“Oh, Taylor, you have no idea. I had to not only survive a deadly hurricane, But I had to learn a new way of life. I had no money, no name, and no family. I did a lot to survive.”
Victor looked up at Taylor and whispered, “I’ll get wine.”
“And tissue,” Taylor said as he stood.
Once Victor was out of the room, Taylor asked, “How did you find out that it was the senator that put a hit out on you?”
“Collier,” she admitted. “Collier had always been my eyes and ears. He kept me informed.”
“Collier!” Taylor hissed, not at all surprised.
“There was a time when Collier loved me. I guess you could say that I had him wrapped around my little finger.” Rosemary smiled sadly as she continued, “Well, he was until he started sleeping with Kara Edwards. Then, I guess he fell under her spell.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped when Rosemary mentioned Victor’s former press secretary and jilted lover. “Kara Edwards? What the hell does she have to do with this?” Taylor inquired, just as Victor reentered the room.
“Yes, Rosemary, what does Kara have to do with any of this?” he asked as he placed a bottle of Merlot and three wine glasses on the cocktail table.
Rosemary scrubbed her eyes with her fists and look up at Taylor with swollen, red eyes.
“It was Kara. She was the one who convinced Collier to shoot you.”
CHAPTER TWO
BELLA
Bella jerked and sat up with urgency. She gasped from the rush of wind that hit her face when her supervisor, Sergeant Carver, dropped a manila folder on her desk.
“You’re up, Devereaux.”
Bella took a second to gather herself before pushing herself off of her desk. She was dazed and exhausted, trying desperately to focus on her sergeant. She’d been up most of the night combing through video from the hospital. She was looking for leads on Collier’s killer.
Bella rolled her neck to stretch out the kinks and grabbed the file from her desk.
“Sarge, I’m already working a homicide,” Bella grumbled as she opened the folder. “I’m still on the Sanders case.”
“Nobody’s gonna miss that dickhead. Put it aside and go hit the street. This case takes precedence. Besides, didn’t your friend have him taken out?”
Bella rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. Most in the department believed that Taylor was responsible for Collier’s death.
“There is no proof of that.”
“Well, we got three dead girls and no available detectives. Go work the case.”
Bella scanned the file as her sergeant disappeared into his office. Three dead women found near the University of Chicago was all of the preliminary info given. Bella assumed that they were more than likely coeds. She closed the folder and grabbed her leather jacket from the back of her chair. She checked the pocket for the keys to her department-issued, old-school Chevy Caprice, and left out of the very busy homicide division.
Twenty minutes later, Bella hit the scene and hopped out of her car. Uniformed officers were everywhere, no doubt, fucking up her crime scene. She walked past the officers, straight to the beat sergeant. His mood was dismal. Bella hadn’t seen the bodies yet, but his demeanor indicated that she was walking into something grisly.
“Hey, Gary.”
“Bella,” he greeted in a deep rasp.
“What you got for me?”
Gary sighed and turned toward the dilapidated old house. They were in a rundown, but up-and-coming neighborhood near the university. Bella’s crime scene was the only house on the block that wasn’t boarded up.
Bella carefully followed Gary up the porch stairs, praying that they wouldn’t collapse. She frowned as she entered the front door, immediately pissed at the number of cops that were traipsing through her crime scene.
“Everybody out!” Bella shouted, causing the nosy cops to turn in her direction.
A few of the officers knew right away who Bella was and headed out the front door. But there were others who looked her up and down in assessment as if to say, ‘Who the hell are you?’
Bella turned to the sergeant with narrow eyes. She couldn’t believe that he’d allowed such shoddy police work.
“Don’t look at me,” Gary defended. “They were here when I got here.” He turned to the few that remained. “You heard the detective. Out!”
Bella looked around the small house as the uniforms filed out. Luckily, there wasn’t a lot of trash and debris. There was no furniture except for a few crates and a couple of pillows in the living room.
“Where are my bodies?” Bella asked the sergeant.
“Basement.” Gary pointed to a door past the kitchen.
As Bella entered the kitchen, she scanned the floor for blood evidence. In the middle of the room, there was an old wooden table with three flimsy chairs. There was nothing on the table. In the sink, there were six empty beer bottles.
“Sarge!” she called out.
“Yeah,” he responded from the threshold.
“Where’s the E.T.?”
Bella wanted the evidence technician to collect the bottles. There was a possibility that they could extract DNA or fingerprints from them.
“I think he’s in the basement.”
He thinks, Bella scoffed in her head.
Gary hadn’t done a damn thing to protect her crime scene. In Bella’s opinion, professionalism began to diminish the moment the department created a test to determine whether officers should be promoted. Unfortunately, supervisors got promoted because they knew someone important, or they tested well, or they were handed the test in advanced. Sadly, because of that, some supervisors tended to have little common or street sense. Gary’s lazy ass had to have fallen in one of those categories.
Bella rolled her eyes and walked over to the refrigerator. She pulled it open and looked inside. To her surprise, it was fully stocked, proving that the house wasn’t truly abandoned. She closed the door and moved to the basement door. If she thought the house smelled like death before, death had been confirmed as soon as she opened the basement door.
Bella took a second to allow herself to adjust to the putrid aroma of rotting flesh before taking the first step down the dark stairway. She pulled out her flashlight from her back pocket and turned it on. When she made it to the landing, she noticed a light in a far corner. She heard movement as she made her way toward the light. Bella pointed her flashlight toward the walls of the dark, smelly basement. She was in search of a light switch. She figured since there was electricity in other parts of the house, there should’ve been electricity in the basement.
Bingo!
Bella found a light switch and flicked it on. She smiled when the main room of the basement was illuminated. As she inwardly celebrated, Bella made a mental note to find out who’s name the electricity bill was in, if there was an electric bill. Nowadays, folks knew how to cipher electricity illegally.
“You startled me,” a voice called out in the darkness. “I never thought to turn the lights on.”
Bella strained her eyes to see the man in the dark corner. His uniform identified him as the evidence technician.
“This your case?” he asked.
“Apparently so. Detective Devereaux,” Bella said, introducing herself.
“Bob…Bob Henry. Come. Your victims are over here.”
Bob, the evidence tech, led Bella to the corner. The scent of death got stronger as Bella approached. She looked down at three, totally naked, dead white women. Her first question was, ‘How did they wind up in this house, in this part of town?’ The area that they were in wasn’t exactly known for producing white bodies.
The women, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, appeared to have been badly beaten, and each of their throats had been slashed. It was a terrible bloody mess. Their hands were tied at the wrists and hoisted above their heads, and their ankles were also bound. The young victims were staring up a Bella with dead, glassy eyes, and she could still see
dried tear stains on their cheeks.
Bella looked down to see if the evidence tech’s shoes were covered. They were. So, she took a second to grab shoe covers from her bag before approaching the victims. Bella slipped the covers over her own shoes and asked, “Where’s the ME?”
This was definitely a scene where the medical examiner’s presence was needed.
“En route,” Bob responded.
The evidence tech handed Bella a pair of gloves. Even though she’d brought her own, she took them.
“Come and look at this,” he told her.
Bella put the gloves on and stepped closer to the technician. He kneeled closer to one of the victims and lifted her wrist. Bella squinted to see the small tattoo on her wrist. It was a barcode with and a series of five numbers.
“They all have it,” the tech revealed.
Bella tilted her head at the evidence tech.
“You a medical examiner?” she asked him.
“No, but—”
“Then stop touching my bodies,” Bella ordered.
“You tell ‘em, girl,” a feminine voice cosigned.
Bella smiled and turned toward Dr. NiYah Reed, Bella’s childhood friend. She and Bella had been friends since the third grade. When they first met, they’d gotten into what turned into a schoolyard brawl over a game of hopscotch. Both, Bella and NiYah, had different versions of how the fight began and ended. And even though they were eight when it happened, their playground fight came up every single time they had a little Don Julio in their systems.
Bella chuckled as NiYah approached the victims. She slid on a pair of gloves and lifted the chin of one of the victims. When she touched the dead woman, Bella had absolutely nothing to say. After all, Dr. NiYah Reed was actually the medical examiner.
CHAPTER THREE
TAYLOR
It was three in the morning, and Taylor felt as if they had consoled Victor’s wife long enough.
“So, where are you staying?” Taylor asked, ready to go to bed.
Rosemary blinked up at Victor with pleading eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whispered.
“So, your plan was to come here and do what? Live with Victor? I’m sorry, honey, but that’s not gonna happen.”
Rosemary wiped the remaining moisture from her cheek and stood. She rolled her shoulders back and glared at Taylor. “I risked my life to come here and warn you about Collier. I had no way of knowing that he was dead until I got here,” Rosemary blurted.
“No, you didn’t. You could have called. Why did you really come back?” Taylor leaned back on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other. She returned Rosemary’s glare as she waited for the truth.
“Victor,” Rosemary confessed on a faint breath.
“It’s a good question,” Victor agreed. “What’s the answer?”
Rosemary stood and began to pace nervously. She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair and turned to Taylor.
“Someone tried to kill me,” she admitted. “Some woman put a gun to my head and forced me into the back of a limousine. She said that she’d been looking for me for a long time. No doubt, her plan was to kill me, but we had a car accident that killed the driver. I was dazed, but the woman was unconscious. So, I escaped.”
Taylor noted just how different she and Rosemary were. If a woman had put a gun to Taylor’s head and threatened to kill her, she would have made sure that said woman never regained consciousness.
Taylor reached for the bottle of Merlot and poured a moderate amount into all three glasses.
“Rosemary, I feel for you, but—”
“Taylor,” Victor interrupted. “May I speak with you in the bedroom?”
Taylor narrowed her eyes at Victor and asked, “Why?”
“Now, please,” was his abrupt response as he headed to Taylor’s bedroom.
Taylor blew out a harsh breath and followed Victor into the bedroom.
“He hasn’t changed a bit,” Rosemary chortled at Taylor’s back.
Taylor ignored the comment and walked into the bedroom, ready to do battle. But as soon as she entered, she was ambushed by Victor. He pulled her into his arms and grabbed the back of her head. He pushed his lips against hers and kissed her with a passion that rendered her immobile.
“I love you so much, babe,” he professed when he ended the kiss.
It was amazing. With just one kiss, Victor had weakened her resolve. Her irritation had immediately melted away. There was a contentment that came with being in Victor’s arms.
Taylor looked up, into her fiancé’s beautiful eyes. “I love you too,” she whispered.
Victor led Taylor to the bed and urged her to sit. Once she did, he sat next to her. Victor took her hand and smiled, exposing his beautiful dimples.
“Taylor, I know we haven’t talked much about our past marriages, but I need to make you understand what Rosemary and I had.”
Taylor knitted her brows as she waited for him to explain his relationship with Rosemary. But when he took too long to speak, Taylor asked, “Are you about to try to convince me that we need to take in your ex…um, your current wife?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Taylor exclaimed. “You cannot be serious.”
“Taylor, sweetheart, Rosemary is my friend. Yes, we were married, but I wasn’t in love with her, nor was she in love with me. We got married for the optics. It was a purely political manipulation. Baby, what I’m trying to say is our marriage was never a real marriage.”
Taylor nodded, and Victor smiled as if he were happy that he’d gotten through to her. He was about to stand when Taylor pulled him back to the bed by his shirt.
“Victor?”
“Yes, babe?”
“When you and Rosemary were committing your political manipulation, did you have sex?”
Victor’s smile fell. He cleared his throat and rounded his shoulders. His expression and body language answered Taylor’s question for him.
“That’s what I thought. Get her out of here.”
Victor nodded his head. “Consider it done,” he assured as he stood and left the bedroom.
****
Taylor stood in front of the mirror and brushed her hair into a high bun. She was exhausted and grateful that she’d finally be able to go to bed. Victor had finally gotten rid of Rosemary. He’d ended up calling Gregor and instructing him to pick her up and take her to his penthouse in Storm Tower. Taylor wasn’t too happy about Rosemary sleeping in Victor’s place, but it was a compromise. She would only be staying one night. Lucas, Victor’s younger brother, would be picking her up in the morning to take her someplace safe; hopefully someplace far away.
Taylor realized that she and Victor would eventually have to have a conversation about Rosemary’s return and how it would affect their engagement. The woman had faked her death because she was running for her life, but exactly how was Victor supposed to divorce a dead woman? But the conversation would have to happen at a later time because when Victor stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Taylor’s body reacted immediately.
She placed the novel she was reading on the nightstand and admired his masculine beauty. His thick, dark hair was still wet and slicked back, showing his perfectly chiseled features. Noticing Taylor’s lustful perusal, Victor grinned, awarding her one sexy dimple.
“Damn, babe.” Taylor sighed. “No man should be this fine.”
Victor smirked. “Fine, huh?”
“Fine as hell,” Taylor confirmed, lifting the sheets for him to join her in bed.
Victor removed the towel from his waist and used it to wipe the excess water from his muscular body. His flirtatious gaze never left Taylor as he stalked around the bed. His fresh, masculine scent, extreme beauty, and sex appeal caused a tightening in her core.
Victor slid into bed and reached for Taylor. He caressed her face and placed sensual kisses along her jawline.
“I love you,” he muttered against her skin.
“I love you,” Ta
ylor purred.
Victor flipped her on her back and climbed on top of her. He pressed his wet, muscular chest against her breasts and kissed her with a hunger that was the proof of his love.
CHAPTER FOUR
BELLA
Bella hopped out of her car and headed up the walkway. As soon as she ascended the steps, she took a breath and prepared herself to deal with her parents. Since she’d been working twelve-hour days, trying to solve two murder cases, Bella knew that she was going to get an earful about not spending time with her family.
Bella could smell the inviting aroma of her mother’s cooking as soon as she hit the porch. Winona, Bella’s mom, in her opinion was the best cook in the world. Her mom was Native American from the Chitimacha tribe in New Orleans. In the kitchen, she often combined her Native American heritage with her Cajun surroundings to create the most delectable dishes that Bella had ever had the pleasure of consuming.
Bella pulled the screen door open and knocked on the door. She checked the knob to see if the door was unlocked.
It was.
Bella twisted the knob and entered her parent’s house. Her dad greeted her in the living room.
“Belladonna Devereaux, where have you been, lil girl? We ain’t seen you in weeks,” her daddy reprimanded with open arms.
Bella rolled her eyes because her dad was greatly exaggerating. She ignored his fib and flew into his arms just like she always had as a little girl.
Since she’d chosen to be a detective in one of the most dangerous cities in America, Bella had dealt with enough to break the thickest branch on the strongest Oak. But her daddy’s embrace always seemed to make everything in the big bad world seem better.
William ‘Bill’ Devereaux was Bella’s hero. He was a black native of Shreveport, Louisiana. Bella’s dad was a giant of a man. He stood at six-foot-five and he was bulky but not fat. He was well-respected and often feared. He was also known for his very low tolerance for bullshit. Bella’s dad was a kind man. But when it came to his family, he was as protective as a pit bull.
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