Armed and Dangerous (7 page)

“More than enough.”

Circling around to a side door that led to a patio, they positioned themselves on either side, weapons drawn. At Daisy's nod, Shane stepped forward and kicked as hard as he could. The door exploded inward, banging against the wall inside, and he rushed into the darkness.

“Police!”

He was met with muffled sounds, but they weren't coming from the room he and Daisy occupied. Daisy found a wall switch and light flooded the neat living room. Quickly, they completed a sweep of the living area and kitchen, then Shane cautiously led the way down a hallway toward the bedrooms at the back.

The closer he got, the more apparent it became that someone was there. Maybe more than one person. The first two doors were ajar, and a brief inspection proved them to be a master bedroom and a hall bath. The last two, however, were locked.

Behind the door on the right came a frantic, “
Mmmph!
”

“Stand back, I'm coming in,” he called.

Daisy covered him as he kicked in the door. And what he found shocked him to the core. Behind him Daisy cried out.

“Oh, my God!”

A woman, presumably Valerie Hall, was hanging naked from a hook in the ceiling, feet touching the floor, suspended by her arms. Her eyes were wide, dark hair falling around her tear-stained face. Her thin body was covered in bruises and cuts, and small red blisters that appeared to have been made by a cigarette.

Like her sister, she'd been tortured. Judging from the table of knives and candles, complete with a crucifix, her end hadn't been too far off.

Rushing forward, Shane set his gun on the table, grabbed the woman around her middle, and lifted. “See if you can get her loose.”

Using a chair, Daisy stood on it and worked Valerie's bonds over and off the silver hook. The victim collapsed in a sobbing heap, and Shane lowered her gently to the floor, talking softly as he removed her gag.

“Don't let them get me,” she cried, body shaking as she clung to him.

“Who? The reverend and his wife?”

“Sh—she's crazy! She k-killed Vanessa! Oh, God!”

“Shh, we've got you now. We're Sugarland police, and you're safe now.” As the woman continued to sob, he addressed Daisy, who was prowling the room. “Call this in, will you? We're going to need the paramedics, forensics, and the captain.”

“On it.”

While Daisy made the required calls, he did his best to comfort the distraught victim. God only knew what they'd find in the other locked room. He prayed the two missing men were there, and alive.

Finished with the call, Daisy walked over and crouched next to him. “Why don't you let me take care of her while you check the other room?”

Relieved, he handed the naked woman over to Daisy. Much better to have her take Valerie Hall, under the circumstances. With a sigh, he rose and exited into the hallway—

And came face-to-face with a shocked William and Allie Wakefield.

“What are you doing in my house?” she screeched, pretty face morphing into something ugly and damned near demonic. “You've ruined everything!”

Shane reached for the gun that wasn't there. He'd left it on the table. Fuck!

William's eyes were wide as he eyed the big butcher knife his wife withdrew from her purse. “Honey—”

“Why are you just standing there, you cheating, lying sinner! Kill him, or you'll never be purged!”

The wife is in charge, not William. Shit.

“No! I won't do it.” He backed away, expression desperate. “I've paid. I won't help you hurt anyone else.”

Daisy's voice boomed from behind Shane. “Police! Drop the weapon or I'll shoot!”

With a shriek of outrage, the reverend's wife flew at Shane, catching him off guard. He'd expected her to comply, since she had literally brought a knife to a gunfight. But he'd made the mistake of not factoring in crazy.

The woman barreled into him and they slammed into the wall. Pain lanced his shoulder and he grabbed at the wrist holding the now-bloodied knife, off-balance. He managed to shove her off, knocking her into the opposite wall. But she was totally insane, launching herself at him again.

She never reached him. A deafening bang sounded in the narrow space. Allie Wakefield jerked, stumbled backward. She fell against the wall, eyes wide in surprise as scarlet bloomed on her chest. Then she slid to the floor, the knife tumbling from her hand.

“Don't fucking move,” Daisy ordered the reverend, gun aimed steady at his head. “Now, nice and slow, turn and face the wall.”

Wakefield complied, almost in a daze. Yanking his hands behind his back, Daisy fished a pair of cuffs from her pocket and slapped them on his wrists. “William Wakefield, you're under arrest for the murders of Nikki Thompson and Vanessa Hall.”

“I didn't want to go along,” he whispered. “But Nikki wasn't the first, you know. Allie made me take those sinners, said it would purge me of my need to have sex with others. We were purging them, too, the demons at the club! We have a mission!”

There had been more murder victims before Nikki? How many? God, what a couple of nutcases.

Daisy delivered the Miranda. “You have the right to remain silent . . .”

Shane was vaguely aware of a dull throb in his shoulder as he stepped over the body of the reverend's wife. He had one more room to check, and he had to know what was behind that door. After kicking it in, he found the answer.

The two missing men, Dan Peterson and Jason Richards, were bound and gagged, resting against one wall. They were both staring at him in wide-eyed apprehension. Terrified, but alive. Crossing to them, Shane removed their gags.

“Sugarland PD,” he told them, much to their visible joy. “I'm Homicide Detective Shane Ford. Allie Wakefield is dead and the reverend is in custody. It's over.”

“Thank fuck,” one of them breathed. The other echoed the sentiment. “What a bat-shit crazy pair of assholes. I heard people screaming, being tortured. They killed someone, didn't they?”

“I'm afraid so. What's your name?”

“I'm Jason Richards, that's Dan Peterson.” The other guy nodded, still too shocked to add much.

Taking out his pocketknife, Shane went to work on their bonds. “We're going to get you both to the hospital to get checked out, and then someone will get your statements about what happened. Probably won't be me. Out of curiosity, though, how did they manage to get you here?”

“They grabbed us after one of our group meetings at the club. It was dark and nobody saw. Jabbed us with needles, pumped us full of a sedative and down we went. Loaded us into their damned church van and we woke up here. I'm guessing that's how they got the others, if they were from our group.”

“You never actually saw anyone else here but Dan?”

“No. Just heard women screaming and yelling.”

Shane nodded. Jason would be a good witness in court. Just then Taylor's voice came from the doorway.

“Jesus Christ. Looks like I missed the main event.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Caught behind a traffic accident. And you're bleeding, Mr. I Don't Need Your Help.” He sucked in a breath, shaking his head at what he was seeing.

“Mrs. Wakefield gave me something to remember her by. No big.”

But he was feeling sort of dizzy. Not that he'd admit that to his ornery partner. It would give him something to either fuss or gloat about. Or both.

The paramedics arrived, and Shane recognized them as the team from Station Five. His favorite firemen. Two of them, Zack Knight and Eve Marshall, hurried in and began checking the victims' vital signs. After a brief greeting to his friends, Shane backed out and let them do their jobs. In the hallway, he paused to see two more of the crew, Clay Montana and Julian Salvatore, caring for Valerie Hall. Everything was in hand.

In the living room, he met up with Austin.

“I had one of the uniforms take Wakefield into custody.” He glanced between Shane and Daisy, who stood nearby. “Great work, guys.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling.

“Yes, thanks,” he said to the captain. “I just wish we could've found them in time to save Vanessa Hall.”

Austin nodded. “Yeah. But you saved three lives, and who knows how many more that would've come next. You did good.” He waved a hand at Shane's wound. “Better get to the hospital and get that taken care of.”

Station Five's new captain, Howard “Six-Pack” Paxton, stepped forward and shook Shane's hand. “You're like a cat, man. How many lives have you used?”

He grinned back at his friend. “Oh, I have a couple left yet.”

“Good to know. My team is busy, but I can put in a call for another unit if you want.”

“Nah, I have my truck. I'll let Daisy drive me.”

“No problem.”

“See you and the guys at the house for a cookout soon?”

“You bet. Take care, Shane.”

“I will, same to you.”

Six-Pack disappeared down the hallway, presumably to check on the victims. Daisy turned to Shane. “Come on, let's get you stitched.”

“If you insist.”

After waving at Austin, he followed Daisy to the truck. The walk seemed much, much longer than before. The case was over and done. He should be happy about that, and for the victims, he was.

For himself, not so much. Because that meant the end of his assignment with a woman he couldn't get out of his head.

She'd burrowed under his skin and he had a feeling that's where she'd stay for a long time.

•   •   •

Daisy frowned at Shane as he pulled his truck into her driveway to drop her off. She'd left her car at the station, but he had offered to pick her up in the morning to fetch it and she was too tired to argue.

“Would you like to stay?” she offered.

“Thanks, but I'd better get on home,” he said quietly.

Her heart sank. “You okay to drive?”

“Yeah. I'm not dizzy anymore, and I haven't taken the painkillers the doc gave me in the ER.”

“Take them when you get home.” She still worried.
Stubborn man.

He nodded. “I will.”

He was so distant. She'd known he'd pull away the second the case was solved. He'd told her outright that their fling was just that—a temporary liaison between consenting adults. And she couldn't even be angry, because she had agreed.

But she was sad. Tears clogged her throat as she opened the passenger's door and she fought hard not to let him catch on. She wasn't clingy or pathetic. She wasn't going to be
that
girl.

“Daisy? You know I really like you a lot, and I admire you,” he began.

She held up a hand. “Let's don't do this, okay? I feel the same about you, and that's all we need to say.”

I won't say how I'm falling for you. That I want you in my life. I won't beg you to stay.

“Okay,” he said slowly, expression pensive. “Thank you for all your help. You're a hell of a woman, Daisy Callahan.”

“You're a hell of a man.” She winked. “Get some sleep. Morning will come all too soon.”

“I'll call you,” he said softly. “Maybe we'll go to dinner sometime.”

She smiled then, just slightly. “I won't be waiting by the phone, so don't get cocky.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

She shut the door, and turned away, determined not to watch him leave. But after she was safely inside and he pulled away from the curb, she couldn't help but draw back the curtain and watch until his taillights had faded into the night.

“I won't be waiting at all,” she whispered.

And knew that was the biggest lie she'd ever told.

To make Shane Ford hers, she'd wait forever. And at least one more day.

Read on for a look at the first full-length novel

in the Sugarland Blue series by Jo Davis

SWORD TO PROTECT

Coming from Signet Eclipse in May 2013.

 

“It's way too damned quiet around here.”

Several other cops groaned and a couple of them shot Taylor Kane the death glare. Shane Ford just smirked, getting more comfortable with his booted feet propped on his desk and crossed at the ankles.

His cousin, Christian Ford, a recent transplant from the Dallas, Texas PD, wadded up a sheet of paper and launched it at Taylor's face. “Thanks a lot for jinxin' us, dipshit,” he drawled. “Even the dumbest rookie knows better than to let the
Q
word pass his lips.”

Taylor slapped a file onto his desk with a grimace of disgust. “I'm just sayin' I'm sick of investigating vandalism and stolen bicycles, that's all. It's a waste of my rather large and brilliant brain—shut up, Chris.” At the other man's snort, he threw the paper wad back, missing his target.

“Hey, there's a lot of money to be had fencing bikes,” Shane said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And a crime is a crime.”

“I know, but it's
boring
. Since Jesse Rose and his bunch got shut down last year, nothing exciting has happened around here,” their friend griped. “I'm about to lose my frickin' mind.”

Shane suppressed a shudder. Jesse Rose was a homeland terrorist who had planned to blow up their fine city of Sugarland, Tennessee, and had damned near succeeded. A Sugarland Fire Department captain by the name of Sean Tanner, along with Shane and the entire police force, had been instrumental in stopping the bastard just in time. Tanner had since been promoted to battalion chief, and it was a well-deserved honor as far as Shane was concerned.

Another new hire, Tonio Salvatore, spoke up. “That murder case Shane and Daisy solved last month was pretty exciting . . .” An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. “What? What'd I say?”

Shane's good mood did a belly flop and curdled in his stomach. It always did whenever someone mentioned Daisy Callahan's name and the case that had almost gotten them both killed. Or worse, when he was forced to exchange polite, professional conversation with the stunning blond juvenile officer. Especially when all he wanted to do was bend her over the nearest flat surface and fuck her until she screamed his name.

Yeah, their passionate affair hadn't been such a great idea before, and that fact hadn't changed.

Easing his legs off the desk, he studied the other officers' faces. Most reflected curiosity, the barely disguised desire to pry. So, they didn't
really
know, just likely suspected. Chris was the only one who knew, and it seemed he'd kept his promise not to say anything to the others. Their friends were merely attuned to the sudden tension that snapped like a rubber band whenever Shane and Daisy were mentioned in the same sentence, or the two of them were in a room together.

Shane wasn't about to satisfy their avid curiosity.

“Our lack of excitement means nobody has been murdered,” Shane said dryly, sidestepping the reference to him and Daisy. “Let's not borrow trouble.”

“Too late for that.” Their captain, Austin Rainey, swiped a trickle of sweat from his rugged face with one hand as he approached. “Goddamn, this heat is already bad enough to poach an egg and it's not even spring yet.”

Shane studied the man's grayish pallor. Austin wasn't just his supervisor, he was a good friend who'd been through a rough time in the last couple of years. The man's bitch of a wife was really putting him through the ringer lately. Shane feared for his health, as did the men and women who respected and loved him.

“You okay, Cap?” Shane asked him. “It's February and it's not that hot in here. You're not looking so good.”

Austin waved off his concern as usual and addressed his detectives. “We've got a body in the gulley out on 49. White male, no ID, shot once in the back of the head, execution-style.” He shot Taylor a baleful glare. “Since you're so fucking bored, you can take this one with Shane. Oh, and you can do all the reports, too.”

Taylor grimaced as a few others snickered. “Thanks a million, Cap.”

“Don't mention it. Get the lead out.”

“On it.” Taylor grabbed a set of keys off his desk and jingled them, looking at Shane. “I'll drive.”

As they headed out, Shane fell into step beside him. “Happy now? You got the murder you wanted, and a messy one, too.”

The other man shrugged. “I'm not happy someone bought it, but it happens.”

“You like solving the puzzle. A lot of us do.” That might seem strange or morbid to some, but to them, the need to make the pieces fit, the satisfaction they felt when they were successful, was normal.

“For me, the seemingly random pieces are more like snippets of a story, and aren't usually random at all,” Taylor said thoughtfully. “The body is the last chapter, and I have to read the story backwards to find out what led up to it.”

“Never thought of it like that before, like reading a book in reverse.”

He pondered that as they pushed outside and the cold, wet air hit them. But that wasn't the only reason he suddenly felt as though he was suffocating.

Daisy Callahan was striding purposefully up the steps to the precinct, and all the spit dried up in Shane's mouth at the sight of her. Like the other detectives, himself included, she wore street clothes consisting of dark pants and a casual shirt, a holstered gun and badge at her hip, but there the similarities ended. Blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, emphasizing an angular face adorned with little makeup, large blue eyes and a wide mouth. The woman was a long, tall drink of water on a scorching day, five feet, ten inches of lean muscle and confident stride that should have made her seem mannish except she was anything but.

Her breasts were full, and he knew from experience how they spilled over a man's hands, ripe and tasty. He knew how smooth her skin was, how small her waist just above the slight flare and curve of womanly hips. How toned those long thighs were, just how fantastic they looked wrapped around his waist as he—

“Earth to Shane?”

He blinked, becoming aware that he and Taylor had stopped in front of Daisy. Taylor had greeted her and they'd exchanged a few words, and now they were both regarding him with two completely different expressions—Taylor with amusement and Daisy with a polite detachment he'd grown to hate.

Completely my fault. I'm a first class jerk.

“I'm sorry, what?” He hoped his smile gave no indication of just how desolate he felt inside. Given the unnatural tightness of his face, he suspected he'd failed.

“You guys caught the body out on I-49?” Her look was cool, appraising.

“Word travels fast as always,” he said, striving to keep his tone even. “Yeah, we're headed out there now.”

She made a face. “You and half the county, no doubt. Good luck, once the news people decipher the dispatch that went out on the scanner. I figure you've got an hour, tops, before the real madness hits.”

“Shit, we'd better make tracks.” But he couldn't get his feet to move. Daisy turned to go, and on impulse, he called after her. “Wait!”

She blinked at him, surprise causing the mask to slip. “What is it?”

“Can I . . . have a word with you?” He sent a pointed look at Taylor, who nodded and walked toward the parking lot. Thankfully without comment.

Once he was out of earshot, his former lover gazed at Shane coolly. “Is there something about the case that you couldn't say in front of Taylor?”

“Of course not.” He ran a hand through his hair. Never had he felt more awkward around a woman, and it was his own fault. “Dammit, I hate this weird distance between us.”

“Really?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “That's funny, considering distance is exactly what you wanted.” Her last words were clipped. Angry.

“We were friends before and I ruined that. You'll never know how sorry I am,” he said quietly.

The blunt edge of growing hostility disappeared as quickly as it had begun to form, and her face softened. “Me, too. But I guess I can't blame our failure solely on you. I'm the dumbass who slept with a friend and I should've damned well known better. So, lesson learned.”

A raw lump formed in his throat and he spoke with difficulty. “I'd like to think we're
still
friends. Or can be again.” He waited, but she didn't let him off the hook. “Want to grab a beer after work sometime? Or coffee—”

“Stop.” Looking away, she regained tight control of the abject misery that had flashed across her beautiful features. “Just stop, okay? I'm not there yet. Maybe I won't be, either. And if not, that's a loss we'll both have to own, and move on.”

Oh, God. The stab to his gut was sharp. Powerful. Had he honestly thought she'd forgive him, and they'd simply go back to the place they had been? Somehow, he mastered the unexpected pain and managed a sad, lopsided smile.

“I suppose we will at that.” He glanced toward where Taylor stood by the car, studying them with undisguised interest. “Better go.”

“Let me know what you find,” she said, all business again. “I doubt it'll overlap with any of my cases, but you never know.”

“You bet.”

Before Shane could say anything more, she turned and walked into the building without a backward glance. As though they'd never been anything to each other at all. Which was how he'd wanted it. Right?

Numbly, he went to meet Taylor at his friend's beat-up vintage Chevelle, a “project car” that in Shane's opinion should have been sold for scrap twenty years ago. In an effort to deflect the questions he knew were coming, he scowled at the wreck. “Why can't we drive a cool car, like Starsky and Hutch, or Steve and Danno?”

His friend grinned at him as they climbed in and slammed the doors. “So buy yourself one and we'll drive it.” He started the ignition, and the car sputtered before roaring to life. They rode for a couple of minutes in silence before Taylor glanced at him, his tone growing serious. “So, you and Daisy . . .”

Crap. The man wasn't going to be put off so easily. “Me and Daisy, nothing. Nada.”

His friend wasn't buying. “I knew it! Christ, of all the good-lookin' ass in town, you had to tap hers?”

“Daisy is
not
just some piece of ass,” Shane said in a low, dangerous voice. “So watch your mouth.” Too late, he realized his friend's ploy.

The man laughed and slapped his steering wheel. “Oh, you've got it bad! You never get all protective and snarly over your random hookups, so what gives?”

Shane sighed. “We've been attracted to each other for years, but it's not such a great idea to get involved with a colleague, you know?”

“Why? You're both consenting adults, and you guys clearly aren't over this thing between you.”

“Um, other than the rule about not dating fellow cops, the one that could get one or both of us fired for breaking it?” he replied sarcastically. “Gee, let me think.”

“Don't give me that bullshit. You wouldn't be the first couple to ever fall in love at work.”

“Whoa, nobody said anything about
love
.” Jesus, he should've called in sick.

“Well, then, just bang each other in secret. You wouldn't be the only ones in the department is doing it, and it's not like you haven't done it before. Hellooo, remember Leslie, from patrol?”

Shane frowned. “The problem is Daisy deserves better, you moron. Unlike Leslie, she's not a
bang-in-secret
kind of woman—which is why I had to end it.” His friend just snickered, as if he knew something Shane didn't. “Taylor?”

“Hmm?” He appeared way too satisfied.

“Shut the fuck up, okay?”

“As you wish.” He winked.

Something told him that the matter wasn't closed. Between Taylor and Chris, they'd drive him nuts about the issue. Which, dammit, was totally
not
an issue because it was over between him and Daisy! Shit.

After several interminable minutes, Taylor pulled the Chevelle onto the shoulder behind a couple of squad cars. Laura Eden and the FU hadn't arrived, so they'd have a few minutes to scope out the scene before the techs gathered evidence and the ME eventually took the body.

Cautiously, he got out, checking the traffic. Highway 49 might be a gorgeous drive, but it was just about the worst place in the county to work any sort of official call, whether an MVA—motor vehicle accident—or something even worse. People were killed on this curvy stretch of treacherous road all the time, and he had no wish to be the next.

The man lying in the gulley, however, had definitely not suffered an accident. As the captain had said, he'd apparently died from a bullet that entered through the back of his head and subsequently blew off most of the front of his face. He was lying slumped on his stomach, sort of curled in a bit, as though in death he'd tried to return to the fetal position. His clothes were torn and dirty, and some scrapes were visible on his arms.

“Jesus,” Taylor muttered as they reached the bottom of the incline. “What a way to go.”

“At least it was quick,” one of the uniforms offered.

As they stood studying the corpse, Shane nodded. “Quick and efficient. Maybe professional, maybe not. He was a problem, and somebody erased him.”

“The job wasn't done here,” Taylor pointed out, flicking a hand at the ground and surrounding area. “No brains or blood splatter from the kill shot. He'd mostly bled out before he was dumped from the road.”

“The killer wasn't concerned about him being found,” Shane said, glancing up toward the highway. “It was just a matter of time. How was he discovered?”

One of the uniforms spoke up, flipping through his note pad. “Teenager stopped on the shoulder to fix a flat tire. Got an eyeful of the dead guy when he happened to look over the edge, and then called us. We took his statement and let him go. The kid was really shook up, and I doubt he was anything but an innocent bystander.”