Randi’s word startled Detective Ingram. “Why? What’s wrong?” she said, moving closer.
Randi placed her coffee cup down and said, “Don’t drink that.”
Detective Ingram glanced at the coffee cup she held in her hand. She looked back at Randi, confused. “Why not?”
“It’s tainted with poison.”
* * *
CHIEF HARKINS DREW in a deep breath and glanced at the two women. For the second time since he’d been summoned, he asked, “And the two of you are sure you’re okay? That you didn’t drink any of that coffee?”
Detective Ingram shook her head. “No. I was about to, but Dr. Fuller stopped me.”
The police chief nodded and then met Randi’s gaze when she said, “No, I didn’t drink any either.”
Harkins’s phone rang, and he quickly answered it. “What have you got, Bill?” Moments later he hung up his phone and said, “It’s not that I didn’t believe you, Dr. Fuller, but I had to follow protocol. That was the lab, and you were right. The coffee was laced with arsenic. A high dosage. Had either of you taken a sip of that coffee, you would have died.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Since no one knew Detective Ingram would be returning from that case she’d been assigned to work, I can only assume that coffee was meant for you. Do you recall the name of the person who brought the coffee to your office?”
Randi nodded. “You’re right. It was meant for me. And the name of the officer was Ted Elliott.”
Harkins addressed one of the officers in the room. “Bring Officer Elliott here immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
The officer left and within a few minutes he returned with Officer Elliott.
“Yes, Chief?”
“Officer Elliott, I understand you delivered a fresh pot of coffee to Dr. Fuller earlier today.”
Officer Elliott smiled proudly. “Yes, sir, I did.”
When no one smiled back, his smile wavered. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”
“It depends. Did you make the coffee?”
“Oh, no, sir. Officer Blackshear made it. Then she got busy and asked me to deliver it for her.”
Chief Harkins raised a brow. “Officer Alyson Blackshear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Harkins turned to the same officer he’d asked to fetch Officer Elliott and said, “Get Officer Blackshear in here immediately.”
“I saw her leave the precinct around an hour ago,” the officer said.
“Then go pick her up for questioning,” Harkins ordered. “And take backup when you do.” The officer quickly left the room.
“Three,” Randi said, getting everyone’s attention.
Harkins asked, “What about three, Dr. Fuller?”
She met his inquisitive gaze. “There are three plants working with Erickson and the assassin. Officer Blackshear is one of them, but it might be too late to question her.”
“Why?” Harkins asked.
“Because Erickson thinks she’ll become a liability and wants to quiet her.” What she didn’t reveal was that she had a feeling Erickson was worried Randi would pick up on his plants’ identities, and he was trying to make sure if she did that they wouldn’t be alive to tell anything.
Nobody said anything for a minute. Then Detective Ingram asked, “You said there were three. What about the other two? Can you identify them? Do they know about each other?”
“No,” Randi said somberly. “I can’t identify anyone, and I have a feeling that although everyone’s identity was to be kept a secret, it wasn’t. Pretty soon the other two will figure things out, especially now that Officer Blackshear is dead.”
“Dead?” the others in the room asked simultaneously.
Randi nodded. “Yes. I see her face, and now she’s a victim like the others.”
For the longest time, the room was quiet...and then Harkins’s phone rang. He didn’t take his eyes off Randi as he answered it. “Chief Harkins.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “I’m on my way.”
He looked at everyone in the room. “An officer was shot down. A female officer.”
“Officer Blackshear?” Detective Ingram asked when no one else did.
“Yes,” Harkins said, rubbing his face. “And it appears she might have been killed with the same high-powered rifle used on the others.”
* * *
STRIKER GLANCED OVER at Margo as he clicked off the phone. They had taken advantage of another beautiful day to eat their lunch on the patio outside. “That was Stonewall. The sting operation went down and you won’t believe what happened.”
“What?”
“When the female decoy arrived at the appointed place to meet Siskin, she was grabbed as soon as she got out of her car and shoved into another vehicle, one driven by Siskin’s accomplice.”
“He had someone working with him?”
“Yes. Two others. One shoved your double in and the other one did the driving.”
“Please tell me one was Scott.”
“No, it wasn’t him. Neither the man who abducted the decoy nor the driver of the vehicle had any idea the woman wasn’t you, and they told her everything, bragging about the fact that there really wasn’t a sex tape and laughing at her and calling her stupid for believing Siskin’s lie. It seems the plan all along was to kidnap you for ransom.”
“Kidnap?”
“Yes. They delivered the policewoman to Siskin, who was just as clueless that the police officer wasn’t you. By the time the decoy admitted to being a cop, law enforcement had surrounded the place. Siskin and his accomplices surrendered without a fight.”
“So it’s over?” she asked, sounding relieved.
“Yes. Siskin and the other men were arrested, and someone from NYPD has picked up Scott for questioning. Siskin claims the kidnapping was Scott’s idea. If it was, then Dylan is in a lot of trouble.”
At that moment Margo’s phone rang, and he saw the caller was Claudine. “I need to answer this, Striker.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been expecting a call from her. She was supposed to decide on the type of material she wanted for the lining of her wedding gown.”
“Fine, but don’t let her know where you are.”
Margo nodded while clicking on the phone. “Claudine?”
“Margo, hi!” Claudine said in an excited voice. “I found the perfect material. Would it be okay for me to drop by later today to show you the sample?”
Margo glanced over at Striker, who was listening to her call. “I’m out of town now, Claudine.”
“Oh.” She heard the disappointment in the woman’s voice. “When will you be back?”
Margo nibbled on her bottom lip as she said, “Hopefully in a week or two.”
“Hopefully? Don’t you know? Will my gown be finished in time for my wedding? Will you—”
“Your dress will be finished in time. I have until September, Claudine.”
“I know that, but I don’t want a rushed job done on my gown,” Claudine snapped. “My wedding day will be all about me, and I want to be the most beautiful bride everyone has ever seen.”
Margo rolled her eyes. “And you will be. I got this, trust me.” Even while saying the words, she was hoping she was right. “I’ll contact you the minute I get back into town. I can’t wait to see the fabric you’ve found. Bet it will look beautiful beneath your lace,” she said as a way to smooth Claudine’s ruffled feathers.
“I think it will too,” Claudine said, her voice cheerful again. “Just call me so I can drop by when you return.”
“I will.”
Margo clicked off the call and Striker asked, “Are all brides-to-be that pushy?”
She smiled. “Some are worse. I have some wh
o would like to come to my house, pull up a chair and watch me sew every stitch. Like Claudine said, it’s a day that’s all about the bride, and they want to look beautiful, not only for the groom but for everyone attending. All my gowns are meant to give a wow effect, and hers won’t be any different.”
He nodded and smiled. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk so I can ask you all those questions that I didn’t get around to last night.”
* * *
THE MAN HID his smile as he took in the crime scene, standing among other onlookers as if he was also curious. The uniformed officers were doing a good job holding people back while the detectives on scene worked to collect evidence. No doubt they were wondering how such a thing had happened and why.
Only he knew the answers since he was the one who’d pulled the trigger. Erickson had ordered the hit, thinking that eventually Officer Alyson Blackshear would be a loose end, one he was convinced couldn’t be trusted not to spill her guts. Seemed Erickson had been right. Blackshear had taken it upon herself to get rid of that psychic after becoming scared the psychic would eventually finger her.
When Erickson had found out about the attempt made on the psychic’s life, he’d been furious to the point that he’d ordered hits on two other informers who he thought were weak links like Blackshear. The man wasn’t sure what had gone on during Erickson’s meeting with that psychic, but for some reason, Erickson didn’t want anything to happen to the woman. It was as if he was scared of her for some reason.
The assassin shook his head at the absurdity of that idea since he knew Murphy Erickson wasn’t afraid of anyone. For whatever it was worth, the assassin had liked Blackshear and knew sooner or later they would have shared a bed. Too late now. He got paid to follow orders, not to ask questions. Erickson was running the show.
For now.
He’d heard a rumor that someone new was taking over Erickson’s territory. He’d gotten word that sinister plans were being made to make sure Erickson didn’t leave prison, and the last thing the assassin intended to do was get in the middle of some fucking turf war. All that shit might indeed be true, but for now he would continue to take orders from Erickson.
The assassin decided to move on. It wouldn’t be a good idea to hang around for too long. The cops would discover Blackshear had a connection to Erickson as soon as they saw she’d been killed with the same gun as the latest victims. Eventually they would figure out she’d been a traitor and they’d wonder why Erickson had turned on her.
As he walked to his car, the assassin knew he had two other informers to take care of. Three deaths within twenty-four hours should keep the cops and feds scrambling for a while. Then he could turn his attention back to his hit list. Next up was a woman by the name of Margo Connelly. He knew she had left the city. But little did Ms. Connelly know there was no place she could hide.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MARGO COLLAPSED ON top of Striker’s chest. There was something to be said about sex in the morning. Being awakened by a man kissing all over your butt cheeks, followed by sensual licks up your spine, could definitely grow on you. And when that same man flipped you on your back, buried his head between your legs and proceeded to make you his breakfast, it was absolute heaven.
“Ready to shower?”
She glanced over at him with drooping eyes before burying her head under the pillow. He had to be kidding. She doubted if she could move an inch. She was exhausted with a capital E. On top of that, she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. How many times had they made love? Too many to count but plenty to remember. Heated lust was not bad. In fact, it was something she was getting used to.
He pushed the pillow off her head. “I asked you a question, sweetheart. Are you ready to shower?”
Sweetheart? She felt a sudden tingle in her heart. He’d called her “sweetheart” last night as well. Usually, she didn’t let a man’s terms of endearment get to her, but Striker didn’t come across as a man who would use such sentiments lightly.
She glanced over at him. “I’ll pass for now. I could use at least one more hour of sleep. Maybe two,” she mumbled groggily.
“Okay. I’ll do a few exercises, shower and make some calls. Maybe by then you’ll be ready to play again.”
Play again? She knew exactly what kind of playing he had in mind. The man had more stamina than anyone she knew. After the last time, she needed to get her second wind. “Maybe.”
She heard him chuckle as he walked out the room. She drew the pillow back over her head. Let him laugh, she thought. She didn’t care. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep.
* * *
AFTER A STRENUOUS hour spent working out, Striker took a shower. Coming back to the bedroom, he dressed while Margo slept. She still lay spread out on top of the bed, naked. He took the corner of the bedspread to cover her. Seeing her without any clothes was too much temptation.
Even covered up, she looked sexy. Her head was no longer hiding under the pillow and her hair was in disarray all over her head. She was sleeping peacefully, and, as far as he was concerned, she was the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. In clothes or out. Asleep or awake. Smiling or frowning.
He wondered if she could tell she’d been the first woman he’d ever ejaculated inside of. Knowing that she was the first had made him anxious. He had wanted to know how it felt to be skin to skin with a woman. But not just with any woman. With Margo.
Being inside of her without a condom had felt like heaven. His shaft had felt her wet heat, had nearly drowned in it. She had gotten wild on him, stroke for stroke. He was certain her fingernails had left marks on his back and shoulders, but he didn’t care if they had. He had loved every minute of making love to her and didn’t regret a single thing.
Striker checked the time. He had just strapped on his gun and holster when his phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans. He quickly left the bedroom to answer it, glad he’d had the presence of mind to place it on vibrate so it wouldn’t wake Margo.
“What’s wrong, Quay? You miss bringing us our breakfast?”
“No. I got plenty to do here. Charlottesville is getting crazy, man. It’s been leaked to the press that the policewoman who was shot down yesterday was one of Erickson’s insiders. It’s also rumored there are two others, so they’re all looking at each other with suspicion.”
“Why is Erickson turning on his own people?”
“To be honest, I’m not even sure it’s Erickson. Word on the street is that someone else is vying for the position Erickson held within the mob before going to jail. Nobody knows what’s going on.”
Quasar paused as if to catch his breath. “The mayor is holding a press conference at noon. The people are calling for some of the top officials to step down, including him. The citizens are running scared and don’t think they can trust law enforcement.”
Striker decided not to comment on the latter because he didn’t trust them the majority of the time either. But then, Roland trusted them even less. “How’s Roland?” he asked.
“We got him to go home last night, but he was back today at the crack of dawn. Stonewall and I decided to leave him alone and let him feel useful.”
“That’s probably not a bad idea.” He, Stonewall and Quasar had known Roland long enough to know that he used work as a way to deal with a lot of things that still haunted him.
“I heard about the guy who thought he was kidnapping Margo. Glad that he and the guys who were helping him are behind bars.”
“So am I,” Striker said, wondering if Dylan really had been involved.
Striker conversed with Quasar a little while longer before ending the call. He glanced at the closed bedroom door and moved in the opposite direction, heading down the stairs. Margo definitely needed her sleep. It had been one orgasm after another last night, for both of them. Each one more intense than the one bef
ore. But even more special had been the times when they’d lain there afterward, their gazes locked and their limbs entwined while trying to get their breathing back on track.
There had been something singularly profound about it. Something akin to sheer bliss. Sheer bliss? When had he ever experienced something like that in his life? When had he thought something like that even existed? Especially with a woman? He’d enjoyed women in bed before, but when it came to Margo, it went beyond mere enjoyment. He would admit, and not even grudgingly, that the time he’d spent with Margo, even considering the circumstances, had been pretty unforgettable. And maybe, quite possibly, if he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.
He had a feeling Margo would sleep until close to lunchtime. He might as well cook a pot of soup. Forecasters predicted the weather would take a turn and cold temperatures would be returning. Wood had been chopped for the fireplace and they had plenty of food on hand. There was even a generator in case they lost power.
Under different circumstances, he would love to be snowed in with Margo. Just thinking of all the possibilities made him hard. But he couldn’t forget the reason they’d sought refuge at the cabin. A crazed killer was out there. And although they’d taken every single precaution to make sure that as few people as possible knew where she was and that they hadn’t been followed, for some reason, he had a funny feeling about something he couldn’t put his finger on quite yet.
He lifted his hand and looked at one particular finger and smiled. He now thought of it as Margo’s finger since he liked having it inside her when triggering her aftershocks. He shook his head, knowing he needed to get his mind off what he would like to do with Margo anytime and every time he got the chance. Instead he would get started on that pot of soup.
* * *
PERCY WEAVER HAD a feeling his days were numbered. Ever since hearing about Alyson Blackshear and her connection to Erickson, he’d begun looking over his shoulder. Although he didn’t know Blackshear and hadn’t realized that, like him, she was on Erickson’s payroll, all that mattered to him was that she was dead. And from what he’d heard, she’d been gunned down by the same assassin who was going around killing everyone who’d been in the courtroom that day.
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