Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “Based on my last trance, that makes sense.”

  “It does, but, no offense, your trances aren’t considered hard evidence.”

  “True, but what about Winston’s confession?”

  I know something you don’t know.

  Winston’s parting words from the night he’d been arrested still taunted him. He’d been coked up that night, based on the urinalysis they’d forced on him. Arrogant and self-assured. Why?

  “I’m still not sure, and we might never know. Thanks to the beating he took, Winston’s in a coma.”

  “A coma? Oh my God. What did the doctor say? Is there any chance he’ll recover? Not that he deserves to live. I’d rather see him suffer in prison.” She picked up her wine glass. “Actually, I wish Wisconsin still had the death penalty.”

  “Eye for an eye?”

  “Oh yeah. Especially when it comes to a monster like him.”

  “After what I’ve witnessed over the years, I wholeheartedly agree with you. As for his doctor, he said these next few days will be crucial as to whether or not Winston will survive. He sustained a subdural hematoma.”

  “Which is?”

  “Bleeding around the brain is the gist of it. Once they drilled a hole in Winston’s head to drain the blood, the doctor said the swelling around the brain should dissipate, but that the coma could linger for days or weeks. And, if Winston does wake up, he might not be...normal.”

  “Like he was normal to begin with,” she said, and reached for her wine.

  He lifted his beer in a mock toast. “No kidding. I just hope to God he does wake up. If Winston does have a partner, and they’ve been killing women for years, he’ll know everything about the other man. Roy and I never had a chance to interrogate him. Every time we tried, he’d refuse to speak to us.”

  “Let’s get back to his partner. Do you think Winston confessed as quick as he did—and I know it sounds like something out of movie—because he and his partner had an escape plan?”

  Damn if they weren’t sharing the same thought patterns. “I thought that, too. Only Roy thought it was too Hollywood.”

  She rose and picked up his empty plate. “Roy would know. He and Bev watch more movies in a month than I do in an entire year.”

  “You don’t like hanging out and watching movies?”

  “I do, but there never seems to be any time. But now that I have an assistant manager, I might be able to catch up on the stuff that I’ve recorded on my DVR.”

  “They have that kind of technology in this small town?” he teased.

  She stuck her tongue out at him, which he knew was meant to be playful. Only he imagined the things she could do with that tongue, those full lips...

  “Have you looked into Winston’s past?” she asked as she shut the dishwasher door. “I mean, if he’s been killing women for some time, maybe along his truck routes—”

  His chuckle stopped her mid-sentence.

  “What?”

  “You’d seriously make a good investigator. I’m already on it, which was why I brought my laptop with me.” He explained that Rachel had created a program to match all of Winston’s truck routes to any unsolved murders matching his MO.

  “Impressive.” She a raised brow. “How many years back are we talking?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Scary.”

  “Tell me about it. Rachel has already sent me data spanning the past five years. I need to look at each unsolved murder. Hopefully she’ll have more for me tomorrow. When Winston wakes up, if he wakes up,” he amended. “I want to hit him with everything and anything we’ve got against him to coerce him into giving up his partner.”

  She wiped the counter clean. “I told you I’d help. What do you say we get at it?”

  Work was the last thing on his mind as he drifted his eyes to her kissable lips. “You don’t have to help, just keep me company.”

  “Nope, the sooner we can get this done, the sooner...” She cocked a brow and her mouth curved in a sexy grin.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered. So where do you want to work? Living room or kitchen?”

  He loved her cozy living room, all of the family pictures, the fireplace, the comfy couch. He grabbed his beer and briefcase. “Living room.”

  Ninety minutes later, between the two of them, they’d reviewed the two dozen unsolved murders Rachel’s program had matched with Winston’s MO and his truck routes. Fifteen of those murders looked more promising than the rest, which meant he’d be on the phone in the morning calling the homicide detectives who had worked those cases. While time consuming to investigate, those crimes might give him more insight into Winston, and his partner. And if they were lucky, maybe even more evidence, too.

  “This is depressing,” she said. “And hell on my back.” She stretched her arms behind her, the tight shirt tugged against her breasts.

  He didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t notice. Despite what they’d been researching, his mind had been focused on the promises their kiss in the foyer held. “Need a break?”

  “Definitely.” She leaned back into the couch. “I forgot what it was like to sit, hunched over a computer.”

  “It doesn’t help that two of us are sharing my laptop, or that we’re not exactly in sturdy office chairs.” They’d been sitting on her couch, legs brushing, heads together, her scent bombarding his senses and putting him in a constant state of arousal.

  “True.” She placed her bare feet on the coffee table, wiggled her toes, and rested her head against the couch cushion. “What do you do for fun, John? You know, when you’re not looking for bad guys.”

  “Where’d that come from?”

  “I dunno, maybe because this is more than depressing.” She pointed to the laptop. “You’ve got to have some way to blow off steam.”

  Thinking of a few ways he could blow off steam, he glanced at her breasts.

  “Besides sex,” she added with a raised brow.

  He laughed and leaned back into the couch, his gaze on hers, their faces inches apart. “I watch some TV, news and sports mostly.”

  “Movies?”

  “Not really.”

  “Do you go to baseball or football games, or meet friends at a bar?”

  His face heated. “Not in a...long time.”

  Not since Renee.

  “So when was the last time you had any real fun?”

  “This afternoon,” he said honestly.

  His confession earned him a shy smile. “Seriously?” she asked, moving closer.

  “Seriously. Your turn. What do you do for fun?”

  “Um, bake.”

  “Bake. Boy do you know how to live on the wild side.”

  With a sexy smile, she lightly slapped his chest, then surprised him by straddling his thighs. “Crazy wild.” She rotated her hips along his arousal.

  Gripping her rear, he pulled her closer. “Feeling a little crazy wild now?”

  Her breath hitched as he nibbled her neck. “What I feel is an impressive erection between my thighs.” She scooted down his lap, dragging her fingers along his chest and stomach until she reached his belt buckle. “Work can wait.” She loosened his belt buckle. “Let’s have some fun for a while.”

  The door bell rang. Her hand stilled over the erection beneath his jeans.

  Frowning, she rose. “I can’t imagine who it could be.”

  Tense, alert, he stopped her. “Wait, I’ll check.” When he looked through the front door’s peep hole, he swore under his breath, and unlocked the deadbolt. “It’s Lloyd,” he said as he opened the door.

  The fucking Viking barreled into the foyer, sweeping his gaze between him and Celeste. “I need to talk to you,” he said ignoring him, his eyes on Celeste. “Alone.”

  “About?”

  “I said alone, Celeste. Now.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now?” she repeated, her cheeks flushing.

  “Yeah, now.”

  “Doe
s this have anything to do with my brother?”

  Lloyd slid his gaze to him. “No.”

  “John, then?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Then say whatever you have to say in front of him.”

  He slammed the door, and crowded the foyer. “Fine. Maybe it’s better this way. I’ll throw all the cards on the table and watch him squirm.”

  She dropped her arms, and wrinkled her forehead. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “It’s not me, it’s him.” The Viking stared at him with self-assured satisfaction. “Yeah, I’m onto you, Kain. Remember my contacts with the FBI field office in Minneapolis? Well, I did some checking. While you’ve been trying to put the moves on Celeste, did you tell her about your last partner?”

  John looked to Celeste to gauge her reaction. Her blue eyes had become shards of ice as she stared at Lloyd. “No, I haven’t.”

  But maybe I should have.

  “It’s none of my business,” she said. “Leave. Now. Whatever happened with John’s partner is none of my business.”

  “It should be. She’s dead.”

  Her eyes widened a fraction. “Get out,” she demanded, her jaw clenched tight.

  “No way, you need to know. He’d been sleeping with his partner, and was dirty. Filtering money into his own bank accounts, using the system, his badge, to get what he wanted. His partner ended up dead, with his gun. And I’m not about to allow you to—”

  “Leave now or I’m calling Roy,” she shouted.

  The fucking Viking gripped the door handle. “Will’s out back?”

  “As always. Now leave.”

  “Fine. But I don’t like this.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.”

  She shoved him. With Celeste being no more than five foot four, on any other occasion, he might have laughed at the way she made Lloyd cower. But he couldn’t. Lloyd had opened a can of worms. Celeste would have questions. He would have answers. But would she believe him?

  “Celeste,” Lloyd pleaded.

  “Stay out of my business. And I had better not hear anything from Will, either. If you go see him tonight, don’t you dare mention a word of this.”

  Lloyd’s cheeks developed red splotches. “Yeah, I got it.” Then he looked to him. “Do anything to hurt her, and I’m coming for you. Understand?”

  He didn’t like Lloyd’s possessiveness, and as he was about to counter the threat, Celeste rolled her eyes. “Quit with the BS and leave.”

  “Fine, but—”

  She slammed the door in his face. She stood for a moment and he had no idea what the hell to say.

  Tell her or wait until she asks?

  “Okay,” she began, resting her forehead against the door. “That ruined the mood.”

  Tell her.

  “Celeste, what Lloyd said—”

  She held up a hand behind her. “Were you planning on telling me?”

  “Eventually,” he answered honestly, and wished she’d face him. He wanted to read her eyes to know where he stood.

  “Good.” With a curt nod, she pushed off the door. “Now or later?”

  “Now.”

  She faced him then. There was no accusation, no wariness in her eyes.

  He knew then and there that while he’d been over what had happened with Renee a million times, tonight was different. What he’d tell her wasn’t about saving his career or his reputation, but about saving his relationship with Celeste.

  * * *

  Instead of flooring the gas pedal like he wanted, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel and stuck to the speed limit. How the hell was he going to find a way to catch Celeste alone when her fucking house had a revolving door?

  After he’d learned Hoyt—that stupid prick—fucked up and got himself killed rather than taking care of Garrett, he’d needed a release. And he couldn’t think of a better release than gutting Celeste while he fulfilled his wildest fantasy. And she would fulfill his wildest fantasy.

  Not tonight.

  He considered the bitch at his home. Worthless. Pathetic. In no way, shape or form, could she satisfy him. Well, he thought with a small smile, not anymore. He’d seen to that, and he’d eventually put her out of her misery when he was good and ready to tie up that loose end.

  As for Garrett. He scrubbed a hand along his jaw. Images of him, of what they’d shared crept through his mind. He loved Garrett, more than a brother should, but he needed him dead. A coma was nice, but when Garrett woke—if Garrett woke, he amended—he could be screwed.

  Garrett might be arrogant, self-serving, and blasé at times, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d know who had signed his death warrant. And he’d tell. Everything. He knew first hand Garrett was the most vindictive son of a bitch he’d ever met. Knew it the moment...he didn’t want to think about the past. Those memories weren’t worth dick, and were better left where they belonged.

  In the past.

  As he drove through town, he smiled despite the situation. He’d find a way to take care of Garrett. This time, it wouldn’t cost him ten grand. An ICU nurse, with a penchant for drugs, would do the trick. And he knew just the one.

  Grinning now, he headed for home. Yes, he’d take care of Garrett, and in the meantime, he’d find a way to take care of Celeste. She hadn’t been part of his plan until that jackass, hotshot, Kain showed his GQ face in town, and he’d learned she was working with him.

  Damn, he couldn’t wait to see the look on Kain’s face when he discovered what he’d done to his pretty little girlfriend. He’d at least stick around for that, then he’d tie up his last loose end, and he’d be off to...maybe Brazil, or Canada. No, Canada was too cold. The Philippines? Bangkok? Hell, it didn’t matter. He had plenty of passports, IDs, money. The world was his. He could go anywhere. Be anyone.

  And the women? After what he had planned for Celeste, he’d have to become more...creative. After all, how do you top the ultimate fantasy?

  His smile widened. With the ultimate kill, of course.

  Chapter 17

  AS CELESTE PLOPPED on the couch next to him, John’s stomach balled into a knot and made him want to reach for his antacids. He was about to reveal one of the darkest moments of his life. A betrayal that, even two years later, made it difficult to trust.

  But there wasn’t any heartburn, now that he thought about it. Maybe Roy was right. There wasn’t any room for heartburn, not with Celeste sitting by his side, willing to hear his story, and filling his heart with emotions he still had a hard time defining.

  “So…” She twirled a curl around her finger. “Your last partner ended up dead and you were left to blame.”

  He released a nervous chuckle. “Sarcastic and blunt. What else could I ask for in a woman?”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. We could...stop whatever is going on between us and—”

  He tensed. “That’s not what I want. At all.”

  “What do you want?”

  You. Every day, every night. “Right now I want to clear up what Lloyd accused me of, because the last thing I want is for you to even think that I could be that kind of man.”

  “If I thought you were, I would have already kicked you out of my house,” she said with a deep sigh. “I mean, come on, John, I trust you. More than I’ve trusted anyone in a long time. To help make this crystal clear, I don’t have sex with just anyone. Until you, I haven’t been with a man in over three years. That relationship soured when I found out he was cheating on me. I don’t trust easy, but with you, I felt it immediately.”

  “Me too,” he said and meant it. Maybe it was the instant connection they’d shared, or maybe it was as simple as her openness and honesty. Whatever the reason, he did trust her and wanted to set the record straight.

  Leaning back into the sofa cushions, he ran a hand through his hair. “My partner’s name was Renee Toth. I was paired up with her when I was transferred to the FBI field office in New York Ci
ty. We spent a lot of time together. Neither of us had a spouse or lover, but we had each other.”

  “She became your lover?” she asked, without a flicker of jealousy.

  “Yes, eventually. Some cases...sometimes there was a need to just release the stress and I found that release with Renee.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “No. Not to sound callous or cold, but Renee and I had an understanding. We came together when it was...necessary, if that makes sense. Afterward, we’d talk about whatever case we were working on.”

  She nodded her head. “I get it. You were blowing off steam.”

  “Pretty much. But it was more than that. I trusted her with my life. We were agents first. She had my back, and I had hers, only...”

  “Only…” she prompted.

  “She set me up.” He fisted his hands. Even two years later the bitterness, the regret still clawed at him. “She’d played me for over a year and I had no idea.”

  “What did she do?”

  “About a month before things went bad, she told me an FBI agent out of the Newark, New Jersey field office had asked for assistance on a case they’d been working. Renee knew the agent, Wes Foster, from her academy days. She briefed me on the case and asked if I was interested.”

  “Newark, Wissota Falls, your job takes you to some pretty glamorous places,” she said, her tone light, teasing and not matching the concern in her eyes.

  He gave her a reassuring smile, appreciative of the way she was trying to make what he had to say a little easier. “Yeah, all part of the perks. Anyway, Foster was trying to find the man suspected of murdering eight prominent figures in the Newark community. They’d been linked to one man, Vito Pappeli, a wannabe mobster who’d probably watched the Godfather way too many times. Pappeli was trying to run a bunch of neighborhoods, extort businesses into paying him and in return give them protection.”

  “Really? Why wouldn’t those people just go to the police?”

  “They did, then they ended up dead. And while Foster knew Pappeli was behind those deaths, they couldn’t pin anything on him. He was squeaky clean. But the word on the street was that he had a thug working for him who took care of his dirty work, only Foster and his people couldn’t figure out who. I thought the case sounded interesting, and a day later, after our superiors cleared our involvement, Renee and I were in Newark trying to get a fix on this guy.”