Charred by Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  With a determination that Jaci deeply admired, Birdie had bought the old diner and over the past ten years turned it into the best place to eat in the entire county.

  At this early hour her clients usually consisted of farmers, hunters and school bus drivers who were up before dawn.

  “Morning, Birdie.” Jaci stepped aside as the older woman efficiently began to place the muffins on a large glass tray that would be set on the counter next to the cash register. Many of the diners liked to have a cup of coffee and muffin once they were done with breakfast.

  “Thank God you’re here.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late. The electricity didn’t come on until almost five.”

  Finishing, Birdie grabbed the tray and bustled across the kitchen to hand it to her assistant.

  “Take this to the counter,” Birdie commanded before turning back to Jaci with a roll of her eyes. “The natives have been threatening to revolt without their favorite muffins.”

  Jaci smiled, pleased by Birdie’s words. She’d learned to bake at her grandmother’s side, but it wasn’t until she’d inherited her grandparents’ farm that she’d considered using her skills to help her make ends meet.

  Leaning to the side she glanced through the large open space where the food was passed through to the waitresses.

  The place hadn’t changed in the past ten years. The walls were covered with faded paneling that was decorated with old license plates and a mounted fish caught from the nearby river. The floor was linoleum with a drop ceiling that was lit with fluorescent lights.

  There was a half dozen tables arranged around the square room with one long table at the back where a group of farmers showed up daily to drink coffee and share the local gossip.

  At the moment, every seat was filled with patrons wearing buff coveralls, camo jackets, and Cardinal baseball hats.

  Jaci released a slow whistle. “Damn, woman. That’s quite a crowd,” she said, a rueful smile touching her lips. The rains meant that no one was able to get into the fields. “At least someone can benefit from this latest downpour.”

  “Benefit?” Birdie sucked in a sharp breath, her hands landing on her generous hips. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I’m the sort of person who enjoys benefitting from a tragedy, Jaci Patterson,” she chastised. “People want to get together to discuss what’s happened and I have the local spot for them to gather.”

  Jaci blinked, caught off guard by her friend’s sharp reprimand. Then, absorbing the older woman’s words, she stiffened in concern.

  “Tragedy?” she breathed.

  Birdie’s features softened. “You haven’t heard?”

  Jaci felt a tremor of unease. She’d already lost her father to a drunk driver before she was even born, and then her grandmother when she was seventeen. Her grandfather had passed just two years ago. She was still raw from their deaths.

  “No, I haven’t heard anything. Like I said, the electricity went out last night and as soon as it come back on I started baking. Has someone died?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Who?”

  “No one knows for sure yet,” Birdie told her.

  Jaci blinked in confusion. “How could they not know?”

  “The levee broke in the middle of the night.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out when I discovered that the road was closed…oh hell.” She tensed as her unease became sharp-edged fear. The levee had broken before and flooded fields, but the neighbor to her south had recently built a new house much closer to the river. “It didn’t reach Frank’s home, did it?”

  Birdie shook her head. “Just the back pasture.”

  “Then what body are you talking about?”

  “When Frank went to check on the breach, he saw something floating in the middle of his field.”

  Jaci cringed. Poor Frank. He must have been shocked out of his mind.

  “Oh my God. It was a dead person?”

  “Yep. A woman.”

  “He didn’t recognize her?”

  Birdie leaned forward and lowered her voice, as if anyone could hear over the noise from the customers, not to mention the usual kitchen clatter.

  “He said it was impossible to know if she was familiar or not.”

  “I don’t suppose he wanted to look too close,” Jaci said. If she’d spotted a body in her flooded field she would have jumped into her Jeep and driven away like a maniac.

  “It wasn’t that. He claimed the woman was too…” Birdie hesitated, as if she was searching for a more delicate way to express what Frank had said. “Decomposed to make out her features.”

  “Decomposed?” A strange chill inched down Jaci’s spine.

  “That’s what he’s saying.”

  Jaci absently glanced through the opening into the outer room where she could see Frank surrounded by a group of avid listeners.

  When Birdie had said a body, she’d assumed it had been someone who’d been caught in the flood. Maybe she’d fallen in when she was walking along the bank. Or her car might had been swept away when she tried to cross a road with high water.

  But she wouldn’t be decomposed, would she?

  “I’ve heard that water does strange things to a body,” Jaci at last said.

  Birdie tugged Jaci toward the back door as her assistant moved to open the fridge. Clearly there was more to the story.

  “The body wasn’t all that Frank discovered.”

  Jaci stilled. “There was more?”

  “Yep.” Birdie whispered, as if it was a big secret. Which was ridiculous. There were no such things as secrets in a town the size of Heron. “Frank called the sheriff and while he was waiting for Mike to arrive he swears he caught sight of a human skull stuck in the mud at the edge of the road.” Birdie gave a horrified shudder. “Can you imagine? Two dead people virtually in his backyard? Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

  Jaci’s mouth went dry. “Did Frank say anything else?”

  Birdie shrugged. “Just that the sheriff told him to leave and not to talk about what he found.” Birdie snorted. “Like anyone wouldn’t feel the need to share the fact they found a dead body and a skull in their field.”

  A familiar dread curdled in the pit of her stomach.

  She was being an idiot. Of course she was. This had nothing to do with her past. Or the mysterious stalker who had made her life hell.

  Still…

  She couldn’t shake the sudden premonition that slithered down her spine.

  “Is Mike still out at Frank’s?” she abruptly demanded, referring to the sheriff, Mike O’Brien.

  “Yeah.” Birdie sent her a curious glance. “I think he was waiting for the Corps of Engineers to get out there so they could discuss how long it would take for the field to drain.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose they need to make sure there aren’t any other bodies.”

  More bodies.

  A fierce urgency pounded through her. She might be overreacting, but she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she spoke to Mike.

  “I need to go.”

  “You haven’t had your coffee,” Birdie protested.

  “Not this morning, thanks, Birdie.”

  “Okay.” The older woman stepped back. “I’ll get your money and-”

  “I’ll stop by later to get it.” Jaci turned to pull open the back door.

  Instantly a chilled blast of air swept around them.

  “What’s your rush?” Birdie demanded.

  “I have some questions that need answers,” she said.

  “With who?” Birdie demanded, making a sound of impatience as Jaci darted into the alley and jogged toward her waiting Jeep. “Jaci?”

  Not bothering to answer, Jaci jumped into the vehicle and put it in gear. Water trickled down her neck from her wet hair, but when she’d gone into the diner she’d left the engine running with the heater blasting at full steam.

  Which meant she was a damp mess, but she wasn’t completely miserable.

  Anglin
g the vent in a futile effort to dry her soggy sweatshirt, Jaci stomped on the accelerator and headed back toward her house. This time, however, she swerved around the barrier that blocked the road, squishing her way through the muddy path that led along the edge of Frank’s property.

  It was less than ten miles, but by the time she was pulling her vehicle to a halt, her stomach had managed to clench into a tight ball of nerves.

  It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that this had nothing to do with the past, she couldn’t dismiss her rising tide of fear.

  Ignoring the avid crowd of onlookers who were gathered at the edge of the field, Jaci skirted around the wooden barrier, her gaze skimming over the sluggish brown water that had surged through the broken levee. Branches and debris swirled through the field. But no body.

  Thank God.

  “Jaci,” a male voice intruded into her distracted thoughts as a skinny man dressed in a dark uniform stepped in front of her.

  She forced a smile to her lips. “Morning, Sid.”

  The young deputy nodded his head toward the flooded field, trying to look suitably somber.

  “I guess you heard the news?”

  “Yep.” Jaci’s gaze moved over the deputy’s shoulder, landing on the man who was pacing along the edge of the road with a cell phone pressed to his ear.

  Sheriff Mike O’Brien.

  Only a year older than Jaci’s twenty-seven, he was wearing a crisp black uniform with a star on his sleeve that indicated his elected status. Beneath his shirt he was wearing body armor that emphasized his broad, muscular frame. He had light brown hair that he kept cut military-short beneath his black ball cap, and a square face with blunt features and eyes that were an astonishing shade of green. As bright as fresh mint.

  He was the sort of solid, dependable man that Jaci had always told herself she should want. Which explained why she’d dated him for several months after returning to Heron.

  Unfortunately, they just hadn’t…clicked. At least not for her. Mike continued to ask her out. She didn’t know if he was truly smitten with her, or if she was a convenient date.

  After all, Heron wasn’t overrun with eligible women.

  “I think half the town is here to gawk.” Sid once again interrupted her thoughts, his chest puffed out. It was a rare treat to have so much excitement. Jaci, however, was intent on reaching Mike. She stepped around the barrier, neatly avoiding Sid’s attempt to grab her arm. “Wait,” he commanded.

  She marched forward, the mud threatening to suck off her rubber boots.

  “I need to speak with Mike,” she said, battling her way toward her friend.

  Sid made an effort to block her path. “The sheriff closed off this area. He said he didn’t want no one here disturbing things until he finished up.”

  She darted around him. She was nothing if not determined. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “But-”

  “Don’t worry, Sid,” she called over her shoulder. “I won’t disturb anything.”

  Realizing he was going to have to physically wrestle her to the ground if he hoped to stop her, Sid returned to his post beside the barrier.

  “He’s going to put my balls in a vise,” he groused.

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  Kill Without Shame

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  The Saloon was the sort of bar that catered to the locals in the quiet Houston neighborhood.

  It was small, with lots of wood and polished brass. Overhead there was an open beam ceiling, with muted lights that provided a cozy atmosphere, and on the weekends they invited a jazz band to play quietly on the narrow stage.

  Lucas spent most Friday evenings at the table tucked in a back corner. It was unofficially reserved for the five men who ran ARES Security.

  The men liked the peaceful ambiance, the communal agreement that everyone should mind their own business, and the fact that the table was situated so no one could sneak up from behind.

  Trained soldiers didn’t want surprises.

  At the moment, the bar was nearly empty. Not only was it a gray, wet Wednesday evening, but it was the first week of December. That meant Christmas madness was in full swing.

  Perfectly normal people were now in crazy-mode as they scurried from store to store, battling one another for the latest, have-to-have gift. It was like Thunderdome without Tina Turner.

  Currently Lucas and Teagan shared the bar with a young couple seated near the bay window at the front of the bar. Those two were oblivious to everything but each other. And closer to the empty stage was a table of college girls. Already at the giggly stage of drunk, they were all blatantly checking him out. At least when they weren’t gawking at Teagan.

  No biggie.

  Both men were accustomed to female attention.

  Teagan was a large, heavily muscled man with dark caramel skin, and golden eyes that he’d inherited from his Polynesian mother. He kept his hair shaved close to his skull, and as usual was dressed in a pair of camo pants and shit-kickers. He had an aggressive vibe that was only emphasized by the tight T-shirt that left his arms bare to reveal the numerous tattoos.

  Lucas St. Clair, on the other hand, was wearing a thousand-dollar suit that was tailored to perfectly fit his lean body. His glossy black hair was smoothed away from his chiseled face that he’d been told could easily grace the covers of fashion magazines. As if he gave a shit.

  His eyes were so dark they looked black. It wasn’t until he was in the sunlight that it became obvious they were a deep, indigo blue.

  Most assumed he was the less dangerous of the two men.

  They’d be wrong.

  But while the girls became increasingly more obvious in their attempts to attract their attention, neither man glanced in their direction.

  Teagan because he already had a flock of women who included supermodels and two famous actresses.

  And Lucas because… He grimaced.

  To be honest, he wasn’t sure why. He only knew that his interest in women hadn’t been the same since he’d crawled out of that hellhole in Afghanistan. Not unless he counted the hours he spent brooding on one woman in particular.

  The one who got away.

  Lucas gave a sharp shake of his head, reaching for his shot of tequila. It slid down his throat like liquid fire, burning away the past.

  Nothing like a twelve-year-old vintage to ease the pain.

  Lucas glanced toward his companion’s empty glass.

  “Another round?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Teagan waited for Lucas to nod toward the bartender, who was washing glasses, at the same time keeping a sharp eye on his few customers. “I assume you’re picking up the tab?”

  Lucas cocked a brow. “Why do I always have to pick up the tab?”

  “You’re the one with the trust fund, amigo, not me,” Teagan said with a shrug. “The only thing my father ever gave me was a concussion and an intimate knowledge of the Texas penal system.”

  Lucas snorted. It was common knowledge that Lucas would beg in the streets before he would touch a penny of the St. Clair fortune. Just as they all knew that Teagan had risen above his abusive background, and temporary housing in the penitentiary, to become a successful businessman. The younger man not only joined ARES, but he owned a mechanic shop that catered to a high-end clientele who had more money than sense when it came to their precious sports cars.

  “I might break out the violins if I didn’t know you’re making a fortune,” Lucas told his friend as the bartender arrived to replace their drinks with a silent efficiency.

  “Hardly a fortune.” Teagan downed a shot of tequila before he reached for his beer, heaving a faux sigh. “I have overhead out the ass, not to mention paying my cousins twice what they’re worth. A word of warning, amigo. Never go into business with your family.”

  “Too late,” Lucas murmured.

  As far as he was concerned, the men who crawled out of that Taliban cave
with him were his brothers. And the only family that mattered.

  “True that.” Teagan gave a slow nod, holding up his frosty glass. “To ARES.”

  Lucas clinked his glass against Teagan’s in appreciation of the bond they’d formed.

  “To ARES.”

  Drinking the tequila in one swallow, Lucas set aside his empty glass. There was a brief silence before Teagan at last spoke the words that’d no doubt been on the tip of his tongue since they walked through the door of the bar.

  “Are you ever going to get to the point of why you asked to meet me here?” his friend bluntly demanded.

  Lucas leaned back in his chair, arching his brows.

  “Couldn’t it just be because I enjoy your sparkling personality?”

  Teagan snorted. “If I’d known this was a date I would have worn my lucky shirt.”

  “You need a shirt to get lucky?”

  “Not usually.” Teagan flashed his friend a mocking smile. “But I’ve heard you like to play hard to get.”

  Lucas grimaced at the direct hit. Yeah. Hard to get was one way to put it.

  “I want to discuss Hauk,” he admitted, not at all eager to think about his lack of a sex life.

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