Night Is Darkest

Some secrets refuse to stay hidden.

Lacey Daughtry’s perfect weekend is interrupted by tragic news of her brother’s murder in the line of duty. Plagued by a rash of mysterious phone calls, she turns to her brother’s best friends and fellow officers for protection…and comfort.

Spending time in close contact with Mason and Tyler, the two men she’s dreamed of since her first girlhood crush, seems like the answer to a prayer. Especially when they begin to explore the desire she’s harbored for so long.

But the partners are holding out on Lacey. Determined to suppress the most extreme facets of their lust, they agree to settle for sharing the woman they crave while concealing their desire for each other. Until Lacey cracks their resolve, unleashing a torrent of emotions that threatens to distract them when they can least afford it.

Their blossoming relationship is complicated by secrets. And the only way to evade the killer threatening their lives is to bare their souls in the darkest hours of the night. Or everything will come crashing down, just before the dawn.

Warning: After reading this book you’ll never look at a pair of hot cops, a cemetery or a can of Spaghetti-O’s the same way again.

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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

Night is Darkest

Copyright © 2009 by Jayne Rylon

ISBN: 978-1-60504-800-0

Edited by Angela James

Cover by Natalie Winters

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: November 2009

www.samhainpublishing.com

Night is Darkest

Jayne Rylon

Dedication

For all the members of the Samhain reader café yahoo group. I enjoy the time we spend chatting about our favorite books and all the wonderful feedback you’ve given me. Special thanks to the moderators, both past and present, for keeping the party going!

Prologue

Lacey Daughtry grinned at the grandfather clock standing sentinel in the moonlit entryway as she kicked off her orthopedic sneakers. Three seventeen a.m. She’d gotten off shift on time for once. A lack of bus collisions, late night fires, drunk drivers or second shift construction accidents had kept the ER relatively quiet.

She’d parked close to the house since Rob’s absent patrol car left a gap in their cracked cobblestone driveway. The only response following her shout of, “I’m home,” pinged from the century old pipes in comforting creaks. She rarely got in before her big brother. She started singing the infectious melody of a pop song that the hospital’s music system recycled often as she sloughed her scrubs en route to her girlhood bedroom. Funny, how it still felt like home even after years away at nursing school.

With a few moments to herself before her brother swung in from his beat, she kicked off three glorious days of freedom with a whoop. This had the makings of a world class weekend.

Lacey dumped the wad of clothes in her wicker laundry basket at the entrance to her adjoining bathroom then twisted the four-pronged knob on the bathtub faucet until steamy water gushed into the claw foot tub. She filled the black and white tiled space with the echoes of her off-key rendition of Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” while she waited for the relaxing bath about to leach away the aches inflicted by another shift on her feet.

After a luxurious soak capped with an extra dollop of the designer shower gel she’d splurged on, she snagged her worn but comfy bathrobe off the pedestal sink. She took mental stock of the pantry as she bounced down the scarred oak stairs. It’d take some creativity to whip up a home cooked meal to share with Rob but he’d enjoy a warm dinner ready and waiting.

A chuckle escaped her when she wondered if you could be late to a four a.m. supper. They’d both worked the graveyard shift long enough it seemed normal. Maybe Rob ran late because he’d stopped at the twenty-four hour convenience store. Though she did most of their shopping, he pitched in whenever he could. Cooking up something simple was the least she could do.

They’d split chores and looked out for each other since the death of their parents in a car crash, ten years before. At just eighteen, Rob had become the backbone of their family unit. He’d kept her thirteen-year-old world from imploding. She worshipped him for never once shirking his responsibilities—for the endless sacrifices he’d made to ensure their life stayed as normal as possible.

Sure enough, within minutes, strobing red and blue lights tinted the kitchen in his silent signal for her to come help him unload. She turned from the enamel sink, wiped her hands on her terrycloth-covered hip then stuffed her pink-painted toes into a pair of abandoned flip-flops by the front entryway. Though the summer had waned, she could handle the few seconds of exposure it’d take to dash out and collect an armful of groceries. She swung open the heavy oak door with its old-fashioned etched glass, nearly smacking into Rob’s two best friends—and fellow officers—shifting from foot to foot on the whitewashed porch.

Her eyes widened.

Dread dispersed her giddy joy in a millisecond.

Lacey’s heart plummeted through her stomach at the somber formality masking Mason Clark’s rugged features. Her pulse pounded when her gaze flicked to Tyler Lambert, taking in his clenched fists and the copious blood smeared over his otherwise crisp uniform.

She stumbled backward, slamming the door in their startled faces as though she could bar the horror they attempted to deliver.
This can’t be happening. Not again!

The two men, who spent nearly as much time in their house as she and Rob, forced their way inside. Their grim expressions distorted in her swimming vision. A roar in her ears blocked out their familiar voices. Tunnel vision narrowed her world to the sage green walls whipping around her. Then she marveled at the intricate pattern of the well-worn hallway runner speeding toward her until strong arms plucked her from mid-air, crushing her against a solid male chest.

The surreal sensations faded as she clung to Mason, floating into the living room cradled in his arms, before he lowered her to the practical microfiber couch. He knelt on the plank flooring in front of her, urging, “Breathe, sweetheart. Come on, take a deep breath.”

Lacey inhaled, drawing razor sharp pain along with oxygen into her lungs. A ragged gasp split the tense silence. Their lack of urgency to escort her back to the hospital answered all the questions she couldn’t voice. There was no need to hurry. Tyler sank onto the cushion beside her, gripping her hand tight enough to fuse her fingers together but she couldn’t feel anything beyond the numb shock coating her gut.

Her unfocused gaze latched onto the maroon crust of congealed blood beneath his trimmed fingernails. This time she couldn’t muster the disassociation she had perfected in the ER. The sinister smudges were the only part of her brother that would make it home tonight.

“What happened?” The hoarse whisper pushed past her trembling lips, which refused to allow her wails to escape the devastation taking up residence in her heart.

Mason and Tyler looked to each other, ice blue and forest green eyes exchanging the silent communication they had mastered during a lifetime of friendship. Mason gave a short nod then met her broken stare head-on.

He cupped her free hand in his and cleared his throat once, twice, before the heartbreaking news tainted his rich baritone. “I’m going to give it to you straight, Lace. We’re not sure what went down but it looks like Rob came across a mugging in progress. He called it in but didn’t wait for backup. Said he heard a distressed cry for assistance. The victim must have gotten free and made a break for it but, by the time reinforcements arrived, he had taken…” He hesitated. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “…several knife wounds to the chest and throat.”

“How many?” The nurse in her asked before she associated the damage Mason detailed to her brother.

He ground his teeth then growled, “Twenty-seven.”

Beside her, Tyler choked on a curse.

“You caught my brother’s murderer?” She clung to the rage enabling her to function. To say the unfathomable words.

“Fuck. Not yet. But I swear it to you, doll. I won’t stop until I get him,” Mason vowed.

She nodded, not doubting his loyalty or tenaciousness for a second. The three men, and Lacey by default, had been inseparable since the boys’ very first day at school when they’d shared a legendary bus ride that set the tone of mischief they’d indulge in over the years. A fourth-grade bully had met his match in the trio of kindergartners who took him out with a kick to the shin, a punch to the gut and a strategic whack to the nuts with a Voltron lunchbox. Ever since then, they’d been a unit.

The three amigos plus a spare kid sister.

A constant staple in her life, Mason and Tyler were all the family she had left in the world. She stared over Mason’s shoulder until her wandering vision landed on Rob’s pride and joy. Who would shout encouragement to the favored team making its plays on the behemoth 61” DLP rear projection TV now?

“He wasn’t alone at the end.” Tyler’s grief recaptured her attention. Unabashed tears tracked through the crimson stain on his cheek. He leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees and refused to abandon his hold on her hand like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. Several strands of his shaggy midnight hair feathered over his creased brow when his head bowed. “I got there just in time. I held him.”

His voice cracked but he didn’t attempt to conceal his misery from her. Instead, he turned his face toward her until she couldn’t avoid the truth in his agonized stare.