Log In
Or create an account ->
Imperial Library
Home
About
News
Upload
Forum
Help
Login/SignUp
Index
Prologue
Chapter 1 “L ooks like Lizzie’s running late this morning.” “When I called Sergeant Scott, she said she would meet me in her office.” Sam Broussard scowled at the short, balding detective who’d led him to the closed door at one end of a murky basement corridor in the Oklahoma City P.D.’s headquarters building. “Eight o’clock sharp.” The cop who’d introduced himself as Kostka slid a key into the door’s lock and swung it open, releasing a whiff of musty air into the hallway. The space beyond the door reminded Sam of a windowless black cave. It matched his dark mood. “When did Lizzie make that appointment with you?” Kostka asked while reaching in and flipping on the office’s overhead lights. “I called her from Shreveport two weeks ago today,” Sam answered, wondering why the hell that mattered. “She said she was flying to Vegas that afternoon to get married, and would be back at work this morning.” Which was the start of the first leave time Sam had taken since the tragedy that had thrown
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 S am Broussard wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. He could maybe write off his hinky feeling over the Colt to a cop’s instinct, but that still didn’t explain the sense of familiarity he’d felt the instant he saw Liz Scott. Then there was the close-to-electric sensation he’d felt when they shook hands. Something was going on, and he was damn well going to figure out what it was. So, here he sat at a hubcap-size table in the coffee shop at the Oklahoma City federal courthouse, waiting to observe the cold case cop’s interview with a judge who’d gotten held up in a hearing that had run long. Sam slid his gaze to Liz Scott, who sat beside him sipping coffee while she reviewed the details of the judge’s thirty-year-old burglary report. She had some face, Sam reflected. No man could ever forget that flawless skin, the sculpted nose and direct green eyes. Which was why he was positive now they had never met. So why had he been hit with the wave of recognition? Maybe it was becau
Chapter 2
Chapter 3 L ayered beneath Sam’s acute concern for Liz’s well-being was the abrupt satisfaction he felt the instant he scooped her into his arms and headed down the apartment building’s stairs. It was as if a puzzle piece had snapped into place. “Put me down, Broussard. Dammit, put me down!” “As soon as we get outside.” He’d already passed the second-floor landing and was closing in on the ground floor. “No.” She was rigid in his hold, her breath coming in short pants. “Put me down. Now!” When he reached the lobby, Sam paused and inched his head back to study her. Her green eyes were flashing and there was color in her face now. Lots of color, starting at her throat and rising to pool in her cheeks. He understood this wasn’t just a woman in his arms, but also a cop. The last thing someone wearing a badge wanted to show was weakness. He figured that, in Liz Scott’s book, almost collapsing in front of him fell into that category. Slowly he lowered her to her feet, but kept his hands lock
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 I n Sam’s opinion, the thin, wiry man sitting in the Oklahoma State Prison’s stuffy interrogation room looked more like a gray-haired grandfather than a hardened career criminal. What ruined the image was the washed out gray shirt with INMATE blazed in orange across the front and back, and the silver handcuffs circling J. D. Temple’s wrists. “You’re a pretty good burglar, aren’t you?” Liz asked from the chair beside Sam’s. As she’d done the previous day with Judge York, Liz had taken the lead in the interview. The Windsor case was hers, and Sam was along for the ride. At least until he had a chance to find out what Temple had been up to thirty years ago in Shreveport. “Yes, ma’am,” Temple said genially. “B&E’s how I made my living for a long time.” He was in his sixties, serving twenty years for first-degree burglary and assault. Sam doubted Temple would ever be free again. Liz nodded, her green eyes patient. Sam watched her, sitting beside him in her slim jade jacket, her ma
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 “D amn.” Standing in the plush dressing room in the back of Silk & Secrets, Liz slid her cell phone into the pocket of her jade blazer. “Damn. Damn!” Allie Fielding looked up from her drafting table where snippets of bright silk and delicate lace lay amid sketches of negligees, robes and bustiers. With manicured fingers, she brushed back the blond hair that waved over one cheek. “What’s wrong? Did your boss turn down your request to let Detective Studly consult on the homicide case?” “His name’s Broussard. And Captain Ryan gave me the go-ahead.” “So, why the triple damns?” “I want Broussard to leave.” Allie laid the sketch aside and swiveled on her long-legged stool to face Liz. Her tailored business suit in muted coral looked as fresh now as it had that morning. “When Claire and I were with you at the bakery and Sam walked in, I could tell by the way you looked at him that something’s going on.” “You’re wrong, Al. There’s nothing going on.” “Then why don’t you want to work w
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 W hen Sam’s lips grazed hers, Liz didn’t protest. She didn’t lean away. She wasn’t sure she continued to breathe. Not when every emotion she had felt since the instant he walked into her office a mere few days ago meshed into one: desire. Unexplainable. Unbeatable. Unquenchable. His fingers were still curved around her wrist, warm and heavy against her flesh. In the drab light of the P.D.’s small microfilm room his eyes were so smoky-gray, so intense, that for a moment she blinked, assaulted by a powerful sense of déjà vu. But she’d never been this close to Sam Broussard before, she assured herself. Never before felt his lips skim her jawline as they did now, spiking her pulse and leaving her dazed and drunk and desperate. Too desperate. With an effort, she thrust the heel of one hand against his shoulder, and felt the corded strength in him as she eased back in her chair. Fighting to catch her breath, she stared at Sam and saw the hunger that gripped her mirrored in his eyes
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 T hat evening, Sam strode to the entrance of Home Treasures. His gaze swept across the Closed sign in the antique shop’s window before he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest. Dusk was just now settling in. The carriage lights lining the sidewalk flicked to life, illuminating Reunion Square in a warm glow. He checked the clock in the old brick tower in the square’s center. When he and Liz left the cold case office, they had agreed to meet at six o’clock. In the meantime, he’d headed to his room at the inn while she drove off to run errands after assuring him she’d be at Claire and Jackson Castle’s place on time. True to her word, he thought seconds later when he spotted Liz walking across Reunion Square from her loft at The Montgomery. His gaze swept down her, then up. He noted she’d changed into snug jeans, a plum-colored sweater and a short black leather jacket that hugged her lean body. And he took time to appreciate her unhurried walk
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 I killed my wife. “Guess that put a damper on the mood,” Sam said as he stared down into Liz’s shocked face. Because sharp, strong desire continued to surge through him, he dragged his attention away from the rapid pulse still throbbing at the base of her throat. Every muscle in his body was tight. The hunger clawing at him was invasive, blinding. But it was more than just lust. Stronger than lust. The knowledge that what he felt for her was beyond a feral hunger terrified him right down to his marrow. And it was dangerous as hell, because whatever the emotion was ripping at his insides, it had lowered his guard enough that he’d blurted the truth about Tanya. He sure as hell hadn’t intended to say that, but it was probably best he had. By doing so, he’d put the skids on any chance of his and Liz getting closer. Intimate. There would be no placing her at risk by repeating the mistakes he’d made with Tanya. And working with Liz was now probably out of the question. How willing
Chapter 8
Chapter 9 T he following afternoon, Sam walked through Reunion Square, amazed at its transformation. Lining the outer perimeter of the grassy area were booths and tables sporting an array of handicrafts, baked goods and potted mums that formed oceans of blooming color. On a nearby table, a row of pumpkins carved with an artist’s expertise smiled out at the milling suburban crowd. Leaves from the soaring oaks dotting the square had piled onto the grass, the red, yellow and partial green giving the event a New England effect. Their crisp smell mixed with the delicious scent of hot apple cider. Sam stopped and bought a cup from a teenage girl with a dusting of freckles across her nose. “Where’s the face painting?” he asked while accepting his change. He thanked the teen, then headed in the direction she pointed. When he spotted the booth where Liz told him she would be working with Allie and Claire, he didn’t approach it. Instead he stood off to one side of a table where two women were se
Chapter 9
Chapter 10 T he reception sponsored by the Committee of One Hundred was held at Oklahoma City’s most luxurious hotel. Music swept around Sam and Liz the instant they entered the ornate lobby. Near the ballroom, a trio of harpists played interwoven melodies, accompanied by a pianist. “No surprise in the choice of music,” Liz said. While waiting for the sea of guests at the ballroom’s arched entrance to thin out, she was aware of the firm press of Sam’s palm at the small of her back. And the subtle woodsy scent of his cologne. Her pulse picking up speed, she slid him a look from beneath her lashes. Because he’d been on his way to a Colorado vacation, he didn’t have a suit with him, just the gray sport coat and black slacks he’d paired with a starched white dress shirt. No tie. His dark hair was brushed back, the ends shaggy, his jaw freshly shaved. To Liz, he looked bad-guy handsome. Judging from the speculative glances aimed his way from other female guests, she wasn’t the only woman dr
Chapter 10
Chapter 11 S am had thought he understood desire well. But when he stepped into Liz’s dimly lit bedroom where her scent hung on the air, he couldn’t remember ever having it ram into him with such force that it took his breath away. She paused beside him, their fingers linked. When she gazed up at him, her green eyes glistened in the pale light. He could swear he felt electricity coursing from her hand straight to his gut. “Is that the same bed as the one in your dream, Sam?” He glanced across the room to the iron bed with slim, smooth posts that framed both the head and foot of the mattress. The blankets and sheet were twisted together, the pillows strewn on the wood floor, testimony to Liz’s own tumultuous dream. “That’s it.” He reached out, just a whisper of fingers on her face. “This time, it’s only you and me,” he said in a low voice. “There’s no one else here. No one conjured up from either of our subconscious.” His soft touch was somehow wildly passionate, desperately intimate. L
Chapter 11
Chapter 12 T wenty-four hours later, Liz was still waiting for a break in the Windsor case. It was nearly noon when she returned to her office after meeting with an assistant DA to go over her upcoming testimony on a murder she’d worked while assigned to Homicide. Finding the door locked told her Sam had yet to make it back from the courthouse. If his search for legal documents that York filed years ago while in private law practice didn’t lead to something, Liz wasn’t sure they’d ever solve the murder. While sliding her key in the lock, she heard heavy footsteps echoing along the basement’s hallway. Glancing across her shoulder, she spotted the bull-necked civilian employee assigned to the P.D.’s mailroom. “Got something for ya, Sergeant Scott.” “Thanks, Harold.” When Liz saw the return address on the thick mailing envelope, anticipation prickled over her skin. Nick Reynolds had worked the Windsor case thirty years ago. Since every homicide cop Liz had ever known routinely kept his or
Chapter 12
Chapter 13 H ours later, Sam propped a thigh against Liz’s desk and gave her a measuring look. Shadows of fatigue clung beneath her eyes and her cheeks were too pale for his liking. The bruises from the handcuffs that had circled her left wrist added to her aura of vulnerability. This was the first time they’d been alone since paramedics swept her away from the apartment. An officer-involved shooting required the surrender of one’s weapon, a half-dozen interviews and a mile of paperwork. Homicide, Internal Affairs and members of federal law enforcement had interviewed both him and Liz separately during the conduct of the investigation surrounding the death of Judge David York. Sam felt no qualms over having killed the bastard. York had murdered Geneviève Windsor and Max Hogan. He’d drugged Liz, kidnapped her and held her at gunpoint. It didn’t take a huge mental leap to figure York would have put a bullet in her. Now, as he studied Liz, Sam felt all over again the chilling realization
Chapter 13
← Prev
Back
Next →
← Prev
Back
Next →