Wicked Shots

by Katana Collins

  Cass nodded, a sigh catching somewhere between her chest and her throat. He was going to let her go … tonight, at least.

  “Okay. Here. Take it.” She tapped her toe to the cooler and backed away from him. As she turned to head back to the tunnel, an automated voice spoke from her pocket. “To listen to your message, please press one. To try again, press two—”

  The man’s eyes blazed and he wrenched her arm, grabbing the phone from her pocket, reading the screen. His lips pressed tightly together as he hurled the phone over the side of the dock. The clatter ricocheted against the rocks and echoed into the dark, empty night.

  He pulled a small gun from his waistband, cocking it, and shoving the barrel into the space between Cass’s breasts.

  “You stupid little bitch,” he spat, yanking back her hair. “And here I thought we’d get at least one more shipment out of you.”

  His grip surprised her more than it hurt and she yelped, stuck with her back bent in an unnatural position. With what little restricted movement Cass had left, she tucked her hand into her back pocket, pulling the knife out and slicing through the man’s arm. He grunted, loosening his grip on her just enough. It was the break she needed and she took off at a run down the dock. The knife slipped from her hand, falling between the wooden slats of the dock, but she didn’t have time to retrieve it. She needed to find people. Someone, anyone must still be out in the area. It was a college town; didn’t dumbass kids come down to the beaches to get drunk anymore? She ran the length of the wharf, her gaze focusing on a small boat pushing away from the dock. Cass waved her arms wildly, shouting at a fisherman who was on his way for the morning’s catch.

  Footsteps pounded behind her, and Cass didn’t waste time looking back. Instead, she kept running. Ahead of her, a familiar voice called and she squinted, trying to make sense of the shadowed figure calling for her up ahead.

  “Cass?” he said again.

  “Oh my god. Thank god!” She ran into his arms. She was so stupid to think she could do this alone. But now he was here and they would be fine. They had to be fine. “Run!” she shouted, pushing him away, only he didn’t budge. The footsteps—they slowed. Why would he stop chasing her? Maybe he didn’t want anyone else to see his face?

  Only her friend didn’t run. Instead, his grip tightened on her shoulders. “Whoa, whoa, slow down! What’s going on?”

  She inhaled a jagged breath as the footsteps behind her approached. Turning, she gathered the courage to look at him from over her shoulder. The man who would kill her. His eyes were cold stones as he shifted his gaze from her to her friend to the fisherman out on the boat.

  “Don’t hurt him,” Cass said, holding her arms as a sort of shield.

  From behind her, his strong hands ran the length of her arms, pushing them back to her sides. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, his voice gruff. Slipping from behind her, he moved to stand beside the man with the gun pointed at her breast.

  “Hand over your wallet,” the gunman shouted, and Cass’s stomach clenched.

  “My-my what? What’s going on?” From over their shoulders, she could see the fisherman had a pair of binoculars aimed directly at her. Yes, please … call someone, she thought. She met her friend’s familiar eyes, only now they were hard and cold and she barely recognized the man she had put so much faith in. “How could you?”

  He rolled his eyes, looking to the gunman with a sigh. “You’re so dramatic, Cassandra. It’s all part of the deal you signed up for. You didn’t really think you’d get out of this alive, did you?”

  Her mouth gaped open and her entire body trembled. She was going to die. Tonight. Now. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. “Oh my god.”

  His mouth curved into a wicked grin. “You did think you’d get out of this alive.” He shook his head. “’Fraid not, hon.”

  The masked man’s grin slipped wider and he tilted the gun to her pocket. “Your wallet. Give it to me now.”

  Cass swallowed, tossing him her wallet, and he grabbed the cash out of it with gloved hands and tossed the rest to the side. “Good,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Cassandra,” her friend said with a wave. His familiar face, which up until now had been nothing but warm and nurturing to her, hardened into rough lines and tight muscles. There was no sparkle to his eyes. No tilt to his mouth. “You should have simply done what you were asked and nothing more. You’ll be missed.” He continued to back away as icicles of fear spread through her limbs. Fear and realization. Some people simply didn’t need a mask to hide.

  A shot boomed through the night, pain slicing through her. Falling to her knees, the world closed in and an icy splash of cold water drowned the pain.

  Playlist for Wicked Shots

  Prologue

  Somebody to Love—Queen

  Chapter 1

  Break Stuff—Limp Bizkit

  List of Things—Sweater Set (p. 7)

  Chapter 2

  Maybe This Time—Cabaret

  Chapter 3

  Love Me or Leave Me—Nina Simone

  Chapter 4

  Don’t Make Me Over—Dionne Warwick

  Chapter 5

  Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood—The Animals

  Chapter 6

  Roly Poly—The Little Willies

  Chopin’s Nocturne Op.9 No. 2—Colin Jacobsen

  Chapter 7

  Why Don’t We Do it in the Road—The Beatles

  Chapter 8

  S&M—Rihanna

  Chapter 9

  Can’t Fight This Feeling—REO Speedwagon

  Proud Mary—Ike and Tina Turner

  Chapter 10

  Little Bird, Little Bird—Elizabeth Mitchell

  Fade to Black—Metallica

  Turn the page for a special sneak peek of Katana Collins’s

  WICKED EXPOSURE

  A forensic photographer with the NYPD, Jessica is devastated to receive word of her sister’s death in a robbery gone awry. But when she arrives home in Portland and the local PD asks her to take pictures, she finds more than she bargained for. With each new photo she exposes more of her sister’s secret erotic life. And when she shares her discoveries with Sam, the super-sexy local detective, she experiences passion she never knew possible. But Jessica soon learns she’s merely a pawn in a deadly game of betrayal and revenge and begins to wonder if her next picture could be her last….

  A Kensington trade paperback and e-book

  on sale May 2015

  Sam McCloskey gripped the steering wheel with such force he swore his fingers would have blisters when he finally released his hold. He had caught glimpses of Jessica at Cass’s funeral, but he had barely noticed how much she’d matured in the last ten years. All he saw the day of the service were the silent tears streaming down her face. The way her long black eyelashes spiked around her amber eyes. Eyes that now bore experience, passion, and seduction rather than immaturity and childlike rebellion. And those tears—the way her chest quivered with silent sobs—splintered a crack right into his stone heart. There had been only two other times in their lives when he had seen those tears spill down her face. Once was the first time she fell off her bike when they were kids. The second was at her parents’ funeral.

  His stomach lurched at the memory of her parents and he quickly pushed them away. Back into the recesses of his mind. There was no time or place in his life right now for regrets. Could he have handled shit better back when they were fifteen and her parents died? Of course. But come on, he’d been fifteen. And cutting her off as a friend was better than her finding out the truth.

  Why, oh why he’d thought chasing her down the sidewalk today was a good idea was beyond him. Maybe it had been a flash of momentary insanity. Or maybe he’d been lulled by the sight of her full breasts rounded under that tight white T-shirt. A shirt that he suspected looked completely conservative on a hanger in her closet—but on Jessie? Christ, it was practically X-rated, sheer and barely reaching just above her navel. The strip of sk
in revealed there was taut, leading his eyes down to long, muscled legs. Runner’s legs.

  “Dude! What’s the big deal?” Matt’s voice spiraled him back into the present. “It’s her job back home—and we need a new photographer. At least until we find someone more permanent.” Matt reached into the Tim Hortons bag, pulling out a crème-filled something or other and biting in. His eyes rolled back and he let his head fall onto the headrest. With his food half-chewed, he smacked his lips with a contented sigh. “Besides, if she has a job, there’s the chance she might decide to stick around for a while. Maybe even stay for good. Ever think about that?”

  Sam raked a hand down his face, the skin smooth from his morning shave. He had thought of that. And that was exactly why he couldn’t let her get settled here. Not with a job. Not with a home. Nothing. And he certainly couldn’t tell Matt his reasons for not wanting to work beside Jessica “Wild” Walters. It was the one and only request Cass had made of him before she died: Get Jessie out of Portland as quickly as possible.

  “Jessie doesn’t want this coastal life. She made that perfectly clear years ago. She’d be miserable. New York was always her goal.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Matt said, wiping powder from his goatee. “Women hit a certain age and bam! The only booties they want are the kind that go on a baby’s feet. Less bars, more children.”

  Sam snorted. That might be true of most women, but Jessie was anything but your typical woman. “Somehow, I doubt that’s Jessie’s intentions. She just needs to keep her head down and stay out of trouble.” Yeah fucking right.

  “Wild Walters staying out of trouble? We’re talking about the same girl here, right?” Matt chuckled.

  “Yeah.” Sam groaned. He’d barely spent ten minutes with the woman and already he was so hard he was piercing the base of the steering wheel. What the fuck was he thinking, inviting her to dinner? He shook his head back into reality. It was a tactic; that was it. He needed to get into Cass’s house. And a dinner with Jessie and maybe an invitation for coffee at her place after was a surefire way to get in the door.

  He gulped. She looked so lost. So hollow. Those brown eyes of hers had once been filled with electricity. But today she just looked vacant. And maybe—just maybe—he truly wanted to catch up with her. Make sure she was okay. A long breath pushed past his lips as he remembered the way she’d made her way toward him at the graduation party years ago. Her stride had been slow, confident. Hella sexy. She was wearing some little halter dress that barely covered anything and paused before him, a nearly empty bottle of something sweet and alcoholic in hand. Despite the fact that he was nearly a whole head taller than her, she dropped a shoulder confidently, fisted his shirt, and pulled his face down to hers. Pausing just before their mouths touched, she’d whispered, “I don’t want to hear any objections. This is happening. Tonight.” And then she’d kissed him. She’d kissed him in a way that he never knew a kiss could be. Firm, but soft. Wet, but not sloppy. Her tongue had thrust into his mouth and he’d groaned, lifting her onto his hips.

  “Jessie,” he had said. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

  “Shut up,” she had moaned into his mouth. “And take me upstairs.”

  And despite the warning signals that had fired off in his brain, he did just that. Their one and only time together.

  “Whatchya smilin’ about over there?” Matt asked with his own knowing grin.

  “Your mom,” Sam shot back.

  “Hoohoo!” Matt clapped his hands, laughing. “You’ve still got it bad for Jessie, huh? I knew it. I told Kelly and she told me there was no way, but I knew—”

  “I do not have it bad for Jess. Hell, I barely know her anymore!”

  “Uh-huh. Look at yourself, man. You’re beet red. I’ve never seen you blush at anything! Whatever happened to you two, anyway? You were best friends for years. Every girl wanted to be Jessie and every guy would have killed to have been in your shoes. It always seemed logical that you woulda ended up together.”

  Sam sighed, pulling into the gas station. What had happened to them? It was far too fucking complicated. And if he couldn’t explain to Jessie why he walked away, he sure as hell couldn’t tell Matt. Sam had a dark side, that’s what happened. A side to him that he couldn’t fucking forgive himself for, let alone ask another woman to forgive as well. But that night—that one night after graduation—hope had sparked inside of him like a piece of flint catching a flame. But before the fire could set, Jess had tamped it out, leaving him alone that night and never looking back.

  But now, here she was, back in Portland; in her hometown, where everything reminded her of her parents’ deaths and all that she had lost. And now with Cass’s death? Sam knew when Jessie left this time it would be for good. Nothing tied her to this town anymore. Sam’s chest tightened at the thought, and yet—maybe that was exactly how it should be.

  Jessica opened the door to her sister’s home, stripping off layers as she walked to the upstairs bathroom. Fucking Sam. Did he think she couldn’t handle the job? The job she’d been doing for six years now in New York. Or was he afraid of what would happen if they worked with each other? As if she was some horny teen who couldn’t keep her wits about her with him at her side.

  Jessica grunted, stomping around the guest room. Sam McCloskey, you are hot, but not that hot.

  She passed Cass’s bedroom, the door still open from that morning. Jessica swallowed and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She turned the water on and stepped into the steaming hot shower.

  Maybe she should tell Sam about her sister’s stash. As a detective, he might be able to help. Jess snorted, sudsing up her hair. Sam’s idea of helping was playing protector. No—not protector—controller. He would without a doubt take any and all evidence and shut Jessica out entirely. She’d never learn the truth with Sam at the helm. Nope. She couldn’t tell him a damn thing.

  An image of all that money in stacks below the floor flashed in her mind and she shifted below the steady stream of water. That was a shitload of money. Just having it under the same roof with her was enough to cause Jess sleepless nights. What the hell are you supposed to do when you find stacks of cash in a dead family member’s home? The sudden burn for answers flared within her and Jess scrubbed the bar of soap over her body. As though this action would wash clean all that had happened in the last two weeks.

  The water pattered across her heated flesh and she closed her eyes as the rivers of water streamed down her breasts and stomach. She fell against the tiled wall, letting her head rest there.

  The last time she ever saw Sam was their graduation party. They were eighteen years old and she had felt invincible. Ready to take on the world and yet nowhere near equipped for the journey.

  She had worn a blue pleather miniskirt and a halter top instead of the sweet summer dress Cass had bought for her. Her sister had been furious, embarrassed. All the other families had lovely photos of their kids posing demurely. Cass had a picture of Jessie giving the middle finger to everyone as she received her diploma. Cass had screamed at her when they got home, telling her to get the hell out of the house that night and not come back until morning, something Jess had already planned on doing regardless.

  Jessica closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his hands on her soft skin. The way he tugged her skirt down and untied her top. He had always been a guy who knew what he wanted; he was her first kiss in which she felt as though it was actually a man kissing her, not some teenage boy fumbling up her shirt. He was direct but not pushy. Confident, not arrogant. And Jessica had wanted every bit of him. She’d wanted him for four years, and every time he ignored her passing glances in the hallway—every time he left a party she had arrived to—it chipped away at her already broken heart. Until finally it was unfixable. But that night—it was his party. He couldn’t leave his own damn party. And Jess was determined to convince him. To look him in the eye and do exactly what she had wanted to do for four years. And with a little bit of liquid c
ourage, she was able to do just that on graduation night. Jess kept her eyes closed, trailing her hand down her body as her mind wandered back to that night….

  “That’s quite the outfit choice,” he groaned, his lips trailing the line of her throat as he carried her into his bedroom, dropping her onto his bed. It was a bed she knew well; the same bed they had played Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on together as kids. The same bed where they had giggled over his stepdad’s girlie magazines. The same bed they had sat on and smoked their first-ever cigarettes on—and consequently thrown up on moments later.

  “I was rebelling against Cass.” Jess shrugged through a grin. “And when the time comes I plan on voting for Hillary.” She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. “That’ll teach her, right?” Jess giggled as Sam’s mouth quirked and he hooked a finger into her black thong, snapping the strap against her skin. She gasped as the sting of pain resonated.

  His eyes lit up with the momentary acknowledgment of pain. “Did you like that?” he asked.

  Jess tilted her head, not exactly sure how to respond to the question. “Pissing Cass off?”

  His smile twitched. “No. This.” He tugged the strap once more, pulling it back farther and letting it snap to her skin harder than before.

  Through clenched teeth, Jess inhaled. The sting lasted only a moment, but the excitement in Sam’s tight face lingered.

  Jess panted and a sudden flood of dampness seeped between her legs. “You’re teasing me, Sam,” she said with a smile.

  “And you didn’t answer my question, Jessica.” He hooked a finger into the thong once more, this time brushing his knuckle against her swollen folds. “Do you like a little pain with your pleasure?”

  Jessica’s eyes widened. Holy shit. She had never thought of that before. “You mean like … like spanking and stuff?”

  Sam’s pupils dilated, and as a car drove by outside, a bright highlight illuminated one side of his face, casting the other in a deep shadow. “To start, yeah.”