The Devil’s Spare Change
MALONE BROTHERS BOOK 2
BY SAMANTHA A. COLE
The Devil’s Spare Change
Copyright ©2016 by Samantha A. Cole
All Rights Reserved.
The Devil’s Spare Change is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Front Cover Designed by Samantha A. Cole
Edited by Eve Arroyo http://www.evearroyo.com
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
As usual with fiction, several liberties have been taken and facts skewed to fit the story, including people, places, and street names in Dare County, North Carolina, and its surrounding areas. Any discrepancies are either intentional for the story line or because of my own errors.
The author has full respect for the members of the United States military and the various members of law enforcement and thanks them for their continuing service to making this country as safe and free as possible.
DEDICATION
To my mom, dad, and brother. Thanks for always believing in me.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS BY SAMANTHA A. COLE
CONNECT WITH ME
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to Jessica, Julie, and Brandie—you gals are the best!
Thanks to the rest of my beta readers—Charla, Jen, Felisha, and Abby! (And congrats on the little one on the way, Abby!)
As always, thanks to my incredible editor, Eve Arroyo!
Thanks to my awesome PA, Maria Celaschi Clark!
Thanks to my fantastic Sexy Six-Pack Sirens Facebook group! I can never thank you enough for your support, shout outs, and friendship. You all are amazing!
Thanks to authors Catrina Courtenay, Cristin Harber and JB Havens for answering questions and letting me bounce ideas off of you.
Thanks to the authors who paved the road for me with their amazing series! Without you leading the way, the Trident Security Series and Malone Brother Series would have never been written—Cherise Sinclair, Lexi Blake, Cristin Harber, Angel Payne, Kennedy Layne, Suzanne Brockmann, Susan Stoker, Jerrie Alexander, Christy Reece, and so many more!
A GUIDE TO LAW ENFORCEMENT ACRONYMS
AFIS— Automated Fingerprint Identification System*
BCI—Bureau of Criminal Investigations
CODIS—Combined DNA Index System*
NCIC—National Crime Information Center*
N-DEx—Law Enforcement National Data Exchange*
SAC—Special Agent in Charge (FBI)
SBI—State Bureau of Investigations (North Carolina)
UNSUB—Unknown subject (suspect)
VCIN—North Carolina Criminal Information Network
*Run by the Federal Bureau of Investigations (FBI)
PROLOGUE
The dance floor vibrated with the deafening beat filling the bar. As usual, the nightclub was packed—Saturday night was party night after all. In tandem with the music, strobe lights pierced the dimly lit room and bounced off the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. The black walls and red accents throughout Visions, the hottest dance club in the area, made it feel more like Sin City. Some of the occupants were just out for a good time, while others were looking for someone to hook up with for either short or long term companionship. And for at least one person, it was something more. It was the perfect place and time for hunting. Glancing around, he looked for his prey. She was here somewhere, he thought, and hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long to find her. Tingling with anticipation, he could feel his groin tightening. Hmm, who was the lucky lady tonight?
“Wanna buy me a drink?”
He turned and couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t have to find her, she had found him. Her blonde hair was teased high and her face heavily painted with makeup. Trashy—just what he was looking for. She was a little older than the women he usually went for, but with her curvy body poured into that tight, red dress, he could forgive her age.
“Slut,” he murmured under his breath before smiling and addressing her in the heavy Southern drawl he used while hunting, “Sure, darlin’. Order what you want, it’s on me.”
The woman giggled and asked the female bartender for a whiskey, neat. The man threw a twenty on the bar but avoided making contact with the woman behind it. The staff was so busy he doubted anyone would remember him, but it was always best to take precautions.
“My name’s John,” he lied loudly into his target’s ear. “What’s yours?”
“Dafffne,” she slurred before down the whiskey in one shot.
Good, he thought with giddy eagerness; Daphne was already nice and wasted. Easy pickings. He had a flash of disappointment—she was almost too easy. Maybe next time he would look for someone more challenging, but for tonight she would do. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Or in this case, the gift whore.
After signaling for the bartender to refill the glass as he threw a few more bills on the dark, oak bar, he picked up the new shot of whiskey and handed it to the slut. “Well, this just happens to be your lucky night, my lovely Daphne.”
She tossed the honey-brown liquor down her throat and giggled even louder this time. Placing her hand on his chest, she took a step closer to him. “Why’s that, babe?”
“Because you met me, that’s why. What do you say we blow this place and go have ourselves a private party?”
“What’d you haf in mind,” The whiskey was doing its job faster than he expected. She had gone from seductive to sloshed in under a fifteen seconds.
Taking a clear plastic bag from his pocket, he discreetly swung it in front of her glazed eyes until she finally focused on the tiny white pills it contained. “Oh, Johnny, you read my mind,” she purred.
“Well, come on then.” He nodded toward the rear door of the club.
Looking over her shoulder, she hesitated for a brief moment. “I shhhould let my frens know I’mmm leavin’.”
Her tongue was getting thicker by the minute. If he didn’t get her out of here soon, he’d have to carry her out, and people would definitely notice and remember that. “You’ll never find them in this crowd. Come on, baby, I’ll have you back in an hour . . . tops.”
She seemed to consider it for a moment and her gaze dropped to the bag he still held in the palm of his hand. Her body swayed toward him and he grabbed her around the waist to prevent her from falling. “Are you shursh?”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a knowing grin. “Positive. You can trust me.” With that, he led her out the back exit, quietly humming “Luck Be a Lady” by Frank Sinatra to himself.
Three hours later
, as the bar was closing, her friends began bitching about Daphne and how she hadn’t even told them she was leaving. They were just glad she wasn’t their ride home.
CHAPTER
1
Sunday evening, Sean Malone sat on the back porch of his Uncle Dan’s beach house. It was unseasonably warm for late March. The outside thermometer had reached a high of seventy-four degrees earlier in the day. Even now, with the sun almost completely set, it only felt like the low sixties. Still warm enough to sit outside for a little bit longer.
With his feet resting upon another chair, he finished the final chapter of the thriller from one of his favorite authors with the help of the porch light. He’d meant to read it when it was first released, but work had kept him busy over the past year or so, and his downtime had mainly been spent trying to catch up on his sleep. Now, he was two days into his month of accumulated vacation time and he planned on doing nothing but relaxing before starting his new position at the FBI office in Greenville, North Carolina. That was a little over an hour away from his uncle’s cottage in Whisper on the Outer Banks, where he was staying for the next three weeks while his leased apartment was being renovated and updated. The apartment was halfway between Whisper and Greenville and a bit of a mess at the moment—the previous tenants hadn’t been good housekeepers. Sean didn’t mind, though, since he had the beach house all to himself. And although he was already missing the warmer Florida weather, he was happy to be near his family again.
He’d put in for a transfer from the Jacksonville, Florida headquarters six months earlier, after he found out his eldest brother, KC, and his new wife, Moriah, were expecting a baby. The child, due in three weeks, would be the first Malone of the next generation and Sean wanted to live near them so he could be a part of his niece or nephew’s life. KC was a SEAL instructor at the Little Creek Navy Base in Virginia, ninety minutes north of Whisper, and Moriah was a substitute teacher at the local elementary school. Their middle brother, Brian, also lived near Whisper, in the suburbs of Elizabeth City, NC where he worked as an investigator for the State Bureau of Investigations.
Dan Malone had raised his three nephews in the tiny beach house after their parents were killed in a plane crash when the boys were teenagers. Since then, they had grown into men and had moved on with their lives, and Dan was now living in an apartment above his hardware store in the middle of the small town. The old man was sentimental and would never sell the little cottage, keeping it so his nephews could use it whenever they wanted.
Sean glanced at his watch. Ten to six. His uncle and Bonnie Whitman were bringing dinner over in a few minutes. He was looking forward to Bonnie’s famous beef stew. It wasn’t often he had a home cooked meal anymore, and the woman could cook better than anyone he knew. She had been Dan’s wife’s best friend since first grade and remained close to the Malone family ever since Dan was widowed at a young age.
“Sean? Are you here?”
He frowned at the strange, female voice. It wasn’t Bonnie—he didn’t know who it was. He stood, stepped over to the porch railing, and looked down. The outside lights bathed the patio and porch in a soft, white glow. He was startled to see a beautiful, blonde woman waving up at him. Her long hair was up in a ponytail, but he could tell just by looking that it was soft and silky. The striking, green eyes staring up at him were familiar, but he couldn’t recall why.
When he didn’t say anything right away, the woman’s mouth widened into the sexiest smile he’d seen in a long time. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Um, I’m sorry, I don’t,” he responded in confusion as the woman started climbing the stairs to where he stood.
“I’m Grace Whitman, Bonnie’s niece.”
Sean’s eyes grew wide in shock. “Grace? Holy cow! I’m . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.” Looking her up and down—and definitely liking what he saw—he continued. “Wow! The last time I saw you I think you were thirteen and still dressing like a tomboy.”
“And you were eighteen and running off to join the Army.” She walked straight up to him and gave him a friendly hug. His breath caught at the sudden contact. “You look great.”
As she stepped back, he gave her another appraising look. “So do you. I mean, look at you! I can’t believe you’re the same person. I remember you having short hair, skinny knees, and braces.”
She grimaced then smiled wryly. “Yeah, well, I grew up over the past fourteen years.”
Boy had she ever. He shook his head to clear any potential dirty thoughts about her very adult body. Bonnie was family, which made her niece family, too . . . unfortunately. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“Aunt Bonnie and Dan told me to meet them here for dinner. Didn’t they tell you I was coming?”
He shook his head again, this time in response to her question. “No, they didn’t.”
“Then that’s why you look so shocked.” She giggled. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you. Between college and then work, I haven’t been down this way often over the past few years and when I did manage to come down, you were never here.” She paused, then handed him the bottle of wine she was carrying. “I thought a nice merlot would go great with Aunt Bonnie’s stew.”
Taking the bottle, he indicated the table he had been sitting at earlier. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? Have a seat. I’ll go grab a few glasses and a corkscrew.”
He placed the wine on the table and hurried inside, his thoughts completely on the woman sitting on the porch. Wow! Little Grace Whitman had grown into one hot, gorgeous lady. He never would have expected that. The last time he saw her, she had been short, flat-chested, and all arms and legs with no hips. A little girl. But time had definitely changed her for the better. Now, fourteen years later, she was about five eight, trim, with curves in all the right places, and all woman.
Sean’s adulterated thoughts were interrupted by the sound of car doors slamming. Glancing out the kitchen window, he saw his uncle and Bonnie walking up the driveway. Dan was carrying a large stock pot, while Bonnie held a brown paper bag with a loaf of French bread sticking out the top of it. Leading the way was Dan’s rescue dog, a black Labrador mix named Jinx. Grabbing four wine glasses and a corkscrew, Sean headed back out toward the deck.
Dan, Bonnie, and the dog climbed the porch steps, and the younger Malone held the door open for them with his hip since his hands were full. The aroma from the stock pot almost brought him to his knees. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since he’d tasted Bonnie’s beef stew—at least three years, he figured.
Bonnie winked at him. “I see our surprise got here before we did.”
He winked back. “And a delightful surprise she was. I just wish I’d had a little warning. I’m dressed like a street bum.” And he was. He glanced down, suddenly dismayed that he was wearing an old pair of jeans, with holes in both knees, and a wrinkled, grey T-shirt.
She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. You look fine.”
Letting the door close behind the couple after they entered the cottage, he strode to where Grace was sitting. He placed the wine glasses on the table and set about opening the bottle. “So how long are you visiting for?”
“Oh, I’m not visiting.” Grace began handing him the glasses one by one to be filled. “My move to Whisper is official as of last week.”
“Really? What happened to New York? Aren’t your parents still there?”
“My folks retired to Prescott, Arizona six months ago, but I’m an east coast girl at heart, so I decided to move down here to be closer to Aunt Bonnie.” Taking the last filled glass from Sean, she leaned back in her chair and relaxed. “I’m opening my own physical therapy practice in town, hopefully in two weeks.”
“That’s right! Bonnie told me a few years ago you became a physical therapist. She said you were working for some hospital in New York City.” He took the chair next to her and settled in.
“R
ight. Columbia Presbyterian. I was there for the past four years and got some great experience.” She paused and shrugged. “But, I’ve always wanted to open my own place. When mom and dad told me they were going to move to Prescott, I decided to open my PT business in Whisper. I looked into it, and there are no physical therapy clinics near here—closest place is a twenty minute ride. This way people don’t have to drive that far two or three times a week. I applied for my state license and got it a few months ago.”
“Good for you.” He held his glass out to her. “Here’s to your success.”
She clinked her glass with his. “Why, thank you. And from your mouth to God’s ear.”
“What are we toasting?” They both looked up to see Dan Malone and Jinx walking toward them.
“To Grace’s new business,” his nephew replied. He handed Dan one of the filled glasses.
“Well, then . . .” Dan raised the glass in a toast. “Here’s to Grace. May she be so busy she has to hire some help.”
Grace laughed and Sean thought he had never heard anything so beautiful. Giving himself a mental shake, he reminded himself this was Bonnie’s niece. He had no business thinking of her as anything but . . . damn it.
“The chef sent me out to get you,” Dan said. “It’s a little too chilly for us old folks to eat out here so we set the table inside.” He grabbed the fourth glass of wine as Sean stood and took the now empty bottle with him. Grace followed and Sean held the door open for her and his uncle.
Grace grinned at him. “I see all those manners your parents and Dan drilled into you still exist.”
He chuckled as he followed her inside. “Not holding a door for your elders or a woman is a mortal sin in Dan’s book.”
“Damn straight,” Dan agreed. Spotting Bonnie coming out of the kitchen, he put the wine glasses on the dining table and ran to relieve her of the large bowl of stew she was carrying. “And not helping a lady in need is another one.” He gave Sean a meaningful look. “Now go grab the salad and bread so Bonnie can relax. She’s been slaving over your dinner all day.”
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