by Camryn King
“Stop, Christian.” She scooted over to put distance between them. “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m not ready for that yet.”
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question was asked lightly, but the mood remained bleak.
“My opinion has changed about you. When this whole thing started, you were a bit of a jerk. But I get it now. You’re a good guy. Once you decide to settle down, I think you’ll make some lucky woman very happy.”
“Who says I’m not ready to settle down now?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Probably a half dozen women or so.”
Christian smiled at her honesty. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Conversation eased into safer territory after that. The concert. The foundation. The “Knightly News.”
“I downloaded your column’s app,” Christian said, almost proudly.
“You did?”
“Indeed. I like it. Makes me think in ways I haven’t before.”
“Yeah, well, that app is going to be pretty useless for the next eight weeks. I shouldn’t say that. There will be a column. I just won’t be writing it.”
“How can there be a ‘Knightly News’ with no Knight?”
“Easy. By dropping the ‘K.’”
“You quit your job?”
“Taking a leave of absence. I’ve eaten, slept, and lived journalism for over fifteen years, since my junior year in college. Researching my friend’s death again reminded me how short life is, and how precious the time. I want to take a break, step back, and access how mine’s going, and if the direction it’s headed is still the right one.”
They reached her brownstone.
Christian nodded toward her walk-up. “Will you still be here?”
“Not for a while.”
“Will you be back?”
“We’ll see.”
“Will you keep in touch?”
“Absolutely.”
The hug was filled with unasked questions and unmasked desires. Mallory allowed a brief kiss on the lips as they parted, then tapped the window as a signal for Treetop Thomas to open the door.
“Thanks for tonight, Christian. I’ll never forget it.”
“You won’t have to. It won’t be the last one.”
She waved and walked away. Christian watched her joke with Treetop as she climbed the steps to her door. She entered her home without looking back, and soon the limo cruised through the streets toward Midtown Manhattan. But Christian’s thoughts and heart stayed back in Brooklyn, on a girl with curly hair, a loyal heart, and a sharp tongue. He’d answered honestly when he said he wasn’t ready to settle down. But when he did, he could imagine it being with someone who’d push him to be a better man. Someone like Mallory Knight.
40
Mallory’s steps were steady and sure as she walked through freshly cut grass, clutching her purse tightly against her as she navigated the plaques and tombstones that marked the final resting place of a family’s beloved. Her steps slowed as Leigh’s stone came into view. The granite seemed to gleam beneath the rays of a bright sun, setting her apart in death as much as her beauty and vivacious personality had in life. The hand of grief clutched Mallory’s heart. Neither time nor a guilty verdict had yet healed the scar of her loss, but she hoped the news she came to share would at last allow Leigh to truly rest in peace. She stared at the writing on the stone for a moment, then sat down and rested her back against the cool slab.
“You probably know already, but . . .” Mallory faltered as an unexpected lump arose in her throat and tears threatened before she finished with an anguished whisper. “We did it! We got that motherfucker, Leigh. Against all the money and high-powered attorneys and courtroom bullshit, Pete Graham was convicted and will be in prison for the next twenty-five years. I’ll be at every parole hearing to make sure of that. And as much as I hated the assignment of solving your murder, it was some of our best work. Yep, you and me, Leigh. I never could have done it without you.”
Tears fell. Mallory let them.
“He deserved the death penalty, but your parents’ refusal to get involved and the state prosecutor’s weak performance was no match for Graham’s top-tier team. But Christian believes the truth, Leigh. That surprised me. I’d been dodging his calls because I thought he’d try and make a case for his uncle. Convince me that he was innocent somehow, or excuse what happened. But he didn’t. He was shocked, hurt, and after learning that you were pregnant, very angry. Your number one New York Navigator is on your side, Leigh. Now he’s cheering for you, and admits that his uncle is exactly where he should be. The irony isn’t lost on me, nor are the reasons you adored him. I get why you were such a fan, and makes me wonder why he wasn’t the one you dated. I now believe it when you say that you didn’t. Christian remembered you from the picture, but swears you and him never went out. It’s weird because I can see you with Christian, but his uncle? The reason may have been the child you died with inside your womb—Pete’s child. A baby coming would definitely alter whatever choices you’d made till that point. I wonder how that happened, you and Pete, and how you felt when a baby forced you to make a choice. Did you love him, Leigh? So many questions that still linger around this. So many answers we’ll never know.
“We do know the role that Danny played, Brandon’s father. I guess you know, too. Christian is helping out his family, too. It was wrong what he did, supplying the pills Pete used to spike your drink. But in my heart of hearts I don’t believe that he’s a bad person, and not even sure he knew how Pete would use the pills. He’s like so many guys up against life with limited choices, kids to feed and bills to pay. But at the time you were . . . that everything happened . . . he’d actually gotten out of that life. He’d stopped dealing drugs and was working at an automotive shop. Pete offered him five thousand dollars for a couple of pills. He’d sold many more for much less.”
Mallory looked up as a funeral processional passed by, the hearse shiny and black beneath a cloudless blue sky. Several black town cars followed, regular cars, too, their headlights beaming the message that another soul had earned their angel wings. Her eyes traveled the length of the line and continued to a grove of trees with her car parked just beyond them. A car that held her future, and reminded her it was time to say goodbye to her past.
“So . . . I guess that since you may have already known all that I just shared, you probably also know about my new friendship.” Mallory heard Leigh’s voice in her head and laughed out loud. “Not friends with benefits, silly, we are strictly platonic, I swear! You always pushed me to get back in the dating game, to be open to love. So it feels nice and totally appropriate that you played a large part in bringing us together. But before getting into anything serious, I need to spend time hanging out with me, getting back in touch with who I am and what really matters. Getting out of the city, the rat race, the media madness, will help me do that. It’s also time I bridge the gap that’s existed between me and my mom, my whole family really. I love New York. My heart will always beat to its rhythm, but for the first time since I stepped off the train at Penn Station after college, I can imagine myself living somewhere else. I’m going to take the break and then . . . we’ll see. I need time to just breathe. Now that I feel you’re truly resting, I can relax, too.”
Mallory stood and placed her hand on the tombstone, surprised at its coolness despite the late June heat. When she’d left the house, it had been early and cool but now, nearing noon, the sun had risen high in the sky and positioned itself directly above her head.
“I guess I’d better be going. My flight leaves in a couple hours and a part of you is coming with me.” Mallory held out the arm where a single silver bangle caught the light of the sun. “I wear at least one of them every day. No, I am not a bangle girl. Yes, you should feel special. And while I’ll never come to this city without thinking of you, this will be my last visit here. I finally agree with Sam. I don’t need to come here to talk with you. You’re in every ray of sunshine on my skin. I
n every gentle breeze. Your voice will always be in my head, giving me advice and helping me navigate the twists and turns of life. I love you always, Leigh, my best friend. Please continue being my angel for the rest of my life.”
Mallory reached inside of the bag she’d clutched during much of the visit. She pulled out the garden spade purchased while planting herbs with Harmony on her brownstone’s windowsill and laid it on the tombstone. Then she pulled out a handkerchief, unfolding it to reveal the shiny gold item inside. The puzzle piece. She picked up the spade and knelt down one final time to dig a small hole on the right side of the stone. Once it was deep enough that she felt the piece wouldn’t be disturbed, she removed it from the colorful cloth. For a long moment, she held it in her hand, turned it over and ran her fingers across its smooth, cool surface, much as she had after finding it in the clutch. Finally, she placed it to her lips, set it in the six-inch-deep hole, and covered up the treasure.
“Thanks for giving me a clue, girl. Literally and figuratively. I give it back to you now, as a constant reminder of the puzzle you helped solve. The biggest one of all, and in the end, the only one that mattered. I have other items to remember you by, and memories that can never be taken away.
“I love you, Leigh.” Mallory wiped away a tear and touched the tombstone one last time. “Goodbye for now.”
Mallory walked swiftly across the grassy lawn without looking back. She wiped away the last remnant of tears, straightened her shoulders, and whipped her head about, causing her bouncy curls to dance as if shaking off the visit and the last of her sadness. Sunshades back in place, she emerged from the grove of trees between her and the car with a smile on her face. She walked over to the passenger side, opened the door and got in. For several seconds, silence ensued.
A hand slowly slid over and gripped hers. She gripped back.
“You okay?”
Mallory nodded, offered a sigh. “It’s hard, but I will be. Thanks for convincing me to come and say goodbye. I didn’t think I needed to, but I’m glad I did.”
“Do you mind if I go up and have a word with her? I didn’t want to infringe on your time alone, but would love to tell her I’m sorry and to . . . you know . . . to rest in peace.”
Mallory looked at Christian, felt his sincerity and saw the regret in his eyes. A sudden lump in her throat prevented her from speaking. She nodded, wiping tears as she watched him retrace the steps she’d just taken, and stand solemnly for several minutes before returning to the car. He got in. They hugged. No words were spoken. None were needed.
Christian started the car and eased out onto an empty side street leading out of the cemetery. A few lights and turns later, he eased on to the highway toward JFK. Christian scrolled through his MP3 music list and clicked on a song. Mallory recognized the tune immediately, Tivon Pennicott’s “It’s About Time,” the song that was playing when he’d picked her up at the Philadelphia airport. He winked at her, obviously grooving as he tapped out the funky jazz beat on the Porsche’s steering wheel. Mallory smiled, bobbed her head, and couldn’t help but imagine that Leigh smiled, too. Her BFF had often called Christian a triple threat—smart, successful, gorgeous.
You might be right, Mallory thought to herself as she stole another glance. You just might be right.
Don’t Miss
Stiletto Justice
Available wherever books are sold
Camryn King’s sizzling debut novel delivers an intriguing tale of three resourceful women with a ruthless senator in their sights—and even more explosive ways to take him down . . .
A successful businesswoman who used to play by the rules. A cautious single mother who never took chances. A gorgeous rebel out of money and almost out of time. Each loves a man unjustly sentenced to long prison terms by former prosecutor Hammond Grey. They’ve tried every legal remedy to get justice—only to see Hammond climb ever higher up the political ladder and secure himself behind power and privilege. So when Kim, Jayda, and Harley meet in a support group, they’ve got no options left. It’s time for them to launch Plan B. And they won’t stop at infiltrating Hammond’s elite world and uncovering mass corruption. Exploiting his deepest weakness is the ultimate delicious payback—and the kind of justice they’ll gamble everything to get . . .
Enjoy the following excerpt from Stiletto Justice . . .
PROLOGUE
“Is he dead?”
“I don’t know, but seeing that lying trap of a mouth shut is a nice change of pace.”
Kim Logan, Harley Buchanan, and Jayda Sanchez peered down at the lifeless body of the United States senator from Kansas, Hammond Grey.
“I agree he looks better silent,” Kim mused, while mentally willing his chest to move. “But I don’t think prison garb will improve my appearance.”
“Move, guys.” Jayda, who’d hung in the background, pushed Harley aside to get closer. She stuck a finger under his nose. “He’s alive, but I don’t know how long he’ll be unconscious. Whatever we’re going to do needs to happen fast.”
“Fine with me.” Harley stripped off her jacket and unzipped her jeans. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.”
“I’m with you,” Kim replied. Her hands shook as she unsnapped the black leather jacket borrowed from her husband and removed her phone from its inside pocket. “Jayda, start taking his clothes off.”
“Why me?” Jayda whispered. “I don’t want to touch him.”
“That’s why you’re wearing gloves,” Harley hissed back. “Look, if I can bare my ass for the world to see, the least you can do is pull his pants down. Where’s that wig?”
Kim showed more sympathy as she pointed toward the bag holding a brunette-colored hair transformer. “Jayda, I understand completely. I don’t even want to look at his penis, let alone capture it on video.”
Harley had stripped down to her undies. She stood impatiently, hand on hip. “I tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to get buck-ass naked for you two to punk out. It’s why we all took a shot of Jack!”
“I’m too nervous to feel it,” Jayda said as she wrung her hands. “I probably should have added Jim and Bud.”
“Hold this.” Kim handed Jayda the phone and walked over to the bed. After the slightest of pauses, she reached for the belt and undid it. Next, she unbuttoned and unzipped the dress slacks. “Jayda, raise him up a little so I can pull these down.”
Harley walked over to where Kim stood next to the bed. “Don’t take them all the way off. He looks like the type who’d screw without bothering to get totally undressed.”
Kim pulled the pants down to Hammond’s knees. The room went silent. The women stared. Kim looked at Harley. Harley looked at Jayda. The three looked at each other.
“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Jayda asked.
Harley rubbed the chill from her arms. “We’re all seeing it.”
“Star Wars? Really, Hammond?” Kim quickly snapped a couple pics, then gently lowered the colorful boxers and murmured, “Looks like his political viewpoint isn’t the only thing conservative.”
She snapped a few more. Harley donned the wig, looked in the mirror, and snickered. “Guys, how do I look?”
“Don’t,” Kim began, covering her mouth. “Don’t start to laugh . . .” The low rumble of muted guffaws replaced speech.
The liquor finally kicked in.
“Come on, guys!” Jayda harshly whispered, though her eyes gleamed. “We’ve got to hurry.”
“You look fine, Harley. As gorgeous a brunette as you are a blonde.”
Harley removed her thong and climbed on the bed. “Remember. . .”
“I won’t get your face, Harley. What the wig doesn’t cover, I’ll clip out or blur. You won’t be recognizable in any way.”
“And you’re sure this super glue will work, and hide my fingerprints?”
Jayda nodded. “That’s what it said on the internet.”
“I’m nervous.” Harley straddled th
e unconscious body and placed fisted hands on each side.
“Wait!” Kim stilled Harley with a hand to the shoulder. “Don’t let your mouth actually touch his. We don’t want to leave a speck of DNA. I’ll angle the shot so that it looks like you’re kissing.”
“What about . . . that.” Jayda pointed toward the flaccid member.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Look inside that bag.” Harley tilted her head in that direction. “With the condom on, it looks like the real thing.”
Jayda retrieved a condom-clad cucumber and marched back to the bed as though it were a baton. “He won’t like that we’ve filmed him, but he’ll hopefully appreciate that we replaced his Vienna sausage with a jumbo hot link.”
The women got down to business—Jayda directing, Harley performing, Kim videotaping. Each job was executed quickly, efficiently, just as they’d planned.
Finally, after double-checking to make sure her work had been captured, Kim shut off the camera. “Okay, guys, I think we’ve got enough.”
Harley moved toward the edge of the bed. “Pictures and video?”
“Yep. Want to see it?”
“No,” she replied, scrambling into her jeans. “I want to get the hell out of here.”
“That makes two of us,” Jayda said, walking toward the coat she’d tossed on a chair.
“Three of us.” Kim took another look at the footage. “Wait, guys. I have an idea. Jayda, quick, come here.”
“What?”
“No time to explain. Trust me on this . . . please?”
Five minutes later they were ready to go. “What should we do about him?” Jayda asked, waving a hand at his state of undress.
“Nothing,” Kim replied. She returned the phone to its hiding place in her pocket. “Let him figure out what may or may not have happened.”
They’d been careful, but taking no chances, they wiped down every available surface with cleaning wipes, which they then placed back in the bag that once again held the condom-clad cucumber. Harley almost had a heart attack when she glimpsed the wineglass that if forgotten and left behind would have been a forensic team’s dream. After rinsing away prime evidence, she pressed Grey’s fingers around the bowl, refilled it with a splash of wine, and placed it back on the nightstand. After a last look around to make sure that nothing was left that could be traced back to them, the women crept out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Harley turned off the outside light and unbolted the side door.
