McAllister Justice Series Box Set Volume Two

by Reily Garrett

  The brief tensing of the grip at her shoulder made Megan inhale sharply.

  “Sorry, love. Something about him has never set quite right with me. Though it does sound like he deserves some time off. I could help arrange that.” Lucas grinned at Matt and Billy, who voiced their objections.

  “He did tell me if you guys ever needed anything, anything at all.”

  “Well, there is one small problem with my cabin.” Lucas hesitated before continuing, “Lexi traced the fraudulent bastard who rented it while I was on vacation. Mind you, I’m not complaining on my own behalf, but if he does that to others, there could be significant problems.”

  Bayler smiled at Lexi. “I sure as hell hope you never get pissed off at me. Send me the info and I’ll take care of it as soon as this mess is wrapped up. It’ll be a few days. My private email address is—”

  “Already sent it this afternoon. I waited until you were finished with debriefing.” Lexi returned a smile for the agent’s frown.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Don’t ask. It’ll just give you a headache.” Ethan nuzzled Lexi’s hair. “I’ve learned the hard way.”

  “Finally, I thought we’d never be alone again.” Megan sighed, smiling when Luc pinched his bottom lip between perfect white teeth. The small action had remained his most prevalent tell for anxiety, and she was relieved it wasn’t just her. Nervous anticipation had kept her off balance since their return to his rental cabin at first light.

  “Hmmm. I love my brothers, but a constant diet is a little rich for my equilibrium.”

  “I’m glad we stayed together at the safe house ’til the nest of East Coast vipers was cleared out. I wouldn’t want another run-in with a Morfran wannabe.”

  “He won’t see the light of day again.” His gaze slid out the window.

  “You never did tell me what you did at Reinhardt’s after giving me busy work.”

  “After digesting the information, I realized this type of technology—just shouldn’t exist. In quizzing him about his building and OCD approach, I figured he had a fail-safe. If it included killing his employees, well, I wanted to spare you that much if I could. I wanted him to understand that should he try to resurrect the same or similar research elsewhere, I’d find him—and bring him down in a permanent way.”

  “Well, you sure have convincing methods.” Megan frowned, ashamed of the fleeting thoughts that had crossed her mind after they’d left the CEO’s house. “So, you’d planned on destroying the research all along, which is why you were so meticulous about getting all his records from the house.”

  “I had to be sure this nightmare didn’t get reactivated, but that’s not what I want on your mind right now.”

  “You’re rubbing your leg.” Megan scooted catty-corner on the couch and took his other hand between her own. “Let me take a look.”

  Having none of it, Lucas pulled her onto his lap. “The leg is fine.”

  “So, you’re nervous? That doesn’t happen very often.”

  His jaw tightened as she settled against him. “Hmm.”

  “Oh, you are.”

  Instead of answering, he pulled her close before continuing. “I’ve got a buddy from school, lives north of Portland.”

  Her heart thumped harder. He’d avoided talk about the future while at the safe house, not giving her a chance to explain her feelings. She craved everything about him and couldn’t see a world without him as a partner. A replay of the reel of memories with her family, successes and setbacks, aspirations and adversities, flashed through her mind. It always came down to family, something she wanted again, not with just anyone, but with Lucas.

  “He’s head of the training academy and has offered me a teaching job.”

  She couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “But—you’d have to move—away from your family. And you’d hate teaching.”

  “It’d be worth it. I have a good reason.”

  “That kind of sacrifice would cripple the most important part of your support system. Family. You can’t do that.” Megan swallowed hard and wondered why it’d taken her so long to see the most important aspects of her life.

  “It’ll keep us together. We’re a good team, you and I.”

  “No, it would separate us since I’ve rented a cozy cabin on Grove Road in Church Creek. Unlike the last one I moved into, this one will, in fact, have no one claiming ownership.”

  “Damn. Seriously? You’d do that for us?”

  The grin encompassing his face melted any reservations her imagination conjured. After all they’d endured, he would need some alone time to process recent events and sort out his life. She’d be there to help. “You mean the three of us.”

  On cue, Leyna climbed on the sofa next to Lucas.

  “Looks like I’ll join Caden in the private dick business after all.” Luc ruffled the hair on the dog’s chest. “She’s recovering nicely.”

  “I have something for you.” Reaching up, she released the catch of the second necklace she’d worn since retrieving Jackie’s package.

  “I think it’s customary for the man to give the woman jewelry.”

  “My dad gave me this after Mom died. He wore the other half. Then, I gave it to my best friend. Jackie sent this to me in the package.” Tears brimmed her eyes, which Luc swiped away. “I guess she wanted me to understand the seriousness of the situation. This is kind of sacred.”

  Lucas tilted his head, so Megan could connect the clasp after settling the pendant around his neck. His look of awe melted her heart.

  “Dad had said I’d give it to a special man someday, but after he died, I’d turned bitter. I should’ve had more faith.” Megan realized they had a distance to go, both in healing and their new relationship. Without words, she gave her commitment, letting him know she’d support him the same way he’d been there for her.

  Lucas nudged her forward to seal the unspoken vow with a kiss.

  The End

  Carbon Replacements

  McAllister Justice Series

  Book Four

  Chapter One

  “Wendy, I’m t-tellin’ you, the man’s a serial killer. He has the body of a Greek God, but his mind is full of squirming maggots.” Gena stifled a sob with a shaking hand, her body wedging back against the driver’s door after twisting to face her roommate beside her. “He’s more depraved than any fucker we’ve ever crossed, and he’s going to find me.” Aftereffects of the adrenaline rush magnified tremors in her fingers and lips while increasingly shallow breaths expelled carbon dioxide faster than her body could produce it. No doubt, the by-products of dizziness, cramps, and weakness crept into her awareness. Fear-sweat on her forehead glistened from distant flashes of lightning.

  “Hey, slow down. Take a deep breath. You’re new to this and easily spooked. Just because men are pigs doesn’t mean they’re murderers. Take the money he gave you and don’t see him again. Change your number. Lay low for a bit.” Wendy startled with the repetitive crash of thunder reverberating in the Honda’s dark and eerie confines. “Can I at least see what’s got your panties in a twist? What’s in the box you’re clutching with a death grip?” She reached for the black cloth covering her friend’s evidence only to be pushed away.

  “Oh God, Wendy. I shouldn’t have dragged you and Remie out here tonight. The creep knows I’m a sophomore, but I didn’t tell him which college. I don’t want him to find either of you.”

  “Shit, Gena. I may be a student, but I can take care of myself.” Turning to nod at Remie in the back seat she added, “The doc is as tough as you, plus she’s an adult.” A note of uncertainty snaked through Wendy’s voice.

  From the back seat, Remie contemplated the wind’s increasing fury, so like her own, sweeping, all encompassing, erratic. Parked along a deserted back road hours before dawn didn’t equate to a tranquil setting when listening to accusations of murder. I should’ve brought my dog. Buckeye would’ve waited in the SUV. She’d just moved back to Portland and lacked the norma
l discreet channels of investigation derived from time-developed working relationships. Not that I’ve figured out what the problem is yet.

  Small raindrops pattering the passenger window progressed to a heavy deluge that silvered with the dashboard’s ambient light. It was a perfect night to snuggle under a blanket with a cup of cocoa and a scary book. Living the scenario brought the rancid taste of bile scalding Remie’s throat.

  “Girls, remember I’m a doctor, not a cop, okay? What happened to toning life down to live like normal human beings? No more adrenaline junkie. Gena, it’s not like you need the money for tuition. Jesus, if your parents knew what you were doing for thrills, it would kill them both.” Years of schooling in forensic pathology aged Remie decades in the eyes of college girls too naïve to avoid such foolish and dangerous behavior. More than ten years’ difference thrust her into the role of adopted mentor to the neighborhood wild child with crazy tattooed on her brain.

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Remie. You spent a night in the hospital last week after wrecking your car. You don’t need this.” Unspoken recriminations gathered around Gena like a smoldering blanket, the flameless combustion withering her resolve.

  “I’m fine. The few scrapes and bruises have already healed.”

  “I figured a few tricks for kicks, no harm. It’s not like I don’t use condoms, and we’ve only done it a couple times.”

  “The harm is that there are real nutjobs out there. Deranged people you do not want to meet. Trust me. I see the results of their work every day during necropsies. It’s what I do… remember?” Visions of Gena lying on a cold slab while an ME separated the upper part of her cranium to create a removable skullcap strengthened Remie’s determination to see the situation resolved.

  “Roomie, what makes you think he was a killer? Did he threaten you? Did you see a gun?” Wendy laid a calming hand on her roommate’s arm. “Hell, everybody has guns these days. I’ve got a .357 stashed in my bedside table. Let some psycho come to my dorm looking for easy targets—he’ll get a hollow-point surprise.”

  Gena, the cute little kid from the farm next door with wide hazel eyes and curly brown hair had grown up with a nose for trouble, yet usually lacked affiliation with high drama. With the start of the spring semester, the risky escapades should’ve ceased.

  “While he was in the can, I picked the lock on his briefcase, thinking he was some kind of lawyer or something.” If not for the frightened gaze bouncing between the proof clenched in her fingers and the nebulous woods on either side of the lonely road, Gena could’ve been any college student recounting a dicey hazing ritual. The tone and pitch of her voice increased when she unfolded the fabric covering her stolen treasure. “I saw syringes full of something, along with empty glass tubes, and these. I also found alcohol swabs and betadine solution. Who carries betadine in a briefcase?”

  “You stole from a John? Are you crazy?” Wendy snatched the wooden box with a huff and a groan.

  Detailing around the container’s top edge included an intricate inlay bearing a darker grain. Similar designs decorated urns. “You better hope we can return them before he notices they’re gone. Where did you hook up?”

  Wendy slid the lid back on the six-by-six inch square. The smooth glide on concealed grooves further testament to the boosted prize’s value.

  Shadows shielded the contents from Remie’s view. Perspiration formed on her upper lip, instinct declaring the situation worse than anything her twisted imagination could conjure.

  Gena whimpered.

  Wendy’s primal scream rendered the burgeoning storm to white noise, instinctual awareness hurling the box’s contents against the windshield. Their arc proved too fast to visually track. Two pink lumps, small and irregularly shaped, formed the basis for a new nightmare. The indistinct masses didn’t wiggle, shift positions, or threaten. They simply existed. And terrified.

  The rattle and thump of the container ended when it landed perched on the steering wheel, upside down.

  “Fuck! What the hell are those?” First medical school, then forensic pathology, enlightened Remie to evil’s worst-case scenarios. Her mom once said that after indoctrination, nothing new would appear under the sun. Whoever created this mayhem transcended anything evolved from humanity’s convoluted gene pool.

  A sudden gust of wind and rain blew in as the driver’s door flew open. Gena lurched forward and hunched away from the torrent of slashing storm riding the invading cool blast. Her descent into hell included a flash of silver and guttural laugh.

  Dome lighting shimmered off the rain-slicked arm thrust inside and the fisted gut hook knife directed toward Gena’s throat. “I’d intended to make this painless tonight, but since you ran, the deal’s off.”

  Chapter Two

  Remie froze. In that split second of shock-induced hesitation, the assailant sealed Gena’s fate.

  The smooth blade cut deep through soft flesh even as Gena scrabbled to push it away. The gurgled cry cut short as she tried to stem the flow of her life force. Arterial blood spurted across the driver’s wheel and windshield to form a macabre ink-blot test, reminiscent of a medical professor’s detailed description of homicidal rage. Gravity channeled crimson rivulets off the dashboard to soak Gena’s ripped jeans.

  Remie’s younger version would claim the freakish nightmare decelerated motion to allow the brain time to lay down denser memories. Schooling taught reality. Time warp was an illusion, not the brain’s processes speeding up from the adrenaline surge. Nevertheless, her mind catalogued every detail.

  Halting breaths incorporated shock and confusion, an oil and water mix that refused integration into a vague understanding. Remie dealt with death every day—after the fact. Panic anesthetized her muscles then instigated the adrenaline rush infiltrating her system. Her heart pounded over the crash of thunder.

  Wendy’s screams, as she first recoiled then changed direction to grab the killer’s hand, cut short when the knife reversed and slashed her forearm. She lunged for the door.

  The killer’s face remained hidden behind the headrest and Gena’s slumped body. “I would’ve immortalized you if you hadn’t stolen from me, whore. Now that I’ve made my point, I’ll have to ask your friend who else knows my secret.”

  From the back passenger seat, Remie had no leverage, no defensive skills, and no way to save the girl she’d taught to ride a horse and shoot a rifle. Options narrowed like the figurative boa constricting her chest.

  The girls had set up the meeting to ensure privacy, miles from Silverton Beach’s small police force and the adjacent Portland PD. Too far for help to arrive in time. The women would either die or survive by their wits which had just scattered in the driving rain.

  Fat drops pelted Remie’s cheeks in her surge from the back of the Honda. The deluge fastened thick ropes of mahogany hair to her face and shirt. Over the hood, a flash of lightning revealed the knife-wielding killer wearing a black raincoat and wide-brimmed hat pulled low. Jagged edges of lightning behind him estimated evil standing several inches above Remie’s five foot eight.

  “Evening, Remie. I’ll be with you shortly. We have decisions to make. Do stay close, as tramping through the woods will only serve to piss me off.”

  Fuck you.

  Wendy’s shove at her shoulder broke the trance. “Run, Remie. Run! It’s too late to help Gena.”

  A stumble-step sideways cost valuable time in regaining her footing. Remie pivoted and gripped Wendy’s hand before pushing her toward the obscurity of the tree line. “Through the woods. Go!” Voted the one most likely to break a leg walking down the aisle, Remie lacked the coordination and skillset to defend herself. She’d never worn a white dress and now, would never get the chance.

  Years of hard work and study yielded top grades in medical school where she could’ve chosen any desired path. Professors and surgeons alike had urged her to explore a career in a specialty, their disappointment revealed when she chose forensic pathology. Her parents had accepted and supported
her decision, realizing the need to understand senseless death and bring killers to justice having become her obsession.

  Strong wind drove stinging spindles of frozen rain to slash at her face. Her thin jacket soaked through in seconds to leave her shivering in cold and fear. In her mind’s eye, the crimson arc again sprayed the windshield.

  Large gulps of air suctioned moisture to her lungs and induced a blind choking. Combined with the rush of blood in her ears, she couldn’t hear the killer’s movements, but her sixth sense tracked his path to circle the car’s hood.

  The results of evil incarnate presented itself every day on a steel slab table. She never considered it might stalk her.

  Malevolence pushed her backward on legs tottering for balance in overgrown weeds sloping toward the ditch at a steep angle. Excess rain had transformed the catchwater trench into a temporary stream where water bubbled and gurgled downslope. The swelling overflow carried bits of grass, leaves, and trash to lower altitudes.

  Clumps of tangled vines and brush obscured the water’s edge along with resident snakes and critters huddled from the storm. One misstep could send her face-planting in cold, filthy water.

  “C’mon, Remie!” Wendy snatched her jacket before lunging across the trench, yanking her into the stream.

  Windmilling her arms to stay vertical proved futile when something slithered underfoot. It seemed fate conspired with nature to magnify her panic. She stumbled forward. Thunder drowned her scream.

  Knee-high water swirled around her legs as she staggered against the force intent on sweeping her along with the current. An icy chill seeped through her flannel shirt to reinforce the stupidity of not wearing a waterproof jacket.

  An arm swept over her head, the hand closing on air as she fell to one knee, hip deep in water. Forward momentum propelled her to the brush lining the far side. Her hand slipped on a cluster of curly sedge when a growl from behind precipitated her dry-heave.