Lethal in Love

by Michelle Somers

  The air outside her apartment chilled her skin and she drew the edges of her jacket together.

  Hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She quickly forgot Seth’s casual swagger down the hall, the way his ass filled his pants. Her fingers twitched, ready to reach for a gun that wasn’t there. She turned.

  The hall was deserted, yet she could have sworn they weren’t alone. Call it gut instinct or a sixth sense, she felt eyes on her back as they waited for the lift. Then she heard it, the softest of clicks. Ten apartments on her floor, which meant nine possibilities. She knew every one of those nine neighbours, had no idea why any one of them would want to covertly watch her.

  Unless she was overreacting. Her gut said no.

  Either way, visiting her father couldn’t wait. She needed her old, pre-force semi-automatic.

  21

  ‘Jayda?’ Seth waited inside the lift, finger pressing the open-door button. One last look yielded nothing so she joined him, watching the doors close on an empty hall.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She forced a smile. ‘Just wondering if I should’ve grabbed a raincoat.’

  His eyes searched hers, as if he suspected white-washing, but she knew he’d find nothing—it was an art.

  ‘I have an umbrella in the car if you’re worried about your hair.’

  ‘I wasn’t, but I might take you up on the offer anyway.’

  They reached the car without incident, although again she experienced the uncanny feeling of being watched. As if someone or something was lurking in the shadows. Even the security cameras seemed to follow her. Ridiculous, considering the system had been upgraded just under two years ago and not once had she felt uncomfortable with them until now.

  She dragged the seatbelt across her waist and clicked it home. Seth sat beside her, keys dangling from his hand.

  ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘All what?’

  ‘The covert surveillance routine back there.’

  She sighed. ‘I thought someone was watching us.’

  He peered out her side window but she knew he’d see nothing but grey concrete and parked cars. What else, when there was nothing to find?

  Or was there?

  She scanned the area, shook her head. Get out of the ridiculous and back into reality, Thomasz. An overactive imagination was something she’d never been accused of. Now wasn’t the time to allow one to emerge.

  Regardless, first opportunity, she’d run background checks on each of her nine neighbours. Friend or acquaintance, they had to be ruled out.

  Seth returned his gaze to her. ‘So you agree the killer might be someone you know?’

  ‘It’s not a given, but it is a possibility.’

  He eased the car out of the garage and shot her a sideways glance. ‘You should’ve been a lawyer.’

  ‘And bore myself silly? No thanks.’

  His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he navigated onto the wet road and into passing traffic. ‘If you’re right, someone in your building is stalking you, or worse. We should do background checks on them all.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Seth’s eyebrows nearly bounced clear off his brow. ‘Then you’ll agree that we should move the investigation to my apartment.’

  She got that he hadn’t expected her agreement, and now that he had it, he felt he could push even further. What he didn’t get was that she wouldn’t be pushed.

  ‘No way. Let him watch.’ Her eyes followed the slow back and forth of the wipers as they mopped the smattering of rain from the windscreen. ‘At some stage, he’ll slip up, and when he does, I’ll be waiting. You can’t catch a killer without facing him head-on.’

  ‘You can’t catch him if you’re dead, either. We need to make sure you stay safe.’

  ‘Which is why we’re taking a detour before the restaurant. Turn right here.’ He indicated, then turned.

  She pressed on before he could comment. ‘And just for the record, I need to make sure, not we. I’m the detective here. This is my job.’

  The only evidence he didn’t agree was the arch of an eyebrow. When it dropped, he shot her another sideways glance. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Dad’s. I need a gun.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Silence gnawed through the car like a hungry boar. She issued directions, winning a nod or non-committal grunt in return. It was almost a relief to arrive. Home. A word with no warmth since her parents’ separation.

  Her hands were stiff as she willed them to release her belt and open the door. They seemed intent on refusing.

  He cut the engine and turned to her. ‘Going in?’

  ‘Of course.’ She gave the cobwebs in her head a mental sweep. The pain in her heart wasn’t so easy to dislodge.

  With a fumble, her seatbelt clicked free. ‘I won’t be long. So, you may as well—’

  The driver’s door slammed. Seth skirted the bonnet to meet her on the footpath, disregarding the glare that was supposed to make him turn around and scuttle back inside.

  ‘A tad eager, aren’t we?’

  ‘Chalk it up to an empty stomach and the anticipation of enjoying good food in the exclusivity of your charming company.’

  She ignored the sarcasm.

  He was halfway up the cobblestoned path when she grabbed his arm. ‘Before you go in, we need to set a few ground rules.’

  Seth’s body temp spiked. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘There are some things I never kid about, and protecting my family is one of them.’

  ‘It really is incredible. At times you seem so sane and, well, almost normal. And then there are times like this.’ He rubbed at the back of his neck, the muscles protesting angrily. ‘What makes you think your father needs protection from me? Unless you think he’s hiding something.’

  Her hackles rose. ‘You’re delusional, you know that? He’s just lost a daughter to a serial killer he failed to catch twenty-five years ago. It may be a damn good story, but it’s off limits if you come inside.’

  ‘From what I know of Detective Thomasz, he’s capable of fighting his own battles.’

  ‘I don’t care what you think you know. I won’t let you loose on my grieving father.’

  ‘I’m not waiting in the car.’

  ‘I’m not letting you in without an agreement.’

  Her glare was mutinous, but he was just as determined. ‘What the hell will it take for you to trust me?’

  ‘Proof.’ The word left her lips devoid of anger, calm almost, and unwavering. ‘Do we have a deal?’

  ‘If hearing it again makes you feel better, fine. We have a deal.’

  She held out her hand. He took it and they shook, then her fingers unfurled as she wrenched her hand back.

  ‘Good.’ She navigated the winding pathway with confidence.

  Damn, she was impossible. And her legs looked way too good in that skirt . . .

  ‘Huffing and puffing like an old wolf won’t do anything but increase greenhouse gas emissions. I suggest you save your energy for stimulating dinner conversation instead.’

  . . . even if the attitude wasn’t as hot as the sway of her ass.

  His libido needed a vacation, something a meet and greet with good ole dad could well achieve. He allowed his gaze to wander further afield.

  Peonies bordered the stony walk, backing onto an immaculately manicured lawn. Retirement had both its price and its advantages, it seemed—boredom and a plethora of free time. Dean Thomasz had left the force just over a year ago. Seth would bet his savings the garden wasn’t much older.

  They climbed the stairs, the front portico as blazoned with colour as the garden.

  Jayda’s knuckles didn’t quite make it to the door before it was yanked open.

  ‘Jayda! What are you doing here?’ Her father’s gaze widened, then darted through the fading light to the deserted road. The ravage of the past few days’ events were splayed clearly over his face—more than a lack of shaving cream a
nd sleep. Dean Thomasz must have aged ten years in seventy-two hours. And if he noticed, Jayda must see it, too.

  She dropped her hand. ‘I came to see you.’

  ‘Oh.’ His gaze strayed once more to the street before it returned to her. ‘You didn’t mention a visit earlier.’

  So she had called her father. About Bec or the case? The way she avoided his gaze, he’d guess the latter. Yet she hadn’t shared any insights that conversation yielded. More secrets, a big melting pot that thickened by the minute. So much for their deal being a two-way street.

  Jayda pried her father’s fingers from the door and squeezed. ‘Do I need a reason to see how my old man’s going?’

  His haunted expression splintered into the semblance of a smile. ‘Not so much of the “old” thank you, missy.’

  Their hug was genuine and warm, filled with unspoken sentiment. The kind of hug a father should share with his child.

  Jayda’s head jerked back, her nose scrunching in disgust. ‘You’ve been drinking.’

  ‘Just one.’ He stepped away, swiping the back of his hand across bloodshot eyes.

  Seth’s gaze followed Jayda’s, to the backpack and keys dangling from his other hand. ‘Are you going out?’

  The keyring jangled as he tugged at his collar. ‘A couple of errands. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from the O—’ He stalled when Jayda shook her head, her gaze darting towards Seth. ‘Uh, Chase?’

  ‘Not since yesterday. Seth, this is my father, Dean Thomasz. Dad, this is Seth. A reporter for the Melbourne Telegraph.’

  Her tone was as clear as Evian. No cleaning out of closets or family skeletons right now, Dad. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed she still didn’t trust him.

  Dean measured him from head to foot, a comprehensive dismantling and putting back together, as if by doing so he could uncover Seth’s every intention. Only when Dean was done did he nod and offer his hand. ‘We spoke Friday night.’

  He accepted the gesture for what it was. A token he’d passed muster.

  ‘Good to see you again, Mr Thomasz.’

  ‘Call me Dean. And thank you for looking after my daughter these past couple of days.’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘Are you telling me it isn’t true?’

  Seth swallowed a chuckle. Seems he wasn’t the only man to rub that beautiful skin of hers the wrong way.

  ‘I came to get my gun.’

  If her father was surprised, he hid it well. Instead, he inched the door open and ushered them inside. He fastened the latch and dead-bolted the lock before leading them through a narrow hall and into a spacious living area, well-worn but comfortable.

  The blinds were drawn, the globe hanging from the ceiling low-wattage. Light may have been sparse, but it was enough to notice the chaos. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the room had been tossed. But perhaps this was the room’s normal state.

  Jayda turned full circle. ‘What the hell happened here?’

  Or perhaps not.

  ‘Spring cleaning.’ Dean darted her a look Seth couldn’t read. But she sure as hell could. Understanding filled her expression and she clamped her lips, moving towards a sideboard overflowing with flowers and sympathy cards.

  Dean shot him a wry grin. ‘Sorry about the mess. I guess I got carried away.’

  Jayda turned back to face her father, her expression grim. ‘I guess you did.’

  He could tell she wanted to say more. But damn her obstinacy, she wouldn’t do it in front of him.

  Enough already. ‘Jayda—’

  She moved to the far door. ‘I’m getting my gun.’

  Her father ignored the no-argument warning of her tone. ‘Why do you need a gun?’

  She paused, her hand resting against the frame. ‘No reason.’ It was a bit like watching two immovable objects battle.

  ‘No reason, like your car being smashed-within-an-inch-of-its-life no reason, or no reason, as in really no reason?’

  She spun around. ‘It’s just a precaution, Dad.’ This time it was Jayda’s turn to come under that intense scrutiny. ‘For god’s sake! I’m not some hostile witness for you to intimidate.’

  His gaze moved to Seth. ‘Is it really nothing, son?’

  Seth glanced from father to daughter. She looked pretty damn hostile to him. He was going to burn for this.

  Turning his attention to Dean, he blocked Jayda’s glower from his vision. ‘We believe the Night Terror could be someone known to you or your family.’

  ‘Seth!’ Jayda shot flame-tipped daggers his way.

  Her father, on the other hand, was icy calm. Seth could have been commenting on the oil price in the Middle East for all his reaction. ‘Do you have time for a coffee?’

  Seth nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘No!’

  Jayda’s emphatic denial surprised him and, it seemed, her father. But that wasn’t what threw him. It was her disbelief, for once not aimed his way. Bets on, they’d already discussed the possibility. If so, she must agree, even if just in part, with his theory of revenge. Yet she still refused to admit it to him. Was clearly peeved at her father for lending credence to the idea before a witness.

  Hell, he wasn’t an insensitive ass. The thought that Bec’s death was personal, and more, revenge for some past perceived wrongdoing, had to burn like a gallstone on fire. But they were out to catch a killer. How could they work effectively together when she kept shutting him out?

  ‘That’s settled, then.’ Dean hustled them both towards a puffy white couch, scooping up papers only to shove them into an already open sideboard drawer.

  ‘How do you take your coffee, Seth? I have instant so your options are black or white, straight or sweet.’ He shot a look towards a less-than-impressed Jayda. ‘Unless you’re a coffee snob like my daughter.’

  Jayda’s lips pressed together so tightly, it was a wonder they hadn’t been super-fixed.

  He bit back a smile. ‘Only so far as I won’t touch decaf.’

  ‘None of that stuff here.’ He waved his hand. ‘Or would you prefer something stronger? I’ve a magnificent tawny port and I could go a glass about now.’

  ‘Dad! You promised Mum!’

  ‘Well, your mother’s not here, and one glass won’t hurt.’

  Seth looked from Jayda to her father, his gut tightening by the minute. He’d have to be dead not to sense that something else was going on, but if Jayda wouldn’t let him in, how the hell was he to guess?

  Without waiting for his answer, Dean started pouring from a crystal decanter on the sideboard.

  ‘Port would be great.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie. Gaining insight into Jayda and her father would be great. The port, on the other hand, would be sweet and sickly, and would probably clog in his throat. But some sacrifices were necessary. And watching Jayda squirm, more than definitely on the back foot with her dad, would be worth it.

  ‘Jayda?’

  Throwing her hands up, she forced a sigh that he picked as fifty-fifty exaggeration and genuine. ‘We can’t stay long.’ She evaded the couch, turning towards a doorway off to the right. ‘I’m getting my gun.’

  He caught her elbow and couldn’t help grinning. ‘Remember those greenhouse emissions.’

  She tugged out of his grasp. ‘Remember your promise.’

  Palm still burning from the contact, he gave a three-finger salute, grin widening as she left the room. When he turned, it was to find Dean watching.

  ‘She has fire, I’ll give you that.’ He held out a small glass.

  Seth accepted with a wary nod. ‘An entire forest of it.’

  The other man barked what could have resembled a laugh in other circumstances.

  Seth moved to the sideboard. A large frame perched at the end, the typical studio-posed family shot. Bec was easily recognisable, as was a younger, cheerier Dean. An older but no less beautiful ringer for Bec stood in the centre. Then there was Jayda, her cheeky grin framed by a halo of curls. Three blonde heads, one bright, f
iery red.

  He sensed Dean behind him. ‘Nice photo.’

  ‘Sure it’s the photo you’re referring to?’

  He turned to find Dean watching. This time both his words and expression lacked humour. ‘All jokes aside, Seth, should I be worried?’

  ‘Worried?’

  ‘That you’re using my daughter?’

  ‘I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t after a story.’

  ‘I appreciate your honesty. But in the past seventy-two hours I’ve already lost a daughter.’ He winced. ‘I won’t see the other hurt.’

  ‘Neither will I. I’m here to ensure that doesn’t happen.’

  ‘And to get your story.’

  Seth nodded.

  ‘Tell me, what will you do to get it?’

  Retired Detective Thomasz wasn’t a man to be trifled with. It was obvious where Jayda got her spunk.

  ‘I won’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re getting at. Not for the story.’

  ‘But you will sleep with her.’

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or run. Dean’s expression screamed warning, trifle with my daughter, you trifle with me. What was the bet an ex-cop’s household hid more than one firearm?

  ‘You’ve nothing to worry about, Dean.’ He crossed his fingers behind his back and prayed for lightning not to strike. ‘Regardless of what I do or don’t want, your daughter has no personal interest in me. So there’s no way in hell we’ll be doing anything other than solving this case together.’

  A door slammed. He spun around to a scowl that could send chills through an Eskimo.

  ‘Male bonding at its finest. Thanks for sharing your intentions so openly, Seth.’

  To say she saw red was an understatement. A wild inferno flashed across Jayda’s vision as she stared at the two men, who looked like they’d been caught pants-down in a brothel.

  ‘It’s not what you—’

  Her father’s frown cut Seth off mid-sentence. Just as well. Or she might have resorted to other less restrained measures, now she had her semi in her hand.

  ‘Think? It very rarely is.’ She slipped the gun into her purse and headed for the door. ‘We need to get going.’