by Chrys Fey
Lightning Crimes
By
Chrys Fey
Disaster Crimes Series 2.5
Praise for Chrys Fey
“HURRICANE CRIMES is a pure delight. It is a romance first and a suspense novella second, but both are combined in a perfect formula for a wonderful afternoon’s reading.” ~Readers’ Favorite
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“SEISMIC CRIMES is an action-packed novel that contains a little bit of everything. There’s the suspense of a crime-fighting story, the adventure of surviving natural disasters, and the passion of romance.” ~Sherry Ellis, author
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“Get set for action, suspense, and edge-of-your-seat danger with Chrys Fey’s TSUNAMI CRIMES. Couldn’t put this book down.” ~Diane Burton, author of the Alex O’Hara PI series
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“The DISASTER CRIMES SERIES has the potential to be a terrific series that is spellbinding and [will] have readers on the edge of their seats.” ~InD’tale Magazine
LIGHTNING CRIMES
Disaster Crimes Series
Copyright © 2017 Chrys Fey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by Chrys Fey
Published in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for downloading LIGHTNING CRIMES, a teaser story that takes place between Seismic Crimes and Tsunami Crimes. This short story introduces a mystery that will play out in its entirety in the final book of the Disaster Crimes Series, Book 5. Don’t worry, though. Tsunami Crimes (Book 3) will be published January 20th, 2017, giving you something to sink your teeth into in the meantime. And then there will be Book 4, which will bring us back to Florida for another disaster that Floridians face more often than hurricanes. Any ideas?
If you enjoy LIGHTNING CRIMES, I encourage you to take the journey through the other titles of this series. You’ll experience the fierce wind of a hurricane, the ferocious shaking of an earthquake, and the intense devastation of a tsunami. You’ll also follow the growing relationship between Beth and Donovan, and you’ll even come face to face with dangerous criminals.
Enough chit chat. It’s time for thunder to roll….
Happy Reading!
Chrys Fey
Dedication
To Disaster Crimes fans.
~*~
A big thanks to Kelly Hashway for editing Lightning Crimes,
Susan Swiderski for beta reading Lightning Crimes,
and L. Diane Wolfe for formatting this beautiful eBook.
The weather forecast for Central Florida showed a beastly storm creeping across the centermost part of the state. The radar image of the storm had a lot of green around the edges and a massive area of red. White zigzags popped up every second. Lightning. At the top of the TV screen, a scrolling message detailed a warning for the area, including fifty mile per hour winds, possible flooding, and quarter-sized hail. The meteorologist pointed out the areas on the map most likely to be hit the hardest.
“That’s us,” Donovan said, stating the obvious.
Beth sat on the couch next to him, looking at the forecast and remembering the one she had watched six months ago for the arrival of Hurricane Sabrina. Her life had changed drastically since that day. She met Donovan, helped him catch a killer, and survived a San Francisco earthquake.
Donovan got to his feet and went to the sliding glass door that led to their screened-in patio. The clicking sound of the door unlocking drew Beth’s attention. “What are you doing?”
“Checking it out.”
He slid open the door and stepped out. A rumble of thunder prompted Beth to the patio. The concrete on her bare feet felt warm and rough. She joined Donovan at the rail and peered at the black, bubbling clouds. They devoured the muted colors of the twilight sky. The humid air was still—the calm before the storm. The green and brown palm tree fronds along the parking lot were immobile. The American flag posted in front of the car dealership across the road hung limply at the top of the pole. Though the atmosphere was calm, it was alive beneath that cloudy gauze, charged with electricity. The approaching storm was like a monster hiding under a bed, waiting for the lights to go out. Bursts of light across the horizon marked the presence of lightning. Each flash was accompanied by the boom of thunder.
Beth leaned against the rail with her arms folded. Donovan came up behind her and secured his arms around her waist. With his chest against her back, she could feel his breaths. As the clouds tumbled closer, he pressed his lips to her temple.
Thunder growled. The wind picked up, rustling the palm trees. It swept from tree to tree, and then it blew into Beth, tossing her hair from her shoulders.
Squinting at the racing clouds, she noticed a small rotation. Even the slightest sign of rotation was cause for concern, especially in Florida where the weather could change in an instant. The closer the clouds came, the stronger the wind became. A trash can bounced along the pavement and slammed into the side of a parked car. An alarm screeched. After a few minutes, a barefoot, shirtless man stepped out of an apartment and pointed a key fob toward the screaming car. A beep sounded, and the alarm died. Startling silence followed.
The hush didn’t last long, though; a rumble of thunder jostled the air molecules. To gauge the location and speed of the storm, Beth counted the seconds that passed between each glare of lightning and crack of thunder. Ten seconds. Eight seconds. Five seconds. And then a bolt of lightning came down from a cloud and struck the flagpole across the street. A brilliant flash lit the sky and temporarily blinded her. In the same instant, a crack of thunder pounded her eardrums and rattled the glass door behind her. Beth shielded her ears from the assault. She squeezed her eyes shut from the glare, took a step back, and bumped into Donovan.
The air vibrated. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Ringing settled in her ears.
Every time she blinked, she saw the flash seared into the backs of her eyelids.
“Maybe we should go back inside,” Donovan said.
Beth let out a wheezing laugh. “Ya think?”
He took her hand, led her inside, and shut the glass door. Right then, the meteorologist said, “Do not go outside. Stay indoors and away from windows.”
Her gaze slid over to Donovan. She gave him a look that said, “Idiot.”
He grinned back in reply.
Rain pounded the roof with a deafening roar. Fat raindrops exploded on the concrete where they had stood moments ago. The bit of light from the setting sun winked out, cloaked by ebony storm clouds. The apartment darkened. Not even artificial light could combat the gloom.
“We should light some candles,” Donovan said.
“I’ll do that,” Beth offered. “Hunt down a couple of flashlights and lower the temperatures for the fridge and freezer.” In the hall, she opened the storage closet and pulled out the stash of candles left over from Hurricane Sabrina. She set them in clusters on the coffee table and along the kitchen countertop. As she lit the candles, lightning flashes became more frequent. She couldn’t stop herself from jumping at every crack of thunder.
On her way out of the kitchen, she caught sight of a picture on the refrigerator door. Two magnets held down opposite corners. In the photo, Beth and Donovan were cheek-to-cheek on the beach. For Christmas, Beth had gifted Donovan’s mom with a picture frame, and Meredith had requested a photo
of the two of them to put in it. This was the duplicate of the photo they’d mailed her. Beth meant to buy their own frame for it, but she kept forgetting.
She passed the photo with a smile on her face, which faded seconds later when a bang of thunder reverberated through the apartment. Her hand shook as she lit the candles on the coffee table.
“Here. I got that.” Donovan took the lighter from her and finished the job. Then he put his arms around her. “You seem more scared of this storm than you were with Hurricane Sabrina.”
“Well, I was dealing with a suspected murderer when Hurricane Sabrina hit,” she said. “I could only focus my fear on one thing at a time. Besides, this is a freak lightning storm.”
Donovan pulled her closer. “There’s no suspected murderer here now.”
The laughter in his eyes made her chuckle. No, Donovan wasn’t a murderer. He was a victim. Corrupt cops had murdered his brother and tried to frame Donovan for the crime. Beth and Donovan had thought that was behind them, but then Beth got a phone call. Remembering the deep voice on the other end, a voice she had never heard before, heightened her anxiety.
You’ve pissed off a lot of people, Beth. The wrong people…Jackson and Buck aren’t the only ones you have to worry about, sweetheart. There are a lot of us, and we all know about you and Donovan. I’d watch your back, because we’re coming.
The call couldn’t be traced, and a second call hadn’t come—yet—but the
memory of it never failed to give her chills.
“I can distract you from the storm.” Donovan pressed his lips to her neck. She turned her head, allowing him access. He sucked, tickling the sensitive skin below her ear. A delicious swirling sensation dominated the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t mark me,” she whispered, though she didn’t sound as authoritative as she had hoped. But if he gave her a hickey, she wouldn’t be able to cover it with her workout clothes, and then her self-defense students would see it. They’d never let her live it down. Thankfully, Donovan moved his mouth away from her neck to her jawline. She turned her head, forcing his lips to meet hers. The kiss was hard, passionate. She cupped the back of his head and curled her fingers in his hair. Her tongue twirled with his. She tasted a hint of beer and a heat that was distinctively Donovan. It was a flavor that could intoxicate her.
She explored the depths of his mouth. Her fingers untangled from his hair and slid down his chest. She put her hands under his shirt to feel his heat. The tips of her fingers made sensual circles in the light hair above his jeans. A groan rumbled from Donovan’s throat. He grasped her butt, lifting her onto her toes and pressing her into his body. She could feel his need.
Her hands roamed up his chest. Her fingers fondled his abs and pecs. His definition heightened her lust. How could it not? He had an amazingly fit body that was worth drooling over. She moved her hands to his back, and Donovan looped his arms around her, bringing her even closer.
She glided her tongue against his, but she craved more. She wanted to feel him beneath her, trapped between her legs. A moan fluttered from her mouth. She was ready to shove him onto the couch when the loudest bang she had ever heard shattered the quiet. She gasped. Her body flinched so harshly that her nose smashed into Donovan’s nose.
The power winked out.
Donovan cupped her face with his hands, holding her in place. “Shit. Are you okay?”
Thunder rattled the windows as she felt her tingling nose. Her eyes were watering, but she wasn’t bleeding. “I’m fine.” She inched back to see Donovan’s face in the candlelight, making sure he wasn’t bleeding either. He didn’t appear fazed by their collision.
“You’re lucky I didn’t bite your tongue in half,” she said.
Donovan kissed her on the mouth. “I trust you not to hospitalize me.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “Gee. Thanks.” She clicked on her flashlight and swept the beam across the room. The clocks on the cable box and stovetop were blank. She hoped they wouldn’t be without power for long. After Hurricane Sabrina, she didn’t want to go without electricity ever again. No air flow, no air conditioning, and losing all of the contents of the fridge and freezer were experiences she didn’t care to repeat.
The sky glowed with the continuous bursts of lightning. Rolls of thunder clapped over each other, creating a ceaseless ruckus. Goose bumps spread along her arms.
What the hell is going on out there?
“I guess this means our one-on-one time is over?” Donovan asked.
She shone the light onto his smirking face. “Ugh. Yeah.”
Rain pelted the sliding glass door. Wind howled. The roof over the patio groaned as if it would be ripped off.
“Come here. There’s nothing we can do now but wait it out.” On the couch, Donovan opened his arms to her. She settled into them. “I know another way to distract you.”
She lowered her eyebrows, wondering what he had in mind now. “Do tell.”
“Our wedding.”
A smile dawned on Beth’s face. Oh, yes, their wedding. They had planned to be engaged for a full year. Their wedding date was six months away in January. What better way to begin the new year than by getting married? She hadn’t picked out a dress yet, but they had their venue; a majestic park in Orlando—the Kraft Azalea Gardens. They’d be surrounded by cypress trees and stone monuments. It would be simple and yet elegant. The idea of it made her heart twirl.
“Do you have any reception locations in mind?”
“We’re not going to have many guests, so I was thinking of just doing a picnic-style meal. There aren’t picnic tables at the gardens, and since chairs are forbidden, we may have to eat on the steps. And we can dance to the harp while the sun sets.”
“Sounds right.” Donovan kissed her temple. “Sounds like us.” His hand stroked her arm. “What about our honeymoon?”
The two of them had discussed several destinations for various reasons, including Scotland, India, the Bahamas, and Hawaii. The last two were the ones she was debating over; Donovan had left it up to her to pick the final destination. They could take a cruise to the Bahamas, a convenient option. They’d be able to take advantage of the ship’s bar and rent jet skis. Or they could hop across the country to Oahu where they could surf all they wanted. Since they had come back from California, Donovan had been teaching her to surf. She was still a newb, but she was getting more confident the longer a board was beneath her. Now, she couldn’t wait to surf, which they did nearly every weekend.
“I’m down to two locations,” she said.
“Care to disclose?”
“Not yet. I’ll announce the winner soon, though. I promise.”
He brushed a strand of hair from the side of her face. “I’m on pins and needles.”
She chuckled at the phrase. A rumble of thunder tried to drown out her laugh. “It’s surreal to think we’re halfway to our wedding day.”
“We don’t have to wait, you know. We could elope tomorrow and pick a destination at random at the airport.”
She shook her head. “No, we couldn’t. Your mom and grandma would hunt us down and slap you silly.” The two women had started planning Beth and Donovan’s wedding the moment they met Beth. If they couldn’t be there, they’d be out for blood.
“You’re right,” Donovan said. “The consequences of eloping would be disastrous.”
A shattering sound cut off Beth’s reply. She jerked in Donovan’s arms. “What was that?”
“Sounded like glass breaking in our bedroom.”
Flashlights in hand, they got up together and headed down the hall to their bedroom. A giant hole in the window let in wind and rain. Tan curtains flapped wildly. Jagged glass stuck out of the bottom of the windowpane. More glass glistened on the carpet, among it lay a large rock.
Beth stared at it. “How could a rock fly through our window on the second floor? A branch, maybe. But a rock? That’s not possible.”
“However it happened, I need to secure this.” From the clo
set where the washer and dryer were stored, Donovan took out a hammer, a box of nails, and a car cover he had used for the sedan he no longer owned. “I’ll get this up to keep out the storm. Double check the other windows, and lower the blinds.” He stepped in front of the broken window. Rain lashed through the opening and splattered Donovan’s chest, soaking his T-shirt.
While he worked on that, Beth hurried to the small second bedroom that was part gym with a bench press and part storage for boxes. She tugged down the blinds over the two side-by-side windows and twisted the rods, hiding the storm from sight. The last thing she saw were dead palm tree branches dropping to the ground.
By the beam of her flashlight, she rushed to the living room but froze when she saw the front door wide open. She stepped toward it. Rain blew through the hall outside their apartment and made a puddle outside the door.
“Donovan?”
She pointed the light through the doorway. The yellow orb illuminated the middle of the neighbor’s door on the other side. What in the world is he thinking going out in this weather? Does he never learn? She couldn’t help but recall the incident that had led to their fated meeting. Donovan had been driving his car in hurricane-force winds, and she had saved him when he crashed into a tree across from her house.
What was he doing now? If he was out in these conditions to protect his truck, she’d do what she did before…throw her flashlight at him.
“Donovan?”
“What?”
At the sound of Donovan’s voice, she whirled around with her hand to her chest. “You’re…but I thought…” She peered over her shoulder. “The door is open.”
Donovan came up beside her. The front of his T-shirt was sopping wet and plastered to his chest. “Maybe the wind knocked it open.”
“But I locked it.” It had become habit for her to lock the door. Even if Donovan had already locked it. After the ominous phone call, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Donovan checked the doorjamb. “Wood is intact. No scratches or dents. It wasn’t jimmied.”
“If the wind opened it, there’d be damage, too,” she said. She hadn’t heard the door bang open, striking the wall. If it had, plaster would be speckling the floor. How could a locked door open if it wasn’t forced open?
