Ginny out of there, she’d be dead.” “But don’t think they won’t come looking for her. And if they learn we’re the ones who got her out,” he paused, “we’ll be as good as dead, too.” Silence fell over the kitchen as the two men looked at one another. Tate knew the thoughts running through both their minds. The Lords of Lucifer would not likely give up until they found Ginny. What she had done in the eyes of the notorious motorcycle club would be considered unforgivable. Many had lost their lives to lesser offenses. Tate took a swig from his bottle, then joined Ginny in the other room. She sat with her long, lean legs stretched across the floral sofa,

her head resting in the corner with her eyes closed. Damn, but she was a looker. Tate knew better than to even entertain the idea of touching her, though. Ginny Summers belonged to the Chief. And no one touched what belonged to Randy Craig. “Let’s see what the hell’s been happening in Northwest Ohio since I left.” Snake grasped the TV remote and hit the ON button and settled in a recliner. The screen slowly faded in on the six o’clock news. Tate sat on the floor in front of the sofa and laughed, trying to put to rest the ominous feeling left behind by his earlier thoughts. “Not likely much, by the size of this town.” “You’re just used to LA. Here…it’s a quiet life.” Snake raised the remote and flipped to another news station. Just as he was about to change it again, he paused and let his hand fall heavily on the recliner arm. “Well, I’ll be…” Tate looked at the screen, recognizing the face of the woman. “I saw her on the street corner this afternoon.” He glanced at Snake. “You know her?” “Yeah.” “She’s a detective?” “Homicide,” Snake added. Tate smiled. “Homicide? Have a few run-ins with her?” Snake ran a hand down his slightly whiskered jaw. “You could say that. She’s the one who arrested me for my wife’s murder two years back.” “She’s the one…” Tate drifted off, nodding in understanding. So the pretty little homicide detective is the one guilty of stealing Snake’s heart. Snake let out a sigh. “She’s the one woman I could never forget.” Ginny opened her eyes and sat forward on the sofa, staring at the screen just before the camera panned from the woman to the surrounding area. It seemed Henry County had a homicide a few days earlier. Open and shut. A man shot his wife in the back. The Henry

County Sheriff had taken him into custody, then transferred him to Corrections Center of Northwest Ohio, CCNO. Ginny looked at Snake. “She’s a looker. What’s her name?” “LeAnne McVeigh.” “So why didn’t we stop and say hello while we were in town?” Tate asked, remembering the leggy, auburn-haired woman. Now there was a babe. Better yet, she had been darn right hot. “I wouldn’t have minded getting to know the beauty standing beside your detective.” Snake laughed. “Since when have you ever needed an introduction? We’ll likely be beating the women off with a stick once they get a look at you.” “You’re avoiding the issue, Snake,” Ginny interrupted. “Why did you just drive on by her? Had it been my old man who did that to me, I’d grab him by the balls.” “That’s the Ginny that got us in this mess in the first place.” Snake snorted and rolled his eyes. “Besides, it’s been two years. Likely she hasn’t been waiting on my return. What if she already has an old man? She doesn’t need the kind of trouble my attention would bring.” “For two years, you’ve been damn near celibate, Snake.” Tate took a swig of his beer, then wiped the moisture from his mouth. “If it hadn’t been for a couple of those drunken nights, I would have sworn something’s wrong with you, man. Hell, Ginny all but threw herself at you the first time you met.” Ginny smacked the back of Tate’s head, earning her a chuckle. “You’re such a shit, you know that, Tate?” Tate turned and looked Ginny square in the eye. “Tell me you don’t have a thing for Snake.” Ginny glared at him and crossed her arms beneath her breast, but said nothing. “That’s what I thought,” he concluded. Snake smiled. “We all know I would have never touched you, Ginny. Last thing I needed was the Lords breathing down my back.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Ginny grumbled. “Because of my association with Randy, I’m doomed to remain forever alone.” “Look, I was flattered. Really. And had I not still been in love with someone else, I might have said the hell with the Lords and your ties to them.” Snake winked. “We got you out of town, didn’t we?” Ginny finished her beer and set it on the side table. “And for that I can’t thank you enough. Randy’s crazy and we all know he isn’t about to take this too lightly.” “It’s best you stay out of sight,” Tate said. “They have no idea where you went or who you went with. Anonymity is your best course of action.” He turned to Snake and added with a grin, “You and I, on the other hand, ought to check out some of the local action.” “As much as I would like to disagree with you, I can’t,” Ginny said. “And although I would love to check out some of those sites with you two, I’m too tired.” She yawned as if in testament, then stood and headed for the staircase, stopping at the first step and glancing back at Snake. “I take it there’s a bed up there somewhere?” He nodded. “The only bed is in the room to the left of the staircase. I can’t promise it’s clean. Something tells me cleaning these two rooms was probably the extent of Rebel’s hospitality.” Tate jumped to his feet and closed in on Ginny, a half-ass grin on his face. “You sure you don’t want some company, darlin’?” Tate couldn’t help but bait her. Besides, she had never shown interest in him anyway. It had always been Snake she found so damned appealing. “I could maybe come up and tuck you in.” She slipped a hand up the back of his loose-fitting tank and pulled him forward. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned toward his ear, whispering, “You think you could handle a hellcat like me?” He grinned and brought his mouth within inches of hers. “Darlin’, there isn’t a woman alive I can’t handle.” She dug the sharp points of her nails into his flesh and raked them down his back.

“Bitch.” Tate jerked from her embrace. He ran a hand up his shirt, feeling a sticky wetness. “You drew blood.” “And I bite, too.” Ginny nipped his lower earlobe as if to prove her point. “Think of the fun we’d have.” She bound up the stairs, chuckling at her meanness. So much for gratitude. Tate looked at Snake, who sat smirking. “What’s so damned funny?” “You asked for it. She knows you have no interest in her, so why continue to bait her?” * * * His breathing came in shallow pants. His nostrils flared. Fear clawed up his spine like water sizzling across a red-hot frying pan. Anticipation of what he was about to do made his gut churn with bitter bile. One might think he didn’t have the stomach for this sort of thing, but he had killed before, and probably would again. Truth of it, he had gotten a natural high, a release of endorphins, from watching the soul slip through the eyes as the body became nothing but an empty shell. It wasn’t something he could easily explain away. No, this had to be experienced firsthand to comprehend the euphoria and power one feels when another’s life hangs in the balance, dependent on the assailant to be granted a next breath. And he loved the feeling that came with playing God. He opened the wooden screened door with a latex-gloved hand, being granted an answer to his prayers when the hinges didn’t squeal. Testing the door knob, he found it unlocked. People in the country rarely secured their homes. After all, no ill-gotten will would ever come this far from town. Fools! It was as good as a goddamned invitation. He stepped into the dark interior, easily able to hide within the shadows. The full moon poured through the opened kitchen window, lending him a slim path of illumination in which to find his way. White geese lined the walls and seemed to point him in the direction of his target. He knew the woman remained alone somewhere within the

house. He had watched as the two cretins crawled on the backs of their Harleys and headed in the direction of town. Waiting a good half-hour after their departure had nearly killed him. And he sported the erection to prove it. Careful not to make a noise that might alert the lone occupant, he slowly ascended the carpeted stairs. He paused at the top, willing his thundering heart to slow its pace or he surely would not be able to hear a thing above the roaring of his blood. His fingers gripped the railing to steady himself; ebullience had him half-ass dizzy and ready to topple down the steps, breaking his own damned fool neck. Gaining his equilibrium, he stepped softly to the first door on the left. Peering into the darkened room, he saw the woman stretched angelic-like on her back, her face turned away. His hands itched to enwrap her pretty throat, to see her eyes bulge as she pleaded for mercy…his mercy. He pulled the red and white bandanna from his wind suit jacket and tore it in two. The soft ripping of the material escaping his intended’s attention as her soft snores filtered across the cool night breeze coming from the room’s opened window. A heavy sleeper. It appeared his luck would continue to hold out this night. Confident expectation had him moving forward as stealthily as a mountain lion approaches its prey. He tied one half of the bandanna to her slender wrist—barely a movement from the slut—then carefully lifted the arm to tie the bandanna’s other end to the bed post. She stirred. Her eyes fluttered in the grogginess that comes with too-little sleep. “What the hell—” she muttered, trying to clear her croaking voice. Before she had ample time to react, he straddled her chest and tied her other wrist to the opposite post. Fear brought her to full wakefulness. She tried to buck him from her. He laughed at her inability to move someone of his massive size. He easily overpowered her. Pulling a knife, he held it to her throat, careful not to make a telling

mark. “If I were you, sweetheart, I’d go along with my wishes. Less pain for you that way.” His jaw ached from the mounting tension and apprehension. His blood roared in his ears. This hussy would be a fighter…no easy target. His erection throbbed at the thought of controlling her. He sat upright and placed his knife between his lips, then withdrew a foil packet from his pocket. “I’ll try to make this pleasurable for us both.” He grinned in the blackened night. Truth be told, he could care less if she enjoyed it at all. “If that’s all you have to play with,” she hissed her sarcasm, “I doubt I’ll be enj—” He backhanded her across the cheek. Damn she had forced his anger into action, no doubt bruising her. The bitch would not see the light of day, so what the hell did he care what she thought of his performance. Her opinion mattered little. But revenge…revenge was oh so sweet.

Eyes Of Betrayal Coming in 2003

P ATRICIA A. R ASEY

A daydreamer at heart, suspense author, Patricia A. Rasey resides in her native town in Northwest Ohio with her husband, Mark, and two teenage sons. At the age of twenty-nine, her boys both tucked away in school all day, she decided to put her creative writing studies to use. A graduate of Long Ridge Writer’s School, Patricia has seen publication of her short stories in magazines. With the writing of Deadly Obsession, she was able to see her true dream come to pass and become a full-time writer, thanks to the support and encouragement of her very own hero, Mark. The year 2001 was a good one for Ms. Rasey. Not only was her book Facade a recipient of the Word Weaving Award for Literary Excellence, but also received an Honorable Mention (in the “Suspense” category) in the prestigious Dorothy Parker Award Of Excellence 2000 (books voted the best of those read and reviewed in 2000 and presented by the Reviewers’ International Organization—RIO). Kiss Of Deceit received a nomination for the Dorothy Parker Award as well. Even more special for Patricia, was that Facade was the only electronic release listed amongst the winners/honorable mentions. Additionally, Twilight Obsessions, a hair-raising trilogy of dark suspense by authors Charlotte Boyett-Compo (“Taken By The Wind”), Kate Hill (“Love On The Wild Side”), and Patricia A. Rasey (“Fear The Dark”), was nominated for the 2000 PEARL, the Paranormal Excellence Award in Romantic Literature, in the Best Anthology category. Patricia is a member of World Romance Writers (WRW). She also belongs to Sisters in Crime (SinC), and their Internet Chapter. When

not behind her computer, you can find Patricia cheering on her sons at various sporting events, or taking karate, which she enjoys doing with her eldest son. You can visit Patricia’s homepage at: http://www.patriciarasey.com or you can write to Patricia at: Patricia A. Rasey P.O. Box 385 Napoleon, OH. 43545 (SASE for response and freebies would be appreciated!)

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