Evil Without a Face (Sweet Justice)

by Jordan Dane

  “Nikki?” Her voice cracked and she slumped on her daughter’s bed, listening to the quiet of the house. That’s when she heard it. She walked to the girl’s closet and found her kneeling on the carpet, crying.

  “Oh, honey.” Susannah dropped to her knees and held Nikki close. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

  “One thing I remembered was the smell of my closet.” She sobbed, her voice sounding fragile and small. “And I remembered the sound of your footsteps outside my door. It’s good to be home, Mama…with you.”

  Susannah held her daughter tight, kneeling on the floor of Nikki’s closet. Payton had come through on his promise that she’d get her second chance. Now it was her turn to make good. And from here forward—for Nikki’s sake—she’d take it one day at a time.

  Jess lay in Payton’s bed, listening to the soothing sound of his breathing as he slept. She kept her eyes closed, content to let the morning’s peace wash over her. With the quiet patter of rain on the rooftop of his cabin, nothing could have been more perfect. She smiled and nuzzled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his bare skin next to hers.

  For the first time in years she’d slept through the night. And considering what they’d just been through, that was a major miracle.

  But when her mind and body clock wouldn’t let her rest anymore, she got up, wrapped a blanket around her naked body, and shuffled off to his bathroom to take care of business, bleary-eyed. The cabin was still dark, with only slivers of light coming through the windows. She could have gone back to bed, but changed her mind and walked outside in all her glory. In another life she would have dressed in the dark and slipped out of his life, but not today. Today, she had to drink in the seclusion of Payton’s wooded acreage.

  And being alone to do it seemed important.

  She stepped onto his front porch, with the blanket around her, to watch the rain drip off his roof and turn the dense treeline and shrubs into a deep slick green. In the distance she heard the steady rush of a river on the crisp morning air, a gentle hush she could get accustomed to. And the smell of the damp earth nourished her soul. Alaska was the best-kept secret on the planet.

  Yet despite the mood-altering scenery, she had other things on her mind. Staying with Payton for a few days had been chicken soup for her heart, but at some point she knew she’d have to face reality. Not everything had turned out well.

  The Alaska State Trooper chopper had gone missing. Jess tried hard not to let her imagination run wild, but she wondered if the Russian had somehow survived. Anyone from Globe Harvest could have taken the helicopter to escape the island, but her fatalistic nature was hard to deny.

  And the Russian was impossible to forget.

  The other day, Alexa had called to say that the report her alliance used to derive the coordinates looked like a black-market summary of “transactions,” bartering in human life on all levels. When they compared notes, and Jess told her what Seth had uncovered on the Globe Harvest Web site and the secret entry code to access it, Alexa said she’d take the information and put it to good use. Because the online system was set up across international jurisdictions, it would be difficult for traditional law enforcement to catch them. Although Alexa’s organization was anything but traditional, Jess wasn’t sure she felt comfortable with powerful vigilantes operating on an international level with no one to answer to—judge, jury, and executioner all wrapped in one covert well-funded alliance.

  Except for the heartache of leaving Payton behind in Alaska—his family would need him now more than ever—Jess couldn’t wait to get back to her life in Chicago.

  After the ordeal on St. Lawrence Island, she’d called Sam just to hear her childhood friend’s voice. She downplayed the incident on the island so the woman wouldn’t worry, saving the details for when they would talk face-to-face, but Sam had good news of her own to share. She told Jess that no bodies were found in the rubble of the textile factory outside Chicago. No one had died there; that wouldn’t be the case on the island.

  But when Sam launched into her second tidbit of good tidings, she asked Jess to contact Detective Ray Garza when she got back to town. And that smacked of trouble.

  Before her friend explained, Jess groused, “What the hell kind of good news is that? The man wants to book me a one-way stay at the gray bar hotel, doing life with no chance of parole.”

  She heard the smile in Sam’s voice when she replied, “He only wants to wrap up your part in his investigation into the death of Lucas Baker. The good news is that you’re no longer a suspect.”

  “Generous of him. Did Seth come through on my alibi? How hard did you have to sweet-talk Garza before he gave in?” Before Sam answered her questions, Jess teased, “As I recall, Detective Ray was more than a little easy on the eyes, girlfriend. You should get you some of that.”

  “Ray? What are you talking about? You’re crazy. I work with the man, for cryin’ out loud.”

  Sam had leapt to her protest far too fast. Jess knew she had hit the bull’s-eye on the attraction her friend had for the ruthless detective with the sexy eyes.

  “Speaking of Seth,” Sam changed the subject deftly, “I went to check on him, like you asked.”

  Harper hadn’t answered his cell phone for the last several days. At first Jess took it in stride. She’d gotten used to the guy’s mysterious ways. But finally his disappearing act got to her. She asked Sam to check on him at the Peninsula Hotel.

  “Did he freak when a cop showed up at his hotel door?” She joked, but her heart wasn’t in it. Jess wanted to hear Harper’s voice. But most of all, she wanted to thank him for his part in bringing Nikki home. None of this would have happened without him. None of it.

  Sad-eyed Seth Harper had been the real hero.

  “He wasn’t at the hotel, Jess. And get this—no one there had ever heard of him. And when I described him and told them which suite he’d been staying, they said that room hadn’t been booked in the last two weeks. What do you make of that?” Sam asked.

  Jess felt a sudden disconnect from Seth, as if meeting him had only been a strange dream, like none of it had been real. She flashed on the last time she’d seen him. The tall lanky kid didn’t look as if he’d slept in a while. And she recalled how he’d dismissed her concern by saying, “Not everything is rosy in Harperworld twenty-four/seven…but I’ll figure it out soon. No worries.”

  Well, now she was worried. Why hadn’t she pressed him more…to find out what was going on with him? She vowed, when she got back to town, to look for him in earnest. After all, she still had the blue monster, his butt ugly van. When she found Seth, she’d uncover the truth even if it had to be at gunpoint. She hoped the kid would contact her, as he’d done before, but she wouldn’t wait for that.

  Maybe he would need saving. And she wanted to be there, holding his lifeline.

  With bittersweet memories of Harper on her mind, and a swell of darker recollections scratching beneath the surface of her skin, Jess discovered that she’d wandered into the rain. And oddly enough, she didn’t mind it. She had learned to appreciate the healing properties infused into each precious drop. Payton Archer had taught her that.

  As if on cue, the man himself joined her, naked and under wraps the same as she was. Without hesitation, he joined her in the rain as if he did it every morning.

  “Hey lady, this town might be small, but we do have a dress code.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you live in the boonies, Archer, where people can run butt naked if they want.” She threw open her blanket and flashed him, long enough for him to pull her into his embrace, skin-to-skin.

  After all they had been through together, she still didn’t know much about him—except for what really mattered in a man’s character. She hoped she’d have time to “discover” him, but out of the blue she asked Payton a strange question she’d been wondering about since meeting him. And being naked with him—standing outdoors in the rain—seemed the perfect time and place to chat.

  �
��You ever wish you had your glory days back, Payton? I mean your time in the NFL? If you could do it all over, what would you change?”

  “Looking back only stalls out your life. Living in the past is not really living at all,” he said, nuzzling her in a monster hug. “I know that now, more than ever. And I don’t wish for my time back with the pros, not half as much as I wish my parents’ plane hadn’t crashed. Or that this vile thing had never happened to Nikki. Football and all the money in the world doesn’t even take a close second to family…and the people we love. That’s what matters most to me, Jess.”

  She pulled him closer and pressed a cheek to his bare chest. She liked a man who had his priorities straight. Two nights ago they had made love for the first time in his cabin in front of a cozy fire. In the light, her scars were clearly visible, but nothing felt more natural than making unabashed sweet love to Payton Archer.

  That first night in his hotel room, she realized that her nervousness hadn’t been about sex or breaking in a first-time lover. It had been about letting him under her skin, letting him get to know her, scars and all. But Payton had burrowed into her heart when he gave her a front row seat to watch the rain. So when it came time for the physical part of their relationship—well, that came easy, so to speak.

  “Joe Tanu has invited us over for breakfast. He just called.” Payton’s low voice rumbled through his chest and into her ear, sounding muffled and sweet. “You feel like going? If you don’t, I’m sure he’ll understand. Joe is a very patient man.”

  “Patience runs in your family. I can see that.” She grinned and rubbed her hands along his muscled back. “Sure, I’d love to eat Joe’s cooking.”

  “Yeah, the man owes me a couple of eggs anyway. I’ve cut him enough slack.”

  When she looked up at him, she could tell there was a story behind Joe and those eggs. And from the quirky expression on Payton’s handsome face, Jess firmly believed everyone should have an egg story buried in the closet, suitable for sharing…between good friends.

  With his arm around her, Jess walked back toward the warmth of his cabin, never feeling so alive. She might have resembled a drowned rodent at the moment, but later on maybe her changed luck would kick in and she’d have a good hair day. A girl could only hope.

  “I promised to troll the main street of this little burg later today with Nikki,” she said. “She and Susannah are taking me shopping, apparently. For what, I don’t know. I’m not much of a girly girl, but I’d do just about anything with your niece. And I’m looking forward to getting to know Susannah.”

  “Nikki hasn’t wanted out of the house since we’ve brought her home. I’m glad she and Susannah are taking that first step…with you.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Until now, Jess didn’t know much about first steps. But with Payton Archer, she’d be willing to learn.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I used to live in Anchorage, Alaska (ten years), and I love that Evil Without a Face weaves in and out of that setting. Alaska will always hold a special place in my heart. And as is usually the case, the plot was influenced by a real crime that happened 2004 in Florida. This is my take on it. I’m particularly fond of the main character in this book, my Fugitive Recovery Agent Jessica Beckett. She’s scarred both physically and mentally by her past, yet her inner strength is resilient. Her scars are the imperfections in us all. But one of her most endearing traits is that she’s a real smart-ass. Normally, I fall in love with my male characters, but this woman has stolen my heart on many levels. I hope you take her under your wing and show her some love.

  And if my whiz kid Seth Harper had to rely on me for his computer savvy, he would have been assigned to a remedial class. But thanks to the Mystery Writers of America loop and Patrick Murray, Harper could fake it. And special thanks go to a real computer genius, Tom Radcliffe, who had the good sense to marry well.

  For me, living in Alaska was the adventure of a lifetime. I’ve been to the charming town of Talkeetna many times for softball games, Moose Dropping Festivals (to honor the many uses of moose poop) and winter cross-country skiing. And Talkeetna’s Roadhouse is a special place to hang out and grab a great bite to eat. But two wonderful friends from Anchorage helped remind me that when you get out of your car in Alaska, you are fair game—just another part of the food chain. Special thanks to Alaskan residents David Boelens and Janet Rodgers for sharing their logistical expertise and sick humor. And for the fictional purposes of this book, I ignored the fact that the St. Lawrence Island has no trees and blessed it with evergreens near the NE Cape.

  And for those who know me, you know that blowing up stuff on paper is a blast for me, especially with the help of my murder and mayhem buddy, weapons expert Joseph Francis Collins, a talented aspiring author. Joe, thanks for being my “tail-end Charlie.” And for the best friend a new author (or anyone) could ever have, I’d like to publicly declare my heartfelt thanks to Charlotte Worsham, owner of the Around the Corner Restaurant in Edmond, Oklahoma, for her unflinching support. When she says she cooks with love, she means it.

  Finally, I’d like to thank some special folks in my life. To my husband and best friend, John—you never cease to amaze me. To my family circle—thanks for weathering my influence all these years and keeping me thoroughly entertained. To my agent, Meredith Bernstein—you are a savvy businesswoman with a classic sense of style. But it’s your never-ending appetite for life that I admire most. And to my editor, Lucia Macro, and everyone who contributed to this book from the talented staff at Avon Books/Harper Collins—thanks for your commitment to excellence in all things. You have touched my life and I’m so very grateful and blessed to know you.

  About the Author

  Avon Books/HarperCollins launched JORDAN DANE’s debut suspense series in a back-to-back publishing event in Spring 2008. Ripped from the headlines, Jordan’s gritty plots weave a tapestry of vivid settings, intrigue, and dark humor.

  Publishers Weekly compared her intense pacing to Lisa Jackson, Lisa Gardner, and Tami Hoag—romantic suspense that “crosses over into plain thriller country.” Pursuing publication since 2003, she received awards in thirty-three national writing competitions, including her 2005 Golden Heart final.

  Formerly an energy sales manager in the oil and gas industry, she is now following her passion to write full time. Jordan and her husband share their residence with an intelligent canine and two cats of highborn lineage. For more, visit www.jordandane.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Praise for NO ONE HEARD HER SCREAM

  “A dynamite debut! Plain thriller country!”

  Publishers Weekly

  “A compelling page-turner! Pulling no punches with this exciting debut, Jordan Dane quickly establishes her credentials as a promising new star.”

  Romantic Times magazine

  “Terrific debut. Jordan Dane has got the goods and she delivers them with a knock-out ending. A great new author to watch.”

  Crimespree magazine

  “Jordan Dane has crafted a debut novel with thrills, chills, and emotions. She’s not to be missed!”

  Heather Graham, New York Times bestselling author

  “Jordan Dane’s debut romantic suspense sizzles. Intense and satisfying.”

  Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author

  “High stakes romance, riveting, gritty suspense, and engaging characters. A fabulous new voice!”

  Cindy Gerard, New York Times bestselling author

  “Jordan Dane is a brand-new star on the horizon of women’s fiction. Her style is gritty—her writing sharp and concise. A roller-coaster ride of nail-biting suspense and heart-stopping emotion.”

  Sharon Sala, New York Times bestselling author

  Praise for NO ONE LEFT TO TELL

  “Rising star Dane really showcases her talents. The characters in this gritty tale are vivid and real, with emotions that range from love to tw
isted evil. Riveting reading!”

  TOP PICK Romantic Times magazine

  Praise for NO ONE LIVES FOREVER

  “Rarely does an author make such an impact in such a short span of time.”

  TOP PICK Romantic Times magazine

  By Jordan Dane

  EVIL WITHOUT A FACE

  NO ONE LIVES FOREVER

  NO ONE LEFT TO TELL

  NO ONE HEARD HER SCREAM

  Coming Soon

  THE WRONG SIDE OF DEAD

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  EVIL WITHOUT A FACE. Copyright © 2009 by Cosas Finas, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Mobipocket Reader December 2008 ISBN 978-0-06-176193-5

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