Born to Die
Winter Austin
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright © 2016 by Winter Austin.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-9721-9
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9721-3
eISBN 10: 1-4405-9722-7
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9722-0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art ©iStockphoto.com/Jag_cz, ©Maksim Toome/Shutterstock.
To Jennifer
For the dearest and best friend an author could have.
You’ve been with me from the start of this wild and crazy journey, praying your heart out and being my warrior. From the first moment you realized I was a writer, to the long car trips when the twins were babies and you let me talk over every detail of my current book, to the giggle-fests over those men who would become my heroes.
Cassy and Boyce’s book is for you.
I love ya, babe!
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Acknowledgments
About the Author
More from This Author
Also Available
Chapter One
She had avoided any chance of entering the timbered areas of McIntire County, where the stuff of nightmares dwelt.
But not tonight.
Tonight nothing that mattered to her—not her family, her past, or her pride—was as important as doing her job. And damn it, Deputy Cassandra Rivers always did her job, even when it was obvious the orders might get her killed.
She and her squad-car partner, Deputy Deacon Nash, had been sent to this side of the county—the heavily wooded side—to patrol for the culprits who’d dared to rob a bank yesterday. With every mile she traveled through the darkened timbers, sweat seeped from her pores, saturating the first layer of clothing.
“Calling all units. Robbery in progress at the Speedy Mart, 1653 Elm St. Two unidentified suspects wearing dark clothing and black sneakers. Suspects are armed. No sirens or lights.”
“10-4, dispatch. Rivers and Nash responding. Approximately nine minutes out, over.”
Thank God for small miracles. She yanked that car around, and as fast as the slick road conditions would allow, she sped back toward town.
“Easy, Rivers. We’re one of several units responding,” Nash warned.
Damn this crappy weather. No doubt the gas station attendant wasn’t in a situation to wait for whoever was less inconvenienced to arrive at the rescue.
A few miles from the edge of town, the glare of headlights seemed to come out of nowhere. It took her brain a few seconds to realize that the oncoming vehicle was veering back and forth between her lane and the other, and those lights were a lot closer than they first appeared.
“Shit!” She reacted without thinking, hitting the brakes and throwing the car into neutral, then braced for impact, hoping the cow kicker covering the grill did its job to protect them. “Hang on!”
The front wheels hit a slick patch, and suddenly the steering wheel jerked right and the car skidded off the road into the ditch. The nose dove into a snowbank, spraying the windshield with a powdery shower and bringing the vehicle to a rapid stop. Cassy jerked in her seat, the belt locking her tightly in its grip. Glaring at the whooshing wipers as they cleared the moisture from the glass, she unclenched her fingers from around the steering wheel.
“Rivers, you okay?” Nash asked.
“Fine, but pissed off.” Shifting the car into park, she left the engine going and removed her belt. “Those assholes are going to be in for a surprise.” She hit the lights, and as she tried to push her door open, it stuck in the snow.
Nash grabbed the mic and radioed dispatch. “Dispatch, be advised, responding unit has been in an accident and is in need of assistance, over.”
Cassy twisted in her seat to brace her feet against the door and forced it open wide enough for her to squeeze out.
“Copy that,” she heard the dispatcher reply as she fumbled through the drift. Nash would give their location.
Flashlight in hand, she scanned the area, making sure not to peer into the stand of trees at her back. Oh, how nice. The asshole who’d ran them off the road hadn’t bothered to stop and was now a faint red glow in the distance. The mound they’d plowed into was mid-calf deep, and by the looks of the tires, the car was stuck good. They’d need a wrecker. Upon making another pass toward the road, the flashlight beam glinted off metal. Cassy paused, her heart hurtling into her throat as the light revealed the secret in the dark.
Red taillights reflected from a truck that had smashed into the fat trunk of a tree. The driver’s side door hung open at an awkward angle. Her brain blanked, ripping her back to those moments, those seconds of lucidness when she’d realized that open door meant her life or death.
A grunt of exertion hurtled her to the present. Cassy coughed as she realized she’d been holding her breath. There would be no going back to that night, or the day that followed. She was here, now, and that meant someone was hurt and needed her help. She looked over her shoulder at her partner. “Nash, we’ve got another accident.”
That truck … it looked familiar. She hurried, best as she could through the snow, to the crushed vehicle. Behind her, she heard her partner following. Panting by the time she reached the truck bed, Cassy placed a hand against the side and sucked in air. Finally able to breathe, she lifted her flashlight.
Dark, dripping stains marred the window and the door’s interior. The coppery scent of blood was strong—either the cold was keeping it fresh, or the accident had occurred in the last hour. On closer inspection, they found more blood on the steering wheel and seat, smeared down the side of the truck into the snow.
“Where’s the driver?” Nash asked.
Cassy’s stomach roiled as sh
e searched the ground for signs of the driver’s escape route. A few feet from the truck, bright pink stains dotted the new dusting of snow that hadn’t yet been covered up. Crouching down, she examined the indentations around the blood. It looked like the driver had crawled along the ground, probably disorientated from the crash, and—her beam followed the tracks—headed into the timber. Her throat lost all ability to swallow as she gazed into the black abyss. The road wasn’t that far from the truck. Why go into the woods?
Shoring up her flagging courage, Cassy swiveled back, catching sight of deeper tracks inches from her position. “Nash, does it look like someone else came down here?”
He had inched away from the truck, the beam of his flashlight pointed toward a spot on the slight hill coming down from the road. “Yep.”
Had the driver of the vehicle that forced them off the road done this and come down here to help the injured party? It would explain why they hadn’t stopped after forcing her and Nash off the road— they were in a hurry to get the injured party to the hospital. But they’d gone the wrong way for that. She turned back to the ominous tracks leading into the woods. And why go there? A violent shudder coursed through her—it could also be a deadly hit-and-run.
Nash stomped through the piling drift in the direction she dared not go. He pressed on, following the tracks.
Rising, her gaze flicked above him to the towering menace that held her darkest fear. The scent of pine triggered more memories, but she covered her mouth and nose with her glove. Criminy, how she hated to even be near the trees, always taunting her because she’d trusted the wrong person with her life. Hell, she’d shot her sister, almost killing her last chance at repairing the rift between them.
“Rivers, you need to come see this.”
She couldn’t move. Staring into that pit of hell, she trembled.
No. She was cold. Not scared. The snow was melting against her legs and soaking her pants, so that was a shiver, nothing more.
“Rivers, you okay?” Nash’s question was like a hammer coming down on her hand, shocking her out of her stupor.
“I’m fine, just thinking.” Willing herself forward, she took one giant step over the white mound in front of her, and then another, until she joined Nash under the heavily laden boughs, doing her damned best to ignore the quaking in her limbs and the dark whispers going through her mind.
“Your family has failed you … Atone … She’s mine … Release me … It’s okay.”
“There’s a trail.”
Long drag marks bookended by a bevy of footprints and bloodstains led further into the timber. Somebody—or somebodies—hadn’t taken the driver to get help.
“I don’t like this,” she said. If she excluded the events of two years ago, this area was peaceful and quiet, and the worst crime she had to worry about was pulling over drunk drivers. She hadn’t moved here to get embroiled in another complicated and messy death.
“Follow the tracks,” Nash said, and without any hesitation, he began plowing through the shin-high snow. This was just another call that would result in routine paperwork for him. When he realized she wasn’t following him, he stopped and turned. “Come on, Rivers, someone who needs our help is in there.”
He didn’t know about her ordeal with The Priest; all Nash was privy to was that she’d been here when it happened. To avoid getting special treatment from anyone, especially her partner and the sheriff, Cassy stayed mum about the unwarranted fear of the forest that had cropped up after her kidnapping. But she’d never expected them to actually make her go there—go into those woods. Her job be damned at this point.
Nash trudged back to her. “Rivers, what is up? You aren’t going to get sick on me now?”
She shook her head, making her braid fly. “No,” she choked out. “I’m fine. Let’s go.” With a curt nod, she pushed her body forward. Doing her best to stay in his tracks and forget where she was going, Cassy kept the beam of her flashlight trained on the drag marks. At one point it looked as if whoever was moving the driver had lost their hold and let the person fall. A large, red blotch stained the snow.
She squatted and scanned the markings. “I’m getting the sense we have two people doing this.” She rose, squinting back at the accident scene. The snow was beginning to fill in the tracks. Wind blasted through the drooping evergreens, swirling the tiny crystals into a wild frenzy. The temperatures were predicted to drop into the negatives overnight, but before that happened, another five to six inches of snow was supposed to fall. It was getting heavier as they stood here.
“I don’t get why they came this way. Like they wanted to—”
“We need to hurry,” she cut off Nash, not wanting to hear her thoughts voiced.
He continued to the lead the way, and she hauled it to keep up. They’d gone another eight yards when Nash’s flashlight beam glanced off a large, darkened lump at the base of a tree.
A feeble, bloodied hand lifted in the flashlights’ beams then flopped.
“Oh my God, he’s still alive.”
Her fear shelved, Cassy hurdled the snow and fell down next to the man. Blood was everywhere, bubbling from his mouth and nose, but that wasn’t what sent a violent tremor through her body.
“Wallis,” she gasped.
The young Eider police officer’s eyelids fluttered open enough for her to see his eyes. “Help,” he rasped. A breath rattled in his lungs, then nothing.
She frantically yanked off her glove and searched for a pulse. “Wallis. Wallis, no.”
She flung herself back and crab-crawled away, rolling onto her knees as she gulped deep, icy breaths to stave off the need to vomit. Why? Why her? Why here? Lifting her head, she stared into Wallis’s dead eyes, wishing she hadn’t been the one to find him. Wishing she were anywhere other than here.
God wouldn’t be so cruel as to force her to work through another horrendous homicide. Right?
Chapter Two
FBI Agent Boyce Hunt emerged from the government-issued car, paused to zip his heavy coat, and then plowed through the drifting snow.
Cold peppered the back of his neck. Boyce glared back over his shoulder at the agent he was assisting, Liza Bartholomew.
“I’m never letting you drive again.”
“I got you here in one piece, southern boy—you should be grateful.”
“If you consider lucky to be alive as getting here, then yes, Bartholomew, you got us here in one piece. In the first bad snowstorm of the season.”
“Look, I grew up in northern Iowa; this is not bad. Maybe you’d like to drive back to Cedar Rapids?”
“Uhh, nope. It’s been too many years since I last drove on snow, and I don’t plan on revisiting that particular skill.”
“Then quit your bitchin’.” Liza kicked up another dusting of snow.
Boyce shivered as the ice crystals coated the back of his neck and head, melting as they made contact with his skin. Damn that woman and her need to torment him. They’d been paired up five years ago, the last year Boyce worked out of the Cedar Rapids office. But as much as Liza’s bossy sister-like attitude irritated him, they managed to work well together, they seemed to be able to read each others’ minds, and each was able to balance the other in many different situations. So when the Cedar Rapids office asked Memphis to send him as an assist in a high-profile fraud case, Boyce asked to partner with Liza while her current partner was recovering from surgery. Together, they had made short work of the fraud case and were now looking into some troubling robberies here in McIntire County. In their first short partnership, Liza had quickly caught on to Boyce’s quirks, though he’d never revealed anything more to her than what the other agents already knew.
The only woman who knew him beneath the surface was miles away, physically, and farther still, mentally. Sadly, Cassy preferred it that way.
Lights blazed from the convenience store, highlighting the falling snow. God, how he hated cold weather, and snow, and winter in general. Boyce hadn’t missed this one bit
since moving to Memphis. And his return to the Cedar Rapids office couldn’t have come at a worse time, as colleagues were closing in on the one person Boyce wanted to see brought down. Not being there gnawed on his brain, making him irritable. Get over it and move on. It’s not like you have any say in what happens in that case. At least, you’re not supposed to.
Ever the gentleman—as his wickedly southern belle of a mother taught him—Boyce opened the door for Liza, despite her constant protest at the deed, and allowed her to enter first. The smell of gunpowder and sweetener filled the air. It was preferable to the overwhelming odor of blood and decay that he normally encountered on a scene like this. No one had been shot in this robbery.
Sheriff Shane Hamilton, whom Boyce had worked with two years previously on a rash of murder-suicides, turned as Boyce and Liza rounded the front checkout counter. Next to the imposing cowboy stood his youngest deputy, Adam Jennings. The kid appeared to have aged, given his deeper frown lines and crow’s-feet. Jennings didn’t have the fresh-out-of-the-academy look anymore—this was a solid cop with experience under his belt. Hamilton and Deputy Nicolette Rivers must have molded him well.
“Agent Hunt, to what do I owe the displeasure of your presence in my county?” Hamilton asked.
“Why, Sheriff, I’ve come out of the goodness of my heart to assist you in what appears to be your time of need.”
Liza muttered something about “a cockfight,” which made Boyce grin. Wait until she met Deputy Rivers and experienced that woman’s penchant for what he could nicely call sarcasm.
“Wonderful,” Hamilton exclaimed. “Why don’t you clean up while I go see who was murdered?”
His statement floored Boyce.
“Murdered?” Liza asked.
“Two of my deputies just called in for my assistance. They found an Eider city police officer who has been murdered.”
One of Hamilton’s deputies would have to be Rivers; the other was probably the replacement for a deputy who had died tragically two years ago.
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