I woke with a staggering headache and tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. It took only a second to realize they were taped closed, and so was my mouth. My arms and legs wouldn’t budge. I thought back to the night before. Lynn and I had had a great dinner at Harry’s, then we went back to her place for a nightcap. I couldn’t remember anything beyond that.
Where am I? Did I leave her place and something happened on the way home? No—she drove. What the hell is going on?
A female voice caught my attention, and I heard the sound of footsteps coming my way. A hard kick to my gut knocked the breath out of me, and I doubled over in pain.
“It’s about time you woke up, Detective McCord. Now the real fun can begin.”
I didn’t recognize the voice, but I knew I was in serious trouble. Lynn had to be involved in whatever this was, but why? I forced myself to stay calm and breathe through my nose. If I panicked, I’d pass out from lack of oxygen. My head spun with a million questions.
How do I get out of this predicament, and why am I in it? The only person who knew my plans last night was Frank, but how the hell is he going to find me? I don’t even know where I am.
Another voice spoke up. I recognized it, and a sick feeling washed over me. It was Lynn, and she had been part of the scheme all along. She approached me and knelt at my side. I felt her presence within inches of my face, and her hot breath blew against my skin. She kissed my cheek, whispered her intentions, then clubbed me in the head with what was likely her fist.
My thoughts bounced around in my brain like the pulse setting on a blender. Could Frank find me before my fate was sealed? I didn’t have the answer to that. I remembered seeing a sign when Lynn pulled into the driveway last night—Parkview Arms—but without telepathy, I couldn’t forward that apartment name to Frank.
I heard the first woman’s voice again. “Finish your coffee, honey, and then we’ll make that cocktail for the detective.”
Two women with intentions of killing me. The one whose voice I don’t recognize called Lynn “Honey.” Mother and daughter, maybe? Son of a bitch! They have to be the killing team we’re searching for.
The dating site I was on was the very one Cliff had used. That was how she drew both of us in. She had initiated the conversation, not me, and I didn’t fit the profile they went after—older men, all similar in appearance, and apparent loners, new to the area, or someone who wanted a beautiful woman on his arm. I didn’t understand why she’d targeted me, a cop, and I couldn’t believe my own stupidity that had allowed her to lure me into her trap.
I knew one thing for sure—there was no way in hell I was going to drink the cocktail they were preparing for me.