I turned the memory card over to the police. Brian had managed to get several shots of George and Kevin exchanging money and what appeared to be drugs. Too bad his efforts to help his sister had caused his death.
I picked up the card I’d purchased at Wal-Mart along with necessities like pop, potato chips, and chocolate. I opened it and laughed. It was perfect. I only regretted I wouldn’t get to see George’s face when he opened the envelope and saw a card congratulating him on his new home. That prison cell was certainly his new home and would be for the next twenty years, thanks to his plea agreement with the district attorney.
The doorbell rang and I was reluctant to go downstairs. After all hell had broken loose it had seemed every reporter in Ohio had tried to get an interview. Eventually even the most persistent had given up, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I was still screening my calls and watching for lurking reporters when I ventured out of my cozy apartment. When the doorbell rang again I decided to at least see who was there. After all, it could be my mom with more of her homemade lasagna or her eggplant parmesan. Not wanting to miss out on a possible free meal, I rushed down the stairs. I looked through the peephole and sighed.
Grant stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
“Damn it! I knew it.”
“What?”
“You’re married or engaged.”
“Why do you think that?” he asked.
“Because you want to talk and someone at the station said women keep hitting on you but you turn them down. So, I figure you’re married, engaged, or gay, but after the other night I think I can safely say you aren’t gay.”
“No, I’m not gay. I’m also not engaged or married. There’s this one woman I can’t get out of my head.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, she’s obstinate and really needs to stop getting herself into trouble.”
“Maybe you should handcuff her and lock her away.”
Grant smiled, revealing those adorable dimples. “If you want handcuffed, I’m your man.” He grabbed me and pulled me against his lean, hard in all the right places, body.
“Kim,” he whispered, his lips kissing a trail down my neck, his hands locking onto my ass. “Christ, I need you. Now.”
“Oh, God, yes.”
“Now about those handcuffs…”
*The End*
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About the Author
Growing up Violet Ingram spent Saturday mornings in the library. Her first literary loves were Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and Encyclopedia Brown. She always imagined herself helping solve the mysteries.
Violet dreamed of being a singer, a world famous movie star, a veterinarian, and a marine biologist. Turns out she can’t sing, is a homebody, squeamish at the sight of blood, and can’t swim.
After becoming a stay-at-home mom, she dreamed of turning her hobby of writing stories into a career. With the support of her family and friends, this dream became a reality.
Violet lives in the Midwest where she is busy keeping up with her hubby, their 5 kids, and glued to her computer putting the scenes in her head onto the screen.
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Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) Page 25