THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE

by Angi Morgan

  “You’re so good together. I’m glad you decided to keep her.”

  Jake’s face scrunched up in confusion. “You thought I’d give her away?”

  “No.” She shook her head. She wanted a do-over. Maybe if she ran back to the front door and he answered it, she could get the speech out she’d practiced all morning on the plane. Jake gave Dallas one last stroke and stood, making Bree crane her neck to look him in the eye. “I’d forgotten just how tall you were. You all healed?”

  Her dress spun with her as she turned to go. She’d never come back. Never see him again. She couldn’t do this more than once. She remembered the slick new heels just as her feet slipped from under her and she fell into Jake’s arms. He set her in the kitchen chair faster than she’d thought possible. In a matter of seconds, he faced her from across the table and quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

  The warrior who had risked everything to help her and rescue her family materialized as he tossed an envelope onto the table. “I got the papers. You’re suing for joint custody of Dallas? You came to take away my dog?”

  “What? I didn’t—I was joking when I said I might. I’d never take her away from you, Jake. You’re right. She’s your dog now.” She loved the puppy who had brought them together, but she loved Jake more. “I never had any intention of taking her away. I had this weird conversation with an attorney, but I didn’t go through with it. I was going to use the story as an icebreaker...not a deal breaker.”

  “So it was a joke?”

  “They shouldn’t have done anything at all.”

  “That’s different, then. You know, I can let you have as much time with Dallas as you want. Anytime you’re in town.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, shoulders sort of drooping.

  She stood, swaying in the stupid, sexy shoes she’d worn just for him. She kicked them to the side and bent down next to the dog.

  Dallas nudged her snout under Bree’s hand, looking for some loving. Suddenly, it was like they hadn’t been apart. If only finding love was that simple.

  “I really came here to tell you I was wrong.”

  “About?” He shot a hand through his hair and brought it back to scratch the stubble on his jawline.

  She grabbed the edge of the table, knowing what would come next—a surge of longing for him. That simple gesture just made her weak in the knees. “Shoot, Jake. There’s no tippy-toeing around why I came. I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

  “And Dallas, don’t forget.” He was teasing her. The twinkle was back in his eyes.

  “I missed you both. I wanted to call more than once, but the prosecutors wouldn’t let me.”

  “I didn’t know how hard to push. The last time we were together you told Wilder we didn’t know each other. That to think we had a relationship was stupid—your words, not mine. And to think we had more than a one-night stand—also your words—was completely foolish.”

  “I told him that so you wouldn’t get into any more trouble. I was also very wrong. Our two days together got me through the last five months.”

  Jake’s fingers brushed a tear from her cheek and he shifted her into the circle of his arms. He heated her core and sent shivers up her spine at the same time. No man had ever made her feel anything close to these sensations. His lips were close and just waiting...so she kissed him. He tasted cool, like iced tea and lemon. His arms circled her back and pulled her close to his chest.

  Dallas whined and jumped on them both, making it impossible to kiss through their laughter. “No need to be jealous, girl.” Bree stroked the black, wiry fur.

  “I wanted to turn you around and do that from the moment I saw you in the street,” he said into her hair.

  “I thought you didn’t recognize me?”

  He latched those brown eyes to hers. “I’d be able to pick you out of a crowd at a hundred yards. I couldn’t believe you were finally here.”

  Jake shrugged out of his coat as he dialed his cell. “I need to send a text canceling tonight. You see, this crazy chick I knew suggested I get therapy.”

  “I did not. I just said working with Charlie helped my uncle.”

  “It didn’t take me long to realize how much Dallas was helping me deal with stress. I found an organization that helps military vets find the right pet and I volunteer.”

  He faced her and pushed his hands through his hair. A sure sign that he was nervous regarding whatever he was about to say. She barely knew him, but then she also knew him so well.

  “Bree, the time I spent with you—” He took her hand into his palm, using his thumb to draw those concentric circles that drove her mad with desire. “They were the best hours of my life. I’ve missed you every minute since.”

  He tipped her chin and tilted her world with his smile.

  “You’re crying again and I haven’t even gotten to the good part,” he whispered near her lips.

  Sure enough, tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “There’s a better part?”

  “I know it’s early and I’ll give you all the time you need. But I fell all the way when you ran into my life. Being apart has only convinced me that I love you.”

  His lips descended and captured hers. Captured and wouldn’t release. He wrapped his arms tight and held her as tenderly as their first kiss. He taunted and kept their lips devouring each other until Dallas jumped on them again.

  “Definitely the best part.” She leaned her cheek against his chest. “That’s what I came to tell you. I love you. I thought I was crazy. I kept telling myself it couldn’t be real. It was too soon. Or just one of those whirlwind adventures. Maybe a bond I felt because of the intense situation.”

  “Me, too.” He hugged her to him, keeping her close, his breath tickled her neck. “I kept thinking we’d see each other somewhere throughout all this process. But the police kept us separated in Amarillo and then the state authorities threatened me within an inch of my life not to compromise the case again. They offered me a position with the Texas Racing Commission. I couldn’t turn them down.”

  “I wanted to call so badly. Kyle Wilder assured me they’d give me your address after I testified. The prosecution placed me in protective custody, locking me in a safe house in the middle of nowhere. It made Amarillo look like a metropolitan city. I’ve had a lot of time to think. But my feelings about you haven’t changed.”

  “The state prosecutor kept telling me I couldn’t see you. And when I called your uncle last month—”

  “You talked to Jerry?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t know where you were. Said the family got one letter, but had no idea what was really going on.”

  “One letter with no real details was all they’d allow.”

  “No one could have convinced me I’d fall this hard or fast. Or that I’d start missing you before we said goodbye. But I did....” His voice trailed off as he nibbled on her neck. “I hope you’re staying for a while. Maybe a week or two? I warned them I’d be taking off as soon as I knew where you were.”

  His burning lips left a smoldering trail across her collarbone. She pulled back to see his eyes reflecting the desire she felt.

  “As for your petition for custody.” He paused to kiss her, leaving a burning trail from the backs of his fingers running along her exposed skin. “If you want to spend time with Dallas, we’re a package deal. You’re stuck with the both of us. Move in with me.”

  He lifted her, twirling her through the kitchen, laughing and
playfully taunting Dallas.

  “Sounds like perfect joint custody.” She kissed his furrowed brow that she’d missed every day. “Remind me to call Mr. Soku at the cab company. He wished me luck finding my happy beginning. I want to tell him it worked.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from DEAD BY WEDNESDAY by Beverly Long.

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  Chapter One

  Wednesday

  Robert Hanson looked up from his computer screen when Lieutenant Fischer approached his desk. He wasn’t surprised or worried about the anger that flashed in his boss’s eyes. He knew what had put it there. Had heard the news before he’d gotten off the elevator. Even though it wasn’t his case, it had been enough to make him shove his half-eaten bagel back into the bag and toss his untouched orange juice into the nearest waste can.

  “Got another dead kid,” his boss said.

  Robert had really, really hoped that the pattern would break. For the past three weeks, there had been a new dead kid every Wednesday morning. This was week four. “I heard,” Robert said.

  “Did you hear he was Alderman Franconi’s nephew? His sister’s kid.”

  Robert shook his head. Franconi was tight with the mayor. The heat was going to be turned up high. Not that every detective on the force wasn’t already aware of the case and keeping his or her eyes open 24/7 looking for some kind of clue.

  “Where’s Sawyer?” his boss asked.

  “On his way. He’s dropping Liz and the baby off at Options for Caring Mothers.”

  “Okay.” His boss started to walk away. Then stopped, turned and edged close to the metal desk. “Carmen Jimenez still work there?” he asked, his inquiry casual.

  “I guess so,” Robert said, working hard to keep his tone neutral. He hadn’t seen Carmen since the wedding three months ago, where his best friend, Sawyer Montgomery, had married her best friend, Liz Mayfield. Robert had been the best man. Carmen had been the maid of honor. Her dress had been an emerald-green and it had wrapped around her body in a way that had made him break out in an instant sweat.

  The groom had been calmer than he’d been.

  Which was ridiculous because everybody knew that Robert Hanson never got rattled by a woman. He managed relationships. Not the other way around.

  “Pretty woman,” Lieutenant Fischer said.

  Robert raised an eyebrow. The lieutenant had been married for twenty years and had kids in high school.

  “Just making conversation, Hanson. If it’s any consolation, probably nobody but Sawyer and me realized that it was taking everything you had to keep your tongue from hanging out. We just know you better than most.”

  Robert shrugged and tried his best to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

  Lieutenant Fischer let out a huff of air. “Of course you don’t. When Sawyer arrives, get your butts out to the scene. Blaze and Wasimole are still there. They could use some help talking to neighbors. Details are online in the case file.”

  Robert shifted in his chair and reached for his computer keyboard. But he let his hands rest on the keys.

  Visions of Carmen Jimenez weren’t that easy to push aside.

  They’d danced, just once. It was expected, after all. And she’d felt perfect in his arms. And her scent had danced around him, making his head spin. He’d made small talk. Nice wedding, wasn’t it? Is your brother starting high school soon? Are you busy at work?

  She responded, her voice soft and sexy, with just a bare hint of a Spanish accent. Very pretty. Yes, he is looking forward to playing in the band. Always lots to do.

  And when the music had ended, he hadn’t wanted to let go. But she’d stepped away, murmured a quick thank-you and left him standing in the middle of the dance floor.

  And later, when he’d tried to catch her eye, she’d looked away, and he wondered if it was deliberate. Toward the end of the evening, he hadn’t had to wonder anymore. He’d finally worked up the courage to ask her to dance again and when she’d seen him approaching, had practically run into the ladies’ restroom to avoid him.

  He didn’t need it written on the damn marquee. She wasn’t interested. So he’d forgotten about her.

  Right.

  Well, he was working on it.

  He tapped on his keyboard and brought up the case file. In their system, every entry was date-and time-stamped. Detectives Blaze and Wasimole, two veterans, had been on the scene within fifteen minutes of the call coming in at four o’clock this morning. Shortly after that, they’d entered a brief narrative into the electronic case file and updated it twice after that.

  Victim had been discovered by a couple of sanitation workers. They hadn’t touched the body. That was good. More than fifteen residents of nearby apartment buildings had already been interviewed and nobody had seen anything. That was bad.

  There were multiple stab wounds, and fingers on his right hand had been severed and removed from the scene.

  That wasn’t a surprise.

  The first victim had lost two fingers on his left hand. The second, two on the right. The third, two on his left hand.

  Left, right. Left, right. There was a crazy symmetry about the handiwork but the end result was always the same. The kids were dead. Although it hadn’t come easy. Coroner had determined in the first three deaths that the mutilation had occurred prior to death, which meant that they’d suffered the pain, then the blood loss; and finally the bastard had killed them by suffocating them by covering their noses with duct tape and stuffing a red bandanna in their mouths.

  The killer hadn’t bothered to remove the bandanna once the kids were dead.

  Robert checked the notes. Yep. Victim had been found with his nostrils taped shut and a red bandanna stuffed in his mouth. He clicked on the pictures that had already been uploaded and started scanning them. They were gruesome and made his empty stomach twist.

  When he heard Sawyer’s footsteps, he was grateful for the interruption. His partner shrugged off his heavy coat, pulled out his desk chair and sank into it.

  “You look like hell,” Robert said.

  “It’s amazing the trouble one little tooth can cause,” Sawyer said, his lazy drawl more pronounced than usual. “Catherine was up several times during the night. That doesn’t happen very often.”

  “How’s Liz?” Robert asked.

  “Fabulous,” Sawyer answered, sounding like a very happy man. “Although she wasn’t too crazy about me giving Catherine my leather belt to chew on. That is, until she saw how well it worked.”

  “Southern tradition?” Robert asked.

  Sawyer shook his head. “Midwest desperation.”

  Robert stood up. “Well, we got another kind of tradition going on here and quite frankly, it
sucks.” He pointed at his computer. Sawyer got up, rounded the desk, stood behind Robert, and quickly read through the information.

  “Henry Wright,” Sawyer said, resting his eyes on the text that had been added just an hour or so ago once the body had been identified.

  “Alderman Franconi’s nephew,” Robert added. That wasn’t in the notes.

  “This is going to get interesting fast,” Sawyer said.

  “I know the area,” Robert said. “Residential, mostly multiunit apartments. Some commercial.”

  Sawyer picked up the gloves that he’d tossed on his desk. He pulled them on. “Let’s go knock on some doors. But take pity on me, for God’s sake, and stop and get some coffee on the way. It’s freezing out there.”

  “It’s January in Chicago. What do you expect?”

  “It would be nice if it got cold enough that all the killing stopped.”

  “It’s cold,” Robert said, “but I don’t think hell has frozen over yet.”

  The two men piled into their unmarked car, with Robert driving. He pulled out of the police lot and five minutes later, found street parking in front of their favorite coffee shop. Once inside, he waited patiently while Sawyer had to flash a picture of six-month-old Catherine after the woman behind the counter asked for an update on the little girl.

  Robert was damn happy for his friend. Liz was a great woman, and given how much she and Sawyer were enjoying their adopted daughter, Robert figured they’d be adding to their family in no time.

  He wasn’t jealous.

  Hell, no. He had the kind of freedom that married men dreamed about.

  Back in the car, he sipped his coffee, grateful for the warmth. It hadn’t been above twenty degrees for two weeks, which meant that the four inches of snow that had fallen three weeks ago lingered on. Most of the roads were clear, but the sidewalks that hadn’t been shoveled right away now had a thick layer of hard-packed snow, making walking dangerous.