by LENA DIAZ,
He glanced at Madison. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m . . . I’m fine.”
Damon lunged for the gun on the floor, grabbed it, and ran through the archway, disappearing into the darkened house beyond.
“Stay here,” Pierce ordered. “Hamilton is on his way.”
The blackness swallowed him up as he ran after Damon.
DAMON HAD RUN into the closet to the basement stairs.
Pierce waited a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then he crept down the staircase, hunched down in case Damon got off any wild shots. When Pierce reached the bottom, he dove onto the floor and rolled behind some boxes. He crept through the dark to the light switch, and flipped it on.
Damon stood about twenty feet away, unarmed, clutching his hurt hand to his chest.
He laughed harshly. “Can you believe I dropped the damn gun while I was running down the stairs? Couldn’t find the thing in the dark. I guess you got me.” He slowly raised his hands.
Pierce eyed him suspiciously, not trusting him. “Raise your hands higher. Spread your legs. You’re under arrest.”
“No.” Madison’s soft voice called out from the stairs. “If you arrest him, he’ll just get out again. We can’t let him go.” She slowly walked down to the bottom of the steps, all the while pointing her gun at her former husband.
“Madison, stay back,” Pierce ordered. “Put the gun down.”
She shook her head violently. “He killed my father. He threatened to kill you, my family. He has to be stopped.”
“Not like this, Mads.” Pierce lowered his gun and angled over toward her.
“Don’t try to stop me. He won’t go to prison. You said so yourself. Not enough evidence.” She practically spit that last word.
Damon laughed. “That’s right. I’m not going to prison. Because, hey, I’m innocent.” He grinned.
The gun jerked in Madison’s hand.
“Shut up, Damon,” Pierce said. “If you value your life, shut up.”
Damon looked at the gun in Madison’s hand, then his gaze raised to her eyes and his grin faded.
Pierce slowly reached a hand toward Madison. “Give me the gun, sweetheart.”
She stepped away from him, keeping her gun trained on Damon. “No. Don’t you understand? I have to kill him. To keep my family safe. To keep you safe. For Daddy.”
“Would your father want you to go to prison?”
Her lips thinned into a hard line. “I don’t have a choice. Damon is going to kill you, or the rest of my family. I have to kill him, to keep you safe. And he deserves to die for killing my father. If bringing his killer to justice means I have to go to prison, so be it.”
“What about Logan? Your mom? They’ve already lost your father. They won’t want to lose you too.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Damon has to die.”
The bleakness in her voice touched something deep inside him. He sighed heavily and trained his gun on Damon again. “All right. If it means that much to you, fine. But I’ll do it. The paper work is easier that way.”
“What are you doing?” Damon hissed.
Madison’s gun wobbled, and she blinked in surprise. “You can’t shoot him.”
He raised a brow. “Why not? If it’s okay for you to shoot him, then it’s okay for me. No one else will care if he dies. He’s a lowlife. A murderer. He deserves it.” He carefully aimed his gun. “Say your final prayers, McKinley. Make it quick.”
Madison’s arm dipped. “You can’t just shoot him.”
“Why not? Hurry up, McKinley. I don’t see you praying.”
She glanced back and forth between Damon and Pierce, confusion etched on her brow. She lowered her gun, and stepped forward. She put her hand on Pierce’s arm. “I can’t let you do this.”
“You said it yourself. He deserves it.”
She blanched white. “Yes, he does. But killing an unarmed man would destroy you. All you care about is the law.”
“No, all I care about is you. I can’t let you shoot Damon. I can’t let you bear the burden of that guilt. But if it’s what you really want, then I will kill him. Just say the word.”
He watched her intently, waiting for her decision.
She glanced back and forth, from him to Damon, and back again. Finally, she let out a sob. “No, no, you can’t kill him. I can’t let you do that.”
“What about justice for your father? It ends here, Mads. One way or the other. You have to make a choice.”
“He’ll come after you. I can’t let him hurt you,” she cried.
“Trust me. I won’t let him hurt me, or anyone else. Trust me,” he repeated.
Her face crumpled. “Let him go.”
Pierce lowered his gun.
Lieutenant Hamilton stepped through the opening into the basement, his gun at his side. “I thought for sure you were going to shoot him.”
“How long have you been standing there?” Pierce asked.
“Long enough.” He glanced at Damon before looking back at Pierce. “That was a hell of a chance you just took, bluffing with Mrs. McKinley like that.”
Pierce raised a brow. “What makes you think I was bluffing?”
Hamilton cocked his head. “I guess I’ll never know for sure. Mrs. McKinley, you don’t have to worry about your former husband coming after you again or getting away with murder. Your brother has been working hard on your behalf and has uncovered a wealth of information in Montana. We have enough evidence now to arrest Damon McKinley for the murder of the real Damon McKinley. And before the week is out, I expect I’ll be able to arrest him for the ‘Simon says’ murders too. He’s going away for a long, long time.”
A shout of rage had all three of them turning back toward Damon. He dove to his side and grabbed the gun he’d dropped earlier. Gunshots filled the air as Madison, Pierce, and Hamilton raised their guns and fired.
FLASHING LIGHTS FROM the police cars outside lit up Madison’s family room, shining through the front windows of the adjoining home office. Madison waited beside the couch with Agent Casey, where the lieutenant had directed her to stay out of the way. He and Pierce and a dozen police officers were in the basement, dealing with the aftermath of Damon’s ill-fated attempt to blast his way to freedom.
Damon would never hurt anyone else ever again. Her father’s murderer was dead.
Finally, the lieutenant and Pierce appeared in the back hallway and walked into the family room. Pierce looked around, his gaze lightly touching on everyone there until he spotted Madison. He strode across the room, grabbed her hand, and didn’t even slow down as he tugged her behind him out of the house.
He didn’t stop until they reached Forsyth Park a few blocks away. He plopped down on a bench and pulled her onto his lap. Then he buried his face against her hair. It was only then that she realized he was shaking.
“Pierce,” she whispered against his chest. “Are you okay?”
He pulled back and the fury in his eyes took her breath away.
“Pierce?”
“What the hell were you thinking meeting Damon alone? You could have been killed.” He pulled her against him again, and stroked her hair. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
She stiffened and pulled back from his embrace. “What do you mean, again? You can’t possibly want to ever see me after this. I was horrible to you. Twice. I said the most awful, cruel things.”
“Yes, you did. But then I read your text.”
She let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
He gently smoothed her hair back. “Say it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not that, say what you said in the text.”
She frowned, then understanding dawned. “I love you,” she said, as if she was confessing a terrible secret.
“It’s about damn time you admitted it. How about we try this again?” He stood and fished in his pocket, then dropped to his knees.
She stared in disbelief at the sol
itaire diamond ring he held. “You can’t be serious, after what I did to you.”
“It’s my duty,” he said. “Someone has to take you in hand, and protect the world from you.”
Her throat thickened with the urge to cry. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He laughed and leaned forward, kissing her cheek, gently smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “I love you, Mads. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“But . . . you let me go so easily, when I broke up with you. You never came after me. I never thought you cared for me as much as I did you.”
“I knew you were lying when you told me you were bored and ready to move on. You needed time. I knew you were working through something. I didn’t know what you were working through, but I knew you weren’t ready. I have to admit, after a while, when you didn’t come back, I pretty much thought I was an idiot and had imagined the way you’d looked at me, the way you touched me or said my name in your sleep. I began to think I might be wrong about how you felt.”
She shook her head. “You knew I’d lied?”
He nodded.
“How? You always know when I’m lying. You said I do something when I lie. What do I do?”
He grinned and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “If you haven’t figured it out, I’m not telling.”
She started to argue, but he pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly until she was quite breathless.
When he pulled back, she looked at him in wonder. “Will you marry me, Pierce?”
He burst into laughter and slid the ring onto her finger. Then he grabbed her by the waist and literally swept her off her feet.
Epilogue
LOGAN GLANCED DOWN at his shirt and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Why the hell are we wearing pink?”
Pierce grinned. “The same reason we wore purple on your wedding day. That’s what the bride wanted.”
Logan sighed heavily. “Point taken.” His face wore a resigned look as he waited for his wife, Amanda, to make her appearance as the matron of honor.
Pierce stood next to him, not minding at all that he and Logan were wearing pink shirts, pink cummerbunds, and pink bow ties with their black tuxedos—as long as it made Madison happy. He didn’t even mind that Madison had chosen to get married outside in the blustery wind in Whitefield Square, standing in front of a gazebo, where all the tourists could gawk at them.
What he did mind was that the men he worked with were sitting in the rows of white folding chairs on the grass a few feet away, hiding their smiles behind their hands.
Taking pictures of him.
Wearing pink.
He didn’t bother to lower his voice when he stared at one of the agents in the front row, snapping picture after picture with a huge grin on his face.
“Did you bring your gun?” he asked Logan.
“Of course.”
“I’ll need to borrow it after the ceremony.” He narrowed his eyes at the agent.
“Is there a problem?” Logan asked.
The agent paled and lowered his camera.
Pierce grunted in satisfaction. “Not anymore.”
He looked over at his brothers, sitting on the groom’s side on the front row. He nodded in response to Braedon’s grin and his thumbs up signal. Devlin was next to him, looking bored. Austin was sitting in the last seat. Today was one of his good days. No wheelchair. Just a cane.
Pierce couldn’t help but grin when he saw where Matt was sitting—next to Tessa on the second row, with a dark frown on his face, as if he’d been forced to sit by her and didn’t want to. Tessa was pretending to ignore him, but doing a poor job of it since she kept glancing at him beneath her lashes when he wasn’t looking. Pierce had a feeling he and his family would be seeing a lot more of her in the near future, once she and Matt decided to quit fighting their obvious attraction for each other.
Logan leaned in close and spoke in a whisper. “Does my sister know what really would have happened in that basement if she hadn’t butted in?”
Pierce stiffened. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have killed Damon, if you thought for one second he might not go to jail, that he could be a threat to Madison in the future.”
“I did kill him.”
“You know what I mean. If Hamilton and Madison hadn’t been there, if it had only been you and Damon, there’s no way he’d have left that basement alive.”
Pierce crossed his arms. “I guess we’ll never know.”
Logan grinned. “Yeah, I guess we won’t. But I’m certainly not shedding any tears for the bastard.” His breath hitched as he looked down the middle aisle.
His wife, Amanda, slowly waltzed up the path in a long-sleeved, floor-length, pale pink dress that shimmered in the sunlight. She and Logan seemed lost in each other’s gazes, as if this were their wedding day all over again. Pierce was in awe of the love that shone between them, and he was more than a little pleased that he’d had a small hand in getting them together all those months ago, when Logan had been too stubborn and proud to realize what he was throwing away.
Amanda crossed onto the brick path in front of the gazebo. She nodded respectfully at the preacher standing on the top step as she took her place across from Logan.
Logan looked back down the aisle and started laughing.
Pierce followed his gaze and promptly elbowed him in the ribs. “Knock it off.”
“I hope you like cotton candy.” Logan choked back his laughter.
Pierce grinned at the delightful pink confection otherwise known as Madison. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Madison’s answering smile beamed out at him as she stood at the end of the grassy aisle, holding onto Alex’s arm. Her gown was anything but traditional. It suited her perfectly. The hot pink top hugged her curves and the dress flared out over her hips. He had no idea what the skirt was made of but it hung down in long, thin strips in various shades of pink, floating and swirling around her in the breeze. On her feet were shiny, flat pink slippers like a ballerina would wear.
Rather than walk Madison down the aisle, Alex kissed her cheek and stood to the side. Madison had chosen to go down the aisle by herself, saying her daddy in heaven would walk beside her.
She’d insisted on not having any music, and Pierce could see why. She was a bundle of energy and never could have managed the slow walk of a wedding march. Instead, she pranced—there was no other word for it—up the path until she stood next to him. She gave him a saucy wink and an outrageous leer. Then suddenly she was in his arms pulling his mouth down to hers.
Pierce ignored the catcalls and laughter coming from their small audience and gave back as good as he got. But when the preacher cleared his throat, Pierce reluctantly broke the lusty kiss.
Madison gave Pierce another quick, hard kiss. “I’m going to marry you,” she whispered.
“I certainly hope so,” he whispered back.
They joined hands and faced the preacher. As the laughter subsided, the preacher wiped his forehead and adjusted his collar. His face was an unusually bright shade of red as he cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved . . .”
Keep reading for an excerpt from Lena Diaz’s thrilling
He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not
Available now from Avon Impulse
Chapter One
THE SWEET MUSIC of her screams echoed in his mind as he inhaled the lavender-scented shampoo he’d selected for her. He sat cross-legged on the carpet of pine needles, stroking her hair, his fingers sliding easily through the silky brown mass he had washed and brushed.
Underlying that scent, the metallic aroma of blood teased his senses. He traced his fingers across her naked belly to the sweet center of her. The temptation to linger was strong, but the ritual wasn’t complete.
He picked up the blood-red rose and tucked its velvety petals between Kate’s pale, generous breasts. Molding her cool fingers around the stem, he pressed h
er palms together, embedding the single remaining thorn in her flesh. As he stood, her sightless pale blue eyes stared at him accusingly, just like they had in Summerville the first time he gave her a rose.
Let her stare. She couldn’t hurt him anymore, not today.
A rhythmic pounding noise echoed through the trees, an early morning jogger trying to beat the impending heat and humidity of another scorching summer day. The sun’s first rays were starting to peek through the pine trees, glinting off the rows of swings and slides.
Thump. Thump. Closer. Closer. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he listened to the jogger approach. Was Kate coming for him again, already? No matter how many times he punished her, she always came back. He’d walk around a corner and there she was, condemning him with a haughty look, taunting him with her sinfully alluring long hair.
He risked a quick glance down and let out a shaky, relieved breath. She was still lying on the ground. She hadn’t come back to torture him.
Not yet.
After one last, longing glance at her body, he slid between some palmettos and followed his makeshift path through the woods. He emerged at the parking lot of Shadow Falls’ only mall, next to a row of dumpsters. Exchanging his soiled clothes for the clean ones he’d hidden in a plastic bag, he quickly dressed. Then he stepped around the dumpsters, pitched the bag into his trunk, and got into the patrol car.
LOOSENING HIS TIE in deference to the already sweltering eighty-degree heat, Police Chief Logan Richards did his best to blend into the shadows beneath the moss-covered live oak tree. Several feet away, Officer Karen Bingham interviewed the young female jogger who’d discovered the body. Logan had offered to help, but Karen had informed him the young woman didn’t need an NFL linebacker hovering over her when she was already terrified.
He’d never been a professional football player, but he conceded the point. His size intimidated people. That had served him well when he’d worked as a beat cop here in Shadow Falls, and later as a detective in the roughest precincts of New York City. But intimidating this young witness was the last thing he wanted to do.
