by Rebecca York
“When did your boss get here?” Francesca asked.
“Just after the excitement in the nursing home.” He looked from her to the cop driving the cruiser, and she nodded and stopped talking.
When they arrived, they were ushered into an interrogation room, where they waited for several minutes for a lieutenant to appear. Again, Zane made it clear from his body language that it was better not to talk while they were alone.
The door finally opened, and a broad-shouldered man in a suit strode into the room. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with strands of gray creeping into his dark hair.
“I’m Lieutenant Henderson,” he said. His next words were, “I’d like to hear why you think you shouldn’t be arrested for murder.”
Chapter Twenty
Francesca felt an electric sizzle go through her.
Beside her, Zane spoke calmly. “That will be clear when I explain what happened after thugs burned down Angelo Lucci’s house. Francesca can tell you what happened before that—before I found her running for her life down the beach.”
He turned to Francesca. “Why don’t you start?”
She told the story of contacting her uncle, coming to Florida, and thinking he had been murdered. She also related what she’d heard when she was hiding in the closet and how she’d escaped from the burning house.
Then Zane took up the narrative, methodically, going through the events of the previous two days, noting where he had documentary evidence to back up his story—including pictures of the men who followed them from his rental. He also produced the pendant which had hidden the tracking device and finished with, “Frank Decorah assures me that the Lady Slipper has been returned to the Cypress Creek marina.”
The lieutenant said, “That sounded pretty glib. But I’ve been in touch with the authorities in Naples. What do you have to say about Decorah Security men impersonating police officers?”
Francesca winced and Zane answered the question.
“The only way we could prove our innocence was to stay out of custody so we could get the full story from Francesca’s father.”
“A lawyer could have done that,” Henderson said.
Francesca interjected, “He would have been reluctant to speak to a lawyer. He was in the Federal Witness Protection Program and very wary of revealing anything about himself.”
“You have proof that his brother came to kill him?” Henderson pressed.
“Yes. Zane recorded him in the hospital room threatening her and her father.”
“It was pretty convenient that he was killed before he could shoot anybody,” the lieutenant said.
Francesca answered. “He tried. There are bullet holes in the walls of the room. I assume the bullets will match the gun he was carrying.”
“What stopped him?” Henderson asked.
“The dogs burst in.”
“And where did they come from?”
Francesca shook her head. “I don’t know anything about them. I certainly didn’t bring them with me.”
Henderson scowled. “Another interesting convenience,” he muttered.
He kept questioning them, but he couldn’t shake the story that they had been defending themselves during the whole Florida episode.
Finally, he said, “You will have to remain in the area until this is cleared up.”
“Of course,” Zane agreed before fixing his gaze on the lieutenant. “But there’s one more consideration.”
Henderson waited for him to elaborate.
“We know Mr. Turner’s brother, Angelo Lucci, came up here to kill him. We know he was running a con on Francesca in Florida. He’s dead, but there were several men who pursued us after she escaped from his house. If they were working for Lucci, then I hope we’re out of danger because their boss is dead. If they’re holding a grudge, then they may come here looking for us. Or they might come after Mr. Turner in the nursing home.”
Francesca’s head swung toward him. “I didn’t think of any of that,” she whispered.
“Those are fair points,” Henderson agreed. If everything you’ve told me is true,” he added.
“Do you have any suggestions for insuring our safety while we hang around town?” Zane asked.
The lieutenant thought it over. “I suggest that Ms. Turner not go back to her apartment. We can put you in a hotel we use for witnesses.”
“And since I know it would be a strain on your department to guard Mr. Turner twenty-four seven, I think Decorah Security can keep watch over him,” Zane added.
“All right,” Henderson agreed. He looked at Francesca, “And I believe it would be safer if you stay away from your father until the whole matter is resolved. If the wrong people are hanging around, they could follow you back to the hotel.”
She felt her chest tighten. “He’s old and very sick. I . . .”
Before she could finish, Zane cut in. “We need to determine that the nursing home isn’t being watched. If nobody shows up after a few days, it should be all right to go over there.” He turned back to Henderson. “And I think Frank Decorah has made hotel arrangements for us. If you agree to the location.” He gave Henderson the address. The hotel was okay with the lieutenant, and Zane and Francesca finally left.
When they were out on the street, she looked at him. “Where are we staying?”
“A boutique hotel that’s not far from here.”
Knox was waiting for them down the street and called Zane on his cell phone when they reached the sidewalk. He was also staying at the same hotel. On the way over, Zane filled him in on what had happened in the interview, with Frank listening in on the phone.
The hotel was in a charming Victorian mansion that had been beautifully restored. Zane and Francesca had a large room decorated in soft beige and rose. In addition to the bed, there was a small sitting area with a couch and chair.
Francesca turned to Zane. “I keep feeling like every time we reach a safe place, something else happens.”
“This time, it’s going to turn out okay.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because things are falling our way.” He gave her a reassuring kiss. “You get some rest. I’m going to talk to the other Decorah agents.”
Francesca turned back the damask spread on the bed, kicked off her shoes, and lay down with the rest of her clothes on. The day had started in Florida getting stuck in the swamp and ended in Massachusetts with her uncle coming back from the dead like an evil jack-in-the-box. Only, surprise, he had never been dead. That had all been an elaborate hoax.
She closed her eyes and didn’t open them again until Zane came back into the room. She looked up to see he was carrying a tray.
“What time is it?” she asked, fighting for coherence.
“After ten.”
“I slept that long?”
“Yes, you needed it.”
Zane set down the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Francesca came over to the sitting area. When she lifted the cloth covering, she found a cardboard container of chicken soup.
“I figured you liked it,” he said. “We had it brought in from a restaurant down the street.”
“Thank you.”
He sat down beside her as she spooned up some soup. When she was almost finished, he said, “I have some news.”
He saw her tense and slung his arm around her shoulder. “It’s good news. The guy you hit, whose name is Fritz Eldridge, is recovering nicely. At first he wouldn’t say anything about the case. Then the cops informed him that he doesn’t have to be afraid of Angelo Lucci because he’s dead. There was an armed robbery warrant out on Eldridge. They said he could get a better deal if he cooperated. He thought that over for a few minutes and started confirming our story about what happened at your uncle’s house. It was a scam to lead Angelo to your dad, so he could kill him. He also confirmed that Conrad shot me before I shot him. And one more thing. He also told the cops where to find the other three men who were involved in t
he plot.”
Her throat was so tight she could barely get the words out to ask, “And what about my hitting him over the head?”
“He said it stopped him from killing me.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief but had one more question. “There’s still the problem of our breaking into their house.”
“That was a little trickier to get around, since technically we should never have been in there. But Frank Decorah got a very good lawyer who argued that we were only trying to find out why they were hunting us down.”
She gave him a wondering look. “Then it’s really over?”
“Yes.”
“Oh Lord, I . . . I couldn’t let myself believe it was really going to be okay.”
He turned her toward him. “I know.”
“How?”
“You were so tight and closed up.”
“I’m sorry. I was still afraid we would lose each other.”
He pulled her close, rocking her in his arms. “Never. I guess I coped with it differently. I started making plans for the future. And now I need to know if they work for you—or if you feel like I’ve overstepped.”
“I’d like to hear what you were thinking.”
“That since you do freelance editing, you could do it in Maryland.”
She considered that for a moment. “Yes. A lot of my clients can work by e-mail, although I’ll probably have to look for some new ones. But what about my dad?”
“We can move him down there too. The IT guys have been scouting nursing homes near Decorah headquarters. There are a couple that look really good. Or I have another suggestion.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Like what?”
“It’s a long story, but Decorah has a special program for brain-damaged patients. It started when we took over a research project on men and women who were in comas. The project hooks them up to a virtual reality system that allows them to lead normal lives.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a little hard to explain. I guess it’s like being inside a video game where everything seems perfectly like reality. The people there are ‘living’ in a luxury hotel with every amenity. If your dad joined them, his body would be asleep, but his mind and virtual body would be in a world where he could be like his old self. Doing all the things he used to enjoy before he got sick. We can talk to Lisa Wardman, the director. Her sister lives there. And one of our agents, her husband Mack spent a lot of time in the facility. He was a fighter pilot. His plane crashed, and the doctor who was running the experiment illegally added him to the project. That’s how Decorah got involved. We can visit the place, and you and your dad can decide if it’s right for him.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“Yeah. That’s why we’ll make sure it’s the right fit.” He gave her a long look. “I hope you don’t think I’m pushing anything on you.”
“No. I like that you’re thinking about him.”
“And us,” he added.
“Yes.” She hesitated before asking, “Did anyone ever tell you you make a very handsome wolf?”
He laughed. “You don’t think my brothers and my cousins are going to say that do you?”
“Your mom?”
His expression turned serious. She never talked about that, either.”
“Why not?”
“I think if she’d had her choice, she would have wanted her boys to be ‘normal.’”
“Sorry.”
“It’s what it is.” He switched subjects abruptly. “I hope you’re going to like my house. It isn’t large, but I’ve got a lot of land. It’s on the edge of a regional park. And you can have fun making my bachelor pad into a home.”
“I’d love to. And I understand that a wolf needs space to run—and hunt.”
She paused for a moment, then said in a rush, “With my dad in Witness Protection, I wondered if I could find the right man to marry. Someone who wouldn’t care about my background and someone who could keep it a secret. I found the perfect guy when you snagged me running up the beach.”
He made a low sound. “You better believe that a wolf wonders how he’s going to discover the right mate. But against all odds, we found each other.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to love the Decorah community. You’ve already met some of the agents. And the wives are all friends.” He laughed, “The guys have probably been taking bets on when I was going to find a life mate.”
“Why?”
“Because they could see I was restless. That’s why I took an assignment in Florida. Plus my younger brother, Knox, had already found a mate.”
“Thank God you did.” She gave him an anxious look. “You think I’ll fit in?”
“I know you will. But right now how about we celebrate coming through a pretty harrowing experience?”
She loved the sudden wolfish look in his eye. When he reached for her, she clasped her hands around the back of his head and brought his mouth to hers. The kiss was long and deep. A sign of their commitment and a promise for the future.
THE END
AFTERWORD
Thank you for purchasing Fire on the Moon. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
If you enjoy my books, do me a huge favor. Please go back to your favorite online bookstore, and leave an honest review. Authors live and die by their reviews. The few extra seconds it takes are really appreciated. Thank you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author, Rebecca York is a 2011 recipient of the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award. Her career has focused on romantic suspense, often with paranormal elements.
Her 16 Berkley books and novellas include her nine-book werewolf “Moon” series. KILLING MOON was a launch book for the Berkley Sensation imprint. She has written for Harlequin, Berkley, Dell, Tor, Carina Press, Silhouette, Kensington, Running Press, Tudor, Pageant Books, and Scholastic.
Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.
Many of her novels have been nominated for or won RT Reviewers Choice awards. In addition, she has won a Prism Award, several New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf awards and numerous other awards, and she is on the Romance Writers of America Honor Roll.
Contacts
Rebecca York loves to hear from readers!
Web site: http://www.rebeccayork.com
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @rebeccayork43
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ruthglick
Blog: http://www.rebeccayork.blogspot.com
Sign up for Rebecca York’s Newsletter to get all the scoop on Rebecca’s SEXY ROMANTIC SUSPENSE at http://rebeccayork.com
COPYRIGHT
Published by Light Street Press
Copyright © 2019 by Ruth Glick
Cover design by Earthly Charms
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-943191-21-5
Excerpt of RX MISSING, by Rebecca York
Prologue
From his F18 fighter jet, Lieutenant Commander Mack Bradley looked down on a scene of destruction.
His chest tightened as he listened to the choppy, breathless voice of a man trapped in his disabled Humvee.
“Thi
s is Whiskey Two Romeo. Convoy hit by roadside bomb. Rockets. Automatic weapons. Repeat Whiskey Two Romeo. The bastards are in the hills to our left. . . Sweet Jesus . . . can you lay down fire . . .?”
Mack kept his own emotions in check as he came around to the convoy’s position.
Stay cool. Do your job. Then get the hell out.
When he got the all clear, he executed the attack, diving on the enemy, delivering a series of 500 pounders before zooming upward again. A typical Middle Eastern bombing run, he thought with satisfaction as he headed back toward the carrier.
Only this time, a heat-seeking missile zeroed in on his engine. He felt the teeth-rattling impact, saw the fire warning light and knew he had only two choices. Go down with the plane or eject.
No choice at all, really, because the escape procedures had been drilled into him.
Adrenaline surged through his system, as he began sending out his call sign and location. There was no time for fear or worry. He simply acted automatically.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Lightning 22 ejecting twenty miles south of Senadar. Repeat this is Lightning 22.”
No response came in the moments he had left in the crippled aircraft. He had to trust that they’d heard him as he pulled the handle on the seat between his legs, got his body into position, and prayed that the chute would open.
Seconds later, the seat blasted out of the cockpit with a force of 17 Gs.
As he tumbled through space, there was nothing more to do but wonder if he was going to live or die.
Then, like the old clichéd phrase, his entire life flashed through his mind. He smiled as he tasted his mom’s chocolate chip cookies. Felt again the joy and pride of catching the winning touchdown in the Allegheny County championship game. The scenes came fast and furious, each with the emotions of the moments he’d spent on earth. Hunting expeditions with his dad and twin brother. Midshipman at Annapolis. Flight training. The wild bachelor party before his disastrous marriage.
