Lethal in Love
Michelle Somers
Contents
A Word From The Author
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Loved Lethal in Love?
Murder Most Unusual
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
And There’s More!
Cold Case, Warm Heart
Lethal In Love
A past she can’t remember. A time the killer can never forget. And a man who’ll do anything to discover the truth . . .
* * *
Homicide detective Jayda Thomasz never lets her emotions get in the way of a case. So when the Night Terror serial killer re-emerges after 25 years, the last thing she expects is to catch herself fantasising over the smooth-talking stranger who crosses the path of her investigation.
* * *
Seth Friedin is a reporter chasing the story that’ll make his career. When he enters the world of swinging for research, he never imagines he’ll be distracted by a hard-talking female detective whose kiss plagues his mind long after she’s gone.
* * *
Past experience has shown Jayda that reporters are ruthless and unscrupulous. But when the murders get personal and her world begins to crumble, will she make a deal with the devil to catch the killer?
What Are People Saying About Lethal In Love?
‘It’s gritty, it’s sexy and it kept me reading long past my bedtime.’
HELENE YOUNG, bestselling author of Safe Harbour
‘A powerful new voice in crime fiction.’: VALERIE PARV, bestselling author of the Beacon series
‘The romantic tension is almost as dangerous as the killer they hunt . . . An accomplished debut and compelling read. I can't wait for more by Michelle Somers.’
SANDI WALLACE, award-winning author of Into The Fog
* * *
‘Sexy and suspenseful. Michelle Somers delivers all that and more!’
DB TAIT, romantic suspense author of the Dark Mountain series
* * *
‘This has all the hallmarks of a great romantic suspense - steamy tension, danger and blade-sharp writing.’
STEFANIE LONDON, USA Today bestselling author of the Bad Bachelor series
A Word From The Author
Welcome inside my sometimes frightening, always romantic mind.
* * *
I hope you enjoy Lethal in Love—my debut, award-winning novel. This story holds a special place in my heart. Not only is it set in one of the best cities in the world, but it’s my first foray into a genre I adore—romantic suspense.
* * *
Lethal in Love is set in Melbourne, Australia, so please note that boots are only footwear when they’re not associated with cars. Rubbish bins are for trash, car parks are parking lots, firies are firemen and ambos are paramedics and/or ambulances. Toilets, bathrooms and loos are restrooms, bums are butts and avos are afternoons or avocados, depending on context.
* * *
And as for spelling, anything that looks strange reflects how we do it Down Under – S’s are Z’s and double-L’s are single-L’s.
* * *
And anything else? Well, that’s deliberate too.
* * *
That said . . .
* * *
Thank you for choosing to read Jayda and Seth’s story.
* * *
I hope you enjoy it!
* * *
Michelle Somers
Copyright © 2018 Michelle Somers
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Published by Thrasher Publishing
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Second Edition
First edition published 2015 by Penguin Random House
Second (revised) edition published 2018 by Thrasher Publishing
* * *
Written by Michelle Somers
Cover Design by Lana Pecherczyk
Formatting by Sarah Jane Weldon
Paperback: 978-0-6480188-6-5
Kindle: 978-0-6480188-7-2
ePub: 978-0-6480188-8-9
* * *
A Cataloguing-in-Publication record of this book is available from the National Library of Australia.
Edition License Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.
* * *
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book 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.
* * *
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.
* * *
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To the four beautiful men in my life.
My real life hero, Danny, who believed I could fly.
Josh, Nathan and Gabriel. Your love gives me wings.
Prologue
Fools!
The fifty-inch plasma above the bar flickered.
Melbourne’s beloved police. Futile. Inept. Buffoons, the lot of ’em.
His lip curled. And her . . . especially her. Thinking he’d falter, create hack-work like some wannabe ass-wipe. They didn’t know shit. But they’d learn. Soon.
He lowered his bottle onto the beer-stained wood, adrenalin charging his veins.
He’d be legend. Transcend death. In-fucking-vincible.
Laughter hacked up his oesophagus and his breath caught, phlegm rising, spilling into his mouth. He gulped it back, along with a generous serving of blood. One of the good
-for-nothing legacies passed down to him by the old prick.
Then there were others . . .
The pound against his skull slowed. He knocked back a mouthful of ice-cold beer and rode the pain, a wildfire coursing down his throat.
His time had come. They’d pay. Every last fucking one. The bitch included.
He looked up. The camera panned, then zoomed. His gaze latched onto her, the woman behind the thick blue-and-white tape. Her eyes avoided the lens, her body drawn tight, erect, watching the shiny black body bag disappear into the back of the State Coroner’s van. Then she turned, and he stared into the familiar green of her eyes.
He would carve his name into her heart, the way hers had been carved into his, day after day after day. But no more. Now he had no heart. No soul. None that belonged to him.
He flexed his fingers, cracked his knuckles one by one. Revelled in the pain.
A final glance, then he shifted his sight to the woman nursing her nearly empty glass. The one he’d come for tonight.
His blood quickened, his groin tight. Anticipating.
He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes. The hunter. Testing the air, drawing on her essence, the very taste of it. Blind innocence. Youth. Vivacity. Before he drew each one from her like a vampire draws his blood fix.
He opened his eyes. Lips curving slowly upward, he cut his way around the bar. Her gaze lifted, his smile deepened. She liked what she saw. They always did. Until that pivotal moment, when realisation speared through their bodies and death claimed them.
Fools. They were all fools.
He glanced at the wide screen, but the green-eyed witch was gone.
No matter.
He'd see her again. And she, him. Soon she’d do nothing but dream of him, in sleep and wakefulness. And then she’d be his.
1
‘Better make sure you keep your bra on.’
Jayda Thomasz shot Chase Durant a quelling look. As partners go, she could’ve had worse. She also could’ve had better. Still, one thing she did know—she could trust Chase with her life. That counted for a helluva lot when it was only your partner and his dependability standing between you and a whole lot of death.
If only she got a little less mouth from him. A little less interest, too.
‘Don’t worry. This sucker ain’t coming off, no matter what.’
‘More’s the pity.’
Her jaw tightened.
Fellow officer Georgie Tanneras frowned, tweaking the thin wire that now lined Jayda’s bra strap. ‘How’s that?’
‘Perfect.’ Jayda grabbed the silver lamé top from the bag at her feet and slipped it over her head. She straightened the neckline and tested the mic. Georgie nodded and moved away to twirl knobs and flick switches on equipment straight out of the space age.
Jayda grabbed Chase by the elbow and dragged him away from prying ears—almost impossible while in the back of a van crammed with tech equipment and the two techies that went with it.
Pressing her palm over the microphone on her chest, she forced her next words through gritted teeth. ‘What was it about last week’s sexual harassment talk that you didn’t understand?’
‘It’s just that when we’re talking about such a spectacular pair of—’
‘Chase!’
‘I was going to say speakers.’ He held up the two earpieces. ‘What’d you think I was referring to?’
She rolled her jaw, forcing clenched muscles into relaxation. Not much she could do about the knots in her shoulders, or the war of butterflies churning her stomach.
‘Your hair may have lost the red, but your temper hasn’t. So tell me, is it really true what they say about blondes?’
She stared at the monitor and didn’t bother with an answer. It was doubtful he expected one. The time when Chase and his wisecracks had seemed charming was long past.
He’s not Liam.
She knew that. Knew this situation was nothing like before. But reason wouldn’t curb her dread. She’d dodged the aftermath once. Unlikely she’d dodge it a second time round.
Ousting both men from her mind, she tugged an over-folded scrap of paper from her skirt pocket and skimmed the ten points she’d written last night. Each was a definitive check. Warmth frittered through her. She was ready.
Movement on the small screen above the control panel captured her attention and that of her three colleagues in the mobile surveillance unit. As she tucked the list into the bag at her feet, all eyes watched a couple, male and female, perhaps in their early thirties, pause on the veranda of 21 Brayside Avenue, then slip through the barely open front door.
Just a normal Saturday night in the ’burbs. A nice house in a nice neighbourhood, deep in the hub of Melbourne’s northwest. Pleasant, quiet, happily dodging the radar. Until now.
She blinked, trying to ignore the unfamiliar scrape of blue-coloured contacts. Just one more facet of her multifaceted cover. A cover that could lead to a badly needed break in the case and stop a killer before he claimed his next victim.
It hadn’t taken much to convince Hackett. She was lead investigator and the only woman in the Pacu task force who fit the victim’s profile—age, build, apparent innocence. The one thing she’d had to change was her hair colour with a wig. Oh, and the green of her eyes. To a deep, bright tropical blue.
Images flashed through her brain; a young woman slumped against a dumpster, blue eyes gaping and vacant, her mouth a blistered, cavernous maw. She shook her head, wishing away the grasping, biting claws that snatched at her gut and squeezed every time the image appeared. A vision from crime scene photos, and—as of three weeks ago with the Night Terror’s return—her ever recurring dreams. Or should she say nightmares?
The victims were all women, like her. The only real difference—fate. And the unforgiving clutch of fingers around their throat. Impossible to imagine their terror in those last seconds as the oxygen squeezed from their lungs and they fought for existence.
Jayda blinked again. Looking in the mirror, it was difficult not to see the resemblance to her family that she’d longed for as a child. Sleek blonde hair. Blue eyes. When she squinted and tipped her head to the side, she could almost believe she was Bec’s real rather than adopted sister.
‘Jayda, you’re good to go.’
‘Thanks, Georgie.’
Her friend’s lips tightened, her gaze questioning as it darted between Jayda and Chase.
Fan-bloody-tastic. The force’s ‘non-fraternising in the ranks’ policy may have been loose to the point of non-existence, but she’d learned the hard way how rumours—no matter how false—could turn a career into compost. Georgie was a friend, but others in the squad would be far quicker to comment. And judge.
Jayda’s hand dropped to her hip, devoid now of her badge. It didn’t matter that life outside the precinct had barely existed for her the past seven years. She’d matched her father’s success, made detective before her thirtieth birthday. And she’d done it by keeping her head down and the fly of her pants securely fastened.
Thank you, Liam.
There he was again. Elbowing his way into her thoughts.
After seven years, the anger still lingered, a reminder of her promise never to compromise herself again.
Which made her stupidity with Chase all the more regrettable. One drunken night and a blind fumble between the sheets, which almost sealed the end to her reputation. With her partner. With anyone able to read between the tension.
And now she had so much more to lose than back then.
No excuse that she’d been celebrating Ian Trentham’s twenty-year sentence for the cold-blooded murder of his family when her mother’s news hit—her parents were separating, one week shy of their twenty-fifth anniversary. Both extremes of the spectrum—one high, one low—sending Jayda off on a deleterious tangent.
She’d drowned her disappointment in a string of tequila shots before falling into bed with the wrong man. Thank heavens sense had overthrown insensibility before she’d taken the
plunge and slept with him.
Still, dodging the mess of a one-night hook-up hadn’t changed that whole ‘morning after’ scenario, in which she’d stumbled out of his bed awash with mortification and regret, and a mother of a hangover. She’d regretted the slip ever since.
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