Vicious (29 page)

Unable to help herself, she gasped. “Oh my gosh!” Jess had bought that bag for her fortieth birthday otherwise she would never have spent so much money. “What was she thinking buying me a gift like this?”

“That you’re friends,” Dan offered.

Jess smiled up at him. “Guess so.” She gave George a hug. “Thanks for delivering my gift.”

He looked anywhere but at her, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I heard about the fire on the news.” He glanced up at Dan. “I’m really sorry about your house.” He turned back to Jess then. “But I’m glad you’re back home.”

Jess blinked back more foolish tears. She grabbed the bowl of popcorn and thrust it at her landlord. “You boys enjoy the popcorn. I’m going to organize my new bag.”

She didn’t give Dan time to complain though he did manage to send a frown and a frustrated gaze her way.

By the time Alabama made a touchdown, he’d forget all about dear old George perched on the sofa next to him.

Jess reached for her phone to send a pic to Lori. There was a text message from a number not in her contact list. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she opened the message.

The picture of a young woman, long dark hair, tall and slender filled the screen.
Not Rory Stinnett
. Someone new, but exactly the Player’s type.

Spears had taken another victim. Jess opened her mouth to call to Dan but another text notification appeared. She tapped the screen.

We’re waiting for you
.

Don’t miss the next thrilling installment of the Faces of Evil. VILE is coming! Read on for an excerpt!

VILE

For the vile person will speak villainy, and his heart will work iniquity…

~Isaiah 32:6

1

Sixth Avenue Flower & Gifts

Birmingham, Alabama

Monday, August 30, 10:30 a.m.

Ellen Gentry was mad as hell. She had worked at this floral shop for five years and not once had she called in sick. If her name was on the schedule, she was here—unless, of course, she was in the hospital or the morgue.

Apparently, she was the only employee around here with proper work ethics. She’d had to run around like a chicken with its head chopped off to fill this morning’s orders all by herself. Nearly every single one had been for an anniversary—not that she was complaining about that part. Anniversary arrangements were good for business and almost always included generous tips. Husbands, even the not so nice ones, typically went all out for that annual celebration. A big old bouquet of flowers could get a guy out of hot water faster than just about anything.

Ellen placed the final arrangement in the walk-in cooler and breathed a sigh of relief. “Done.”

It wasn’t brain surgery, but her work gave her a sense of accomplishment. Speaking of surgery, she wouldn’t mind snagging a doctor. There were plenty of them in Birmingham. She smoothed a hand over her hair and straightened her apron. These black slacks and the white blouse were her favorites. They fit exactly right. She’d added a nice little red scarf for an accent. Looking her best wasn’t just something she did for work. It never hurt to showcase her assets especially since all those husbands would be coming in to pick up their orders. Married guys were always telling their single friends about the hot chicks they ran into. She looked pretty good even if she was about to turn thirty. There was still time to snare a husband.

“Before all the good ones are gone,” she grumbled.
Or maybe they already are
.

Time for a break—if she could find her drink. A quick survey of the counter and she spotted her Coke Zero right where she’d left it behind the cash register.

As she guzzled what she fondly called her coffee in a can, a frown scrunched its way across her brow. Why was that child still standing on the sidewalk outside the shop? The traffic was lighter now that the morning commute was over and done with, but there were still plenty of cars whizzing along Sixth Avenue.

Ellen tossed the empty can into the trash and wandered to the door. The little blond haired girl had been standing in that same spot for at least half an hour. Where in the world were her parents?

Irritation lit in her belly. Some people were so stupid they didn’t deserve to be parents. Ellen pushed through the door and the bell jingled overhead. The hot, humid air enveloped her instantly. It was going to be another scorcher. Just a few steps outside the door and she was already sweating.

The little girl didn’t turn around. She stared out at the street as if she were lost. Was someone supposed to pick her up? Had a parent dropped her off and then driven away?

“Hey there.” Ellen crouched down, putting herself at eye level with the little girl who couldn’t possibly be older than four. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

The child turned to Ellen and then drew back in fear. Her little face was red from crying.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ellen said gently. “Where’s your momma?”

The child just looked at her without saying a word. A piece of plain white paper had been folded and fastened to her pink dress with a big safety pin. Ellen reached for the note. Surprisingly, the child held still as she removed it.

This was totally spooky. Ellen’s heart beat faster as she unfolded the page. The words there were formed with cut out letters pasted together. “What in God’s name?” She read the lone statement again.

Take me to Deputy Chief Jess Harris
.

Look for the other books in the Faces of Evil Series:

OBSESSION

IMPULSE

POWER

RAGE

REVENGE

RUTHLESS

About the Author

DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Since then she has penned more than 100 novels including her internationally bestselling Colby Agency series. Her debut romantic thriller series, the Faces of Evil, propelled Debra to the top of the bestselling charts for an unparalleled twenty-four weeks and garnered critical acclaim from reviewers and readers alike. Don’t miss a single installment of this fascinating and chilling twelve-book series!

Visit Debra at
www.thefacesofevil.com
or at
www.debrawebb.com
. You can write to Debra at PO Box 12485, Huntsville, AL, 35815.