Adelle Laudan - Killer Scents

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Becca and Randy are Harley riding detectives who join forces to find the ruthless killer the press have dubbed The Florist. What does the flower he places in his victim's hands have to do with the sick, twisted way he ends their lives? Will they track him down before he strikes again, or will a turn of events find one of them at the mercy of a demented killer?

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Chapter Fifteen

Becca hadn’t been on the back of a bike in at least ten years. Randy conveniently left out the part of riding back to her place. She’d never admit to him how good the breeze felt on her face. One of the advantages of being the passenger was the freedom to enjoy the ride with no distractions.

It didn’t take long before she gave into the governing impulse to stretch out her arms and close her eyes. She didn’t care if he saw or not. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with letting the wind work its magic and carry all of her troubles in the breeze, if only for a little while.

All too soon Randy geared down, dragging her back to reality as he turned into her driveway. Feeling vulnerable, she climbed off and gave him his helmet the second his feet hit the ground

“Can you open the garage door? It’s probably best if my ride isn’t visible from the road.”

Her brow creased. “I think it will be okay there. You won’t be staying very long.”

She imagined his eyes boring holes in her back on the way up to unlock the door.

Randy nudged her aside. “Let me take a look first.” He planted his feet firmly, not budging one inch no matter how hard she tried to push him out of the way.

“For your information, I’m quite capable of opening my door.”

Randy took hold of her arms and stared directly into her eyes. “I know you are. Just humor me this one time.”

Becca stepped back. “Knock yourself out!”

“You stay right here.”

Who died and voted you Cop of the Year? Becca followed him into the house and proceeded to put on some coffee. Where does he get off bossing me around in my own home?

“Wow, you’re such a good listener.” Randy stepped through the doorway, holstering his gun.

Becca spun around and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Do not talk to me like I’m a two year old. If this is how things are going to go, you can leave right now.”

He raised his hands in defense. “Whoa, chill out. I didn’t mean to talk down to you. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I’ve been a cop for almost twenty years. I think I can take care of myself.” She glared at him.

Randy made a T with his hands. “Time out...okay? Can we have a talk without all of this anger and bullshit?”

She leaned back against the counter, resisting the urge to throw herself at him and let him kiss it all better. Defiantly, she folded her arms across her chest. “It’s your dime. Talk, I’m listening.”

Her partner blew out a rush of air and sat at the table. “Come sit with me.” He pulled out the chair next to him.

She huffed and stomped to the opposite side of the table and sat. “I’m all ears.”

Randy chuckled and looked sideways at her. “You know, you can be a real bitch when you want to be.”

Becca tossed her head back. “Hah! That’s a good start. If you want me to sit here quietly, you might want to shove your idea of compliments up your ass.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a slow smile spread across his tanned face. “I guess I should start with an apology. I probably could’ve handled things better than I have been.”

She cast him a sideways glance. “Ya think?”

The coffeemaker let out its final gurgles, and she jumped up, happy for the break to regain some semblance of composure. Steam rose from the mug she set on the table.

“Black, right?”

His strong hands engulfed the mug. “Thank you. You remembered.”

Becca kept her gaze diverted and sipped her coffee, mindful of the temperature and the sultry tone of his voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you were acting like such a jerk, or are we going to play a round of Twenty Questions?”

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you. One minute I want to strangle you, and the next, I want to take you in my arms and never let you go.”

Shit, I never saw this coming.

She felt like a caged animal with no means of escape. Both of them stood at the same time.

“Don’t.” Her hand shot up between them to halt his advances. “I can’t do this right now. I need to find Susan’s killer. I can’t.... No, I won’t be distracted by you and your childish mind games. One minute you’re seducing me, and the next you won’t even glance my way. ” Becca looked into his big brown eyes. “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Randy pulled her into his arms, backing her up and wedging her in the corner of the cupboards with no way out.

“Let me go—”

His mouth captured hers in a long, drugging kiss. After a couple lame attempts to get away, she relaxed in his arms, and gave in to the whirlwind of emotions she tried so hard to contain.

Suddenly he scooped her up and cradled her in his arms. The intensity in his eyes robbed her of breath. She knew full well the direction they were headed.

“I can’t make any promises.” Her words came out nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m not asking for any, Red.” He carried her through the kitchen toward the bedroom. His lips claimed hers once again, but this time she offered no resistance.

Chapter Sixteen

Click. Click. Click. His boots snapped against the cement as he paced the room. Thoroughly pissed off at himself for tainting the thrill of being at his crime scene.

“Idiot! Why did you have to leave the box behind? How could you be so stupid?”

The skin on his neck pulled taut. He yanked open the cooler and grabbed a fistful of asters, pulling the heads off and scattering the pale purple petals into the air. He twisted the stems, over and over until they pulled apart and threw them on the ground. The cement turned green under his boot grinding them into the floor.

Calm yourself.

Two words whispered in his ear ended his tirade and drew him to the counter where he picked up the silver frame and smiled down at her.

“I’m sorry, dear heart. I know you don’t like it when I lose my temper. I wanted everything to be perfect for you, and it almost was.”

His heavy sigh steamed the glass as he pressed his lips to the smiling woman’s forehead. Reverently, he set it back, face down.

A hiss of air escaped the barstool he sat on. He wiped his sweaty face on his shirtsleeve. “Look at this mess.”

Dark purple roses caught his attention. He wrinkled his brow. “Of course, it’s her fault distracting me like that. She’s been nothing but a pain in my ass since she came back to work.”

Before then he wasn’t the least bit worried they’d solve the mystery of The Florist. Now that they put the dynamic duo together he had to admit he thoroughly enjoyed baffling Ms. Hoity Toity.

The scent of lemons wafted up from the wash basin he filled. Some of his best thinking happened when cleaning. Now, what is my next move? He’d completed what he’d set out to do. All seven of his victims were carefully picked, each encounter meticulously planned down to the minutest detail over the past year. To pick another virtual stranger from the journal meant taking a huge risk he’d overlook something or slip up somehow.

He sat back on his heels and dropped the scrub brush in the water.

It really is a shame to stop just when I’m getting so good at it.

He snapped his head up and rubbed his damp hands on his jeans. A smile twisted his lips.

“Unless...”

картинка 19

Randy settled in his seat and stretched his legs out, resting his boot on his highway pegs. The crisp morning breeze off the water, coupled with a flashback of Becca in bed, her long red hair fanned out across the pillow, brought a smile to his face.

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