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Dangerous Attraction 2 : Love and Suspense 45
Bing got off his phone at last and headed for him. “You’re only supposed to come in to use the gym for your physical therapy.”“Reporting back to duty, sir.” Jack winced when his side brushed against an open drawer.“Like hell.” “I’m all healed.” “Bullshit.”“Healed enough.”Bing’s gaze turned to steel. “I’m the captain. Keeping my men safe is my top priority. Go home.”“I could be useful on this case,” he said reasonably.“Like a screen door on a submarine. You were one of Brady’s victims. Your sister was one of Brady’s victims. Can you say conflict of interest?”Frustration tightened his jaw. “You can’t keep me on sick leave forever.” “I can try. I sure as hell am not gonna lose you again.”A few moments of charged silence passed between them. Jack broke it first. “What happened to me wasn’t your fault.”“One of my men went missing, and I couldn’t find him.” Bing dropped into Joe’s empty chair at the next desk, the fight going out of him. “You still look like death chewed on you bef
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And if Agent Hunter won…He wouldn’t. She was going to beat the FBI, beat Jack Sullivan, return her life to normal, and get her daughter back. She wasn’t going to lose Maddie over this. Whatever she had to do—“I would like to call my attorney,” she said, although she was no longer sure that would be enough.But the possible solution that suddenly burst into her head scared her as much as the false accusations, maybe more. Her entire body went cold. She considered the idea anyway.What if she didn’t resist her visions?What if she embraced them? Would she see more? Would she see how Sullivan had come to be in the grave? Would she see Blackwell? Could she lead the authorities to him to end this nightmare?Did she dare willingly walk into the abyss? And what if she did and couldn’t find her way back? Would she end up like her mother and lose everything?She needed to think this over, needed to get out of here. “I want to call my lawyer,” she repeated.The agent closed his notebook and r
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His lips curved into a half smile. “I was just getting to it.” He looked dangerously handsome when he smiled.“So his name is Burt Johnson,” he said. “Who?”“The guy in the closet you painted.”And just like that, the relaxed moment was gone from between them.He went on to tell her about the old man and his nephew, the neighbors who called in that he’d been missing.The stark reality of the story shook her. Always did.The thought of another vision frightened her. The idea that she should try to force one on purpose made her question her own sanity. She needed to be alone. She needed to think. She needed to get away from him, even if talking like this wasn’t too bad. Or maybe especially because of that. She refused to like him.“I have to go. Thanks for the ride.” She bolted from the car and practically ran for her front door.She locked up behind her, slipped out of her boots and coat, listened to the sounds of his car driving away while pushing the images of that last body from her
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The Broslin flea market flourished every Sunday in an old airplane hangar that had been once part of the county airport. The utilitarian space was now divided into about a hundred “shops” that vendors rented on a permanent basis. In the middle, several rows of folding tables lined up neatly. Those could be rented by anyone just for the day.Jack stalked around for half an hour, observing the sellers, the buyers, the gawkers, the complete lack of security, before finally heading back to the last row of stalls to the man he’d come to see. He weaved in and out of the crowd. The place was packed, the usual Sunday crowd of gleaners.As colorful as a gypsy caravan, he thought, and wondered if Ashley Price had ever painted it. He had Ashley on his mind entirely too much lately. She was a puzzle, and he was a cop. Cops liked puzzles. And yet, deep down, he knew there was more to it. Another time, another place…if he wasn’t what he was. He forced his focus back on his surroundings.He couldn’t
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“Be grateful he changed his SOP.”He’d given that some thought in the last couple of weeks. “The women were his victims. I’m different, because I’m something else. I’m his opponent, like in a chess game. That’s why he did things differently with me. Whatever he needed those women for, with me, he just wanted to prove that he’d beaten me, both intellectually and physically. And he buried me alive so I’d have a little extra time to think about that defeat.”“A stupid move. You survived.”He thought about that for a few seconds. “Yes. He was too cocky. He thinks he has hometown advantage here. He got overconfident.” He shrugged. “Not unreasonably. If Ashley Price hadn’t dug me up, I would be dead. He didn’t count on that.”Bing swore. “How did you know he was here, in Broslin?” He explained about the spores.“You saw the mushroom company? Talked to the workers?” “As soon as I got here. Nothing popped.” He drank some. “You told the FBI about this?”He nodded. When they’d first interviewed
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“I thought it was because I lost a life. I thought if I saved a life, the visions would go away. They didn’t.”“I’m glad you came for me anyway.” He couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been for her.She gave a wry smile. “Don’t make me regret it.”“I’m afraid I might have already.” He watched her. “But thank you. I mean that, Ashley.”She looked away, then back at him. “I wanted to thank you too, for not giving my paintings to the FBI.”“How do you know I haven’t?”“If they had the paintings, they would have said something.”He hated the agents who kept getting in his way. And he didn’t want them messing with her either.So he felt protective toward her. So what? She’d saved his life. She deserved something in return.“Any new urges to paint?” He asked the question to prove to himself that he was here to investigate and not just to see her.She shook her head as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking all alone and vulnerable and completely lost. And completely hot, regar
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“I booked you at Maximilian’s for the end of May,” Isabelle said on the other end of the line as Ashley pulled her dinner from the microwave, General Tso’s chicken.At five o’clock Monday afternoon, this was probably the last call her agent would make for the day. Which meant there was more coming. Isabelle hated giving bad news to her artists. Good calls went out first thing in the morning. Rejections were left until the last minute, as she usually would work throughout the day to make another booking, secure a review in a top newspaper, or otherwise soften the blow.So Ashley asked, “But?” and waited for her agent to tell her the rest. A long moment of silence passed.Ashley brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” “If it’s not a sell-out show, I’m not sure if I can book you again. And youneed to be here,” Isabelle told her. “I’m sorry. With the economy… Galleries are losing money. I can’t book shows like I used to. They want a sure thing. They want t
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Jack came close to smiling as he drove back out to the old firehouse Tuesday morning. Full, active duty. Finest three words in the English language, he’d ever heard. He got a new service weapon and a new badge, and he swore he’d die before he’d let anyone take them away from him.Harper was in the hospital with a bullet wound to the shoulder, the poor bastard. A jealous husband had clipped him. The idiot was currently cooling his heels at the county jail. Bing and Jack had taken him in.The jerkwad was out of circulation and would be out for a long time, but the shooting left the department one man short, which meant Bing had to bring Jack back to active duty.He’d passed his physical first thing Monday morning, then did whatever he had to so Dr. Beacon would sign the psych release. By noon, he’d been reinstated and was interviewing burglary suspects. He was in charge of that now, officially. And only him. Harper had Joe working with him, but Bing moved Joeover to looking for a runaw
Last Updated : 2023-03-21
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He went with them to the hospital. They were all checked over for cuts and bruises as well as hypothermia. The doctor kept Maddie overnight for observation. Even though she hadn’t been in the water, she was a slight little thing and chilled through pretty fast. Since she was sleeping peacefully, the nurse sent Ashley home for a hot shower and rest. Jack got them a cab and went with her.And stayed with her.“Why don’t you grab a couple of hours of sleep?” he asked once she came out of the bathroom, wearing her thickest sweater and pants.She wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t think she would ever get warm again. “I should go in and wait for Maddie.”“The nurse said she won’t be released until after the doctors make their rounds at eight in the morning.” He’d been up in the loft, looking out into the night.She looked past him, out through the windows. The emergency vehicles had left, darkness blanketing the reservoir again. He didn’t ask if he could stay, but she would have s
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Her feet were frozen, her bedroom slippers little protection against the snow. Ashley wrapped her arms around her daughter as best she could, trying to keep Maddie warm. Her own body shook, and not only because of the cold. Dark panic gripped her as she shuffled forward on the ice.For the past year, she had barely been able to look at the reservoir. And now here she was, the place where Dylan had died, where she’d lost her life, then gained it back, thanks to the paramedics. Where she had nearly lost Maddie.So much grief and guilt was tied up in this expanse of rough ice. She couldn’t think here. All the fear of the past was getting mixed up with the panic of the present.She forced her brain to focus. “Why are you doing this, Graham?”The man shoved her toward a dark hole hacked into the ice. Another kind of grave. She recognized her axe next to it, the handle painted pink. He must have taken it from her garage. Next to the axe, a large cement brick waited with a ropetied to it. H
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Bobby Adamo didn’t give up the information easily, keeping to his story that he didn’t know anything he’d handed over was stolen, that he hadn’t been present at the burglaries.Jack had to turn the conversation serious. Principal Adamo had threatened charges, called his lawyer, called Bing.Bing threatened back with a charge of obstruction of justice.And then Bobby miraculously remembered the exact address in a split second. Jack called it in.The old Broslin Bank on Main Street had stood empty for years. It was the most stately building in town, all brick and fancy masonry, recalling another era. The bank had shut down during the financial crises and now sat with its windows boarded. Still, it was an imposing presence, between one of the town’s two dozen galleries on one side and the post office on the other.According to Bobby, they’d gone in through the back, just in case there was some leftover money in the safe, but had found nothing but garbage. They had taken the fan as a souv
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Everybody was at the police station. Since the FBI still had most of their things set up there, they were bringing Blackwell to Broslin, and nobody wanted to miss that. Even Leila came in, and Harper too, his arm in a sling. At first Jack had thought they’d come to see the monster. But as they clapped him on the back, one by one, Leila actually getting close enough for a hug, he realized they were here to support him.“There. It’s over now,” Bing said gruffly. “They have him.”Jack stood by the front desk, one eye always on the front door as he tried to figure out how the hell this happened. Apparently, he had friends.He’d come to Broslin for Blackwell, and Blackwell alone. He didn’t socialize; he didn’t hang out; he didn’t do the buddy thing. In his spare time, he either drove around town, trying to figure out where Blackwell might live, or sat at home going through the case files.The FBI bursting through the door with their suspect in cuffs refocused him.Right age, right body typ
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The sound and sight of a dozen little girls tearing through the house, screaming at the top of their lungs, left Jack immobilized for a second as he stepped inside behind Ashley’s father. If there was a place on earth he didn’t belong, this was it. He would stay anyway. He put his gift on the pile that took up most of the window seat.William Price moved away to help one of Maddie’s friends lift a box of dolls off a shelf.Ashley stood in the middle of the melee, directing it like a general. She’d taken her coat off. Her light wool dress hugged her curves, falling to her knees. The sight distracted him for a minute as hot lust shot through him. That never seemed to change, whether they were on good terms or bad.A woman in her thirties swept by him with a tray of sweets. “Hi, I’m Heather, Jenny’s mom. Cupcakes?”She probably assumed he was the father of one of the little terrors. He didn’t correct her. “Jack. Maybe later. Thanks.”Ashley moved on to the kitchen, and he went after her.
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He stood in the middle of his life’s work, an installation that filled the entire top floor of one of the nicest buildings in Broslin. His soundproofed workshop was down in the basement. The downstairs he left as it had been when he’d bought the abandoned building. If anyone somehow peeked in through a boarded-up window, let them see nothing.But the top floor, here he spent money. The space could have been part of a wing in the Louvre. Not that he ever wanted his art to be moved there. This was his hometown. His museum should be here, maybe with the town named after him eventually. Let the French come here if they wanted to see his work. He was proud to be an American.The canvases that hung on the walls had been painted in living blood. They’d been his first true creations, the very thing that eventually led him onto the right path.He’d been in North Carolina to pick up a car he’d bought online. He met a young woman at the hotel bar. She came back to his room with him.And then she
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“You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Kentner said, holding the small paintings at arm’s reach. “We really do appreciate your support.” She put the paintings on the living room table and lifted her purse from the floor, taking out a small box wrapped in sparkling paper. She handed it to Ashley. “For Maddie. Pete said she’s having her birthday party this weekend.”“Thank you. You really shouldn’t have.”“Well, the way things are going…” Mrs. Kentner gave a smile and a wink.Okay, so Pete told her mother about the date. Ashley felt a moment of embarrassment, then pushed it away.“I’m so glad he came back home,” the older woman said. “He deserves something good. The way he took care of me with the cancer…” Moisture glistened in the woman’s eyes.Ashley patted her hand. Pete did deserve something good, but was she it? A sudden wave of doubt rushed her. What was she doing with Pete? But then she thought, they were just going to look at the dam. They’d been friends for a long time. It didn’t have to be m
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Jack tried not to think of Ashley or their kiss as he walked back to the locker room at the east end of the high school the next day. The team was gathering for a morning huddle about an upcoming game. He wanted to get this over with before he headed off to Jersey. He called out the players he needed, gathering them in the hallway.“Is this about the bones?” Bobby Adamo asked, gripping a cup of coffee. “You guys took off. Nobody said we were supposed to wait around.”None of the four looked anything but cocky, feeling safe in numbers and on their home turf.Jack watched their eyes, looking for the weakest link. Probably Tyler Foster, the councilman’s son. He was the youngest, the one Jack had caught on Ashley’s land before. He’d scared the boy when he’d tackled him.“Actually, I’m here about a laptop you’re selling online.” Jack looked Bobby in the eye. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”The surprise on the teenager’s face was quickly masked. The others pulled closer to him.“I don’t know w
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“That I can promise.” She tilted her head. “So if Blackwell is in Jersey, why aryou here instead of being there?”“I’ll drive over tomorrow.”“Why not let the FBI handle it? You could let it go. You’re alive. You won.”He didn’t want to talk about it. And then he did anyway. He’d never cared before if anyone thought him an obsessed lunatic. He shouldn’t now. But he did.“I had a sister. Six years older than me. She raised me, pretty much. Breast cancer took our mother in her twenties.”A dull pain throbbed to life in the middle of his chest. Then came the flood of guilt. “Our father was working the graveyard shift. I was a teenage brat, wanted pizza. We lived too far outside of town. The only pizza shop didn’t deliver that far out. I begged her into it. I stayed home and played video games. She drove out for the pizza. She always tried to make up for the fact that I had to grow up without a mother. I was a spoiled little shit, pretty much.”“Jack—”“Anyway, she never came bace k. The
