Ash Rising (DEAd Series)

by Melissa Fox

  Emma settled into her zone physically, but her mind raced. She’d read the reports about how his parents had been killed a couple days before the bombing—most likely set up by Rico, although Salvatore’s guilt had never been proven for either incident. With Rico dead, finding justice would be much more difficult. That had to eat at a man. He hadn’t just lost his parents, he’d lost his best friend and fellow officer as well as his girlfriend. Emma wasn’t sure exactly what Elizabeth Ladd had meant to him, but so much loss in so short a time—not to mention the physical damage… She couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d gone through, and that made his cool, standoffish behavior easier to understand.

  Emma and Jim approached the building that housed the gym as they finished their run, but she didn’t spot Inspector Beaulieu’s tall, imposing figure. He must have been finishing his workout when she’d…well, when she’d attacked him.

  She imagined taking him down, jumping on top of him, and having her wicked way. The memory of his intense blue eyes flashed through her mind. If anyone were wicked, it would be him. She bet he had the market cornered.

  “What?” Jim asked as they slowed to a walk and stopped to stretch.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re smiling. It’s making me nervous.”

  She wiped the grin from her face. She had no business entertaining any sort of sexual or intimate thoughts about Inspector Beaulieu, no matter how compelling he was.

  “Just looking forward to my shower. I’ll see you at the office.” With a wave, she jogged back to the gym. She’d just finished changing her clothes when she heard her name barked from the across the room.

  “Justice!”

  “Yes?” She grabbed her bag and headed for the man standing in the doorway of the women’s locker room.

  “Delivery for you.”

  “What is it?”

  He handed over a large manila envelope. “Commander Davenport said to give you this and tell you and Blankenship to report to his office ASAP.”

  “Thank you.”

  She pulled the papers out and sucked in a breath. She’d been expecting a report, dry black and white words, but what she held was a crime scene photograph in gruesome, washed-out-from-the-flash color.

  Someone had slit Gina Salvatore’s throat.

  “Hey, Ash.”

  Ash looked up from his desk—his damn desk—to find Pete standing in the doorway. His eyes narrowed at the expression on the other man’s face. “What’s up?”

  Pete stepped into the small office and shut the door behind him. Ash’s brow rose, and he settled back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach as he regarded his superior.

  Pete didn’t waste any time. “Gina Salvatore’s body was found this morning.”

  Ash grunted as the words crashed and burned in his gut but stifled the reaction. If only his stomach would settle as easily. “What happened?”

  “Body was found in the same place as her brother’s.” Pete paused to let the significance of the information register. “Same cause of death—throat cut. Same MO, body dumped in the same place, same tip—anonymous call. Time of death between noon and two yesterday afternoon.”

  Ash thought back to the day before. “Well, you can take me off the suspect list. I taught a seminar all day yesterday to about twenty-five other RCMP officers. Airtight alibi.”

  “Wasn’t asking for your alibi.” Pete regarded him steadily. “Thought you should hear the news from me.”

  “Thanks,” Ash murmured, and meant it. “So, both of them. Rico and Gina. Exactly the same?”

  “Looks like. Only have the preliminaries on Gina, but yes. I think so.”

  “Same killer. Same MO.” Ash brought his fingers together in front of his face, tapping his lower lip. As an investigator, interest and curiosity were normal. Sadness at the loss of life, too, but a spark of satisfaction burned right through the more reasonable reactions. He hadn’t liked Gina, and the feeling had been mutual. Dislike had turned to cold rage with the certainty she’d been involved in his parents’ murder as well as Daniel and Liz’s. He’d never forget the malicious and satisfied look on Gina’s face when he’d gone to see Liz after being devastated by the news of his parents’ death. “Someone they pissed off? Maybe someone looking to take over Rico’s territory?”

  “Could be. We pulled back our involvement—Salvatore got spooked after what happened with you—but the US had an agent and op in place that showed some promise. We’re going to be working with them on the Salvatore murder investigations, especially since the two appear related. So to speak.”

  “Why would the damn US be involved in the murder of Canadian citizens? Why would we let them?”

  Pete shrugged. “They’ve been part of the drug investigation, had their UC agent running some drops for Rico and getting close to Gina. They were working with us on the smuggling, the ID travel papers, and also trying to get information on our suspected leak, information on your parent’s murders and the bombing. It’s all connected, Ash. We haven’t forgotten anything or let any detail slip.”

  “Thanks, Pete. Their investigating officer any good?”

  “I think so. Know I’ve been impressed. You’ll get a chance to judge for yourself. They’ll want to talk to you, if only for formality’s sake.”

  Ash grunted again. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “When you get the call, let me know. I want to be there with you.”

  “Yeah, okay. Appreciate it.”

  Thanks to Pete’s heads up, he wasn’t surprised when the summons came the next day.

  “Hey, Ash.” One of the rookie constables stuck her head through his office door. “There’s an American Special Agent that wants to talk to you down in the conference room if you’ve got a second.”

  “FBI?” he asked, leafing through the papers on his desk until he located a particular sheet. When she didn’t answer, he glanced up to see her shaking her head. “Homeland Security?”

  “No, she’s a DEA agent.”

  Ash went still as suspicion locked his limbs. “She?”

  “Yeah.” The rookie shrugged. “Her last name is Justice, if you can believe it. Yanks.”

  He believed it, all right. His damn luck, after all. Anticipation heightened his senses, but he wrote the rush off as wariness. Special Agent Justice tried to drop kick him the last time he’d seen her. He wondered what other tricks she had up her sleeve. He’d love to wrestle with the attractive DEA agent again.

  Special Agent Justice stood behind the table facing the door as he entered the conference room, but he spotted the telltale tap of one high-heeled foot. Her face was every bit as appealing as he remembered, her tall, curvy body encased in a smart suit that was both feminine and professional. The feel of her pinned between him and the side of the building at the gym flashed through his mind—and body. He hid the predictable reaction under a smile meant to charm.

  “Special Agent Justice of the DEA. Nice to see you again.”

  Her chin lifted, and he let the smile hover. So, she’d decided to play the game with bravado and defiance. Blood leapt in his veins, and he fought to temper the automatic male reaction.

  “Inspector Beaulieu. Have a seat.” She swept her arm toward the lone chair on his side of the table but remained standing—a subtle but familiar power play. The provoking light in her eye and angle of her chin sparked his dormant interest.

  If she wanted a challenge, he’d give her one. He eyed the matching chair next to her and made his own gallant gesture. “After you.”

  “Thank you, Inspector, but I’m fine.”

  “Okay.”

  He braced his feet apart and linked his hands behind his back, settling into a relaxed but attentive stance he could hold for quite a while. Or he could have, once upon a time, before he’d been injured. He’d hold the position for as long as she remained standing, damn it. Special Agent Justice sighed, then pulled out her chair with an obnoxious scrape and dropped into the seat.

  “Please sit, Inspect
or.”

  “Thank you,” he said, all graciousness and tact. She studied him, but he remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

  “Commander Davenport informed you that Gina Salvatore has been murdered.” She raised a brow over a green eye when he said nothing. “Inspector?”

  “Was that a question?”

  She spoke through gritted teeth. “Look—”

  “Sorry I’m late.” Pete walked into the room and stood next to Ash, smiling and affable. “I guess you both forgot to tell me you were having a little talk.”

  Pete launched an unsubtle kick to the chair leg, but Ash settled back, easy and relaxed. He’d been too caught up seeing Special Agent Justice again to even think of notifying his superior. She hadn’t thought to let Pete know, either. Interesting.

  “This is just an informal chat.” Special Agent Justice’s voice reeked of cool professionalism, but the challenge filled her with flash and fire. He wanted to make her burn. A primitive reaction to the hint of dare in her demeanor, sure, but he responded anyway. What would it take to provoke her?

  “I like informal chats.” Pete glanced around for another seat. He spotted one on the other side of the room and dragged the chair to the table, while Ash studied the Special Agent.

  “So, Inspector.” She held his gaze. “Gina Salvatore’s body was found in the same clearing—in the exact same spot—as her brother’s was four months ago. What do you make of that?”

  “I was in front of a class of about twenty-five RCMP officers yesterday at TOD.” He pushed the sheet of paper with a list of neatly typed names toward her with his finger.

  “I don’t need that.”

  “Just in case.” Ash shrugged and left the paper on the table halfway between them.

  “Interesting you had an alibi prepared, though.”

  “Is it?” he asked mildly. “I hear Gina Salvatore’s body was found in the exact same spot as her brother’s and then get a summons to come see you. I am an inspector. I can figure out why.”

  He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. She tracked the back and forth path, staring at his mouth, before visibly starting and snapping her gaze back to his. Gotcha.

  “So, you’re not all good looks and no brains.” She didn’t back down in the face of his amusement but flushed in reaction to his silent taunt.

  “You think I’m good looking?” Satisfaction and something else—anticipation, the first lick of desire—filled him when temper sparked in her eyes. “Nice.”

  “I think I’d like to hear your thoughts on the murders.”

  Ash shrugged. “Sounds like you’re lucky.”

  “Lucky?” She frowned, clearly not expecting that response. “How?”

  “Because you’re looking for one person—a single killer. Likely the same person did both of them.”

  “Possibly. Probably,” she allowed.

  “Wasn’t me.”

  “Didn’t say it was.” She mimicked his pose and leaned back in her chair. “No convenient little list to explain where you were when Rico was killed?”

  “Well, now, I’d have to go back and check my calendar for details, but you have my alibi for that. I was here in the office. If I remember correctly, I had meetings pretty much all day. No chance to murder and dispose of a body.” He forced himself to bite off the flow of words. “Thought you were looking for one person. The same killer for both.”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  She ran her finger along the collar of her shirt, playing with the first fastened button just above her full breasts. He focused on the movement as she traced the smooth plastic, his attention fully captured when she slipped the small round button almost free. She tapped the edge, and then brought her hand up to rest under her chin, smiling with satisfaction. She’d turned the tables and caught him staring. Nicely done.

  “I didn’t kill Rico or Gina.”

  “Didn’t say that, either.”

  “So, what am I doing here?” He turned his head and scowled at Pete.

  She shrugged with that same damn patronizing smile, pleased with the sign of frustration he’d let slip. “You knew both victims. Worked with both of them. I’d like to hear your thoughts on who might have wanted them dead.”

  He nodded at the untouched sheet of paper lying between them. “It would be a list much longer than that one, I promise you. Rico had a lot of people who wanted him dead.”

  “And Gina?”

  “Didn’t know her that well, but enough to believe she made enemies, just like her brother.”

  “You don’t know who her friends were?” Her expression turned calculating. “Seems you, ah, knew a number of her friends well. Quite well. Intimately, one might say.”

  “One might.” The quick flare of fury faded to a lingering scald of grief and guilt. Liz. Oh, Lizzie, I’m so sorry.

  “Nothing that can help us there?” Special Agent Justice watched him intently as he shook his head. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure if Inspector Beaulieu remembers anything pertinent to the investigation, he’ll let you know,” Pete interrupted, glancing back and forth between them. “You have his full cooperation, of course.”

  “Of course.” She met Ash’s steady regard. “Thank you for your time, Inspector.”

  “You’re welcome to any time I have, Special Agent.”

  She sent him a freezing glare and tipped her head as she left. Ash’s gaze lingered on her well-shaped backside as she left the room. He pretended he hadn’t been looking when Pete cleared his throat.

  “I’m not sure if I should encourage you or warn you to knock it off.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Pete nodded in the direction of Emma’s retreating form. “I haven’t seen you look at a woman like that in a while.”

  “Still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ash shifted in his seat in contrast to his purposely-relaxed slouch.

  “Right,” Pete drawled. “She’s a beautiful woman. Smart and talented, too. I like her.”

  “I don’t. She’s annoying.”

  “See there, she really isn’t.” He eyed Ash speculatively, and his expression turned cheerful before he managed to school his features.

  “What?” Ash demanded.

  “Nothing. If you’re not interested, then I don’t have to worry about either, do I?”

  “Either what?”

  “Encouraging or warning you. Good to know.”

  Ash rose to his feet. “Look, Pete, if I was interested in a woman for more than a quick lay, she damn sure wouldn’t be an annoying American Special Agent for the fucking DEA.”

  “Didn’t say anything about her being more,” Pete murmured with a grin, moving Special Agent Emmaline Justice’s file to the top of his stack.

  Ash leveled Pete with a warning glare before he stalked out of the room.

  Emma refused to scurry down the hall as she exchanged quick greetings and smiles with colleagues who hailed her along the way. She moved fast enough to make sure no one would stop her and focused on the women’s lounge, where she could collapse for a second in private and get herself together.

  She was attracted to Inspector Asher Beaulieu. Hah. Attracted didn’t begin to cover it.

  The heavy weight of sexual tension had been obvious in the conference room. Judging by his actions, he felt the pull, too, and that made the situation worse. She could deal if her attraction was one-sided, she could admire him, appreciate the tight coil in her belly being near him caused, and dismiss the reaction. But him returning the interest, no matter how grudgingly… Yeah. Like tossing fuel on the fire. A sticky situation. She didn’t work with him, not directly, but he was involved in the investigation she conducted alongside the RCMP. He was both a part of the operation, and he wasn’t. He was a suspect, but he wasn’t. Getting involved with him would be messy, both personally and professionally, and Emma didn’t like messes.

  The best thing would be to appreciate him from afar, but stay the hell away from the good-l
ooking, compelling, wounded inspector.

  “Special Agent.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d slowed her determined pace until she heard his deep voice from behind. Emma closed her eyes and stole a second to shore her defenses. She stopped and turned, took a small step back when she found him too close for comfort. Definitely too close to maintain the recent determination to keep her distance.

  “Yes, Inspector? What can I do for you?” At least her tone sounded detached and professional.

  His gaze roamed her face as he opened his mouth, but he shut it after a brief pause. Heavy brows lowered with his frown. “What the hell was that back there?”

  “I’m not sure I follow.” She fought to keep a cool tone. He was close. And, damn it, even more compelling. Personal. He smelled good. Bet he tasted even better.

  Ugh, stop!

  His mouth twisted impatiently. “Not the questions—I get those. The fingering your blouse thing.”

  His finger traced her top button, and her breath caught when the tip rasped across bare skin in the process. His gaze flared at the reaction before narrowing, and the corners of his mouth tipped up. Emma took a step back so he no longer touched her.

  “What was the fondling your lip thing?”

  He cocked an arrogant brow, and she brought her thumb up to demonstrate, rubbing the pad against her bottom lip before sucking the tip into her mouth and pulling out with a pop. She definitely didn’t mistake the flash of heat in his expression before his features went hard with affront.

  “I did not suck my finger.” His marvelous eyes narrowed and head tipped when she imitated the cock of his arrogant brow. “Maybe you just wanted me to. Is that it?”

  The blast of temper shot out her ears. She wrestled to keep the scathing retort from passing her lips.

  “This is inappropriate, Inspector,” she managed to say evenly.

  For some reason, her response visibly drained the anger from his body. “You’re right, Special Agent.”

  “I am?” she asked with a slow blink.

  “Yes. My apologies.” He smiled, a true smile. If she thought him attractive before, the grin lighting his face sent him straight to stunning. He’d morphed from stern and forbidding to relaxed and charming in seconds. Keeping up with the rapid and drastic changes was near impossible.