Lethal in Love

by Michelle Somers

  ‘Hilarious, Bec. Let’s see if your humour withstands Juz’s workout.’ She dropped a scrunchie into her sister’s waiting hand—why Bec never remembered to bring her own, she hadn’t a clue—and watched as she deftly pulled back and secured her long blonde hair.

  ‘Glad you could join us, Jayda.’ The man himself, Juz Callum, winked before returning his attention to the group of ten or so other women stretching their quads.

  Jayda inhaled, mentally preparing herself for the grind ahead. Juz may be a friend outside class, but he was also the best damn interval trainer in existence. Bec refused to go anywhere else, and she came for Bec.

  Oh, and hips, waist and thighs to die for.

  The music amped up, pulsing through the thin carpet and her barely broken-in trainers. ‘Jog it out, ladies. Soft and slow. This is your warm-up, so don’t push it till I tell you.’ Flexing his shoulders, Juz dipped his head from side to side.

  ‘Fifteen seconds, then we have power jacks.’ He grinned, a look of pure, crazy glee. ‘Ready for some insane exercise?’

  The group gave a muted mumble.

  Jayda shuffled closer to Bec as Georgie slipped into position beside her. Puffing as if she’d already finished a full-fledged workout, she nodded hi to Bec and raised her dark brown brows at Jayda. ‘Did I miss much?’

  She grimaced. ‘Unfortunately, no.’

  Georgie mirrored her expression, then rolled her eyes. ‘At least I won’t feel guilty about that vanilla slice at lunch.’

  ‘An entire chocolate bar for me.’

  They grinned.

  ‘I said, ARE. YOU. READY?’

  Juz wouldn’t stop until they gave him what he wanted, and every woman in the room knew it. A unanimous yes! erupted as they prepared to jump-jack straight into a low squat. Her muscles were about to hate her, but her thighs would be grateful as all hell.

  ‘I got Dad’s pressie. Wanna know what it is?’

  She spared Bec a sideways glance, working hard to maintain her balance. And even breathing.

  Bec didn’t gasp or pant. She didn’t sweat or perspire or ‘glow’ like most normal, earth-dwelling women. Instead, as always, she appeared cool and jumped into the squat with ease. Grace, even. She had the perfect body, a look much like Cameron Diaz and a personality people flocked to. If Bec wasn’t her little sister, and an absolute doll, Jayda would have hated her with a passion.

  ‘An “upfront and friendly with a croc” experience.’

  Jayda overbalanced, corrected, and only just managed to stop her jaw from dropping to the floor.

  Georgie kicked on, oblivious, her sleek brown bob bouncing energetically against her shoulders as she immersed herself in her usual exercise bubble.

  Jayda found her voice. ‘You’re kidding.’

  Bec didn’t falter, launching into hop squats effortlessly. ‘Nope. He always had a thing for Steve Irwin. And he loves animals. Think he’ll like it?’

  Jayda threw herself into the exercise, taking a deep breath before she answered. ‘He loves everything you give him. Regardless.’

  ‘Great.’ Bec ignored the dig, or maybe she just didn’t get it. She hopped, then squatted, making it look a helluva lot easier than it was. ‘Know if Mum’s coming tonight?’

  Jayda’s thighs, butt and glutes burned, and something other than the exercise flared in her stomach. ‘Why wouldn’t she? Dad’s still her husband and they love each other, even if they’re not living together right now. This is just a glitch. They’ll fix it. And tonight is special, his fiftieth.’ The words wheezed out from her mouth, but Bec heard.

  Georgie didn’t. Her concentration was glued with single-minded focus on the workout, to the exclusion of everything around her. Not one to chat through pain, Georgie preferred to breathe through it, never taking her eyes off Juz or his over-enthused movements.

  Bec seemed to hesitate, then sighed. ‘She’s moved in with someone.’

  ‘She’s what?’ Jayda stumbled and clutched at her sister for balance. Georgie jolted into awareness and her expression softened as she mouthed,

  ‘You okay?’

  Jayda nodded, her gaze straying to Juz. He shot her a look, both sympathetic and questioning, and she knew she was in for a grilling. The man had a radar for gossip and he relished every shred of it.

  Georgie, on the other hand, was more of a there-if-you-need-me flavour of friend. Less inclined to push unless she sensed you were ready to share.

  Jayda turned back to Bec, trying to hold it together when every thought made her feel like she was about to fall apart. ‘She left Dad for another guy?’

  Her stomach churned, but she still managed the mummy kicks, even if they lacked the energy of seconds before.

  ‘The grapevine says yes, Mum says not, so who knows?’

  ‘Does Dad know?’

  Bec shrugged. ‘I knew they were having problems, but . . .’

  ‘You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Her sister’s blue lagoon eyes narrowed as she twisted her head towards Jayda. ‘I figured they’d work it out. They always do.’

  This was getting better by the minute. ‘You mean they’ve had problems before?’

  ‘After Dad returned from that undercover stint on the Highbury Case.’ The class dropped to the floor for thirty seconds of moving push-ups. Jayda did the same.

  Three years ago. Back then she’d been focused on getting her detective’s badge, so family life was a blur. They were always there for her. Her rock. But with studies and training, she’d hardly been home.

  What she did remember was the tension. She’d shrugged it off as a projection of her own worries over her studies. Never once had she imagined her parents would anything but love each other, or grow old and grey together. Wasn’t that why Dad retired last year? They were the perfect couple. A winning team. Bec’s words, but she’d always echoed them.

  Jayda had spent a lifetime dreaming of exactly what they had. So much so, she’d dreamed herself into love with Liam. Rationalised her disappointment when reality failed to meet fantasy. Made excuses for his failings. Her own.

  Because she’d wanted her parents’ kind of love with all her heart. Until two weeks ago; the day she’d discovered it was all a sham.

  ‘You bringing that hot partner of yours tonight?’

  The shift in topic was as subtle as a g-string. Jayda let it go, her head still spinning from her discovery, not to mention a shortage in oxygen.

  ‘I . . . keep . . . telling . . . you,’ she paused for breath, ‘he’s a work colleague, that’s all.’

  ‘So, you wouldn’t mind if I . . . you know?’

  She faltered, noticed Georgie do the same. She always hated the floor part of the workout.

  ‘Really, Bec? You can do so much better.’ Her speech was stilted, mere puffs of breath, but nothing her sister wasn’t used to deciphering.

  ‘You said he was great.’

  ‘He is.’ Jayda pushed harder, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘At work.’

  ‘I am stepping on your toes.’

  ‘Thirty-second break, ladies.’ Juz grabbed his energy drink. ‘Then we do it all again! Rehydrate. Re-energise. Check your heart rate. But don’t stop moving!’

  She collapsed onto the floor, her mind racing in competition with her heart.

  Get a grip, Thomasz!

  Bec lobbed a water her way, then Georgie’s. Jayda caught it, the break in her thoughts forcing good old-fashioned reason back into her brain. It was so unlike her, this over-sensitivity, this angst, but her parents’ breakup had spun her judgement into disarray, causing her to question everything she believed in.

  That’s all this was.

  The cool liquid refreshed as she scrubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘You’re not stepping on toes, mine or anyone else’s. Date Chase, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘Sure?’ Bec’s look was as earnest as the question.

  ‘Loo break!’ Georgie shot them a long-suffering
grin. The breathless kind that wavers on your lips after you’ve worked your guts out and are still fighting for oxygen. Jayda’s grin in response was pretty much the same.

  Georgie jogged off and Jayda returned her attention to her sister. She knew that if she said ‘hands off’ Bec would do just that. And she loved her for it.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure. At least if you’re out with Chase, I’ll know you’re safe.’

  ‘With all those muscles.’ She whistled, low and suggestive. ‘Love a man in uniform. Sex-y.’

  ‘You nut! He’s a detective. He doesn’t wear a uniform.’

  ‘But he has a gun.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Double sex-y.’

  Jayda laughed. Her first genuine laugh of the day. It felt weird, but a lightness filtered into her chest that hadn’t been there for a while. Bec could always drag her out of herself when no one else could.

  Georgie rushed back to her side. Flushed. Too obsessively keen over the workout for someone in their right mind.

  ‘Get ready, ladies,’ Juz bellowed. ‘Ten seconds and we’re back into it. Cut the chatter. Save your energy for the insanity to come!’

  He shot a wink her way and she retaliated with the mature response. She stuck out her tongue.

  He grinned as he counted down, ‘Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Jump squats. Go team!’

  She threw herself into the workout. Better that than thinking. Her parents. Chase. Bec dating Chase. The Night Terror. The warm, fuzzy feeling every time she remembered that man, that kiss. Mixed, tumbling emotions about them all.

  Yeah. Better to puff and sweat and ache than think.

  The world that had warmed and embraced her for so long was being dragged, kicking and screaming out from under her feet.

  Life should be fair. Happy. A comfort.

  Difficult to believe in something that no longer existed.

  5

  ‘Jayda!’ Key already in the lock to her apartment, she turned to see Juz striding towards her, a small shopping bag swinging from his hand. ‘I missed you after class.’

  ‘Uh, yeah. My car was parked in a one-hour zone.’

  ‘So you weren’t avoiding me?’

  She returned her attention to unlocking the door. ‘Why would I avoid you?’

  ‘For a homicide detective, you’re a shithouse liar.’

  When Juz grinned it was infectious. The white of his teeth overtook the olive of his face, and the deep brown of his eyes sparkled. ‘Time for a coffee?’

  ‘I was going for something stronger.’

  He swept past her. ‘I’ll pour. You relax.’

  She sighed and followed the whirlwind that was her friend into her living room. Juz wasn’t one to take anything but ‘yes’ for an answer, particularly if he was on a mission. Like now.

  ‘One drink only, then I need to shower and change for Dad’s party.’

  ‘That’s tonight?’

  ‘You know it is. You were invited.’

  He crouched and opened her freezer, emptying the contents of his shopping bag. ‘Remind me to take this when I go.’

  He wedged a carton of ice cream between her out-of-date dim sims and a bag of frozen peas.

  ‘Orange choc chip? Not quite your taste.’

  ‘I’m widening my horizons.’ Shooting her a grin, he straightened. ‘What are you wearing?’ He opened the fridge and scanned its contents, then glanced at her above the door. ‘The emerald Carrie D’Lor, I hope?’

  Dumping her bag on the bench, she perched on the edge of a barstool and watched Juz turn his nose up at a bottle of her favourite Moscato, grab two glasses and dubiously begin to pour.

  ‘It’s dinner with family and friends. I was going for simple and understated, like my LBD.’

  ‘Ah, black. The colour of mourning. We’ll get back to that in a second.’ Juz stopped pouring and dipped his head to the side, squinting at her over the breakfast bar. ‘Family do or not, you never know who else could show. Go with the green. You have those matching sandals, and the necklace and earring set your parents bought for your last birthday.’

  He resumed pouring. ‘Wear your hair in a loose bun like Carlos styled for you last Christmas. It’ll go perfectly with the spaghetti straps and low neckline.’

  Grimacing, he set the bottle down and rubbed the back of his hand. ‘Now your outfit’s set, you can fill me in on what’s bugging you.’

  Her gaze landed on the red patch of skin as he continued to scratch. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I have a suspicion Garry changed washing powders on me.’ He slid her glass across the bench.

  ‘Put cortisone on it.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ He grinned and she grinned back.

  ‘Speaking of Garry, where is he? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your big night out?’

  ‘His boss has him working a double shift.’

  ‘That’s rough. Your six-month anniversary is a big deal.’

  A zap of passionfruit tangoed across her tongue. She closed her eyes for a second and savoured. ‘It’s not too late. You can still come to the party.’

  ‘Nah. Think I’ll stay in and celebrate when Garry gets home. Better late than never. Right?’ He donned his brave face. A mask that showed it hurt that Garry was missing their anniversary. And as much as she hated seeing his pain, she loved that her friend had finally found the happiness he deserved.

  ‘I know he wouldn’t miss tonight if he had a choice, Juz. He hates that job. Mind you, it’s only since I met Garry that I’m nice to telemarketers. I’d hate to hang up only to find out I’d hung up on my best friend’s boyfriend.’

  Juz’s smile was fleeting. His gaze narrowed. ‘Nice deflection, distracting by talking about my favourite topic. Me.’ He grinned. ‘But don’t forget, you’re shooting against the best. What’s up, Jayda?

  ‘Why do you think anything’s up?’

  ‘My radar’s on and it’s blinking red. You have the body language of a rhino with back pain and everything tells me something Bec said has you spooked. Out with it, hon, or it’ll only balloon until you can’t hold it in any longer.’

  It would take more than a roll of her shoulders to release the kinks in her back, but she did it anyway, knowing Juz was right. ‘Do you know what Mum said when she called to tell me about the split? She needed to find herself. What the heck is that supposed to mean? Find herself. As if she was some lost hippy or something equally ridiculous. And now she’s gone, I find out the truth. Mum left Dad for someone else.’

  Juz sipped, rolling the liquid expertly over his tongue. He grimaced, almost gagged and spat the mouthful into the sink, dumping the glass with more flourish than required. In the two years they’d been friends, one thing they’d never seen eye-to-eye on was wine. She went for sweet and affordable, he favoured dry and vintage, and never the twain shall meet.

  He rinsed his mouth with water, then daubed his lips with a kitchen towel. Slowly. Meticulously.

  It was useless to push Juz when he was in contemplation mode, so she bided her time, biting her lip to stop from screaming out loud with frustration.

  After what seemed an age, he lifted his gaze to hers. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Pretty sure.’ She tried to read him and got nothing. ‘She’s moved in with someone.’

  He turned to the sink and cleaned his glass. She stared at the broad musculature of his back as his words wafted over his shoulder. ‘Your parents split two weeks ago. Don’t you think she could have met someone since then?’

  Juz never washed, not without gloves.

  ‘You know something!’

  He turned to face her, his expression indecipherable. She dumped her glass onto the white granite and leaned forward to force Juz’s gaze to meet hers. ‘Spill!’

  ‘What could I know about Lydia that you don’t?’

  ‘Don’t give me that! She goes to your Thursday night attack classes. Did she say something then?’

  Juz shook his head. She itched to grab his shoulders and shake eve
ry last secret out of him. Instead she made do with slamming her palm on the bench top.

  ‘Dammit, Juz! I’ve had the day from shit city and I don’t need you adding to it. The marriage I idolised is a farce. My parents are separating, there’s another dead body in the morgue, and some psycho fucker is running around Melbourne killing women at random. Just once today, I’d like a break.’

  He reached across the bench and covered her hand. ‘Slow down. You don’t get to blow a gasket on my watch. You’re doing your best and if you can’t catch this guy, nobody can.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d love to know who comes up with these names, though. The Night Terror. What’s that about?’

  She yanked her hand back and wrapped it around her glass. ‘Some reporter made it up to sell papers.’

  A familiar boil scorched her blood. The kind she got thinking about the scum who sensationalised murder. They were almost as bad as the madmen who performed them. Irrational? Perhaps. But not unfounded. Freedom of the press was all well and good, but serial killers sought recognition and it rankled that they got it so readily, and sometimes with an almost-reverence just shy of praise.

  ‘It’s all about the signature. Our task force was nicknamed Pacu after a killer fish that bites extremities like fingers from its victims and leaves them to bleed to death. The Night Terror is a sicko who terrorises women at night and he’s their worst nightmare.’

  ‘A very clever sicko, mind you.’ He sounded impressed, but must have caught her scowl because he waved a hand as if to recant the statement. ‘Nowhere near as clever as you, though.’

  Her hand sliced the air between them. ‘Cut the bullshit, Juz. This isn’t about work. It’s about my life, and everything I believed turning into nothing but pipe dreams.’

  ‘Happily ever after isn’t a pipe dream, Jayda. It’s real.

  ‘Tell that to all the happy, broken couples out there. Even Bec couldn’t find it.’

  ‘But at least she’s still looking. And as long as she doesn’t give up, one day she’ll get there.’

  ‘If it exists, which I seriously doubt.’ She glared at him over her glass, catching his eye, daring him to look away. ‘If we’re talking deflections, this ripper of yours won’t work. If you know something, it’s your duty as a friend to spill.’