Kill Shot (Romantic Suspense)

by J. D. Faver

  #

  Laurel Jobe answered the door to the penthouse. She looked tired, but it could have been because she wore no make up and her hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail.

  She stood in the partially opened doorway, looking up at Oz with a wary expression. “What a surprise,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d be the recipient of any more of your unannounced visits, Officer.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Ma’am,” Oz said. “Were you on your way out?”

  The stroller stood close to the door and young Hobart Jobe the third stood close to his mother.

  “I was getting ready to take Trey to the park. Lissa’s off every other Sunday.”

  “Where is your chauffer?” Oz asked.

  Laurel shrugged her shoulders. “Beats the hell out of me. Javier left without notice. I think having all the police around made him nervous.”

  “I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind,” Oz said.

  She eyed him briefly and then turned to get her bag.

  Oz lifted Trey into his stroller and was fastening a harness when Laurel turned back.

  She smiled at him, the wariness momentarily lifting from her expression. “You’ve got a way with kids. Trey usually doesn’t like it when strangers touch him. He always makes a big fuss.” She gestured to the door and Oz pushed the stroller out into the foyer as she locked it behind them.

  “I like kids,” Oz said. “I hope to have a couple of my own someday.” He guided the stroller into the waiting elevator and Laurel pushed the button for the ground floor.

  “You’ll be a great father,” she said.

  Silently, they crossed into the park, each with their own thoughts.

  Oz was thinking about Micki photographing a bride in this park just a few short weeks ago and how they’d come to be back together again. At least he hoped they were still together.

  “Mrs. Jobe,” he began.

  “Laurel, please,” she said.

  “Laurel,” he said. “I met with your husband this morning.”

  She turned to him. “You did? How is he?”

  Oz looked down at her. “He’s in very good spirits for a man facing first degree murder charges.”

  Laurel’s eyes filled with tears. “Hobart is so brave.”

  “Brave?” Oz asked. “He’s being charged with killing your boyfriend in cold blood. It was pre-meditated. Don’t you have any feelings about that?”

  “Of course, but Hobart is my husband. He was acting out of love. He thought he was protecting me.”

  “From what? Jason was your hired hand. Couldn’t you fire him as your trainer, like you did with Randal Knox?”

  Laurel shrugged. “I tried to break it off several times, but with Jason it was so much more. He was deeply in love with me. He wanted everything.”

  “Jason wanted you to leave your husband?”

  “Yes, he thought that there would be a divorce settlement and that he would have me and be able to spend the rest of his life living in luxury.” She shook her head.

  “He didn’t know about the pre-nuptial agreement?” Oz lifted the corners of his mouth in a brief smile when Laurel gasped in surprise.

  “How did you know about the pre-nup?” she demanded. “No one knows what’s in it except for Hobart and me.”

  “Your husband told me.” Oz enjoyed her discomfort for the moment. “He said you would walk away with nothing if you’d chosen to leave him, including custody of the child.”

  She twisted her hands together and pursed her lips. “I can’t believe that Hobart told you about that.”

  “He also told me that he hired a sniper to murder Jason in the park that Monday.”

  Laurel made a sound in her throat. “I wish I’d known. That would have been so much easier.”

  He shook his head. “For your husband to murder your lover?”

  Laurel nodded. “For it to have been done from a distance. Or, as a random shooting. I could have left Jason sitting on the park bench and someone could have walked up and shot him. Very anonymously.”

  “Is that how you planned it?”

  She met his steady gaze.

  “Your husband told me,” he said.

  “He did?”

  Oz nodded. “He also offered me a lot of money to cover it up.”

  “Thank God!” Laurel heaved a huge sigh. “He told you what I did?”

  “Some of it,” Oz said. “I know he didn’t shoot Jason. Your husband couldn’t have fired the shot that killed him and he couldn’t have dragged the body any distance.”

  She shook her head. “No, Hobart would never have done something so distasteful.”

  “Did you pull the trigger or was it someone else?”

  “It was Javier’s cousin, Israel. He was supposed to walk up and shoot Jason in the park on that day, but he saw the photographer and she took his picture. I didn’t know anything about the sniper Hobart had hired.”

  “And when the next opportunity presented itself, this Israel popped Jason and shoved him behind the dumpster?”

  Laurel was nodding her head absently. “It was too close to home. He should have done it somewhere else.”

  “But you paid him anyway?”

  “I paid Israel and that weasel Javier. It was he who arranged everything. He nearly peed his pants every time you showed up at the penthouse.”

  “I see,” Oz said. “Laurel Jobe, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder-for-hire of Jason Best.” Oz removed the handcuffs from his belt and cuffed Laurel’s hands behind her.

  “What? I thought you said that Hobart was giving you a lot of money to cover up what I did?”

  “No, Ma’am,” Oz said. “I said he offered me a lot of money. I didn’t say I’d taken it.”

  Oz read Laurel her rights and called for a patrol car to take her down to the station. He called Lissa from the front desk and asked her to come and take charge of young Hobart Jobe the third until his father could be released from custody.

  #

  It was dark when Micki got back to the city. Oz was probably asleep. She drove to his apartment and parked on the street a block away. Taking her camera case, she left her other bag locked in the trunk.

  The lights were off when she unlocked the door. Micki smiled when she stepped inside. It was so quiet, she wondered for a moment if Oz had gone out.

  She placed her camera case and purse on the coffee table and took a deep breath. If Oz had gone out to spend an evening with Fawn, then Micki had made the wrong decision. She closed her eyes tight, not wanting to think about Oz holding another woman...kissing her.

  “God, Micki, you could have called.”

  Her eyes flew open as he flipped the lights on. Oz was in his boxers with his Glock dangling from his hand.

  Relief washed over her as she stood grinning foolishly at him. She couldn’t think of anything to say that would express how she felt. Relieved that he was standing ready to shoot an intruder. Grateful that he wasn’t seeking solace in the arms of another woman.

  Oz set the gun on the table and gave her his little one-sided grin. “So, you’re home?”

  Micki nodded as tears pricked her eyes. “Almost.” She took a running leap into his arms, glad that he caught her and glad that he held her so tight. “Now I’m home.”

  “I hope so.” His lips caressed her hair. “I really hope so.”

  “Let’s go to the bedroom,” Micki said.

  “No problem.” Oz slipped his arm under her knees and carried her to his bed. “We need to talk.”

  “That sounds ominous.” She took in Oz’ somber expression. “You’ve been hiding something from me.”

  “Just waiting for the right moment to tell you.”

  “This is the right moment?”

  “As good as any,” he said. “Let’s get in bed.”

  They curled up together on the bed, facing each other. Oz reached out to take her hand and kiss the ring he’d placed on her finger.

  “You know that I love you very
much,” he said.

  She nodded, her hair making a scrunching sound against the pillow. “Yes, and you know that I love you, don’t you.”

  “Yes, but it’s been kind of scary with you taking off like you did. I didn’t know if you were coming back or not.”

  “You knew I’d be back.”

  He frowned, his gaze held a trace of sadness. “Not really. Micki you’re the scariest person I’ve ever known. There’s something burning inside you, something that I can’t reach.”

  She sighed. “I’ve been trying to find out what it is myself.”

  “What I have to tell you may help you make that choice.” He kissed her gently. “And I don’t know if you’ll want to stay with me or go off exploring again.”

  Her stomach twisted as she took in his serious expression. “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “The money that Jobe gave you for the CD.” Oz heaved a sigh. “The envelope of cash that Luka gave you.”

  Micki nodded. “What about it? I turned it in.”

  “The DA decided it was a legal sale of your material and he released the money. It’s all yours.”

  “Mine?” She sat up and stared down at Oz. “As in all mine?”

  He stretched his arms behind his head. “You have to pay taxes on it just like any other income, but, yeah. It’s all yours. You can make your dreams come true.”

  Micki nodded and grinned.

  “It looks like you have a dream all picked out,” Oz said, a note of sadness in his voice.

  “I do,” she said. “I can pay for our wedding. You know my mom doesn’t have that kind of money.”

  Oz sat up in bed. “Our wedding?”

  “And, I’ll have enough left to rent a small place for a real photography studio.”

  Oz was hugging her and laughing. He rolled her onto her back and kissed her. “I thought...I thought you’d be planning a trip to Italy or France. I thought you’d be dropping me a postcard from Shanghai.”

  Micki laughed. “Nope, our honeymoon is coming out of your paycheck.”

  #####

  About the author:

  J.D. Faver lives near Houston, Texas with two spoiled, rotten cats, Emily and Daisy, and a rescue dog, affectionately called Heart of Darkness, Horrible/Adorable, or Minx for short. She writes humorous contemporary romance and romantic suspense, both seasoned with plenty of steamy passion. Even the darkest murder/suspense is riddled with numerous snarky sentiments. She is actively involved in several writer’s organizations, including National RWA and three of its local chapters, West Houston RWA, Houston Bay Area RWA and Northwest Houston RWA. She also belongs to Bay Area Writer’s League and Houston Writer’s Guild. She loves to spend time with family and friends. She writes daily but has time for other interests including painting, cooking and gardening.

  She Tweets. http://twitter.com/#!/JDFaverauthor

  She FaceBooks. https://www.facebook.com/pages/JD-Faver-Author/

  She loves to hear from readers. www.jdfaver.com

  #

  Available soon from Amazon:

  BAD GIRL!

  By J.D. Faver

  BAD GIRL!-Mystery/Suspense/Thriller-Steamy Romance; 91k

  When her clients start dying, Kris Delaney, a beautiful dominatrix is forced to rely on controlling detective Nick Price, who wants her more than he wants his shield. She fights to maintain her privacy, while struggling to resist Nick, who is everything she fears in a man. One-by-one, her clients are being dispatched by some grisly means related to their particular kink. As the bodies pile up, Nick tries to keep Kris out of danger and breach her thorny defenses to prove he is worthy of her trust.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tuesday, March 14th, 7:30 PM

  “This is not a date!” Her stilettos paced a tempo on the hardwood floor, echoing throughout his sparsely furnished bachelor apartment.

  “Well, it kinda is.” He grinned up at her. “I look forward to Tuesdays now that you’re a part of them.” He tried to play the cute card, but her cool expression told him she wasn’t letting him get away with it. No gain on play.

  She gazed at him with the same detached air, not a sign of emotion, like a scientist observing a lab rat. “This is strictly a business arrangement.”

  “We could make it a date.” He patted the sofa beside him. “Why don’t you sit down and relax?” He flashed his boyish grin. It usually worked.

  She huffed out an impatient sigh. “That’s against the rules. You better get this right or I’m outta here.” She turned as if to leave.

  The rules again. “Wait! I worship you. You’re a goddess. You drive me wild with desire. I think about you all the time, even when I’m at work.”

  “And?” A smile played at the corners of her mouth.

  “And-—” He loosened his tie. “The mere thought of you turns me into carbon steel and warm butter at the same time.” He ran his fingers through his dark auburn hair, cropped short in an unsuccessful attempt to gain control over the tendency to curl.

  “And?” She took three steps toward him, stopping so close the scent of her musky perfume hit him like a fist. She tapped one of her four-inch red stiletto sandals.

  He stared at her pedicured toes, gleaming as bright as the gold ankle bracelet he’d bought her. “And because I’m your worthless slave to use and abuse as you will. Do with me as you please, just do me.” He glanced up to meet her eyes.

  Her expression didn’t change. “Not an option,” she said. “You must please me and you must obey my every command.”

  “What’s your desire, oh mistress of my heart?” He reached out to touch her but she drew back.

  “You didn’t say may I.” Her glossy red lips curved up into a smile. “Bad boy. You must be punished.”

  A tingling sensation stirred the base of his spine. “Punished? What sort of punishment?”

  “Whatever I choose. I am the mistress of your desires. Remember?”

  His throat suddenly felt dry. “The mistress of my heart, as I recall.”

  She raised her eyebrows, regarding him as though from a distant planet. “You dare to correct me?”

  “May I beg your forgiveness, Mistress? I didn’t mean to offend.”

  She made a little purr of amusement in the back of her throat. “Beg more.”

  He licked his lips and swallowed. Her pouty mouth was getting to him. “Of course Mistress. A thous—”

  She pointed one slender finger to the floor. “On your knees. This must be a truly abject apology.”

  Turning away, she afforded him a view of her remarkable backside accented by the short clingy red dress.

  He dropped to his knees. “Oh, no Mistress. Don’t leave. I beg you. Take mercy on your humble servant.”

  She paused, as though considering his request, then strolled casually back to face him. “Since you asked so nicely, you may kiss my toes now.” She placed one sandaled foot on his coffee table. The dress crept up her firm thighs to show off the black thong she wore. “Did I say you could look at my pussy?”

  He felt like an insect trapped in a pool of molasses. “No, Mistress. I humbly beg your forgiveness if I’ve offended you. I couldn’t look away. Please allow me to kiss your toes.”

  “You may, my slave.”

  He lavished kisses and tender caresses over her foot. Stroking her, his hand looked large and muscular compared to her slender ankle. He tried to be gentle, fighting the urge to grab.

  “That’s better. Now, stand up. Take off your clothes for me and try to be entertaining.” She sat down in the oversized black leather chair, as though telling a man to strip for her was a common occurrence.

  Confused, he stood with his hands spread in a helpless gesture. “You mean, like, dance or something?”

  “Yes...or something. Be inventive. I prefer that my slave be creative.” She stretched out her long legs, crossing them demurely at the ankles.

  “I need music.”

  “By all means.”

  He picked up the remote to his
sound system. B.B. King’s guitar strings twanged out a bluesy ballad with a strong beat. He began moving to the music.

  Slipping the knot loose from his tie, he enjoyed a fleeting fantasy of tying her up with it, exploring her body with his tongue and finding the means to break through her icy facade. He blinked to clear his head and danced with the tie before tossing it to her.

  He tried to concentrate on unbuttoning his cuffs, followed by his shirtfront.

  “Not too fast,” she admonished. “Tease me.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He slid the shirt down one shoulder far enough to expose one of his well-muscled pecs.

  Her gaze swept over his torso, for the first time giving out a hint of interest. “Ooh, nice. You’ve been working out.”

  “I have a tough job,” he said. “Lots of stress.” He exposed his other shoulder and then let the shirt fall to the floor.

  “The thrill is gone,” B.B. rasped to the music.

  “Don’t you believe it,” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.