Bourbon Creme Killer: Book 9 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  Janssen, who had never been able to assimilate to civilian life after returning from Afghanistan, lived off the land in the Florida swamps, and always seemed to show up when Spencer needed backup. He’d contacted his handsome friend earlier in the week to let him know that Steve Arnold, their former supervisor from dark ops, had been making plans for a new operation that would involve some of the special skills that Spencer had acquired in training. How Janssen received his intel was a mystery, but he was almost never wrong, and that had Spencer worried. He couldn’t protect Chas if he had to go to some foreign country to fulfill his obligation to dark ops. And then there was Izzy…

  As if his thoughts had conjured her, the beautiful young best-selling author breezed into the cupcake shop.

  “Hey you,” he grinned, hoping that his smile was convincing.

  “Hey yourself,” she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek from across the counter. “I needed to take a break from the bloodbath that I was writing about, so I decided to come visit you and have a cupcake.” This sweet, delicate creature wrote some currently highly successful horror novels, and chose to live in Calgon to hide away from her publisher and fans. Her hazel eyes sparkled merrily, and she looked so beautiful to him in that moment that he didn’t want to spoil her mood and decided to pretend that all was well. He should’ve known better.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow. She too, had recently found out what her current love interest did for a living, and was not at all happy about the fact that it was his job to regularly put himself in danger on behalf of others. “Grab me a Cocoa Mocha, a Salted Caramel, and a cup of coffee, then you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” she ordered.

  Wordlessly he reached for the cupcakes, placing them and a steaming mug of coffee on a tray, and sat down across from a now serious Izzy.

  “This must be bad,” she murmured, not looking at him, but swiping her forefinger through the caramel sauce on the top of her cupcake and licking it from her finger.

  “Not necessarily…” Spencer hedged, glad that she wasn’t looking at him at the moment.

  Izzy took a massive bite of the cupcake, glaring at him as she did so. “Out wif it,” she mumbled through the gooey richness, shielding her chewing from him with the back of her crumb-sprinkled hand.

  “If I disappear, you have to believe that it’s not my fault,” he sighed, running a hand through his thick black hair.

  She stopped chewing for a moment, then slowly continued, blinking at him in disbelief. Picking up her coffee, she washed the enormous bite down with the dark liquid and set the cup down again, slowly, deliberately.

  “That sounded like a line from one of the victims in my novels,” she said quietly.

  “Unfortunately, there always exists the possibility that I might meet the same end as some of your characters do,” he admitted, covering her hand with his and searching her eyes, hoping that she wouldn’t bolt and never look back. “I just… wanted you to know.”

  “Wanted me to know what?” Izzy drew her hand back impatiently. “You haven’t told me anything. I have no idea why you might just disappear,” she accused.

  “There are… powerful people who say they need my help. I don’t want to do whatever they want me to do, but I may not have a choice,” Spencer replied carefully.

  “Who? Who wants you to do something that you don’t want to do?” she demanded, the edge of tears in her voice.

  “I can’t…”

  “You can’t tell me, I know,” she interrupted impatiently. “You can never tell me anything that’s going on in your life, other than that you’re some kind of security guard or spy or superhero or something. Who calls the shots in your life, Spence? The President?” she mumbled, trying not to cry.

  When the strong and mysterious young man in front of her simply stared at her, his gaze never wavering, realization dawned.

  “You work for the government? That’s it, isn’t it? You work for some secret government organization. Please tell me that you don’t kill people, I couldn’t take it if I thought that you kill people,” she whimpered, totally distraught.

  Spencer glanced about, as though he was afraid that they might be overheard. He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice.

  “It’s not that simple,” he replied. “And I have to ask you to never say anything like that again. You could be putting your life in danger if the wrong people hear you speaking that way,” he warned, his eyes concerned, his fingertips resting lightly on her arm.

  Izzy took a deep breath, sat up straight, and pushed her cupcakes and coffee away, seeming to come to a decision. Before she could speak, his heart thudding as he wondered what she might say, Spencer laid his heart bare before her.

  “Izzy, my sweet girl… I have to leave Calgon. I don’t know where I’ll end up yet, and I’m hoping that it may only be temporary, but I want you to come with me. Your safety is already at risk because of what you know about me, and I’d like to keep you close, not just so that I can keep you safe, but because I want you to be wherever I am. I know I’ve been distant, and afraid to share, but I really care about you, Izzy. Will you be with me? No matter what it takes?” he asked, reaching up to tenderly brush a tear from her pale, creamy cheek.

  The agonized look in her eyes gave him his answer, crushing his soul before she ever opened her mouth.

  “I… I’m sorry, Spencer,” tears began to fall in earnest. “I can’t do this anymore. We’d never have a normal life. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder, wondering if the boogeyman is going to get me when I leave the grocery store. I don’t want to think that when the wind blows through the trees it’s really an army of men surrounding my house. I’m sorry Spence, I care about you… I really do, but I can’t live like that,” she shook her head and gathered her purse, standing to go.

  Spencer rose quickly from his chair and moved to embrace her.

  “Wait,” he said urgently, but she pushed him away, backing away slowly and shaking her head.

  “No, Spencer. Just… no. I can’t. I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “No goodbyes, no kisses, it’s better this way,” she turned and fled, leaving him standing in the cupcake shop, his eyes moist, his jaw flexing with raw emotion.

  He hadn’t allowed himself to become close to a woman in a very long time, and this was why. He gathered up her cupcakes and still-warm coffee cup, put them on the tray, and moved to the kitchen in a daze.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Before Scott Hammond’s mother disappeared, he’d had no idea who his birth father was, and he’d been surprised to learn that Kel wasn’t just an accomplished artist, but was world-renowned, and… well… rich. His head still swiveled when he walked through Kel’s spacious, gallery-like home. His mother’s house in Champaign was nice, but nothing even close to the artist’s spotlessly clean contemporary home. To say that the teenager had been intimidated at first would be an extreme understatement, but he’d managed to find his way around the large home, and stayed mostly in the den, playing video games and watching TV, while waiting for news from his father.

  Scott had been lulled into a state of complacency in the huge alarm-protected house, so he moved through his days still worried about his mother, but feeling safe. Echo often came over to keep him company, and he’d grown to like the free-spirited redhead, despite the fact that she was nothing like his mother. She brought him groceries and fixed him vegan meals that he was surprised to discover were quite tasty, she took him to her cozy little cottage across town and showed him how to make hand-dipped and sculpted candles, an endeavor which he was surprisingly good at, and hung out watching movies with him at Kel’s house.

  An hour or two after Echo had said goodnight and gone home, locking the door and setting the alarm behind her, Scott startled awake, his heart pounding. Kel’s stairway was a modern masterpiece of teak and steel that looked like it just floated its way toward the second and third floors, and the teenager swore that he heard a creak coming from the direction
of the stairs. Holding his breath and remaining utterly motionless, he listened hard. Another creak made the hair on his scalp rise, and he bit back the whimper growing in his throat.

  From his loft room on the third floor, he heard a series of dull thuds, which sounded like they were coming from the first level of the home. Feeling terribly vulnerable, he bit his cheeks so that his teeth would stop chattering in fear, and slid slowly out from under the sheet, wincing when the floor under his feet made a soft squeak. Holding his breath again, he listened. The sounds were still happening downstairs, so apparently whoever was in the house hadn’t heard the squeak. He unplugged his cell phone from the charger on the nightstand, then headed for the ensuite bathroom, where he could at least place a locked door between himself and the intruder.

  Sitting on the steps that led up to the large jetted tub, Scott pulled his knees up to his chest and turning his phone to silent, texted Echo.

  “There’s someone in the house—HELP!!! I’m hiding in the bathroom on the 3rd floor.”

  He waited for a return text, hoping that Echo kept her phone nearby when she went to bed, and wrapped the phone in a washcloth so that even the vibration of an incoming text wouldn’t be audible. The teenager’s eyes went wide when he heard heavy footsteps thudding on the stairs. Clearly, the wearer of the work boots didn’t care a bit whether the scared boy on the third floor knew that they were coming or not.

  Scott’s blood ran cold as the steps came closer and closer. The phone in his hand buzzed and he nearly dropped it, he was so rattled.

  “I’m on my way. Stay in the bathroom!”

  He tried to still his breathing, tried to slow down his pounding heart as he heard the heavy tread coming into the bedroom and straight for the bathroom door. He couldn’t draw breath and thought his heart would explode when he heard the door handle jiggle, as whoever was on the other side turned it right and left. There was a moment of silence, then a whisper of sound as a slip of paper came swishing under the door. Scott recognized the paper as coming from a pale yellow pad in the kitchen. It had writing on it, but there was no way that he was going to move over to the door and pick it up. He bit down on the end of the washcloth, terrified.

  The boots shuffled around outside the door for a moment, then Scott heard a light tapping, as though someone was striking the wood with just a fingernail. He shivered in fear and still didn’t move, hoping that Echo would hurry up and arrive, and that she wouldn’t be in danger when she got there. More tapping, then a BOOM! as a fist struck the door. Then the footsteps retreated, moving out of the room and down the stairs.

  Scott listened for a long time, hearing nothing. Not a sound. No more footsteps, no car doors slamming, nothing. Even the typical Florida cacophony of insects and frogs had ceased, as though all local nature held its breath. Minutes which seemed like hours passed, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get out of the bathroom, out of the house. Once he left the bathroom, he’d just keep sprinting until he reached Illinois. He didn’t realize that the impulse came from the crazy level of adrenaline coursing through his system.

  With a death grip on his phone, he tiptoed to the door, and stood next to it, listening. Still hearing nothing, he slowly turned the tab, unlocking it, without so much as a telltale click. Slowly he turned the knob to the left and opened the door, screeching in terror when he encountered someone right outside. Hitting the flashlight on her cell phone, Echo shushed him, then grabbed him into a firm embrace, which he gladly returned, trembling all over.

  “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Echo whispered, standing back and holding him at arm’s length to check.

  Scott nodded, embarrassed and swiping away the tears that had come unbidden at the sight of a familiar face.

  “He left a note,” the teenager turned around and pointed to the yellow slip of paper that remained on the bathroom floor where the intruder had placed it.

  “Let me see,” Echo moved into the bathroom and squatted down to peer at the note without touching it.

  “You can run, but you can’t hide,” she read, with Scott peering over her shoulder.

  The young man suddenly went pale and began shaking his head, unconsciously stepping backward, away from the note.

  “No, no, no,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes again.

  “Oh sweetie, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out and keep you safe, I promise,” she said, standing and moving toward the distraught teenager.

  “No, you don’t get it,” his voice shook with terror.

  “What? What is it, Scott?” Echo’s eyes grew wide, taking in the depth of his fear.

  “That’s my mom’s handwriting.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I hate to say it darlin, but I don’t think that all is well with Jeanette,” Missy murmured, sifting through the contents of the missing woman’s purse.

  “What makes you say that?” Kel looked up from his internet search. He’d been doing some poking around, digging up info on Tommy Mancino, the mechanic whose number he’d found in Jeanette’s home office.

  “Well, for one thing… a woman never leaves home for an extended period of time without taking her purse, and for another… there was an inhaler in her bedside table drawer.”

  “An inhaler?” the artist was puzzled.

  Missy nodded. “So whether she had asthma or allergies, she’d never have left home without that.”

  “I don’t recall that she ever had allergies or asthma,” Kel mused.

  “Maybe living around all this farmland did it to her,” Missy shrugged.

  “Maybe.”

  “What are you finding out?” she motioned to his laptop.

  “It’s not good,” he sighed, tapping on the keyboard. “Apparently Mr. Mancino has had his share of run-ins with the law.”

  Missy’s eyes widened. This was the man that she was supposed to flirt with in order to try to get some information out of him.

  “Bad stuff?” she gulped.

  “Bad enough,” Kel raised his eyebrows and shook his head, eyes glued to the screen.

  Before Missy could inquire further, his phone rang, startling both of them, and Echo’s picture appeared on the screen.

  “Good morning, my love,” Kel smiled when he answered. “What?? When?” His face turned to stone. “Is he okay? Are you okay? No, don’t worry about it, I’m coming home. I’ll be on the next plane out,” he glanced at his watch, leaving Missy wondering what was going on.

  He asked a few more questions, told his fiancée that he loved her and started gathering his things the minute he hung up the phone.

  “Kel, what is it? What happened? Is Echo okay?”

  “She’s fine, but it seems as though whoever has Jeanette knows where Scott is now, and was sophisticated enough to disarm my alarm system and break into my house.”

  Missy gasped, her hands going to her throat. “Oh no… Scott?” she whispered.

  “Echo says he’s fine, and she’s not leaving him alone. She’ll keep him at her house until I get back, and I’m letting Spencer know what’s going on, but I’d prefer it if you don’t mention this to Chas,” he looked at her pointedly.

  “But Kel, if someone broke into your house…”

  The artist shook his head. “I just have this strong feeling that bringing the police into this matter would potentially endanger Jeanette and Scott. If we run out of options, I assure you, your brilliant spouse will be the first person that I turn to.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, worried. “Email me those links to the information about the mechanic when you have a moment.”

  Kel stopped his frenzied packing and stared at her for a moment. “Wait… aren’t you going to be flying back to Calgon with me?” he asked.

  Missy met his eyes with determination. “You need to go back to Calgon to take care of Scott and your pregnant fiancée… and I need to stay here and figure out what happened to that poor boy’s mama,” she said, her lower lip trembling for just a moment.

/>   Kel recognized that look, he’d seen it before on the tough little blonde’s face. Nothing he could say or do was going to change her mind.

  “Chas will eviscerate me if anything happens to you.”

  “Chas doesn’t need to know anything other than that I’ve decided to stay in this lovely town for a bit longer to enjoy myself and do a bit of exploring.”

  The artist quirked a skeptical eyebrow. “And you expect him to believe that?”

  “He trusts me,” her gaze was steady.

  “He’s sure as heck not going to trust me after this,” he muttered.

  “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to do what’s right, darlin,” was the steady reply.

  Kel tried to speak and cleared his throat, overwhelmed at the depth of her friendship and the goodness of her heart. Missy held her arms open and he went into them for a heartfelt hug.

  “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. “If anything happens to you…”

  “You hush that crazy talk, and go take care of my best girl,” she ordered patting him on the back. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

  “No, I think it’s best if we’re not seen together, I’ll take a shuttle. Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked as she headed for the door with her purse and Jeanette’s, along with her notebook.

  “You’re darn straight I am. Give Echo a squeeze for me,” she grinned bravely. And then she was gone.