Rita Herron - Don't Say a Word

“I’ve been expecting you, Special Agent Dubois.” A small smile stretched his thick lips into a rubbery line. “In fact, I expected an entire fort of you by now.”

Damon narrowed his eyes to slits. “Then I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Allan. My brother is innocent. Someone is setting him up and I’m going to find out who it is.”

Allan’s chair squeaked as he leaned back and steepled his hands. “Are you sure about that? Maybe you don’t know your brother as well as you thought.”

“And you don’t know him at all.” Damon gritted his teeth. “Tell me what Kendra Yates had on Karl Swafford, and any tips she had on the possibility of corruption in the NOPD.”

“You really think I’m going to divulge that information?” His cheeks swelled with his chuckle. “I’m sitting on the hottest story to hit New Orleans since the Swamp Devil murders last Mardi Gras. And the murdered victim happened to be one of my own reporters.” He leaned forward, a menacing glint to his eyes. “I want the bastard who killed her to pay.”

“So do I,” Damon stated matter-of-factly. “And I can assure you that your cooperation will help us find the person responsible for her death.”

A long, tension-filled pause stretched between the two men.

“Just give me something,” Damon finally conceded. “Some hint as to where she was on the investigation. And I’ll be certain that you get the exclusive on anything I find out, when the time is right, of course.”

Allan hesitated, then nodded. He didn’t believe that Kendra had run off with Swafford and thought the man had faked his own death and might have killed her. “She traced him to a plastic surgeon who works for the government.”

Damon’s blood heated. “His name?”

“Dr. Reginald Pace.”

Damon gripped the edge of the chair with white knuckles. Reginald Pace…had assisted the E-team in secretive projects. He’d been known to alter appearances for the witness protection program. And he would also do the same for any criminal for the right price.

Unfortunately, extracting information from him was going to be nearly impossible.

LEX VAN WORMER RUBBED A HAND across his scaly skin, watching the dry particles float to the floor like dust. His skin grew drier, flakier every day as if death was slowly rusting away his flesh, tearing it from his brittle bones with jagged fingers. His body felt cold, too, chilled to the bone, as if ice had settled into his veins, or perhaps his blood had ceased to flow and had turned to stone. Sometimes darkness robbed him of precious seconds, minutes, hours, and the time he was able to drag himself from the depths grew shorter and less frequent as each day passed.

Only the thought of seeing Crystal spurred him to fight his way through the muck of quicksand trying to consume him.

He had waited all his life to find a woman like her. A woman to love. A woman who needed him. A woman to guide him into redemption.

For the devil had owned his soul most of his life.

Like an off-key song you couldn’t get out of your mind, his father’s vile descriptions of the devil’s wrath burned in his head. He would pay for his transgressions. Burn for his sins. Spend eternity being punished.

Despair made his chest ache, and he dropped to his knees beside the bed, lowered his head against the mattress and prayed to the heavens to help him last another day. To help him find his way into the light. To allow him to atone for his sins by watching over Crystal.

For she was in grave danger.

Dr. Pace pretended to care, but Lex knew his lies. Lex had seen the man’s other side. He, too, had been possessed by the devil.

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