Hostile Desires (23 page)

Jesus
.

“Looks like a cigarette lighter from a car.”

“Yes. Bastard really hurt her. This isn’t just about power. This is more about pain, and getting off on it. He should not be allowed in public.”

Her voice wavered at the end, and he knew what it cost her.

“We’ll get him, Elle.”

She nodded, but said nothing else as he stood and looked over the crowd. It was early, but there was always some kind of hum in the early morning there—especially on a Monday. Hell, that’s probably why the sick fuck had left her there on that particular day. More coverage, with a frenzy that would last for the entire week.

He saw one of the detectives taking pictures, and he wandered over to him.

“Did you get the crowd?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I was going to take a few more because it is really gaining attention.”

He pulled out his card and gave it to him. “Could you make sure you get those to me as soon as possible?”

“With pleasure,” he said, grim determination filling his voice.

Del paused, then the detective said, “I knew her. We went to the same school, a few years apart. A real sweetheart. Always had a smile for everyone.”

Del nodded. That was the thing about Hawaii. Everyone had about six degrees of separation, or less. Either they knew Grace, or they knew someone who knew her. Her disappearance had been the focal point of the Hawaiian news shows since she had disappeared. And now, their focus would be on a killer.

The crowd was growing by the second, and he knew it would only be minutes before the news crews showed up. As if on queue, they appeared, screaming to a halt. He saw Jin Phillips, one very irritating newswoman, jump out of the van. Damn, the woman got on his nerves. She stood by, waiting for her crew before she attacked. And it would be an attack. The woman didn’t know how to deal with news any other way.

Del looked away from her and up the canal toward Diamond Head. The scent of plumeria hit him, and he realized he was standing by a bush filled with them. It was usually something he liked to smell, but now, he knew he would always associate it with Grace Singh and her last night on earth.

The sun was just starting to peek over the crater. The brilliant streaks of orange and yellow lightened the sky. Even after a year, the beauty of it still stunned him. Del didn’t think he would ever get used to the sight.

He looked back at the scene as Drew helped Elle put Grace Singh in a body bag, then lift her up onto the gurney. The buzz of the crowd was growing, and he could already hear Jin asking annoying questions.

Just another day in paradise.

C
oming
this April from Melissa Schroeder and Harmless Publishing, Book Three of the exciting Task Force Hawaii featuring Charity Edwards!

R
eturning
in January-with expanded scenes!

B
UY
THE BOOK

As Alpha of the Lonestar Wolf Pack and Mayor of their small Texas town, 
Jacob Sanderson 
has more than enough on his plate to handle. When women from his pack start getting killed, he knows his best resource for solving the murders is Sheriff
Alexandra Littlefoot.
Now, if he can keep his hands off her, everything will be fine.

A bad shooting and the loss of a partner caused Alex to leave San Antonio. She sees being sheriff of the small town as penance for her sins. Working with Jake isn’t exactly what she would call ideal, but he insists on helping with the investigation. Close working conditions make it impossible to ignore their attraction, and one kiss leads to more than either of them expected.

After one night together, he knows this is no casual encounter, and walking away is impossible. He knows she’s his mate, and while she isn’t a wolf, he knows she has some connection to the pack.
As secrets rise to the surface, the killer’s violence escalates and threatens to destroy not only their fragile new love, but the entire Lonestar Pack.

S
he ran
a hand through her tangled hair, wincing when one of her fingers caught on a particularly nasty knot, and looked around the motel room. Early morning sun streamed through a slit in the heavy curtains telling her she had made it through the night, at least. Nights like last night didn’t happen that often, but since taking the job as sheriff in Sanderson, Texas, they were becoming more frequent. She hated to admit it, but her old chief might have been right about leaving San Antonio after the shooting.

Absently, she fingered the scar that marred the flesh on her shoulder. Such a small indention, barely visible if you weren’t looking for it, but it had ruined her life, as she knew it. Even now, she wasn’t ready to be philosophical about what she had gone through. It was still too fresh to ignore, the emotional aftermath of her mistake.

Noting it was after six, she forced herself up and out of bed and into the dingy little bathroom. After turning on the shower to let the water heat, she clipped up her hair and washed her face. As she was drying her face, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and winced. Her Native American heritage stood out starkly on her face, her high cheekbones more pronounced since she’d yet to get back to her regular weight. She couldn’t remember a time she didn’t have bags darkening the skin beneath her green eyes. Damn, but she was sick of looking at that face. There had been a time when she hadn’t look so haggard, and she truly wanted to be there again.

Shaking herself out of her morbid thoughts, she grabbed her toothbrush and ordered herself to get a move on. It was Monday, and Mondays were always busy.

By the time she got into work, she had left the memory of the dream behind her and had her mind focused on Monday Morning Mayhem, as everyone at the department called it. Not that it was much of a department, with two deputies, two dispatchers and one secretary. For someone who had cut her teeth at SAPD, it didn’t measure up.

Forget about it. This is your life now, kid.

The scent of burned coffee assaulted her first. She’d been teased unmercifully when she first started on the force because she refused to drink the coffee. Alex viewed cop coffee as a biohazard, and figured she could endure a good ribbing over losing her stomach lining.

The phones were ringing continuously, as they did every Monday morning. The townspeople of Sanderson apparently thought it too much effort to call in complaints over the weekend, and waited until the first day of the workweek to bombard them. She pulled off her cowboy hat and set it on the rack hook. Not big enough to even handle their tiny department, the office was old and in need of a good paint job. The gray walls matched the gray tiles, and the counter had seen better days. The buzz of conversation continued as if she hadn’t even come in, but she noticed Dee Dee, the secretary, waving her over. Alex turned to walk in her direction but was stopped by one of her deputies.

“Hey, Chief, about time you got here,” Dillon Sanderson said as he sauntered around the counter. “We already have someone in to talk to you this morning.”

Tall, well over six feet, with a lean, athletic build that all of the Sandersons had, Dillon was an attractive man, and unfortunately he knew it. Tawny hair, golden green eyes, and a poet’s mouth, he tended to talk just about every good-looking woman under the age of forty into his bed. Alex hadn’t even ranked a flirtation. He’d been ticked when she’d gotten the job over him, but with her time in at SAPD and being seven years his senior, she’d edged him out. The fact that his cousin was mayor apparently hadn’t helped him. And wasn’t that just a bitch.

“Gee, Sanderson, I was under the impression that I worked Saturday night for someone who had a hot date with the new waitress at the truck stop out on Highway 82.”

Because he was still too young to hide his feelings, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Uh…yeah, about that—”

“Give it up. Just remember not to piss on the people who watch your back,” she cautioned.

He gave her an odd look and nodded.

“So, who’s up to bat first?”

He smiled. “Well, Drunk Wilbur’s wife is here. She says she wants to speak only to you.”

“Aw, damn.” Mondays truly sucked.

“Yeah, and this time, she’s pressing charges.”

Alex rolled her eyes and grabbed up a report that Dee Dee had been waving in the air. A week had not gone by in the three months Alex had been there that Mildred Foster didn’t attempt to press charges. Alex figured it was Mildred’s way of dealing with the embarrassment of being married to the town drunk.

“What’s it about this time?” She motioned with her head to her office and started off, knowing Dillon would follow. When he didn’t say anything, she glanced over her shoulder to find him just a step behind her with a smirk on his face.

“She claims that you detained Wilbur because of your fixation on his manly person.”

She stopped so abruptly that Dillon ran into her back. As she turned around, she noticed that most everyone in the office was smiling. Well, shit. Most of the town, including the mayor, would know about it before lunch. Just what she needed.

“So, let me get this straight. I arrested Wilbur, like you all do each weekend, but this time, it’s because of my lusting after him?” He opened his mouth to answer but she didn’t let him. “Wilbur, who is sixty-four and weighs over three hundred pounds? Never met a bottle of whiskey he didn’t like or a bar of soap he used properly?”

“That’s right. Apparently, she had some worries about your…sexual preference—”

“She thinks I’m a lesbian?” She shouted the question before she could stop herself. It had been years since she had faced that absurdity, and that was only from a few guys she’d gone to the academy with who couldn’t talk her into bed. A lot of women had to deal with that when they had a career in law enforcement. She had ignored it for the most part, giving as good as she got to some of her fellow cadets and later to her coworkers. Once she was working on the force, no one cared. Her reputation had been stellar. Now, though, dealing with hearing it from her deputy was a little too much to take for a Monday—before she had any coffee.

Jed, the other deputy, snickered. One steely-eyed look from her had him ducking his head. When she turned her attention back to Dillon, he had no problem making eye contact. In fact, the bastard was grinning at her.

“She’s worried. A woman like you, taking a job like this…” He motioned with his hand to indicate the miniscule office. “That just doesn’t seem right.”

She snorted. “And, what would the illustrious Mildred Foster think I should do?”

“Marriage was mentioned, but she would feel better if you would at least date a man.”

“Date a…” She threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. “Who the hell does she think I’ve been seeing?”

“You haven’t been dating anyone, and that seems just a might strange,” he said in a perfect imitation of Mildred’s condescending voice.

“I’m gonna show her strange.”

Dillon laughed. Placing his hand on the doorframe behind her, he leaned in. “I could help you change the misconception, being friendly and all. We could drive into Marble Falls, take in a movie.”

Okay, she could take nightmares, Drunk Wilbur, his wife calling her a lesbian and accusing her of making Wilbur her jail bitch, but she could not handle twenty-three year old egos. Not on a Monday morning and without any caffeine. Why did God feel he need to test her? Although Dillon was not the root cause of her anger, he was enjoying himself a little too much at her expense, and it was time to teach the little butthead a thing or two.

“Really,” she said, deepening her voice and moving closer to him. Apparently, his hormones still hadn’t settled down since puberty, because his eyes widened then darkened with interest. This was almost too easy. He licked his lips, and she could have sworn he sniffed at her.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you know my answer, right after I fire you.”

He jerked his head back and all the color on his face drained. It was sad she felt so much satisfaction out of doing that, but she did. Alex figured after being called a lesbian, she deserved it.

“What the hell are you going to fire me for?”

“Sexual harassment.”

“Dillon.” The sharp reprimand had Dillon turning on his heel; almost hitting her in his bid to face his cousin, the mayor. One look at Jacob Sanderson’s face, the chilling look from his golden hazel eyes, told her he had heard the whole conversation.

Aw, damn, Mondays really did suck.