Whiskey For Breakfast

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by Liliana Hart


  The woman reached a climax shrill enough to break glass and the tension ratcheted up the temperature several degrees. A pregnant silence followed her cataclysmic orgasm, and I realized if I didn’t breathe a little slower I was likely to end up hyperventilating.

  “I should’ve known you’d show up here,” Nick said, closing his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into turning around and going back home so I can get this straightened out.”

  I raised a brow and cut my eyes to the loaded weapon in his hand. “No, I don’t think so.”

  He sighed and put his gun away, reaching over to turn the TV off and the X-rated flick that had been playing. The smells of old sex and new death assaulted my senses, and I swallowed back the bile that rose at the sight of the body at Nick’s feet.

  “At least you put on gloves when you came in,” he said, nodding at my hands. “I’d hate to think you smudged the prints of whoever broke in.”

  “Someone broke in?” I asked, guilt sending a rush of heat to my cheeks.

  “You didn’t see the front door shot to shit and standing open when you came inside?”

  “Umm…sure I did. How could I have missed that?” I took a look at the body on the floor and recognized the nurse who’d brought me back to the patient room. She’d been in on whatever they had going on here.

  “She was a nurse,” I said. “I saw her when I was here.” She didn’t look so good now. She was naked and sprawled face down on the carpet. Sexual activity was obvious. Her neck was at an odd angle, and I wasn’t a medical examiner, but I was guessing that was cause of death. The file cabinet lock had been popped open and all the drawers had been pulled out. The bottom one where the black bag had been was empty.

  Nick was on his phone calling in the scene and I stepped around the body to look closer at the file cabinet.

  “What?” Nick asked.

  “This is where Blackbeard put the bag I traded him for. It’s gone now.”

  “If you don’t go now, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when the other cops get here.”

  I filled him in briefly on what I’d told Savage about Norman Hinkle and waited for the explosion to come. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”

  “I’m too tired to yell. In case you don’t remember I didn’t get any sleep last night. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get any tonight either.”

  “My sister stayed in Whiskey Bayou tonight. You’re welcome to bunk over if you find yourself at loose ends.”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  I heard the sirens in the distance and slipped back out through the alleyway. My body was starting to feel the aches and pains of the day. I needed an icepack and my bed in a bad way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Savage’s SUV wasn’t in his driveway when I got back home, so I figured he was busy getting things ready to take down the senior citizens at SEAL. I parked Nick’s car in the driveway and dug for my house keys before I got out of the car. I should have grabbed my gun too.

  A dark shadow appeared just behind me and slapped a hand over my mouth before I could scream. He held a knife to my throat and I felt the nick against my skin. I whimpered once and knew this time was it. I was going to die.

  He pushed me forward and somehow my legs started moving. My front door was already unlocked, and he opened it and pushed me inside. My back door was barely on its hinges. And there was a body on the floor. That was new too. The sight of Anthony Franco lying on my floor with his neck gaping open was more than I could bear. I crashed to the ground in a dead faint.

  When I woke up I was tied to one of my kitchen chairs. Smash Nose was still dead on the floor, but my attacker was nowhere in sight. My body was in shock and my skin was clammy and ice cold with fear. I scooted the chair toward the kitchen hoping I could make it to a knife, but the noise brought him back again.

  I recognized Victor Dawson instantly, though I’d only met him the one time. His black shirt and slacks were wet with blood. Slitting throats was a messy business.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” he asked.

  I didn’t feel like that question deserved an answer, though I’d been told I was a pain in the ass on a fairly frequent basis.

  “Why did you kill him?”

  “I was doing you a favor.” He shrugged and straddled a chair in front of me. “He was here waiting for you to show up. Besides, he and Sakko were getting to be too much trouble. Sakko keeps demanding more volume for less money. We’re running a freaking business, not a charity. But Sakko is a greedy bastard. He’ll be having an unfortunate accident before too much longer.”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” My teeth had started to chatter, and I was trying hard not to let him see how afraid I was. I was failing miserably.

  “Don’t you? We knew who you were when you came sniffing around the first time. But we let you in to see what you wanted. Deloris was able to find out quite a bit when you were all drinking. You have a loose tongue when you have too much wine.”

  I would’ve rolled my eyes if I hadn’t been so terrified.

  “We’ve been running a profitable business out of the center for almost a decade now. Norman Hinkle is a horticultural genius, and he grew premium quality plants that could be sold for a premium price. It’s not cheap running a home that size you know, and most old people don’t have a lot of money. We try to absorb as much of the cost as possible so they’re comfortable in their declining years. We want those staying with us to have every luxury at their fingertips.”

  “They all know what you’re doing?”

  “Of course they know. Everyone helps with the crops and packaging. Like I told you. We have a business. It costs a million dollars a year to keep the house in good upkeep and employ all the staff.”

  “But then a couple of years ago Johnny Sakko moves in from somewhere up north and has his own drug trade. He manages to sniff us out and wants to work out a deal, but it’s mostly in his favor. Our profits start shrinking. And then you come along and tell us exactly what we needed to hear.”

  “What was that?” I asked. I’d loosened the ropes around my wrists a bit, and I figured if I could keep him talking another couple of minutes they’d be free.

  “Norman has actually known for years that he was the bastard son of Frank Tannenbaum. He didn’t particularly care one way or another. His mother told him all about it before she shot herself, but he knew he’d probably never get hold of any of Tannenbaum’s money.”

  “And then Deloris got me drunk and I told her he’d had his will changed.”

  “Exactly. And that’s when we knew we weren’t going to need Sakko’s business any longer. All we had to do was get rid of Frank Tannenbaum and the money would go to Norman, which means it would go to the whole operation. We would’ve had enough to keep the house open for the rest of our lives without having to rely on the cannabis crops to see us through. Every year gets riskier.”

  “So you killed Mr. Tannenbaum?” I caught a flash of something at my back door, but I couldn’t be sure what it was.

  “Yep. I knocked right on the door and he let me inside. People are too trusting. I bashed him on the head with the heavy end of his cane and tried to make it look like a robbery. It was pretty easy all in all. I was in and out in just a few minutes and the rain helped keep me hidden. “

  I was struggling in earnest now to get the bonds off my wrists, and he just sat there smiling. My time was running out.

  “Right now there are Feds swarming all over our home. All of those elderly people are being taken from their beds and questioned like criminals. And their livelihood is being confiscated. All because of you.”

  Victor had done a pretty good job up until this point of masking his anger. His voice had been calm, almost soothing, as he explained what had happened. But now he was very aware that I was the person who ruined him and everyone else who lived in that house. The hand that held the knife shoo
k as he gripped it tighter and his lips were white with anger.

  I pushed back the chair as he slashed the knife in front of me. The only thing that saved me was that I’d tipped the chair over when I’d tried to get away. I’d also landed on my back. Again. I laid there waiting for the next downward stroke of the knife when I heard a war cry from somewhere in the vicinity of my back yard.

  Gandalf the Grey broke through what was left of my back door and dozens of Hobbits swarmed inside the room. They all had tiny swords and staffs and were beating the hell out of Victor. He was curled up in the fetal position on the floor.

  Sirens sounded in the distance and spotlights shone on the front of the house. And then I looked up and Nick was standing over me. He knelt down and worked at the knots on my hands and feet.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said. His hands shook as he tried to get the ropes off. When he finally did, he scooped me into his lap and sat down right on the floor.

  “You scared me to death. Dispatch got a call from your neighbor saying you’d been attacked.”

  I recognized Spock across the room, rallying the other Hobbits as they gave cheers of victory. “Samwise Gamgee is a hero. NAD Squad to the rescue.”

  “I’ve got to tell you, this is weird, even for you. I’m not sure what to say about the Hobbits.”

  “Let’s leave them here. I think I’d rather sleep at your house anyway. There’s less traffic.”

  “I also have a bigger bed.”

  “That too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Friday…three days later

  “We’ve got to pace ourselves better,” Nick said. “We get to do this forever. There’s no need to try and fit a lifetime’s worth of sex into one week.”

  He rolled off me and onto his back and we watched the ceiling fan spin overhead. My house had been considered a crime scene and was taped up from front to back. Nick had packed a couple of bags for me, scooped me into his truck and driven me home. I hadn’t left since then, though Nick had to leave in the mornings for work.

  My sister was back at my mother’s house and waiting for the cleaning crew to get rid of any leftover blood in my house before she took over the lease. She’d only have to spend another week or so at my Mom’s.

  I’d fallen behind on the work I was doing for my P.I. license. My body was too sore to do much physical exercise that wasn’t on my back, and I’d had to miss one of my classes. I had written exams coming up soon and the physical exam was just before Christmas. Maybe Nick could help me exercise. He seemed to be in excellent shape. I needed to get my ass in gear with no distractions.

  The Dragnet theme filled the room and I reached around for it on the nightstand without looking. I was too tired to move, and I realized Nick had started snoring softly beside me at some point.

  “What’s up?”

  “Did I interrupt something?” Kate asked.

  “Nah. We’re finished. You’ve got good timing.”

  "I don’t know about that. I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

  "The good news."

  "I'm not pregnant. I got my period this morning and my test was negative when I looked in the bag. I think the stress of the job is messing with my hormones."

  "That's good news?"

  "I think so. I talked it over with Mike and we're going to wait another year or so before starting a family. This was a timely event. We'll be a little more careful with the birth control from now on."

  "So what's the bad news?" I asked.

  "Your test was positive."

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Liliana Hart is an award winning author of more than a dozen books. She lives in Texas in a big rambling house with her laptop and cats, and she spends way too much time on Twitter. She loves hearing from her readers.

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  LINKS TO MY OTHER BOOKS

  The MacKenzie Series

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  A MacKenzie Christmas

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  Cade

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  Secrets and Satin

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  The MacKenzie Security Series (includes the 3 books listed above)

  The Collective Series

  Kill Shot

  The Rena Drake Series

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  The Addison Holmes Mystery Series

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  Whiskey For Breakfast

  The JJ Graves Mystery Series

  Dirty Little Secrets

  A Dirty Shame

  Dirty Rotten Scoundrel

  Standalone Novels/Novellas

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  Paradise Disguised

  Catch Me If You Can

  Who’s Riding Red?

  Goldilocks and the Three Behrs

  Strangers in the Night

  Naughty or Nice

  Read on for an excerpt of DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS by Liliana Hart....

  Available Now!

  Fourth generation mortician. That’s a lot of dead bodies.

  I thought I’d be proud to carry on the family legacy, but that was before I knew the job would be hell on my social life. I mean, who wanted to date a woman who drained blood on a regular basis and whose scent of choice was embalming fluid?

  Sure, I got a little lonely sometimes. It mostly happened when I was preparing a body in the middle of the night instead of snuggled up next to someone warm with a pulse. But dead bodies were my business. And I hated every fucking minute of it. I never wanted to take over the family funeral parlor. I wanted to be a doctor. Well, technically, I was a doctor, but I preferred to be one for the living.

  My parents died early last year, and the gossip and scandal involved would have broken someone with a lesser constitution, but I’d managed to hold my head up. Mostly. It was because of my parents that I’d had an impromptu career change. The only thing I had left of them was the crumbling old Victorian I grew up in and Graves Funeral Home—believe me, it was a hell of a legacy.

  I had little choice but to resign my job at the hospital, pack my bags and move back to Bloody Mary, Virginia—population 2,902. The good thing about owning a funeral home in Bloody Mary was that hardly anyone ever died, despite the rather macabre name. The bad thing about it was I had a shitload of student loans to pay back and not a lot of income.

  Did I mention the budget cuts?

  Ahh, my life was simple before the budget cuts. The mayor’s decision to be more fiscally conservative left King George County without a coroner. So, I, J.J. Graves, in a moment of temporary insanity, volunteered for the job. In all actuality, I was strong-armed into taking the position out of a sense of duty to the community and the guilt of tarnishing
my family’s good name. Well, tarnishing it any more than it already was.

  Which brought me here. Alone in my bed in the middle of the night. My bedroom so cold white puffs of breath clouded above my face every time I exhaled because I couldn’t afford to crank the heater above 65 degrees. My toes wiggled and fought for release beneath the nubby covers I’d tucked under the mattress too tightly, and goosebumps spread across the top of my skull and tightened the skin so much that it felt as if the follicles might snap off.

  I’d been wide awake for more than an hour, thinking of my family, what was left of my legacy, and how much my life in general sucked. Not for the first time, the thought entered my mind that it wouldn’t be so terrible if I just packed a bag and left everything behind me without a word to anyone. I didn’t have any family to worry over my disappearance. No children to leave belongings to. Sure my friends would miss me for awhile. But eventually the people who’d watched me grow up would only have passing thoughts about that Grave’s girl whose parents killed themselves. All the while I would be starting a new life. Hopefully someplace warm.

  But like I always did, I immediately dismissed the thought. It took more courage than I had to start over and leave everything familiar behind. I needed something in my life besides a half-assed career and a mountain of debt. A man would be nice. A man who’d be willing to have sex would be even better. But chances of that happening were somewhere between negative four and zero. Not because Bloody Mary didn’t have its fair share of men, but because I was just picky. Bloody Mary wasn’t exactly teeming with single males under the age of forty who had health insurance and all their own teeth.

 

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