Deadly Desire (Carrington-Hill Investigations Book 2) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Sara knowingly entered into some strange situations for the love of her job, but this one topped the cake. And not just any cake, but a slice of the crazy covered in are-you-freaking-out-of-your-mind variety. It wasn’t that she had a problem with becoming a target for a killer. No, her problem ran much deeper—dating, in general. She sucked at it. Her palms grew sweaty just thinking about it. She unconsciously shivered. She always managed to screw up her dates by saying inappropriate things at the wrong time or by just being clumsy.

Her stomach became unsettled as she remembered the embarrassment from her last date. What
had started out as a great evening turned bad within the first hour of him picking her up. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that the ass was also a lousy and abusive drunk. When he’d walked her to the door and couldn’t keep his hands to himself, she’d tried politely, at first, to tell him she wasn’t interested. When he’d downright persisted and started groping her, she’d had enough, slugged the jerk, and knocked him flat on his ass. Nope, dating wasn’t for her, and she hated first dates, especially with men she didn’t know. Especially with men who made her nervous, like Collin Martin. He deserved prim, proper, and beautiful on his arm…everything Sara knew she wasn’t.

“Exactly what are you expecting?”
she asked in the best back-to-business voice she could muster. No matter how crazy the job sounded, she was still going to try and be professional. She’d save her hysterics for when she didn’t have an audience.

“For appearance
’s sake, you’re going to date Mr. Martin in the hopes of catching the killer,” Marco replied confidently, as though it would be an easy task.

Sara nervously tapped her foot beneath the table and wiped her palms against her skirt. “What makes Mr. Martin so sure that
this has anything to do with him?” She turned to Collin. “No offense, but this could have been a random act of violence.” She tilted her head. “I assume the police have already checked out your alibi.”

The room fell silent waiting for h
im to reply, “My alibi is iron clad and has been confirmed.” He slid a nondescript brown envelope down the table to her. She peeked inside as he explained. He tilted his head toward the envelope. “I received that in the mail two days ago.”

Sara pulled out a typed envelope
, addressed to Mr. Martin with no return address.

He gestured to the mail in her hand. “Take a look and tell me what you think.”

She pulled out the paper inside. It was a photo copy of a letter made from cut out words and letters from magazines and newspapers that had been glued to the sheet, spelling out a cryptic message.
You belong to me. It’s up to you whether they live or die.

Sara flipped the paper over to examine the back
; it was completely blank. She glanced up and waved the paper. “I would hope this is a copy and the original is being handled by forensics.”

He nodded. “I’m not a complete idiot
, Ms. Johnson.”

She shrugged. One right move
doesn’t make him Einstein either but, really, what did she expect from someone that looked as yummy as him. “I’m sure you have a lot of fans, Mr. Martin. What makes you think that, when we play love birds, the killer will even come after me?”

He gave her a slight nod and held her gaze even as he slid another envelope across the slick table. “This does.”

She pulled a newspaper clipping out of an identical envelope and unfolded it. It was a news article about a teacher found murdered in South Carolina. Sara skimmed the article and looked at the grainy black and white picture of the woman. She had long curled hair and a wide smile. She looked as though she could be the girl next door. It didn’t appear to be the type of woman she’d expect Collin to date. “I take it this is one of your exes?”

Collin laced his fingers on the tabletop. Sara couldn’t help but check out his hands, and not because the old saying
implying the sizes of hands and feet matched the size of other anatomy, although that had crossed her mind. If the saying were believed to be true…this man wasn’t lacking. No, she’d intended to verify that her suspicions were true; he did indeed get manicures. There wasn’t a hangnail in sight; his hands were as smooth as a baby’s ass. Oh hell, who was she trying to kid? She was checking to see if the rumors about his potential package were true.

“Ms. Johnson…”

When Collin said her name, Sara tried unsuccessfully to remove the grin from her face so she bit her lip and raised a brow, trying to focus on the problem at hand… and there went her resolve. She groaned, and her gaze flew back to the hands clasped in front of him. Lexi nudged her side, and Sara’s gaze flew back up to the client’s non-amused face.

“Please continue.”

“Mary was my high school sweetheart.” He pointed to the clipping. “She was killed right after our fifteen-year reunion, a reunion that I attended.”

“And where were you…” She glanced back down at the article. “…on October 31
st
?”

The corner
s of Collin’s lips dipped into a frown. He ran his hand over the sexy stubble on his chin; and, yes, even that was just as sexy as the rest of him. “I was at a Halloween party with two hundred guests.”

“That shouldn’t be hard to corroborate
,” Lexi muttered. She again nudged Sara’s elbow, reminding her that she was still in the meeting and her bosses were witnesses to the one-on-one conversation she was having with the bachelor. She just hoped she’d masked the overwhelming effect he was having on her. Sara squirmed in her seat.

  Marco leaned forward
, propping his elbows on the table. “I can vouch for Collin. I was at the same party.”

Sara slowly turned her head to Marco. She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the fact that Marco personally knew Collin or imagin
ing him doing anything remotely fun like attending a party. “Really? I can’t imagine you at a party, much less a Halloween party, but I’d love to see the pictures.”

Marco tapped the table. “This isn’t about me
, Sara. Let’s stay focused.” He rose from the table. “You have everything you need to know in that file. Let’s regroup in the morning and come up with a plan.”

Everyone stood and sauntered out of the room
, talking in easy banter. Collin followed Sara into her office. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Johnson. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He
gave her an easy grin that flashed a glimpse of a dimple. Her mind clouded as she took in his handsome face. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and, before she could reply, he vanished down the hall. And that was exactly why she didn’t need to take this case. His mere presence played havoc with her hormones, and she didn’t like that one bit.

Sara slumped into her chair and flipped through the playboy
’s file. Marco had included a copy of the police report and forensic analysis of the crime scene. The victim had sustained one fatal, single bullet wound to the heart. She’d been found by a teacher who happened to be her carpooling buddy. The police had no suspects. She flipped to a photo of the woman. Even though the photo was in color, the victim’s face was as white as the sheet covering her body from her feet to her collar bone. Her hair was brown with a hint of red. An ugly yellow-purplish bruise marred her pale face and her bottom lip was split where she’d apparently been hit. Sara unclipped the picture, held it up, and whispered into her empty office, “Who did this to you?”

“That’s what we were hired to find out
,” Lexi answered from the doorway.

Sara sat the picture down and picked up another one to examine as Lexi occupied an empty chair in front of Sara’s desk. She picked up the discarded photo. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go where?”

“Your last fitting, remember? I personally added it to the calendar in your
cell phone so you wouldn’t forget.”

“Yeah, just give me a second.” Sara glanced down at
another photo of the dead woman, taken when she’d been alive. This one showed Mary smiling. Collin was dressed in a suit with his arm draped over her shoulders. She had a quality about her that pulled people in. Sara imagined that Mary would have been an easily likable person, someone Sara would have been friends with. The more she read of the file on the murdered woman, the more determined she became.

“Crap
,” Sara mumbled while running a hand over her face.

She tossed the photo back into the file and glanced up at Lexi.

“What’s the matter?”

Sara released a long sigh. “I just figured out that as much as I hate the idea of pretending to
‘date’ Collin Martin, I hate the idea of any helpless woman ending up dead over their past mistakes.”

Lexi stood and placed the picture back on top of the file. “What makes you think Collin was a mistake? He could actually be a nice guy.”

Sara snorted, grabbed her purse, and followed Lexi out. “As if. I bet that man’s ego is bigger than your bank account.”

Lexi laughed and linked her arm through Sara’s as they left the building. “You know how much I’m worth
, right?”

Sara leaned into Lexi’s arm. “That’s exactly my point.”

Chapter 3

After the fitting, Sara went home and scoured Collin’s file again. When that didn’t give her the answers she needed, she did the next best thing and hopped on the computer, hoping that a few articles might shed some light about her new client. Numerous web pages came up, over three million to be exact, that paid homage to both his hot body and drool-worthy looks. The media had painted the man a damn saint for all of his charity work, and not just any saint…he was being named Humanitarian of the Year by Care Relief, which organizes and helps families dealing with Cancer and other deadly diseases. The man was a saint. “For the love of all that is holy…” She shook her head. “Why me?” Her shoulders sagged in resignation as she amended her complaint. “Why him?”

Rich, powerful
, and good looking, this man was a triple threat to whatever sanity she had left. Sara scratched her head, wondering why more deranged lunatics hadn’t emerged from the shadows setting their sights on him.

Newspapers and tabloids had somehow gotten their hands on information about the murder and the letters that
had been sent. She pondered how they could have possibly obtained the information. An inside job? The killer himself? Or had Collin or his publicist leaked the information for more publicity? One way or another, she’d find out. She kept reading. To her dismay, with every report and every accusation the lump in her throat grew. The reporters even went as far as to speculate on whether he’d show up to the next fundraiser alone or with a date.  She’d fallen asleep with visions of a partially clad Collin, dressed in chaps, with a whip in his hand and a sexy grin on his face.

****

Senator Boyles pounded his fist on the solid oak desk, not concerned about anyone being in the building at such a late hour. His security detail had entered his office only ten minutes ago with the incriminating
, career-ending news.

“How in the hell did you let this happen!”
he demanded. Styles and Williamson didn’t respond; they continued to keep straight faces. It was the worst day of his life and their restraint in showing any emotion just pissed him off worse. The scandal threatened to ruin his re-election campaign. If these pictures made it into the hands of his opponent, then he was screwed, literally and figuratively. Natasha wasn’t just his playmate. No, she was much more—the daughter of a fucking congressman. He knew he was playing with fire when he pulled her into his world, but he couldn’t stop himself once he’d gotten one sweet taste of the nectar she offered. 

So
here he was, in the midst of a scandal because of the illicit play. The club had strict rules concerning whom they let into their world. Someone was going to pay for not doing their damn job of screening the applicants. Knowing that even one person had managed to sneak in a camera sent his blood pressure through the roof. It only made sense that an employee had to have been involved. There was no note in the envelope, no return address, nothing to indicate what the photographer might be after.

Senator Boyles opened his desk drawer and p
ulled out some pink pills for his upset stomach and popped two into his mouth. He rubbed his hand over his bald head, wiping the sweat that had started to form. He was in deep shit and he knew it. He tossed the file to Styles. “Clean this shit up. I want to know who took the pictures; and for you to destroy every copy they made, and silence whoever was involved. If this gets out, I’m ruined.” 

****

Sara glanced down at the memory stick she had sitting on top of the pile of prints she’d left in her passenger seat and cursed. She’d meant to put them in her safe at home until she could get Marco the entire package of the senator’s escapade with detailed notes of where she’d followed him, when meeting other people in private. It wasn’t just about the photos but they were the damning evidence that Marco might need. “Crap.”

She pulled through the open iron gates of Collin’s
estate. No security stopped to ask her why she was there. He had no security period, and that just wasn’t going to do. Sara shook her head and mumbled to herself, “Unbelievably naïve. He’s going to need additional detail to work security around the perimeter of the property.”

The drive to the other side of town hadn’t taken as long as she
’d thought. His neighborhood was just as she’d imagined; pricey mansions with wrought iron gates around the perimeter. Expensive cars, with probably less than fifty miles on them, sitting idle in the driveways; each homeowner trying to one up the other.

Incredibly large and extremely old oak trees lined and hung over the long driveway
to Collin’s home, shading visitors as they entered. The surrounding lush green grounds were meticulously cut and well kept. It was a beautiful location. She herself had grown up in a similar home and a similar neighborhood. Of course, her parents had better sense and had a full security detail working the gate. Her father, being assistant deputy director of the FBI, wouldn’t have had it any other way. He loved his family, almost to the point of being too protective when she was growing up.

She pulled up into t
he cobblestone circle drive and parked, taking an extra minute to collect her nerves. This case was similar to the one Lexi had just finished a few months ago, only the big difference was that their best friend, Catherine’s, life had hung in the balance. It had been an inside job, and Sara wondered if this one would turn out the same.

She grabbed the memory stick and
prints before stepping out of the car. She secured them in the trunk, slammed it shut, and made her way to the large double door entry. Sara ran her fingers over the masterfully carved design on the door. The door swung open before she could even knock. A long-legged blonde stood in the threshold. “You must be Ms. Johnson. We’ve been expecting you.”

It was apparent she wasn’t the maid, and something about that observation made Sara pause. Why was a woman like this answering the door at the home of the “world’s most eligible bachelor”? Had he mentioned an assistant? A sister? A cousin? Damn, had she missed something in the meeting because she’d been so preoccupied studying his freaking hands?

The woman’s
hair ran down the length of her back. Hell, even her jeans had creases. I mean, seriously, who has time to iron jeans when there is a perfectly good dryer to throw those babies in to get the wrinkles out. Her button-down shirt was tucked in and secured with an ornate brown belt. This was the type of woman Sara could imagine Collin dating, someone the complete opposite of herself. Blonde and beautiful, probably knew which fork to use with the salad during a meal. Whereas Sara was tall, brunette and tomboyish, nothing like the sophisticated women people probably would expect him to date. The blonde held the door open for Sara to enter and closed it behind her. Blondie’s heels clacked against the white marble floors as she walked farther into the showcase home.

Sara crossed
through the foyer into a huge spacious room. In the middle, of the elegant room, stood a cherry table holding a vase of several dozen exotic flowers sitting smack dab in the center of it. A floral fragrance that Sara couldn’t name drifted openly throughout the room. Everything about this house was perfect almost to the point of OCD. She steeled her hands against the impulse to nudge the vase off center. The foyer opened into a large ballroom type room. However tempted she was to cup her hands and call out to see if her echo would bounce around the room, she didn’t. Paintings hung on the stark white walls. People in Lexi’s circle of friends would know the names. The dark wood furniture held splashes of deep reds and blues and could have been included in any style magazine. The decor suited his persona, confidence with a splash of style and grace, but was his home an accurate portrait of the person he was or just what he wanted people to believe? Only time would tell.

“And you are?” Sara asked as she
shrugged out of her favorite coat, oversized and comfortable, and she’d loved it… until now. Looking at the elegant and poised woman in front of her, Sara realized now that the coat wasn’t comfortable. It was downright frumpy. She resolved that she would go coat shopping at her first opportunity. She draped the coat over her arm.

The blonde held out her hand
, displaying perfectly manicured pink-painted nails. “I’m Regina Marks, Collin’s assistant. It’s nice to meet you.”

Sara shook the extended hand
, embarrassed and hopeful that Regina wouldn’t notice her chipped polish. “Sara Johnson, I’m an investigator for Carrington-Hill.”

Regina
’s knowing smile didn’t reach her eyes, evident that the blonde had an idea of what was going on. “I know.” She gestured for Sara to follow her. “It’s a shame Collin has to deal with all of this mess. He’s such a nice man.”

That remain
s to be seen
. Sara congratulated herself. At least she hadn’t blurted out her thoughts like she’d done yesterday in the conference room. She’d managed to show a bit more restraint and appeared to be back in control of her mouth. She followed behind Regina, farther into the deep unknown. The assistant glanced back. “Collin’s in his study.” 

“Have you worked for him long?” Sara asked
, thinking that now was as good a time as any to get a feel for those that worked close to him. They could offer a wealth of information if she asked the right questions.

“Three months. His publicist, Maureen
, hired me.” Regina kept talking as she turned the corner that led them down another long hallway. “I mainly just keep his schedule and look after his house. Sometimes I accompany him on his trips but not very often.”

Sara had to bite her lip. All kinds of catty comments were running though her mind about Blondie accompanying Collin on his trips. Mistress and maid, perhaps? Or maybe he liked it both ways? The mistress dressed up like a ma
id. She held in her snort. She’d witnessed kinkier just from following numerous politicians around town.  She stopped in front of a closed door. “Collin is pretty self-sufficient although I have had to remind him to eat a time or two when he gets so engrossed working on the computer that he forgets.”

Regina pushed the door open. “Collin, Ms. Johnson has arrived.”

Sara heard him grunt even as she walked in. His profile was to them, his fingers flying over the keyboard in a furious pace. His office was large and his mahogany desk was cluttered with papers. A bookshelf stood on one wall, covering every square inch of space. Two supple brown leather chairs sat in front of the oversized desk. A baseball sat on top of his inbox and she could imagine him leaning back in his chair and tossing it in the air while he thought through his problems. The room was welcoming, inviting, and lived in, unlike what she’d seen so far through the rest of his house. This was the space of a man she could be attracted to. She realized this room represented the true Collin Martin, a man who was comfortable and confident, and not the room of an alter ego the media had conjured up. A very thin line ran between the two.

Regina pulled the door closed behind her, leaving
Sara with the bachelor who looked extremely busy and downright delectable. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d just slid out of bed. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers through his hair answering her mystery on what might have caused it. She shook her head pushing the crazy thoughts away. They were as bad as when she’d been admiring his hands and look where that had gotten her. “If this is a bad time…”

He didn’t even let her finish. “No, have a seat. Just give me one more second.”

Click, click, click
. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “There, I’m all done.”

Collin swiveled
from the computer table, on the side of his desk, to face her. He ran a hand over his smooth chin, the same chin that had sported a five o’clock shadow yesterday. The woodsy scent of his aftershave drifted to her nose.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

Leaning back in the chair, he grinned. “Not at all. I just finished uploading my latest business venture. It’s a dating website.”

Ping
.

Sara glanced at the screen
. Her posture became rigid as she dug her chipped, painted nails into her palms. “What the hell is that sound?”

He shrugged. “My first client.
Each ping represents a single soul looking for their perfect match.”

Ping,
ping, ping
. The sound rang through the room; each ping may have been happiness for the person signing up for the services, and maybe even a paycheck for him, but to her, it reminded her of nails screeching down a chalk board.
Ping, ping, ping
.

She gestured to
ward the computer. “Do you mind turning down the volume? I can hardly hear myself think.”

He slid back around in his chair
and, a couple clicks later, the obnoxious sound disappeared.

At the mention of the word
“dating”, she’d tensed. It was one thing to pretend date, but a whole different can of worms to do the real deal. She cleared her throat. “I have some questions about your case.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have any idea how the press found out about your connection? Any idea who might have leaked the news?”

He shook his head. “No, and before you even ask, I’ve checked with Regina and my publicist to see if they had anything to do with it. They both said no.”