by Misty Evans
She survived an attack by a serial killer earlier today and needs a relaxing bath and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. I could use the same.
“No idea.” I motion for her to stay at the car and grumble when she ignores me. We walk toward the kid and wait for him to shut off the bike. “Can I help you? Are you lost?” I ask.
Under the parking lot’s solar lights, he looks barely old enough to be legal on that bike. Curfew’s in an hour. “Are you Charlie Schock?”
The whole thing is weird and my gut tells me he’s some kid with a loose screw who saw the news about us and Billy Ray Wilson and wants an interview for his class project. “We’re closed. You can call our number and leave a message. We’ll get back to you.”
Or we won’t, if you’re a freak. Some days, I hate myself for being so paranoid, but it comes with the territory. I’m a former profiler for the FBI and I have a Ph.D. in forensic psychology. The list of freaks in my background is extensive.
“I left a message.” He gets off the bike, releasing the kickstand, and reaches into his jacket. “Several in fact. You didn’t return any of them.”
Gun. It’s my first instinct when his hand goes into that jacket and I back up, putting my hand on the butt of my own weapon. At the same time, I throw the other arm out to protect Meg.
The kid pulls out a folded piece of paper, not a weapon, and holds it out to me. “I need your help.”
The magic words. The ones I can never resist, especially when I move closer and see the pleading look in the kid’s eyes. Maybe the shadows under them are from the ghostly lighting, or maybe he hasn’t slept in a while either.
My fingers itch to reach for the paper hovering in the air between us. Meg moves so she is by my side, sizing up the boy and his paper.
“With what, kid?” I ask him, dropping my protective arm.
“I need you to explain this.” He unfolds the paper and holds it out again. “I’ve been over these tests results a dozen times, and I understand what they mean, but they don’t make sense.”
I see DNA markers on the sheet. There are three sets of them. “Why is that?”
He shifts his weight, those eyes still imploring me to take the paper. “I’m Ethan Havers. Do you remember me?”
It only takes a heartbeat for the name to click and then I look the boy over from head to toe. “Carl and Lily Havers’ son?”
He nods.
The first kidnapping case I caught as an FBI agent.
“Wait, Carl Havers, the morning talk show host?” Meg studies Ethan carefully. “I did the age progression on you.”
Fifteen years ago, Carl was an up and coming reporter for a local D.C. news channel. His good looks and winning on-air personality moved him swiftly into the anchor seat, where he’s been ever since. His wife, Lily, also a TV personality, gained wide audience appeal when she became pregnant with their first and only child.
“I chose to do my final project in Biology on DNA,” Ethan says. “My family’s DNA. But there’s a big, big problem, Charlie.”
I take the paper from Ethan’s hand. A few days after he was born, he was kidnapped by his babysitter. I’m the FBI agent who returned him to his parents seven years later, after tracking down the woman. Meg did, indeed, create an age progression of what Ethan looked like at seven, and it led to me finding him. “What is it, Ethan?”
But I know what the problem is before he even answers. The DNA markers of Carl, Lily, and Ethan dance before my eyes. Meg studies them over my shoulder.
“They don’t match,” the kid says softly. His voice is rough, almost as if he’s about to cry. “My DNA didn’t come from my mom and…from them.”
“Holy shit,” Meg says.
Holy shit is right.
I look up and meet Ethan’s eyes, speechless. My stomach bottoms out.
“You returned me to the wrong parents, Charlie,” he whispers. “I’m not Ethan Havers.”
Enjoy this excerpt from Stealing Justice!
Justice “Grey” Greystone stood in the shadows near the main staircase of the mammoth mansion, his ear bud in place, his security service badge in plain view, and his eyes roaming the crowd as senators, diplomats, and other male politicians moved past him. In a sea of navy, brown, and black suits, pops of red, pink, and bright blue caught his attention.
Beautiful women, their taut, young bodies dripping with diamonds, brushed seductively against the men, offering a drink, a snippet of conversation, a laugh. A private encounter behind closed doors.
Inside the Panthera, sixteen miles north of Washington, D.C., drinks flowed, deals were made, and powerful men ignored the fact that one of them was a killer.
A woman bumped Grey’s arm. “Oh, excuse me.”
Her dress, nails, and lips were a matching wine color. Her brown hair was twisted and pinned on top of her head. But those eyes, even with the makeup, screamed young. She couldn’t have been legal, and yet according to the Smoking Gun Escort Service, they never hired anyone under twenty.
Yeah, right. And he was the Pope.
The woman grabbed a champagne glass from a passing waitress. “Do you know when the entertainment is supposed to be here?” She turned her big eyes to him over the rim of the glass.
Hazel. Just like Molly’s. Grey stuttered. Not now. Don’t think of her now. “Entertainment?” Didn’t she know she was the entertainment? “You mean the actor running for a senate seat? I believe Chas Loughlin is simply attending tonight’s function to talk to the politicians, not to perform.”
Hence the increase in security.
“Oh.” She gulped the champagne, her gaze now scanning the crowd. “Damn, I was hoping for a distraction.”
The vibe she gave off made him curious. Not just young—inexperienced. “First night at the Panthera?”
“How did you…oh, shit,” she ducked behind him. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He glanced in the direction she’d looked and saw a man who generated a similar response in his own gut. Ahmed Khourey. “The Lion” as Grey had dubbed him, since he prowled the Panthera Leo like he owned the place.
Moving so he blocked the woman from Ahmed’s view, he reined in the instant anger boiling inside. “He giving you trouble?”
She waved a hand in the air, signaling a waitress. Another glass of champagne. Another big gulp. “He’s handsome and charming and very, very rich.” She chuckled. “He’s also…intense.”
The sound of her soft laugh was so similar to his sister’s, Grey flinched. Molly…
Not. Here. “If he’s bothering you…”
She downed the last of the champagne, set the empty glass on a nearby bookshelf. Hiked up the fur shawl that had slipped down her shoulders. “I can handle it.” Her gaze lifted to his once more. “Thank you.”
Before she whisked away, Grey touched her arm and handed her his business card. He resisted telling her she should lay off the booze, that in this place a drunk woman would be easily compromised. “Here’s my card if you need…assistance. My personal number is on the back.”
She gave him a look that told him she thought he was flirting with her. If she only knew the truth. Sticking the card in her tiny evening bag, she sauntered away, deliberately avoiding The Lion and cozying up to an overweight representative from Alabama.
Grey locked his back teeth and resumed his stance, keeping an eye on her and The Lion.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The voice came from behind him, but Grey didn’t need to turn around to recognize his former boss’ irritation. “Since when do they allow FBI agents into the Panthera, Donaldson?”
“The Attorney General invited me.”
“Brown-nosing does have its perks I suppose.”
Special Agent Harold Donaldson moved so he stood next to Grey. His bland, watery eyes scanned the party as he unbuttoned his too-tight suit jacket. “Since when do they let ex-FBI agents in here?”
Grey held up his ID badge. “Security.”
Donaldson snort
ed as he read the badge. “Jason Black, Front Range Security Specialist. How did you manage that?”
“Front Range has expanded into several new markets, including high-risk security management, bodyguards, and diplomatic protection services. A natural fit for the Panthera.”
Another derisive snort. “Let it go, Justice.”
So they were using first names now? “Let go of what, Harold?”
The man’s bushy eyebrows lowered. “Your obsession with this serial killer is going to land you in jail. Or worse.”
Worse had already happened. He’d let women die on his watch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a lowly security guard making ends meet.”
“Ahmed Khourey is not your guy. Look at him.” He motioned toward the center of the ballroom where Khourey stood, telling a story about his latest vacation in Africa that involved a run-in with a rhinoceros while hunting big game.
Men and women crowded around him, laughing at his sense of humor and gasping at his narrative of the attack. He was a natural-born storyteller and far more entertaining, Grey bet, than the actor who was due to arrive any minute.
“He doesn’t fit a serial killer profile,” Donaldson said. “If anything, he’s the Lebanese version of the Dos Equis man…the most interesting man in the world.”
“Or at least in the Panthera tonight. “Ted Bundy was handsome and charismatic, too.”
“You’re no longer part of the FBI. Stop obsessing over The Lion. You’re chasing the wrong guy.”
In his earbud, Grey heard the security supervisor give him the call sign for the actor. “Excuse me, Harold. I have work to do.”
For more with Grey, Mitch, and the rest of the Justice Team
Stealing Justice
Cheating Justice
Holiday Justice
Exposing Justice
Undercover Justice
Protecting Justice
Missing Justice
Defending Justice
And don’t miss the exciting release of 2nd Strike, Schock Sisters Mystery Series, Book 2, coming October 2019!
Books by Adrienne Giordano
JUSTICE TEAM SERIES w/MISTY EVANS
Stealing Justice
Cheating Justice
Holiday Justice
Exposing Justice
Undercover Justice
Protecting Justice
Missing Justice
Defending Justice
THE LUCIE RIZZO MYSTERY SERIES
Dog Collar Crime
Knocked Off
Limbo (novella)
Boosted
Whacked
Cooked
Incognito
PRIVATE PROTECTOR SERIES
Risking Trust
Man Law
A Just Deception
Negotiating Point
Relentless Pursuit
Opposing Forces
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUES
The Prosecutor
The Defender
The Marshal
The Detective
The Rebel
JUSTIFIABLE CAUSE SERIES
The Chase
The Evasion
The Capture
CASINO FORTUNA SERIES
Deadly Odds
STEELE RIDGE SERIES w/KELSEY BROWNING
& TRACEY DEVLYN
Steele Ridge: The Beginning
Going Hard (Kelsey Browning)
Living Fast (Adrienne Giordano)
Loving Deep (Tracey Devlyn)
Breaking Free (Adrienne Giordano)
Roaming Wild (Tracey Devlyn)
Stripping Bare (Kelsey Browning)
STEELE RIDGE SERIES: The Kingstons w/KELSEY BROWNING
& TRACEY DEVLYN
Craving HEAT (Adrienne Giordano)
Tasting FIRE (Kelsey Browning)
Searing NEED (Tracey Devlyn)
Striking EDGE (Kelsey Browning)
Burning ACHE (Adrienne Giordano)
Books by Misty Evans
JUSTICE TEAM SERIES w/Adrienne Giordano
Stealing Justice
Cheating Justice
Holiday Justice
Exposing Justice
Undercover Justice
Protecting Justice
Missing Justice
Defending Justice
SEALS of Shadow Force Series: Spy Division
Man Hunt
Man Killer
Man Down
SEALs of Shadow Force Series
Fatal Truth
Fatal Honor
Fatal Courage
Fatal Love
Fatal Vision
Fatal Thrill
Risk
The SCVC Taskforce Series
Deadly Pursuit
Deadly Deception
Deadly Force
Deadly Intent
Deadly Affair, A SCVC Taskforce novella
Deadly Attraction
Deadly Secrets
Deadly Holiday, A SCVC Taskforce novella
Deadly Target
Deadly Rescue
The Super Agent Series
Operation Sheba
Operation Paris
Operation Proof of Life
The Justice Team Series (with Adrienne Giordano)
Stealing Justice
Cheating Justice
Holiday Justice
Exposing Justice
Undercover Justice
Protecting Justice
Missing Justice
Defending Justice
The Secret Ingredient Culinary Mystery Series
The Secret Ingredient, A Culinary Romantic Mystery with Bonus Recipes
The Secret Life of Cranberry Sauce, A Secret Ingredient Holiday Novella
