Deadly Deception (Deadly Trilogy)

by Alexa Grace

  Deadly Deception

  By Alexa Grace

  This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2012 by Alexa Grace

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design by Christy Carlyle at www.gildedheartdesign.com

  ISBN-10: 0985593903

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9855939-0-2

  DEDICATION

  For Mom

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  A special thank you to Sgt. Adrian Youngblood of the Seminole County Sheriff's Office, Major Crimes Unit, who patiently answered my questions and reviewed passages for accuracy as I wrote this book.

  Thank you also to Christine L. Snyder, Brian M. Bentsen, and Robert W. Golden, Jr. who shared their expertise from forensics, automobile accidents to firearms.

  Any mistakes here are entirely mine.

  Thank you to Wendy Ely who edited this book as well gave me valuable writing advice.

  Much appreciation goes to the Beta Reader Team who devoted their personal time to review each page of this book: Carolyn Ingham, Vicki Braun, Melissa Bourne, Elizabeth Queen, Nate Kitts, Amy Wendt, and Elizabeth Queen.

  Thanks also to Melissa McGee, Megan Golden and Karen Golden-Dible for their help and support.

  I also want to express my appreciation to my family and friends. Without their love, encouragement and support, this book would not have been possible.

  Chapter One

  Mandy Morris was the kind of girl a man would want to take home to meet his parents. But that was not a sentiment shared by her man. When the college sophomore told the man she thought was the love of her life she was pregnant, things got ugly. He'd even suggested the baby wasn't his before he'd walked away.

  It was the toughest decision she'd ever made, but she had given her baby away. What else could she do? She had no parents, no baby-daddy, no job and two more years of college on a scholarship that was barely enough to cover her expenses. How could she possibly support a baby?

  So why was she standing outside the office of the adoption agency that had supported her financially and adopted out her baby to a loving, wealthy couple who could give her baby everything?

  Mandy had changed her mind about giving her baby away and wanted him back. She'd decided she'd move heaven and earth to support and care for him. Mandy had wasted four long weeks using conventional methods to get an appointment to talk to someone, anyone at the agency, about her change of heart. She wanted her baby back and nobody could talk her out of it now. He was almost six weeks old now. Mandy didn't want to miss another second of his life.

  So she'd resorted to desperate measures. She'd Googled his home address then staked out Dr. Eric Caine's swanky home outside of Bloomington, Indiana, and then followed him to his office this morning. She slung her small purse over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and then pushed open his office door. He was sitting at a huge, L-shaped glass desk in front of a floor-to-ceiling window working on his computer. She walked inside and stood at his desk, and cleared her throat when she realized he had not heard her come in. He whirled around in his chair, his eyes wide with surprise.

  "I didn't hear anyone come in. I thought the building was empty."

  She noticed his eyes scanned her as if trying to remember her name.

  "I'm Mandy Morris. I was your patient during my pregnancy."

  "That's right, I remember. What can I do for you, Mandy?"

  Mandy sighed and sat in one of his guest chairs. "I want you to know how much I appreciate how your adoption agency has supported me during my pregnancy."

  "That's our job and we're glad to do it." The doctor looked at the door as a man with long, shaggy blonde hair entered the room. The man nodded to Mandy and sat at the round table in the back of the room.

  "I know that I will need to repay you the money you gave me and I will.” She glanced at the man at the back of the room, then said to the doctor, “I want my baby back."

  The doctor glared at her, gone was his friendliness from before. "Mandy, we explained during your orientation, that once you give up your baby to the agency, there is no turning back."

  "I want my baby back," she insisted.

  "You signed our documents relieving yourself as the child's legal guardian. He is living in a wonderful home with loving parents." He was noticeably impatient now and began tapping his foot.

  "I said I want my baby back." Was he hard of hearing or what?

  "You're twenty years old and a college student. Babies have expensive needs. How can you support a baby?"

  "I'll get a job. I'll find a way."

  "This is not an emotional decision to make. Think about it. Consider this rationally. Can you give him the kind of life his new parents can? I think not."

  "But he’s mine. I carried him inside of me, I gave birth to him, and I need him. And if I need to involve the police, I will." She was tired of listening to his crap. She ached for her baby and she would get him back no matter what she had to do.

  "It seems your mind is made up. There is only one thing I can do. I'll call the parents." He picked up his cell phone and headed to the hallway outside the office. The man with the long blonde hair followed him. Several minutes later both men returned.

  "Mandy, this is David," the doctor said. "He's my driver. I've asked him to take you to the home of the couple who adopted your baby boy. They've agreed to give him back to you."

  "Oh, thank you so much, Dr. Caine." Tears flowed down her cheeks. She threw herself into his arms to hug him. "I promise to pay you back every penny. I promise. Thank you so much for doing this for me."

  Dr. Caine patted her on the back and guided her out of his office where she followed his driver.

  It was an uneasy ride, both of them silent and seemingly deep in thought. They were hours and miles away from Bloomington before Mandy asked, "How much longer?"

  David glanced at her for the first time since they started out and said, "Not far."

  “So how long have you worked for Dr. Caine?” she asked, trying to fill the silence in the car. He didn't answer. He kept his attention on the road as he drove. That was fine with her. She wasn't looking for a new BFF so she ignored him and imagined herself holding her soft, cuddly little boy to her chest. She smiled at the thought.

  It wasn't long before they left the interstate and were driving a country road leading through the rich farmland the Midwest was known for. They drove for another hour then David slowed the car and turned onto a dirt lane that led into a wooded area. There wasn’t a house in sight. Why did he pull over here? What the hell was going on?

  "Why are we stopping here? Where's the house?"

  "This is where the couple agreed to meet us." He walked around the car to open her passenger door and helped her get out.

  "Might as well get out and stretch your legs. They won't be here for forty-five minutes."

  She stretched her legs and arched slightly to ease the dull pain in her back. She hated long car rides. She disliked being cooped up in any small space for long.

  "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" She glanced at him as he leaned against the car.

  "Yeah. I grew up around here. I used to know every inch of these woods,” he said. He pointed to a dirt trail that wound through some trees. "See
that path over there? It leads to one of the most beautiful fishing ponds you've ever seen."

  "Really?" Not that she cared, but this was the first friendliness he'd shown her and she wanted to keep things pleasant for the drive back.

  "Hey, we've got time.” He headed to the path at the edge of the woods then looked back at her to see if she was following. “Come on, I'll show you." When he saw that she was, he waited for her to reach him then turned to walk ahead. "It's this way."

  They'd walked for what seemed to her to be a couple of miles when she asked him, "How much farther is it?" As if the drive wasn’t tiring enough, this hike to the pond was exhausting.

  "Almost there," he said.

  She trudged forward, clutching her small purse to her side. He stopped suddenly and she almost slammed into him. Her head jerked up. His expression was odd, his eyes dark and flat. She had a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was very wrong.

  He pulled out a revolver. "End of the road, Miss Morris. Turn around."

  "What in the hell are you doing?" She turned away from him, her body trembling so hard she feared her legs would give out. “Why are you doing this?” The bullet slammed into her head with a loud explosion and darkness clawed at her as she sank to the ground.

  David walked to the car, but had to stop several times to throw up. He attributed his physical reaction to the fact that it was his first kill at close range. He hadn't counted on the blood that sprayed onto his face, clothes, and shoes. In the army, all his kills had been done at distance. He’d found his target through the scope of his rifle and shot.

  It was part of his job, he told himself as he wiped his face and shoes with a towel from his trunk. This was what he signed up for ten years ago when he assumed bodyguard duties for Dr. Caine. Serve and protect. Of course, when he signed up he didn't know he'd have to kill to protect the lucrative business the doctor had built.

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket and pushed a button on his speed dial. "It's done." He'd be meeting with Caine very soon. This turn of events would mean a higher percentage of the profits, whether the doc liked it or not.

  Frankie Douglas sat under the white wedding tent with the other guests. It was a beautiful spring day. The breeze caressed her face and blew through her long, blonde hair. The sweet scent of the roses in Anne Brandt's rose garden was incredible and reminded her of the times Anne taught her how to tend the bushes with exquisite care and love.

  She’d been to weddings where the bride looked beautiful; but Anne was breathtaking. Her long ivory gown was silk with hand-sewn pearls. It had an empire waist with a long train. She had a glow about her that seemed to radiate from within. Michael Brandt, the groom, hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d arrived at the altar to join him and the minister. His focus remained on his bride while he seemed unaware of the hundred or so guests watching the ceremony. Frankie had never seen a couple this much in love.

  Although the happy couple had eloped last November, the groom’s mother and Anne’s friend, Daisy, had their own ideas about the celebration of matrimony. The two would have a formal wedding — period. Both women loved Anne as the daughter they didn't have. So the young woman who'd lost her mother years before ended up with two. They planned the wedding with zeal, enjoying every second of the planning.

  It’s funny how things happen, she thought. She was in the hospital last November with a gunshot wound that cut through one side of her shoulder and out the other when Michael pushed Anne in a wheelchair into her room. After he introduced them, Anne clasped her hand, thanking her for protecting her from a serial killer who had her pegged as his next victim. She had explained to Anne that it was her job as a private investigator to protect her but Anne would hear none of it.

  They’d become fast friends, which was surprising to Frankie. She never had a female friend before nor had she wanted one until Anne. She and Anne had gotten together at least once a week at Anne's wind farm or at the Front Page Bar for drinks ever since. She'd found that she and Anne shared the same off-the-wall sense of humor, a love for Lady Gaga, as well as cravings for junk food when stressed.

  The ring bearer pranced up the aisle holding the handle of a basket in his mouth. Tucked inside the basket was a black velvet jeweler’s box. Harley, Anne’s Giant Schnauzer, aimed for Michael and sat in front of him as Michael removed the ring from its box. Harley then took his place with Hank, Anne’s farm foreman who sat at the end of the first row.

  After the usual wedding vows, the minister pronounced them husband and wife. The couple kissed and then turned toward their guests. Frankie watched Michael kiss Anne again as he briefly rested his hand on her baby bump, and the guests erupted with applause. She had never met a couple who wanted a baby more.

  Frankie joined the rest of the guests as they made their way inside the house for the reception. She scanned the crowd and saw Lane Hansen, the star of her erotic dreams. Her stupid heart slammed against her chest.

  Lane had the dubious distinction of shooting her the year before. Guns drawn, they'd been creeping down some rickety storm cellar steps to stop a serial killer from killing Anne. One of the steps gave way under Lane. As he tumbled down the stairs, his gun went off, piercing Frankie's shoulder.

  It had been six months since she'd seen Lane and seeing him now didn't exactly make her day. In fact, it pissed her off.

  Last November, after three days of unconsciousness, Frankie had awakened to find six foot five, decidedly gorgeous Deputy Lane Hansen asleep in the chair next to her hospital bed with his hand clasped around hers. He had spent three days in her hospital room watching, okay more like hovering, over her before she woke up.

  When she was released from the hospital, he dropped by her apartment for five straight days equipped with enough food to feed an army. After dinner each night, he'd ignored her protests and insisted on looking at her bullet wound and changing her bandaging. They'd relaxed on her sofa; played music, watched television, or just talked.

  By the third day, though she'd never have admitted it, she was looking forward to his visits. On the fifth day, after he changed her bandaging, he'd kissed her. She'd played it in her mind a million times. She remembered the moment as if it had just happened.

  He’d taken her lips tenderly, tentatively exploring her mouth with his tongue. Breaking off the kiss, he’d looked into her eyes as if asking for permission to kiss her a second time. She’d responded by snaking her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. Then she was kissing him and he was kissing her back as he swept her off the couch and onto his lap, stroking her with his wonderfully large hands. His mouth had tasted like the wine they'd had for dinner and his intoxicating scent was a mix of musk and man.

  The kiss deepened. His tongue had explored the inner recesses of her mouth, sending a surprising, urgent need that flowed through her veins like molten lava. She’d leaned into him, tightening her arms around his neck and pressing her soft breasts against the hardness of his massive chest.

  A heat swept through her as she remembered how he'd carried her to her bedroom and gently eased her down onto the bed. They'd made wild, turbulent love for hours and hours that night and then she'd slept in his arms. In the morning, he was gone. Just like that. No good-bye. Nothing. Like a ghost, he'd disappeared; leaving her like a victim of a one-night stand.

  Frankie was so angry she'd punched a pillow then screeched as pain from her shoulder wound shot down her arm. Damn him. She'd broken her own rule of not dating cops and look what had happened. Hadn’t she learned the hard way cops found it way too easy to lie? And obviously, this one found it quite easy just to screw her and leave.

  She glared at Lane who stood talking to a familiar looking cop. Lane was dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, and red tie looking like he'd just left a photo shoot. Her stupid heart leapt. Her first instinct was to leave, but she'd promised Anne she'd stay throughout the reception and dinner. It was going to be a long night.

  Lane didn't see
Frankie at first, but rookie Deputy Edward Smith pointed her out. "Isn't that your sister, Frankie, over there?"

  His eyes followed Ed's index finger that aimed at one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever seen standing next to Anne Brandt in a low cut, lavender silk dress that provocatively skimmed over her body. The garment ended at her knees, revealing her endless long legs. Damn, had he really forgotten how sexy she was? He started counting to ten and prayed his arousal wasn’t obvious.

  "I told you before. She's not my sister. She said that at the crime scene so she could get information out of you."

  "Are you doing her? Because if you're not, I'm going to be all over her like a dog on a sausage salesman at a dog park." He stared at Frankie across the room.