“Don’t touch her,” barked the female nurse. “Back away!”
I did as she ordered. The male nurse knelt beside the woman and stuck a needle in her arm—probably injecting her with naloxone to counter the effects of opioids, I guessed. Then he took the fragile woman by the shoulders, and the female nurse got the girl’s feet, and together they lifted her up onto the gurney. The female nurse immediately began performing CPR while the male nurse wheeled them through the double doors and disappeared.
When they were gone, I turned in a circle and was surprised to find that both Special Agent Marshall and outlaw biker Gray Packstone were gone.
By the information desk were a couple of women dressed in pantsuits—hospital administrators, if I had to guess—who appeared to be gossiping. I approached them and flashed my badge. “Special Agent Brooke Fairfax with the FBI. Can I ask you a couple of questions?”
They traded uncomfortable looks.
“I guess,” the older of the two said, in a deep eastern Kentucky accent.
“The lady that just came in,” I began. “Clearly overdosing on something. You’ve seen a lot like her this weekend?”
They both nodded. I stayed quiet, hoping they would elaborate.
The older woman with the thick accent didn’t disappoint. “Well, I overheard a few of the ER doctors talking. Said there’s clearly been a bad batch of heroin released on the streets this weekend. But the nurses…” She paused.
“What are the nurses saying?” I asked.
“Well, they’re saying this was something more than heroin. That it had to be laced with fentanyl or something.”
“They say anything else interesting?”
The younger woman shifted. “I don’t know if this is interesting or not,” she said, “but I work in registration, and all the talk in there is about the fact that many of the overdoses were from the homeless community downtown, and most, maybe all, of the female patients were prostitutes.”
Chapter 3
It was late afternoon when I made it back to the Julep Hill Inn and Café. Midland police had closed down Main Street and the side street where the B&B was located, so I had to park a couple of blocks away and walk to the cozy cottage behind Julep Hill that I rented from Carrie Anne.
Although the parade was long over, the celebration was still in full swing. People had come from all around the state for the Midland parade and street fair, and they intended to enjoy it. July fourth was on a Tuesday this year, which for most people meant a four-day weekend of non-stop grilling, drinking, and fireworks. And it’s only Saturday, I thought.
I kept my head down as I slipped through the crowd and across the back yard that separated the inn from my temporary residence. I was tired and hot, and Special Agent Erica Marshall had ruined any enthusiasm I might have had for the holiday festivities. All I wanted to do was take a cool shower and slip into a pair of silk pajama shorts and a clean tee.
I dropped my gun and holster on a table outside the bathroom, removed the blouse and T-shirt that stuck to me like plastic wrap, and peeled my jeans and panties from my body. When the cool water hit my face and streamed down my arms, chest, and legs, I let out a sigh of relief. After lathering up and then rinsing my hair, I ran conditioner through my long strands, leaving it there as I soaped up the rest of my body with a soothing loofah. That was when I heard a strange sound from inside the cottage.
I straightened, listening for the sound again. Not taking any chances, I looked around for a weapon. I lifted the back scrubber off the shower head and slipped slowly and silently out of the shower, leaving the water running.
When I heard a soft thud in the hallway, I jumped around the corner with the back scrubber raised, ready to strike—and I screamed.
Just before the back scrubber made contact with the intruder’s head, a hand shot up, stopping my forward motion. The intruder twisted my right arm behind my back, trapped my other arm against my body, and pressed my back to his chest. I was pinned, naked and vulnerable.
“I’m afraid you might need to practice your self-defense tactics, Special Agent.” Hot air feathered against my ear and cheek.
My heart thudded against my chest from the initial adrenaline rush of having someone inside my cottage uninvited. I was dripping in water, conditioner, and soap, and my arm ached, thanks to a two-month-old injury put there by Romeo, a confidential human source—and my own personal stalker—when I was working the governor’s bioterrorism case.
I ordered myself to relax. I let my left hand wander backwards to the intruder’s thigh, and rubbed. I felt his body relax slightly as his left hand roamed upward, to my collarbone and then my cheek. He turned my head toward his.
That’s when I pounced. I whipped around and swept his legs from under him. I had him pinned against the hallway rug in under a second, my elbow to his throat.
Declan’s blue eyes darkened like a pending thunderstorm, though his expression looked slightly amused. As soon as I removed my elbow, his hand went to the back of my neck and brought my face and lips to his.
My lips parted, letting his tongue run against my bottom lip and explore. His hands proceeded to explore as well—until a knock at the door interrupted our moment of passion.
I lifted my head to peer down the hallway, directly at the front door. I could see the outline of a person on the other side of the café curtain.
“Declan?” Marti called. “Did you find Brooke?”
I looked down at Declan, then buried my forehead into his neck. Declan placed a hand over my ear nearest to his mouth before he called out in his sexy Irish accent, “Ya! We’ll be right out.” He kissed the side of my head and laughed. “You’re covered in soap, Agent.”
“That’s what you get for sneaking up on me.”
“Glad that’s all I got. You could have done real harm with that… what was it? A back scrubber?”
I giggled into his chest.
He framed my face and kissed me again, then helped me to my feet, not even apologizing when he looked down and took in my naked body.
The urge to dart out of his view was strong, but I forced myself to move slowly as I headed back to my shower.
“What I would give to join you in that shower,” Declan said from the other side of the curtain. “But I promised Marti and Carrie Anne that I would drag you back out to enjoy the festivities if I found you in here hiding.”
“I wasn’t hiding.” I ran my fingers through my hair, squeezing the conditioner from it.
“Oh yeah? You weren’t planning to put your pajamas on and hide out in your bedroom with a glass of wine?”
I finished rinsing and turned off the water. Before I could reach for my towel, Declan opened the curtain and wrapped the towel around me.
“What happened in Lexington?” he asked.
After securing the towel around my body, I reached for a second towel and wrapped my wet hair into a twist on top of my head. “Just an unusual surge in drug overdoses last night. Police are handling it.”
Declan followed me into the bedroom. “Good. Narcotics isn’t your thing.”
I slipped into a red and white sundress, then took the towel from my hair. “True. Except the police and my SAC believe these overdoses are somehow related to a local motorcycle gang. And gangs and organized crime is my thing. Just glad it didn’t ruin my whole day.” I went to Declan, stood on my toes, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Give me five minutes to dry my hair. I’ll meet you outside?”
“I’ll have a drink ready for you.” He kissed me on the lips one more time before turning and leaving.
To continue reading Cut in Darkness, CLICK HERE.
Also by Heather Sunseri
PAYNES CREEK THRILLERS
Death is in the Details
Truth is in the Darkness
The Secret is in the Bones
* * *
THE IN DARKNESS SERIES
Exposed in Darkness
Cut in Darkness
Covered in Darkness
Shot in Darkness
Desired in Darkness
* * *
SPECIAL IN DARKNESS STORY
(Sequel to Cut in Darkness)
Free to Newsletter Subscribers
Protected in Darkness
* * *
THE INTERNATIONAL THIEF SERIES
A Thief Revealed
A Thief Consumed
A Thief Obsessed
* * *
THE MINDSPEAK SERIES
Mindspeak
Mindsiege
Mindsurge
Tracked
Deceived
* * *
THE EMERGE SERIES
Emerge
Uprising
Renaissance
The Meeting (A short story)
Acknowledgments
Exposed in Darkness is the first “adult” book I have published. This book would not have been possible without the help of many, many people. Some of these people I have thanked below, but I know there are some I might have forgotten. For that I am sorry. It’s not because I didn’t appreciate your help or expertise. It’s probably because I’m trying to remember way too many things these days.
Also (full disclosure alert), there were times while writing and researching the In Darkness series that I would come across bits of information and the people who provided it would lean in during a conversation and say, “Please do not use my name in your acknowledgments.” That’s when I knew: that piece of knowledge was definitely going in the story. It was just too good.
My first thank you must always go to my husband, Mike. Without him, I’m not sure I would survive the trials and tribulations of publishing. He’s my sounding board when I brainstorm story ideas; he’s my first reader when the story is ready for editing; and with this story, he’s been instrumental in helping me research. He’s also my rock—in life, love, and in this crazy publishing world.
Thank you to my editor, David Gatewood. He makes me a better writer with every story I tell. Every time I sit down to compose a note of thanks to him, I struggle to come up with the right words to express how much I need him in making my stories shine. He has a way of taking a story—a set of chapters, paragraphs, words—and tweaking them in such a way that it’s still my story, only so much better.
Thank you to members of law enforcement that were kind enough to answer my questions about police and arrest procedures, evidence gathering, and other details included in this book. Thank you to law enforcement and other presenters at the Writers Police Academy and at the Lexington, Kentucky Citizens Police Academy for answering so many of my questions and for giving me future story ideas.
Thank you to my brother Mike, the attorney to whom this book about justice is dedicated, for always answering my sometimes strange legal questions, like: What specific charges would someone who almost poisoned hundreds of people at a Derby party face upon arrest? He was always so patient, especially when he’d get these strange text messages while in the middle of court.
Thank you to an amazing group of Kentucky authors who keep me sane inside this business: Kathleen Brooks, Kris Calvert (my Citizens Police Academy cohort), J. M. Madden, Donna McDonald, and Robyn Peterman. I love these ladies to the moon and back.
Thank you to Connie Boyce, Melissa Bybee-Fields, and Jessica Patch for reading an ARC of this book with the sole purpose of searching and destroying typos.
These are the longest acknowledgements ever, but this is the longest book I’ve ever written and published, so…
About the Author
Heather Sunseri is a recovering CPA who began writing novels in order to escape the mundane life as a muggle. After twenty years in the corporate world, Heather decided to use her business savvy and curious mind to start a publishing business anchored by fictional stories. She is proof that one can be a numbers person and a creative And that it’s never too late (or too early) to get a do over. She’s married to the love of her life, mom to two amazing kids, and caregiver to the best golden retriever and one very, needy cat. When she’s not writing, she’s making homemade pizza, listening to true crime podcasts, and drinking Kentucky bourbon.
Connect with Heather:
heathersunseri.com
[email protected]
Exposed in Darkness Page 33
