Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

“YOU SMELL LIKE GRASS,” HE MURMURED. “AND MOONLIGHT.”

Where had that come from? He didn’t know, but it was true. There was a wild night perfume that was driving him to speak, to act.

“Paul?” Torie whispered his name. But she didn’t move away. Didn’t retreat this time. He shoved the past away and focused on the now.

“You’re safe here, Torie. I don’t want you to think otherwise, but I need to—”

“To what?”

“This,” he said, leaning into her, pressing his lips to hers. He wanted to snatch her up, devour her, pull her into his arms and fill himself with her.

DARK and DEADLY

Jeanne Adams

ZEBRA BOOKS

Kensington Publishing Corp.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

Acknowledgments

As always, I want to thank my beloved family for their unflagging support. You’re the best.

In addition, I’d like to thank Kenneth I. Korenblatt, Battalion Chief, Montgomery County Maryland Fire and Rescue, Fire and Explosives Investigations for the information he provided about arson investigation and Molotov cocktails. I’d also like to thank Barbara Watkins of State Farm Insurance for her assistance in figuring out timelines on the insurance issues. Last but not least, I want to thank Laura Graham Booth, fellow author and Washington Romance Writers member, for her insider’s knowledge of Philadelphia.

Trust me, any errors, missteps, oddities, or omissions in this work are mine!

No dedication would be complete without acknowledging the amazing and wonderful support of my fellow readers and writers: The Avocats, the wonderful Banditas at The Romance Bandits’ blog, http://www.romancebandits.blogspot.com; and the fab ladies Romance Novel TV and Romance Buy The Book. You rock, ladies! Nor could I ever go without thanking my fabulous editor, Kate Duffy; and my wonderful agent, Laurie McLean.

DARK and DEADLY

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Prologue

“What do you mean we can’t get married?” Torie’s words were a panicked screech. “Todd, there are five hundred guests in the church. The music’s started. They’ve seated our mothers, for God’s sake.” She gestured, and rose petals flew from her bouquet, drifting to the floor like snow.

Panic filled her. Half of Philadelphia was waiting for her to walk down the aisle. Her sorority sisters were there. His fraternity brothers, mostly sober, were there. Even the lawyers from his new firm, and her boss from the engineering firm, were there to see her marry Todd.

“I know, I know. But, I can’t do it Torie. I can’t. Not now.”

“What changed, Todd, between Monday, when I left the conference in Raleigh and today?” Torie’s heart stuttered. “Oh, my God. You slept with someone. You had a fling.”

“No, no, no,” Todd protested, his face stricken, grabbing her waving hands, bouquet and all. “I didn’t, I swear. What happened is—”

“Tell me,” she insisted. “I have a right to know.”

“I won the jackpot,” he blurted. “Three hundred and sixty-eight million dollars. I never expected, I mean, you know, I always buy a ticket on special days.”

He did. She knew that. They’d always talked about what they’d do if they won.

Her mind whirled. Oh, good Lord, he’d won.

“You won?” she managed faintly. “All that money?”

They would never have to scrimp. Her mother’s complaints about Todd’s spendthrift habits and frat-boy ways would be nothing against that kind of income. They could—

Torie went very still as his words sank in. He was choosing the money over her, over the life they’d planned.

Devastation came first. Then hot anger boiled in her veins. He didn’t want to share a new, financially prosperous life with her.

She wasn’t good enough.

Oblivious to her reaction, he just shook his head. “I know, it’s crazy. But you understand, right? This changes everything in my life.”

“You son of a bitch,” Torie snarled as she balled up her fist.

The door from the bride’s room to the church opened, but Torie barely heard it, and didn’t look around. The bouquet disintegrated, and the best man gasped as Torie decked her groom.

Chapter One

Five years later

Grunting with the effort, he hefted the bundle from the trunk and into the wheelchair. He hadn’t expected the body to be this heavy. It wasn’t like the guy was fat or anything.

He was sweating like a pig by the time he got to the church door. Nudging it open, then kicking it shut behind him, he let the wheelchair topple as he dragged Todd’s solid weight backward toward the altar. The round hole in the corpse’s forehead stared at him accusingly, like an eye from another world.

He ignored it.

As much as he’d enjoyed the actual killing, he hated having to go to the worst parts of town to buy unregistered, illegal guns. Dealing with those people was distasteful.

“You may have had everything, you prick,” he grunted to the dead man, finally tossing him on the steps leading to the pulpit. “And because of you, I got nothing. But thanks to me —” he laughed now, still wheezing from the effort as he arranged Todd’s limp hands—“you never got to enjoy it. Not one bit. Not really.”

He placed one of Todd’s hands at his crotch, the other at his forehead like a fainting woman. He giggled, thinking that when the body went into rigor mortis the coroner wouldn’t be able to move the hands from their position. What a great picture for the police file. Todd would look as silly in death as he’d made others feel in life.

“There now. A fitting tribute. You got to fuck the woman I wanted, and you were always whining like a stupid bitch over the details.” He pitched his voice high like a girl’s. “ Is it legal? Blah, blah, blah. Now everyone will mourn you. Hell,” he giggled again, “I’ll mourn you. No one will ever guess. Hee hee.”

Uncapping a bottle, he sprinkled blood on Todd’s shirtfront, then rubbed some blood on the knuckles as well. It hadn’t been easy to get it, but blood drive volunteers, especially well-known ones, weren’t watched that closely.

Ripping open an envelope he pulled from inside his jumpsuit, he plucked a series of long blond hairs from it, draping one across the lapel of the designer suit Todd wore. He then dropped the others around the body, making sure at least one stuck in the blood on Todd’s knuckles.

With a skipping step, he practically danced over to the thermostat. Setting the controls to the lowest possible air-conditioning setting, he then programmed it to come back up to regular temperature within twenty-four hours. The body would probably be found on Saturday of course, when parishioners came to the church to prep for the Sunday service. Then again, it could be Sunday morning. Nice thought. Either way, if all the TV shows and books were right, the cold temperatures would delay determination of time of death.