by Brenda Novak
“And your sister?”
She covered a yawn. “She’d probably stay. She likes Boston. She’s got a great job running a major hospital, so she makes good money, and she loves her work.”
“You and your sister are definitely high achievers. So...are you tempted by what your mother suggests?”
“I was for a second,” she admitted. “It just sounds so...safe.”
“You’d give up Hanover House?”
She snuggled lower in the bed. “No. You’re right—I couldn’t. It’s hard to explain, but...I have to do what I’m doing even if my folks don’t like it.” She gripped the phone tighter. “Even if you don’t like it. Because nothing’s really changed. I won’t let Jasper or anyone else drive me into a corner. Not when I can use the knowledge I’ve gained, and what I might learn in the future, to fight back, to make a difference.”
“It’s what’s bringing you here, so I’m not complaining,” he said.
She smiled at his response. “Would you like to know how I hung on mentally? How I got through it?”
“Of course.”
She rolled onto her side and spoke more softly. “By thinking of you. I wanted to live so that I could see you again.”
“I like that,” he said. “But if that’s the case, why can’t I talk you into coming tomorrow?”
She laughed. “Because I have too much to do here! I’ll come as soon as I can.” There was a noise at the door as her parents and sister rushed in, carrying flowers and balloons and candy.
“Evelyn!” her mother cried.
“Amarok, my family’s here,” she said into the phone. “And I’m exhausted—and a little groggy from the relaxers they’ve given me. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Goodnight.”
“I can’t wait for you to return,” he said.
Evelyn thought of those words an hour later, after her family had left. That was the last thing to go through her mind before she fell asleep, and the first thing when she woke up. As a matter of fact, she was still thinking about Amarok mid-morning, when a courier carried in a dozen long-stem red roses.
The card read: “I’ve never had a better kiss. Amarok.”
Epilogue
Two weeks later, Evelyn was packing her suitcase for her big move—she flew out the next morning—when her father came in with her mail. She’d had what was going to her post office box forwarded to a different post office entirely—and a box in his name—and asked him to pick it up for her, since she wouldn’t go anywhere she’d ever been before.
“It looks like you’ll be up late, if you plan to read through all of this,” he said, dropping a big stack on the bed.
Evelyn sat down to sort through it. She needed the break.
Most were letters of support from other victims. A lot of those letters contained checks from people wanting to contribute to her research. Evelyn was always touched by the fact that so many people were willing to get behind a good cause—and was glad that at least a portion of the population understood the need for what she was doing.
But amongst all the letters and checks, bills and junk mail, she found a postcard of San Quentin State Prison and knew, even before she turned it over, that it was from Hugo Evanski.
Dear Dr. Talbot,
I was saddened to hear of your recent and very unfortunate experience with Jasper Moore. How interesting that he has surfaced after so long. You must be shocked—or maybe not. You, of all people, must understand just how determined a killer can be.
I can’t help but admire his tenacity. But if I admire his tenacity, I also have to admire yours. Kudos on saving your own life. You’re obviously very spirited—a worthy opponent.
I look forward to getting to know you better in Hilltop.
Yours truly—Hugo Evanski
HANOVER HOUSE is the digital prequel to Brenda's new suspense series, which will be released from St. Martin's Press in 2016. You can join Evelyn Talbot and Sergeant Amarok as Hanover House opens its doors in Book #1, WHITEOUT. In the following excerpt, you will meet Anthony Garza, one of its chilling new psychopaths:
They’d had to sedate him. That was what the marshals told Evelyn. They’d said he was so difficult and dangerous, to himself and others, that the only way to get Anthony Garza safely from one place to another was to medicate him. A registered nurse at ADX Florence in Colorado where he’d been incarcerated before had administered 300 milligrams of Ryzolt four hours ago. There was a note of it on his chart.
But the tranquilizer had worn off by the time he arrived at HH. According to the correctional officers in receiving he’d come in slightly agitated and, despite his chains and cuffs, had quickly grown violent, going so far as to head-butt an officer. At that point, someone had sounded the alarm while others wrestled him to the ground and replaced his cuffs with a straightjacket, further restricting his range of motion. Now he had four officers flanking him instead of two. Although they stood with him in the holding cell across from her, even had to support him so he wouldn’t trip on his ankle chains, he wouldn’t settle down. He was raving like a lunatic, threatening to dismember anyone he came into contact with.
“I won’t stay in this Godforsaken place!” he cried. “You’ll all be fucked if you make me. Do you hear?”
“Should we take him to his cell?” It was Officer Whitcomb who asked. He obviously doubted she’d be able to get anything meaningful out of Garza when the man was in such a state, and she had to agree. She’d been about to suggest they take him away and give him a chance to cool off. But the second Mr. Garza realized she was on the other side of the glass, he fell silent and went still.
“Who are you?” His dark eyes shined with anger-induced madness as they riveted, hawk-like, on her.
Prepared for an ugly encounter, should it go that way, Evelyn fixed a placid expression on her face. She couldn’t, wouldn’t show this man how unsettled he made her. If he thought he was the first to use intimidation, he was sadly mistaken. Even the sudden reversal in his behavior came as no surprise. Sometimes the men incarcerated at HH reminded her of actors in a play with how quickly and easily they could slip in and out of whatever character suited them best.
“Ah, you’re coherent after all,” she said. “So what have you been doing, Mr. Garza? Putting us on notice that you’re no one to be messed with?”
He didn’t answer the question. “Who are you?”
She put on the glasses she used to alleviate eyestrain and jotted a note on his chart. Low frustration tolerance. Possibly disorganized thinker and yet...seems more calculating than that. Aggressive when fearful or uncertain or presented with unfamiliar stimuli—
“Hey! I asked you a question!” He half-dragged the C.O.s along with him so he could shuffle up to the glass.
The guards started to yank him back, to show him that he’d better not get out of control again. No doubt they were angry about before. One of their fellow officers had been shuttled off to medical nursing a broken nose because of Garza hitting him with his head. But, lowering her clipboard, Evelyn motioned for them to leave him be. She was here to study, not punish. That distinction was important to her own humanity. “I’m your new doctor.”
“No, you’re my next victim,” he said. Then he made kissing noises and smiled, revealing the jagged, broken front teeth he’d gotten from gnawing at the cinderblock wall of his last cell.
About Brenda Novak
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author Brenda Novak is the author of more than fifty books in a variety of genres, including contemporary romance, romantic suspense and historical romance. A four-time Rita nominee, she has won many awards, including the National Reader’s Choice, the Bookseller’s Best, the Book Buyer’s Best, the Daphne, and the Holt Medallion. When she's not writing, she's usually raising money for diabetes research (her youngest son has this disease). To date, she's raised $2.4 million and would love nothing more than to see a cure in her lifetime. For more about Brenda, please vis
it www.brendanovak.com.
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Dirty Deeds
by Liliana Hart
Chapter One
I might not be the best expert on the subject, but in my opinion, marriage is pretty awesome.
Jack and I had spent the last three days soaking up the sun on a Caribbean Island the size of a table napkin. The population was small enough that we weren’t tripping over people on the beach, and our cabana was isolated from the main roads and all the other cabanas. Which was probably a good thing since we’d spent ninety percent of our time naked. It turns out married sex isn’t boring. Married sex is very, very good.
“We can put another tally mark on the wall,” I croaked out.
My heart pounded like a drum in my chest and a sheen of perspiration and salt water from the spray of the ocean coated my skin. I was sticky, hot, and probably getting a sunburn in places that were going to be really uncomfortable later on. I didn’t care one bit.
“No,” Jack said. His hand lay limp across my stomach, his tanned skin a blatant contrast to my own. “I don’t have the energy. Your tally mark idea is going to put me into an early grave. I need some rest and some food, woman. We’re on sex hiatus for at least an hour. ”
“Pussy,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t know marriage was going to make you so whiny.”
His fingers danced along my ribs and I laughed. “I beg your pardon? What did you call me?”
The problem with being married to my childhood friend was that he knew all my weaknesses, including the fact that I was ticklish on just about every space on my body.
“Nothing,” I snorted. “You must have misunderstood.”
We rolled from the large beach towels beneath us and sand went into a bunch of places sand had no business being. Palms swayed lazily overhead and the sky was cerulean and cloudless. Waves crashed to shore a few feet away, the sound hypnotic and soothing. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect day.
“Don’t think you’ll get another round out of me by wrestling and getting me all worked up. I’m on to you, Doctor Graves.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I bit his shoulder, laughing as I felt life return to certain parts of Jack’s body. “I’m just trying to use you as a sun shield. There are parts of my body that should never see the sun.”
“Baby, I hate to break this to you, but I’m not sure that any part of your body has ever seen the sun. I shouldn’t be able to lose you on a white sand beach.”
I laughed and hitched my leg around his hip. “Very funny. Besides, I’ve gotten a little color since we’ve been here.”
“Yes, now you’re white instead of clear.”
“Are you trying to piss me off as a way to get out of sex?”
“Never,” he said, grinning.
Jack was one of those people who was a pleasure to look at. He stood a little over six feet and had the kind of body that showed discipline and training. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Anywhere. He also had the kind of face that made women stop and stare, dimples that he always used to his advantage, and eyes that turned the color of dark chocolate when he was angry or aroused. He was one of the two at the moment, because they were almost black. Based on the fact that something hard was poking my hip, I was betting on the latter of the two.
His hair was dark and he always kept it buzzed close to the scalp. Mostly because when he let it grown long it had a tendency to curl. There were times when I had trouble focusing if Jack was in the room because I pretty much wanted to jump his bones every time he crossed in my general path. Fortunately, he was always very accommodating.
His body had scars—plenty of them—telling story after story of the life he’d led as a cop. And Jack wasn’t the type of man to sit comfortably behind a desk. He wanted to be in the action—leading the pack and taking the chances. Even now, as Sheriff of King George County, Virginia he made sure he knew what was going on in every department of the sheriff’s office. He wasn’t just a figurehead.
“I mean it,” he whispered, slipping inside of me. “This is the last time.”
“Agreed. I’m already sick of you. Lets get a divorce.” And then my eyes rolled back in my head and I stopped thinking all together.
A half an hour later, Jack was spraying sunscreen across my shoulders and back while I dumped sand out of my bikini top. I managed to put on my bathing suit despite the fact that my legs weren’t quite working, and I tied a bright blue sarong around my waist. My body was satiated and relaxed, and all I wanted was to crawl into one of the hammocks outside of our cabana and sleep. I’d had precious little rest and relaxation over the past several years.
My time as county coroner, as well as the owner of Graves Funeral Home, didn’t always allow me to get a solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Why was it that death always happened in the middle of the night? Fortunately, I was conditioned to function on little sleep and gallons of coffee from my time as an ER doctor. Of course, my ER days were back before my parents had driven their car over a cliff and changed my life forever.
I swayed and steadied myself on Jack’s arm. “I think there was something in the wedding vows that said you have to carry me if I’m unable to walk due to sexual bliss.” Our cabana was barely a speck in the distance, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it without falling on my face.
“I’m not sure whose wedding you attended, but I don’t think it was ours.” Jack smacked me on the behind and took my hand as we strolled toward our cabana.
My legs felt like lead, the sun was starting to get to me, and I needed a fruity drink with an umbrella in it in a bad way. I’ve never really been on vacation before, but I’ve discovered I’m pretty good at it. I kept my head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, so I didn’t see the man standing on our front porch until we were almost right on top of him.
Chapter Two
Jack always noticed everything—part of the job description—so he nudged me as we got closer. “I told you we’d get caught doing it in that restroom at the restaurant last night,” he hissed. “That woman must’ve really had to go to the bathroom. She tattled on us.”
I looked up and noticed Joe Kingston at our door, his hand up in mid-knock. He was dressed in loose shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with big yellow flowers all over. It bagged over his hip holster, but the outline of his weapon was still visible. He wore a straw hat that was frayed around the edges and flip-flops.
Joe was the island cop, and in the tradition of things, cops had a sixth sense about other cops. So we weren’t on the island a full day before Joe had sought out Jack and made an introduction. And by saying Joe was the island cop, I meant he was the only island cop. I’d never been anywhere with a police force of one before.
Most of his time was spent dealing with petty thefts, domestic violence issues, and drunken tourists. He’d told us the first day there was never any serious crime because the locals knew how important the tourist industry was to the economy.
“I’m not taking the rap for that by myself,” I hissed back. “You could’ve said no.”
“Are you kidding me? You did my favorite thing. I’d have to be an idiot to say no.”
“Your favorite thing? I thought that thing we did this morning was your favorite thing.”
“It’s all starting to blur together. Listen, let me handle this. If Joe’s like any other cop he’ll give me a high-five and then we’ll have a beer.”
“What about me?”
“I’m sure he’ll give you a high-five too if you really want one.”
I elbowed Jack in the ribs, but couldn’t get the silly grin off my face long enough to be serious. But the closer I got to Joe the more I realized that whatever was bothering him was very serious. Jack must gotten the same impression because he let go of my hand and took
the porch stairs two at a time.
“Hey, Joe. You okay?” They shook hands, but it was very obvious Joe wasn’t okay.
I hurried up beside Jack, automatically checking Joe’s color and wanting to grab his wrist and check his pulse. His skin wasn’t a good hue and he was clammy with sweat. And his eyes were dilated to the point they looked more demon than human.
“Why don’t you sit down,” I said. I didn’t give him a choice. I grabbed him, discretely checking his racing pulse, and led him to one of the white rocking chairs. “Jack, maybe some water?”
“No, no,” Joe said, pulling from my grasp. “There is no time. I came right away. You must both come with me.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose, but there was no other expression on his face. Jack was a hell of a poker player, and unless you knew him well it was impossible to know what he was thinking half the time. I knew him better than anyone, and I still hardly knew what he was thinking. But part of Jack’s job as a sheriff was to be a politician. He knew how to win people over, calm them down, and be compassionate when the time called for it. It’s what had made him such a great street cop and commander too. And it’s what made him an exceptional sheriff.
“The body is still very fresh. Still warm.” He nudged us both in the back to get us going and he headed back down the stairs.
“Wait a second,” I said. Things were starting to come into focus, but I needed a little more clarity just to be sure. “You’ve got a body you need us to look at? A dead body?”
“Yes, yes. Very dead. Very murdered. Things like that don’t happen here. We don’t know what to do. You are experts, so you come do it for us. Yes?”
I looked at Jack in question and I could see the resignation in his sigh. All we’d wanted—needed—was a break from our day-to-day lives and the horrors that often plagued us both.
