Authors: Chris Patchell
“Honeywell?” Kris asked.
“It’s got to be.”
“Where was it taken?” Jackson’s voice was all business. His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
“Alki Bakery. Jill goes there to work some nights. Free Wi-Fi.”
“It’s not far from your house. He knows where you live.” Jackson straightened, staring at his partner.
Alex didn’t respond. The implication was clear. The only way Honeywell could have known Jill’s whereabouts was to follow her from the house. Somehow, Honeywell had figured out who he was. Once Honeywell had a name, it wouldn’t be hard to find Alex’s personal information. His phone number. His address. You name it. It was all out there.
His skin crawled as he thought of Jill walking through the darkened streets, laptop bag slung over her shoulder as she made her way to the coffee shop, oblivious to the danger that lurked.
“That means he’s either in the area or has someone else doing his dirty work,” Alex said, tapping the desk with his index finger. Wanting to get a closer look at the embedded image, Alex clicked on the car. The ghosted outline of a text box showed that there was something else selected.
Heart racing, Alex used the mouse to move the text box off of the red car, to another part of the screen. As he did so, a message appeared. The red text on a red image had rendered it undetectable in its original form, but now, against the white background, he could read it plain as day.
Dear Alex, Your wife is very pretty. A little old for my taste, but I have been known to make exceptions
.
“Son of a bitch,” Jackson said.
Alex thought back to that night in California and to the flat, blue eyes of Jerry Honeywell. Was Jill in danger? Goddamned right she was.
“I don’t get it. Why play the cat-and-mouse game? Why not just kill her?” Alex’s jaw tightened reflexively.
“Easy. Honeywell’s a smart bastard, and he’s warning you to back off. He knows you’re not going to let him go. You’re going to come after him. You went all the way to California to track him down. The bastard thinks if he threatens your family, maybe you’ll let it be. He can stay safe. Lie low. Fly under the fucking radar.”
Alex rubbed his fingers across the stubble on his chin, eyes still fixed on the photograph of his unsuspecting wife. If Honeywell wanted to up the stakes, he’d find out just how tenacious Alex could be. There was no way he would let the sadistic son of a bitch anywhere near Jill again. Next time, there would be no place for him to hide.
“Where’s Jill?” Jackson asked, big arms folded across his massive chest.
“In California this week on business.”
“Just as well. Buys us some time.”
“As long as he’s not involving his friends in the Bay Area,” Alex said, thinking about Honeywell’s connection with the motorcycle gang.
The chances of involving the Gunns in any kind of plot to harm Jill was a long shot, but couldn’t be entirely discounted. As soon as it was feasible, Alex would place a call to Agent Jacob Wilde from the ATF. With the tight surveillance net the ATF had cast over the gang, if Jill was in some real danger, they would know about it.
Jackson rocked back on his heels as he mulled over the possibilities. Kris Thompson remained silent, awaiting instructions from Alex on what to do with this new evidence. She did not have to wait long.
“Let’s put a trace on the email address. It’s unlikely we’ll get anything, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Right away,” she said, rolling back to the desk.
Jackson trailed Alex to his office and leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. Jackson’s next words chilled Alex still further.
“Does Jill have a gun?”
“No.”
“You might want to consider getting her one.” Jackson pushed away from the wall and clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Good thing she’s a deadly shot.”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
J
ill tilted closer to the compact, making a final touchup to her red lipstick before she pulled away. She had to look the part for her rendezvous with Casanova. The woman reflected back at her from the small mirror bore a vague resemblance to the woman who ran the first foster home Jill stayed in after Sam died.
Straight blond hair framed her face, brushing the tops of her shoulders. Her full lips twisted into a pout and her eyes sparkled blue, courtesy of the colored contact lenses she wore. She could pass for Dana Evans at a first glance. Satisfied, she stowed the compact in her oversized Coach purse. She heard it jostle against the loaded gun.
The tight black dress left little to the imagination, neckline plunging dangerously low between her full breasts. The short skirt ended just above her knees, showing off her shapely legs to every advantage. The spike heels she wore made her appear even taller than her five-foot, nine-inch frame.
Dressed to kill
, she thought, and stepped from the elevator.
Looking cool and confident, Jill strode down the hallway of the Quad 55 hotel toward Casanova’s suite. Within, though, she could feel her heart racing. She remembered letting herself into Peter’s room. Waiting for him in the dark. Pulling the trigger and ending his miserable life. This game was different. Kenneth Cox would be a full participant in the night’s festivities. And she was playing a role.
Jill stopped in front of the door and drew in a deep, steadying breath. She’d done her homework. She knew all she needed to know about Kenneth Cox—his name, address, Social Security number, his wife’s name, what kind of car he drove, even how much he had paid for his house. She’d planned every detail with meticulous care, playing the scene out in her head again and again. And she was prepared to do whatever she had to do to make her problem go away. For the first time since his email landed in her in-box, Jill felt totally in control of the situation.
Kenneth Cox answered on the second knock. His unnaturally bright smile almost blinded her as he stepped back to invite her in. The videos had not done him justice. He looked better fully clothed, without the monstrously twisted expression on his face. In a situation like this, he would almost pass for normal, and she understood how the other women in the videos were lured in. But, as any good lawyer would tell you, buyers beware.
“Lilith.”
His hungry look swept over her, and revulsion roiled at the pit of her stomach. She countered his greeting with a saccharine smile of her own.
“Casanova.”
He’d spared no expense on the suite. Beautiful, understated elegance everywhere she looked. Furnished with comfortable contemporary pieces, the suite was designed to satisfy every creature comfort, and Casanova had taken care to set the mood just right. The overhead lights were dimmed. Soft jazz played in the background.
How romantic
, Jill thought.
Be still my cold, beating heart
. A wicked grin spread across her face.
“Call me Ken, please,” he said, breathing his name in her ear as if imparting a secret. He reached for her oversized purse, but her look stopped him cold. He stepped away, hands raised in the air in a disarming gesture. The surprise on his face settled into an uneasy smile.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Champagne, please,” she drawled in a fake southern accent. “After all, this is a special occasion.”
Casanova grinned. According to his profile, he liked southern women, and so Lilith hailed from a small town in Georgia. Jill was playing to her audience. The role fit her new persona, and she felt powerful.
“Of course,” he said, turning toward the window.
The ice bucket sat at the ready, a bottle of champagne already chilling. Despite her casual stance, Jill was on full alert. She tracked his every movement to make sure he didn’t slip anything into her drink. After all, Peter and his date-rape drug started this whole deadly chain of events. She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, not with so much at stake.
With a subtle twist of his wrist, he uncorked the bottle with a muted pop. Golden bubbles raced to the top of the champagne flute, then receded. She kept her eyes locked on him, accepting the glass with a seductive smile. Her warm fingers grazed his. Kenneth turned and poured a glass for himself.
Jill set the heavy purse down on a nearby credenza.
“A toast?” he asked, raising his glass.
She laughed, and mirrored his pose.
“What shall we drink to?”
“To a perfect night,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.
“Just so,” she said, smiling darkly, and sipped the champagne.
Tonight would be a night like no other, guaranteed to end with a bang.
Kenneth stepped closer, and Jill stiffened. The fresh, citrus scent of Dolce & Gabbana cologne wafted off Cox’s warm skin. He leaned in looking for a kiss, but Jill dodged away, swinging her free hand in a wide arc.
“This is some place you have here,” she said, striding toward the window.
Kenneth’s lips twisted in an enigmatic smile.
“I like to travel well.”
He followed her to the window. Positioned close behind, his body, only inches from hers, radiated heat. His hot breath fanned her bare shoulder, prickling the hairs on her arm. She suppressed a shudder.
“So I see. It’s a stunning view.”
From here, Jill could make out the iconic outline of the Transamerica Pyramid jutting up into the night sky. City lights twinkled on a canvas of charcoal gray. Kenneth trailed a lazy hand along her arm. Jill squelched the urge to grab his fingers and twist them back until they snapped. She was playing a role, after all, and touching was part of the game.
He stepped even closer then, and she could feel his body press against hers—hard chest, flat belly, long legs, and something else hard, down there. Damn it. How could she be so careless? Standing in front of the window gave her nowhere to move, no easy way to pivot out of range.
Tipping her glass back, she drained the remaining champagne. Jill held the glass up over her shoulder.
“Refill?” she asked.
She felt, rather than heard, Kenneth’s sigh. Obediently, he took the glass from her and set off to fetch more champagne. Jill tracked his movements in the window until he moved out of range, then trailed him to the ice bucket. Relieved to be out in the open again, she glanced around the suite.
From this angle, she glimpsed the king-sized bed piled high with pillows. The creamy comforter looked soft and cozy. Studded with earth-toned accents, the color scheme was designed to set a soft and comforting mood. A frown wrinkled her brow. What a shame it would be to spoil their pristine perfection with crimson droplets of blood.
“Something wrong?” Kenneth asked.
“Not a single thing,” she drawled and took the glass he offered.
He stopped to refill his own.
“So, Kenny, do you have any friends in the city?” Jill asked, eyeing him with keen interest.
The expression on his tanned face froze for a fraction of a second. He recovered quickly, though, and smiled, flashing his perfect teeth.
“A college friend, actually. We keep in touch online.”
Peter? Were they old college friends? Jill watched his face for something else—some indication of how Peter’s passing affected him. Kenneth’s curious gaze fixed on Jill. His expression gave nothing away.
“I think it’s great you maintain your friendships. I don’t have a single thing in common with my old college friends. They post pictures of their kiddies, expecting me to gush. It’s amazing what passes for entertainment on the web these days, don’t you think? Tell me, Kenny, what’s the most outrageous thing you’ve posted?”
Jill thought about the sex videos. She watched. He fidgeted, looking uncomfortable. He forced a shrug and an awkward smile.
“Hey, you know the Hook Up motto: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”
It was his politically correct way of telling her to back off. Jill got it. What’s more, she appreciated it. After all, she had her own secrets to keep.
“Why yes, that is true.” Her soft voice was almost a purr. Stepping closer, Jill brushed her arm against his as she fixed him with a long, deliciously coy look from beneath lowered eyelashes. “What would life be like without a few secrets, right?”
Kenneth swallowed hard. She watched an internal struggle play out across his face. Caution. Doubt. Desire. Brushing past him, Jill glided to the window and pulled the drapes closed.
“Hope you don’t mind.” She gestured toward the windows. “I’m into a lot of things, but exhibitionism is not among them. Besides, you never know who might be watching.”
His smile was narrow. Setting his glass down, he closed the distance between them. His thick hands ran up her arms. His blue eyes burned as bright as hot coals.
“Do tell, Lilith. What other sorts of things might you be into?”
“I’m afraid you’d be shocked if you knew.” She tossed her hair back, dropping a shoulder to expose her bare neck, fingers touching her throat, grazing past the jagged scar without pause.
“I might surprise you. Very little shocks me,” he said, grinning like an idiot. He looked more relaxed now that the conversation shifted. He gripped her shoulders and leaned close nuzzling her ear. A chill rattled down her spine.
“Nice perfume. What is it?”
“It’s a custom blend. I call it Aphrodisia.”
Kenneth chuckled, appreciating the irony.
“Do you do this a lot?” Jill asked.
“What’s that?”
“Meet strange women in hotel rooms?”
“Do you?”
“Meet women? Rarely.”
His breath caught, and she could feel his interest spike. Jill smiled, enjoying his predictability. Her eyes strayed over his shoulder toward the bedroom. Her gaze hardened, and she thought about the women he victimized. Blackmailed. How he had threatened her. The headiness of the charade evaporated and Jill focused in on her intent. She would silence Kenneth Cox. Permanently. No more sex videos. No more threats.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Kenneth stepped back, patted the pockets of his pants, his head swiveling around in search of something. “Damn,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
“What’s wrong?” Her spine stiffened and her instincts pricked.
“I forgot something.”