by Kaylea Cross
Heart thrumming with sudden hope, Keelin pulled herself to her feet and pressed Helen. “A crooked businessman named Nate Feldman put Weaver up to finding you and seducing you to get at Tyler.”
“I said shut your damn mouth!” Weaver spun around, his attention now directed on her. “Or maybe I won’t wait to let the fish get you.”
Another burst of twinkling blue and white lights revealed a figure running toward them even as Weaver hurled himself into the craft and took the wheel. Keelin nearly fainted with relief when she realized the man was Tyler. The explosion of accompanying sound covered his footsteps as the craft slowly turned, its prow headed straight out toward the middle of the lake.
And then Tyler leaped.
“Jack!” Helen screamed too late.
Keelin’s heart was in her throat as Tyler flew through the air. His foot touched the side of the boat; his momentum kept him sailing. Even as the villain turned, Tyler was upon him, the thud on contact audible.
The men went down in a heap, Tyler on top. But Weaver was a decade younger and undoubtedly stronger considering his massive physique. Keelin held her breath as they rolled in the confined space, arms flashing, the sound of fists contacting flesh more imagined than heard beneath the increasing cacophony of the fireworks display. Rockets were bursting in the sky as fast and furious as the men were hitting each other.
Suddenly Tyler flew back, arms flailing. And Weaver was instantly on his feet and after him. Forgetting Helen for a moment, Keelin looked around wildly for something loose that she could use as a weapon. Her gait was unsteady as the boat slowly continued moving out into the lake.
Keelin was wondering if a loose flotation cushion could do any damage when Helen ordered, “Just stay put,” as her lover pounded her ex-husband with his fists.
“Is that what you want?” Keelin asked, revolted by the brutality. “You want to see Tyler dead because he divorced you?”
“He stole my child from me!”
“He paid you to stay out of your child’s life because he wanted to protect her. And you readily took his money.”
The gun wasn’t even pointing at her anymore, Keelin realized. Helen’s heart wasn’t in this. Cheryl’s mother might be greedy, but she obviously wasn’t given to violence. This time, she’d chosen the wrong man to partner.
“Weaver’s been working for Feldman for a while.” Keelin yelled to be heard. The fireworks display was coming to a dramatic climax, layers of color building on one another. “He made a few adjustments in one of Tyler’s buildings that was being renovated. The result was a child’s death.”
“You’re lying!”
“He would have killed Cheryl if he’d had to!”
Helen’s mouth gaped, but she couldn’t seem to force out a denial.
“Perhaps he’ll kill you for the money.”
Suddenly Weaver cried out. Keelin saw his head snap back and his body jerk. Tyler took the advantage, grabbing the man by his shirt front and heaving him into the windshield. A panicked Weaver scrambled over the glass and onto the hood of the prow. Tyler vaulted onto a seat and followed.
Keelin held her breath as the men tightly circled one another around the confined space. Tyler found an opening. He clipped Weaver in the jaw, stunning and pummeling him until the younger man fell prostrate over the bobbing prow.
Appearing ready to pass out himself, Tyler stumbled toward them.
“Are you all right?” Keelin yelled worriedly, rushing between the seats to meet him.
Tyler leaned forward, hands against the windshield, gasping for breath. “I’ll survive.”
She reached up and touched his bruised and bloody face. “Foolish, foolish man.”
“I wasn’t about to chance living without the woman I love,” he said, the unexpected declaration thrilling her.
“She may have to live without you!” came a raspy voice from behind him.
Under a canopy of colored brilliance combined with smoke that shadowed the sky as far as the eye could see, the scenario played out in slow motion before Keelin’s horrified eyes.
Weaver was on his feet, hand raised and grasping something gleaming and sharp. His energy spent, Tyler obviously had to force himself to turn around to face the aggressor once more. He exposed his chest even as the man’s arm began its downward arc.
Suddenly Jack Weaver jerked and froze, a surprised grimace distorting his features. His chest bloomed dark against his lighter shirt. His fist opened and the weapon fell, clattering and slipping into the lake.
And, like a felled tree, Weaver followed.
Keelin didn’t even hear the splash.
Then her gaze flew to a dazed Helen, still pointing the gun straight where her lover had stood.
“OUR FINAL REPORT IS AN UPDATE on the disappearance and recovery of North Bluff teenager Cheryl Leighton,” Skelly McKenna told his television audience. “A fantastic story of greed and violence. A complex and far-reaching plot was allegedly hatched by businessman Nate Feldman, seen here as police arrested him early Sunday morning.”
Snugged in the crook of Tyler’s arm at his home, Keelin watched The Whole Story with him, nervous about his reaction to her cousin’s coverage. Skelly focused on Feldman himself, leaving out the exact details of Tyler’s twelve-year monetary arrangement with Helen as well as Keelin’s own paranormal connection with Cheryl. His discretion surprised and pleased her, though Keelin knew at least some of the details were bound to come out during Feldman’s trial. Helen had already pleaded guilty to kidnapping and extortion, but also pleaded self-defense to her lover’s death. Lake Michigan’s waters still cradled Weaver’s body.
As far as anyone had been able to tell, Vivian and Brock had only been involved peripherally, and while in love with Brock, Pamela had remained professionally loyal both to Tyler and L&O Realty, so Skelly never even made reference to them.
“In a bizarre twist,” Skelly went on, “Feldman is also allegedly responsible for the unsecured porch railing that caused the death of Harry Smialek, the Wicker Park boy who died on an L&O Realty renovation site…”
Tyler had already received apologies from the Smialeks and had learned that their lawsuit against L&O Realty had been instigated by one of Feldman’s lawyers.
To Keelin’s relief, Cheryl was more resilient than she imagined. The girl hadn’t invaded her dreams at all since the rescue. And, even now, Cheryl had insisted on being with her friends since everything was back to “normal.” Keelin knew Tyler had made an appointment to take Cheryl to a family therapist, but instinct told her the teenager would fully recover.
“At least this story has a happy ending,” Skelly was saying, the visual a shot of Cheryl wrapped in a battered Tyler’s arms.
And for her a new beginning, Keelin thought, at last free of the guilt that had haunted her. She had finally put the ghost of Gavin Daley to rest.
Skelly was on camera once more. “Tomorrow, a story on Lily Lang, The Blonde Bombshell, who, convicted of murder, escaped from prison thirty years ago this week.”
Tyler pointed the remote at the television and turned it off. “Maybe your cousin’s not quite the sleazoid I accused him of being.”
Equally pleased, Keelin agreed, “I think there’s hope for Skelly yet.” He’d even asked for their blessing before doing the follow-up.
“What about us? Is there hope for us?” Tyler asked, the question making her heart leap.
Though they’d professed their love for each after their night terror had ended, the last two days had been divided up between the police and sleep, Cheryl’s well-being and Keelin’s family matters. While Uncle Raymond had greeted his long-lost niece with enthusiasm, Aileen had suggested she wait a bit before broaching the subject of the reunion.
And, amidst all the chaos, she and Tyler had not gotten around to discussing them.
We do come from different worlds,” she reminded him.
“But not different planets. I’m sure you’ve heard of jet travel.”
She
frowned. “You would be happy with a long distance relationship?”
“Certainly not.” He kissed her nose and tightened his grip on her. “The closer the better. I meant we could be an international family with two homes if that would make you happy.”
Her pulse raced and familiar yearnings filled her, yet Keelin argued, “Then there are more personal differences.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You mean because you’re a woman and I’m a man? I believe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
Not smiling at his attempted humor, she said, “I come from a Catholic country.”
He immediately grew serious. “I’m open-minded and flexible. Isn’t it possible to work something out?”
Before meeting Tyler, Keelin had never considered she might fall in love with someone outside of her country, no less someone outside of her faith. Her Aunt Rose had faced the same dilemma, and her determination to marry the man she loved had caused the initial rift between the McKenna triplets. But Keelin understood exactly how her aunt felt, for she was of the same mind. Tyler was a good man – for herself, she could find none better.
“Two people who love each other can always find a solution,” she said solemnly.
“Like marriage?”
She softened in his arms. “Are you asking me to marry you, Tyler Leighton?”
“I am, Keelin McKenna. Cheryl has already given her approval.”
Keelin’s heart soared and the differences were forgotten. “Then we must hurry. Make plans immediately–”
“Whoa.” Tyler laughed. “I believe the red tape might take more than a few days. And what about your family? Don’t you want to give your parents and siblings enough time to get here?”
Suddenly dreading what Da would have to say on the subject, not wanting to spoil the moment by discussing his possible wrath, Keelin murmured, “Tis nearly a month after my thirty-third birthday now. I cannot wait if I am to accept my grandmother’s legacy.”
“And what legacy would that be? If it’s money you’re worried about–”
“Money is the last thing Moira McKenna would have worried over for her nine grandchildren.” She quoted, “‘I leave you my love and more. Within thirty-three days after your thirty-third birthday – enough time to know what you are about – you will have in your grasp a legacy of which your dreams are made. Dreams are not always tangible things, but more often are born in the heart. Act selflessly in another’s behalf, and my legacy shall be yours.’“
“A lovely thought.”
“Moira was a lovely woman.”
“And has an even lovelier granddaughter.”
With that, Tyler kissed her so lovingly that Keelin realized that the dreams born in her own heart had already come true.
* * * *
Read the next book in The McKenna Legacy, Tell Me No Lies, Skelly’s story.
About the Author
With 95 novels and more than seven million books in print, Patricia Rosemoor is fascinated with “dangerous love” – combining romance with danger. She has written various forms of romantic and paranormal romantic thrillers, bringing a different mix of thrills and chills to her stories. An adjunct professor in the Creative Writing Department at Columbia College Chicago, she is happy to say three of her former graduate students are now published in novel-length fiction with works developed in her classes. Patricia has been a winner of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award and of several awards from Romantic Times Bookreviews—Career Achievement Awards in Romantic Suspense and in Romantic Mystery and two wins for Best Harlequin Intrigue of the year. Website: http://PatriciaRosemoor.com.
Table of Contents
CATCHING THE BAD GUY
Janet Maple Series
Book 2
Marie Astor
* * *
Copyright 2013 Marie Astor
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Overview:
Janet Maple and Dennis Walker make a good team: she is a top-notch white collar crime investigator, and so is he. Both Janet and Dennis are thrown in for a loop when Janet’s treacherous snake of an ex-boyfriend, Alex Kingsley, is appointed as their new boss, and the case that was supposed to be the highlight of their careers is dismissed for lack of evidence.
To make matters worse, Alex is asking Janet to get back together, and the one man she wishes would ask her out sees her as nothing more than a coworker. Janet’s love life soon becomes the least of her worries, as she begins to suspect that Alex’s rekindled interest in her is driven by ulterior motives. She is determined to get to the bottom of things, but she can’t do it alone.
Together, Janet and Dennis team up to solve a tangled white collar crime web that leads to powerful politicians and corporate executives. Armed with their keen instincts and skills, Janet and Dennis are bound to succeed. There is just one glitch: both are attracted to each other, and both refuse to admit it. Will Janet and Dennis solve the biggest case of their careers or will their attraction to each other get in the way?
Heat Level:
Sensual
Chapter One
“There’s my favorite investigator.” Dennis Walker sauntered into Janet Maple’s office without bothering to knock. Dennis Walker never knocked. He simply barged in unannounced, the same way he had barged into Janet’s life a little over a year ago, turning it upside down.
Her fingers tingling from furious typing, Janet looked up from her computer screen. “Today is the big day, huh?” Janet kept her voice cool, making a mental effort not to ogle Dennis’s freshly tanned face. The man would look good even if he were pasty white, not that Dennis’s silky-smooth complexion had ever been pasty white, not even in the dead of winter. But now he looked dangerously handsome. “How was your vacation? Puerto Rico, was it?”
“Turks and Caicos, and it was wonderful.”
Janet nodded. She knew that. She had known the destination of Dennis’s getaway ever since he had posted his vacation schedule on the department calendar two months ago, and she had spent weeks visualizing his trip: Dennis stretched on a lounge chair, sipping one of those resort drinks from a coconut with a dark-eyed lanky brunette lying by his side, or perhaps a blue-eyed blonde. When it came to women, Dennis had only one requirement: they had to be drop-dead gorgeous. Apparently, Janet Maple was not gorgeous enough for Dennis Walker.
“You look like you could use a break, Janet.” Dennis’s comment made Janet conscious of the dark circles under her eyes, which so far were her only reward for burning the midnight oil at work.
“Not everyone has the luxury of taking a week off before the most important case hearing of one’s career.”
Dennis’s eyes locked on Janet’s, his glance acknowledging their never-ending game of verbal tennis. “As I told my boss, I had scheduled my vacation months in advance; the case hearing had been moved three times. I have a life, you know, and I can’t be at the Enforcement Division’s beck and call.”
“Can you believe the momentum the case has gained?” Janet steered the conversation away from the alarming subject of Dennis’s private life, the details of which, despite all the hours she had spent pondering the subject, she wanted to know as little as possible.
“I know. We did all the groundwork and then every single regulator jumped on the bandwagon, including your former alma mater, the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office.”
Janet felt the usual sting of chagrin that the mention of her
former employer never failed to trigger. Yes, her legal career had begun with a position of assistant district attorney at the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office, but her promising start fizzled to a disappointing conclusion after she was downsized from the DA’s office in the middle of an important case.
As if reading her thoughts, or more likely her expression, Dennis cleared his throat. “David Muller has wreaked enough havoc. It’s high time he was brought to justice.”
“I sure hope that’s going to be the case.”
Dennis frowned. “Why the hesitation?”
“For the very same reason you just mentioned: the case hearing has been postponed three times already.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door of Janet’s office. The head of the Investigations department, Hamilton Kirk, stood in the doorway. “Dennis, Janet, may I speak to you a minute?” As always, Ham’s facial expression was inscrutable, but the serendipity of his appearance made Janet look at her watch. It was after three p.m.: the Emperial case decision had to have been reached by now, and if the news were good even Hamilton Kirk would not have been able to resist the joy of announcing it.
“Of course, Ham.” Dennis’s tone was smooth, but not smooth enough for Janet to miss the hidden notes of apprehension in his voice.
Together, Janet and Dennis followed Ham into his office. Just why Ham had to insist on going to his office was beyond Janet. Although much smaller in size, her office would have provided sufficient privacy for their discussion, but then she had gotten used to not questioning Ham’s idiosyncrasies.
The moment they reached Ham’s office, Janet understood her boss’s request. Hamilton Kirk had worked for various departments of the Treasury for over twenty years, during which he had acquired vast office paraphernalia—certifications and commendatory plaques, reference guides, and never-ending stacks of bulging folders that contained case materials—but now all of these items were neatly packed in cardboard boxes that lined the floor of Ham’s office.
