Wedding Takedown

Unlike Kayla Paruso.

Shit. Kayla.

She’d called in the emergency. A shoot-out right now, so close to the mayor’s daughter’s wedding, was too suspicious for Rio. Mayor Charbonneau and his gang of thugs were trouble, and had been since they’d arrived in town, coincidentally at the same time as the newest Silver Valley residents, who were trying to set up a cult on the outskirts of town. Rio didn’t believe in coincidences, not when it came to criminal behavior.

“What’s your ETA, Rio?” The dispatcher spoke in his ear.

“Two minutes, tops. Anything new?”

“Caller isn’t talking. She’s kept the line open and we’re hearing shouts.”

Mother of God, please let her be okay. Keep Kayla safe.

The first time he’d seen her she was delivering a bunch of flowers to the station for one of the female cops. He couldn’t remember a thing about the delivery except for Kayla’s huge blue eyes and golden blond hair. And the way her black tights had displayed her long legs and perfect full ass. He’d imagined the breasts hidden by her jean jacket as full and luscious, and he hadn’t been disappointed when they’d made love on the one occasion he’d ignored his personal credo to remain unencumbered. He’d stopped by her flower shop and asked her out. And taken her to his bed, in his torn-apart home on the edges of town.

He’d since finished the renovations on the house, one a Realtor friend of his had stumbled upon three years ago. It was perfect for a flipper but after pouring his sweat and blood into the hardwood floors, he’d decided to keep the single-story rambler on the edge of one of Silver Valley’s farm fields.

He’d imagined taking Kayla there after he’d finished it, when the dust had settled and it was a proper home. He wanted to show her he wasn’t a complete jerk who dated women only for sex. That he wasn’t going to be the guy who loved her and left her. Because it hadn’t been “only” sex with Kayla. But she’d been long gone and they’d been long over before he ever had the chance to bring her home again.

Kayla.

The lack of information from the dispatcher annoyed him.

“Anything new?”

“Nothing, Rio.”

“Has she tried to text anything?”

“No, we told her to sit tight and stay quiet until responders arrive.”

“How close are the other units?”

“Patrol two-three-three is five minutes out.”

“Where the hell were they?” At this rate none of them would be there in enough time to save anyone.

The taste of bile rose in the back of his throat and he cursed.

“What’s that, Rio?”

“Nothing.”

He had to keep it together. Nothing had ever distracted him from his life’s purpose: serving the public. He’d known he wanted to be a police officer since he was eight years old, when his uncle Jimmy had given him a tour of the station in Harrisburg and he’d fallen in love with the way the police department employees had laughed and joked with each other as though the job was nothing but fun.

Only later, as a rookie, had he learned why they really joked with each other. It was to alleviate the deep sense of duty that sometimes weighed unbearably heavy because of the brutal realities of their jobs. The violence, the senseless killings. The gore.

Not Kayla. Not on his watch.

* * *

The phone lay muted on top of the hale bay next to her, the screen turned off to prevent anyone from seeing her. Some reptilian part of her brain shouted at Kayla to slither under the bales and simply hide until the police arrived.

Where was Keith when she needed his savvy?

She prayed that she could somehow channel her brother’s firefighting survival instinct. Because things weren’t getting any quieter inside the barn and she needed some kind of crime-scene smarts.

Rio would be the best help here.

She gave herself a quick, silent shake in the darkness. This wasn’t the time to revisit that hurt.

Stay alive.

Kayla knew better than to go inside and try to help whoever was struggling with the owner of the low voice. From what she could gather it was one man and one woman and they weren’t talking about anything pleasant.

But the woman’s voice had gotten quieter since the gunshot. Maybe the shot hadn’t been intended to hurt anyone, and this was some kind of crazy domestic argument. Kayla heard the woman’s humming voice as she spoke to the angry man. The man’s voice conveyed a fury that had Kayla quaking.

Kayla wondered if she was crazy. Maybe it wasn’t a gunshot she’d heard, but something else, maybe a piece of furniture overturning.

She rested against the barn wall, behind the stacked bales. It was wet and cold and smelled of alfalfa. The one plant on the entire planet that Kayla was allergic to. She wasn’t worried about her watery eyes or itchy nose, though. Not yet.

First, she needed to survive whatever was going on, and hoped it wasn’t anything more than her overactive imagination.

The door shook as a heavy object hit it, followed by the creak of the hinges and a loud slamming. Kayla moved slowly, needing to see what was happening. As she peered between two bales, she made out the open door. It was a yawning black hole, indicating the lights had been turned off.

Shuffling, a grunt or two, crying. Soft, pain-filled crying.

“Help me, someone.” The low, raspy plea reached her ears and it felt as though Kayla was as injured as the woman. If there was any way she could help her...

Kayla stood up from her crouch and looked over the stack of bales. A prone figure lay in the walkway, a woman. The harsh glare of the overhead security lights illuminated dark hair and a business outfit—skirt and jacket. On her stomach, she leaned on her forearms as if she was in a yoga sphinx pose. Kayla immediately recognized her. Scanning the entire area as much as it was feasible while behind the bales, she didn’t see anyone else. The man must have left.

“Meredith!” she whispered as loudly as possible.

“Help. Me.”

Kayla rose to do just that when a shot rang through the night, and Meredith’s head slammed into the ground.

Oh no.

Kayla pressed against the hay, her heartbeat and the ringing from the gunshot loud in her ears. She didn’t know if she was hidden from the killer or if she needed to make a run for it.

She’d never outrun a bullet.

The sound of approaching footsteps was quickly followed by the sound of something scraping and a grunt. A loud thwack as an object hit the ground. Peering through the hay bale, she could only see Meredith’s hands, still as her head lay between them, a briefcase with file folders splayed in front of her where a dark spot grew into a larger circle. Blood. She wished the side light of the barn door wasn’t so bright—the image of Meredith bleeding out would be burned into Kayla’s mind.

Someone cleared his or her throat. She heard the distinct sound of a zipper and then the sound of liquid hitting the side of the barn.

The killer was taking a leak?

“It’s done. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The sound of the deep voice, obviously making a phone call, startled Kayla and she stumbled, landing on the damp ground with a soft thud.

“Who’s there?”

The harsh voice matched the throat clearing, the furious man she’d heard before. She was in trouble. Kayla crawled on her belly around to the other side of the bales and without stopping rose to her feet and ran for her life.

* * *

Rio’s headlights illuminated the open side door of the barn and the figure in front of it. He saw a dark shape darting toward the back of the barn as he got out of his vehicle. As he chased the assailant, weapon drawn, the figure blended into the darkness that surrounded the barn. Rio swore under his breath and tapped the microphone on his communication gear.

“Suspect ran into the fields behind the barn. Do we have units on the other side of the woods? I’m turning back to investigate a possible victim near the east side door.”

“Roger that, Rio.”

“Send a unit to Waverly Street to intercept possible escape.” Waverly bisected the wooded area the dark figure had vanished into.

Heading back to the barn, he let out a silent thank-you that the female lying outside wasn’t Kayla—the hair was too dark, the woman too tall. As he drew closer he saw that not only was she facedown, but she’d also been shot in the back of the head. Blood stained the ground around her head in a black halo. He kneeled to feel for a carotid pulse. The entire left side of her head was gone.

Muttering another oath, he searched for the pulse just in case. Just in case the blood and torn flesh looked worse than the real injury.

Unfortunately, his initial assessment was correct. As he expected, there was no pulse.

“I’ve got a dead female, probable homicide. Call in forensics and the coroner.”

“Have you located the caller yet, Rio?”

“No joy. Still looking.” His gaze landed on her van. “Going to investigate her van.”

“Do not go into the van or barn without backup, sir.”

What the dispatcher was telling him was standard protocol. But Kayla could be in either place, bleeding out. He couldn’t stand on protocol.

“Kayla!” He called over and over, pulling open the doors of her van as he searched for any sign of her.

Nothing.

Her phone.

He directed his frustration at dispatch. “She still on the line?”

“The line’s still open but there hasn’t been any communication since about seven minutes ago.”

It felt as if he’d been on the case for days instead of ten minutes. But time was never reliable during the heat of a crime. Judging from how warm the victim’s body was, she’d been breathing just minutes earlier.

“Has anyone intercepted the suspect?”

“No, but local residents in the neighboring subdivision report someone running through their yards, alerting dogs. One caller saw someone dressed in black get into a late-model sedan and drive away.”

“Did they get plates?”

“No. We’ve got a sheriff’s chopper inbound.”

A single assailant so far. Either he’d shot Kayla, too, and she was on the ground nearby, or she was still hiding, worried for her life.

“Kayla!” He ran back to the barn and entered the kitchen, flipping on the light switch next to the door. The commercial illumination revealed a scene of total chaos. Pots and pans of all sizes were everywhere. A butcher block had been knocked over and several chef knives were strewn over the tiled floor. One knife lay closest to the door, blood on it.

“Kayla!”

“I’m here.”

He spun around, weapon drawn, his aim steady.

“It’s me, Rio. Kayla. Or don’t you remember?”

Slowly he lowered his gun and allowed his arms to drop to his sides. Never had the sight of someone been so welcome. A charge of hot attraction went from his heart to his dick, and if there wasn’t a dead body that needed tending to outside of the kitchen they stood in, he knew he’d have her in his arms and laying across the prep table, naked, in a minute flat. So much for his professional pride.

“Kayla.”

He saw the wariness in her eyes. Not fear from the shock of what she’d just been through, but what he’d put there when he’d never called her back after she told him she couldn’t see him anymore.

Even that wasn’t enough to keep her from catapulting herself into his arms, forcing him to take a step back. His butt hit the edge of the prep table as his arms went around her, and he felt a sudden flash of regret that they weren’t here as lovers, instead of as a murder witness and cop.

Chapter 3

Sirens screamed through the night as uncontrollable shudders shook her shoulders and made her legs quake. For just this moment, she allowed the strength and certainty of Rio’s embrace to hold her up as they stood outside, waiting. She didn’t refuse the comfort his arms gave. His heartbeat was strong and reassuring under her left ear. She pressed her head harder against his chest, her arms tight around his waist.

Rio’s waist.

“You’re okay, babe.”

Babe.

The cocoon of their embrace evaporated as effectively as if Rio was a hypnotist and he’d snapped her out of a trance. A trance she couldn’t afford to wander into, not if she was going to keep her emotions regarding Rio in check. It’d taken this long to finally accept there was no hope for them. This was the same man who went undercover, whose life was at risk each and every day he went to work. Definitely not the kind of man she envisioned herself with for the long run.

“I’m okay. But she’s not, is she? Is she dead, Rio?”

“Yes, she’s dead. Do you know who it is, Kayla?”

She blinked. Rio was every inch the cop. She knew more than ever what mattered most to Rio. Being a detective.

“Yes, I know her. Knew her. But not personally. I mean, not well. She was in our yoga class until she had to quit because she’d taken on this job with the mayor. It was going to be her big break into politics. She was so young, Rio, so alive. She was asking, begging for help. And I couldn’t do anything...” She didn’t finish, didn’t have to as she looked at the body of the woman, facedown and forever still.

“Did you catch a look at who did this to her?”

“Only a glimpse. Mostly I heard him. Big, booming deep voice. He was really angry from the sounds of it. I heard her scream. Then a gunshot—the first shot was while they were still inside the barn. As I got closer I heard her talking. She was speaking low, probably trying to convince him not to hurt her. After he threw her out here, she asked me for help, Rio. She was still alive, but the second shot killed her.” Her insides turned bilious as she recounted the horror. “I’m sorry.” She turned and tried to run but ended up on her knees at the side of the barn door, retching. Rio kept his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. The reassurance in such a simple gesture was immeasurable. She soaked up his energy, hoping it would soothe her heaving stomach.

Facing him again, she tried to look anywhere but at Meredith. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” His eyes were dark and unreadable.

“You’ve never barfed at a scene, I’ll bet.”

“You’d be surprised.” Gently he led her off to the side, away from Meredith’s still form. “Keep telling me what you remember, Kayla.”

“Okay.” She clasped her hands in front of her. If only she’d come tomorrow morning, instead...

“Did he see you or your van?”

“No, I don’t think so. The van’s too far down the drive and he didn’t come outside until after he threw her out here. He heard me and asked ‘Who’s there?’ He knew I was out here, heard me, but you showed up and spooked him. I made it look like I was running into the darkness around the woods, but then I doubled back and hid behind one of the buildings next to the barn. Right after I heard sirens and then saw the lights from what must have been your car, I saw him run past, not looking for anyone, from what I could tell. When he took off for the woods, I went inside.”

Thank God.

“It might have been me, but probably it was the sirens scared him away.” Rio paused. “Any chance it was a woman with a deep voice?”

She shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so. It definitely sounded like a man and he had heavy footsteps. The silhouette was masculine, large. I heard him urinate against the side of the building. And he’d started to pull apart the pile of hay bales where I was hiding. Most women can’t lift a bale and toss it as quickly as he did. If I hadn’t made a run for it, or you hadn’t shown up, he’d have seen me within seconds.”

Rio’s expression remained neutral except for the compassionate light in his eyes. A light she’d once thought he might be able to focus on her for more than a round of mind-blowing sex, a light that might warm her long past the early heat they’d shared. But Rio was a cop, from the top of his raven hair to the bottom of his sexy feet—which she’d noticed on the few occasions she’d seen him naked. He had limitless compassion, for victims and the community he protected. There wasn’t any room for personal relationships in Rio’s world. And no room for understanding her need to have a man with a more stable profession in her life.

She’d tried dating a cop, another SVPD detective, before Rio and it didn’t work out, either. Of course, now that same cop was engaged to her friend Zora, so the reality was that when things were supposed to work, they did.

She and Rio weren’t supposed to work.

As soon as she’d found out Rio was a cop, she’d felt the warning tugs from her heart but ignored them. Because she and Rio had shared a chemistry she’d never experienced before. But in the cold mornings after they’d made love, she’d had to get honest with herself. She couldn’t take the chance of a future full of loss due to Rio’s profession. Once she’d found out he’d been assigned to work her brother’s case, she’d used that fact to call off their brief relationship.

“If it hadn’t been me, someone from SVPD would have been here. We weren’t going to let you get hurt.” Rio’s confident tone was another one of his professional tools. She didn’t disagree with him, but she acknowledged that if the killer had decided to shoot through the hay, she might be lying here as dead as Meredith, who was sprawled in the mud path with her briefcase in front of her and all her pretty floral files spilled out in a haphazard fan. Organization didn’t matter in death.

“Detective Ortega, we’ve got some footprints out behind the barn and Officer Pasczenko found two shells.” A fresh-faced police officer stood next to them, his eagerness to get the job done reassuring in the dark night.

“Tell the forensics teams. They’ll be here soon if they aren’t already.”

“You want me to tell them, Detective?”

“That’s what I said, Officer Ogden.”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer’s obvious pride at being trusted to complete the communication would have been heartwarming if Kayla wasn’t frozen in shock.

“This was supposed to be a simple trip to do some preplanning for a wedding.”

“Whose wedding?”

“Cynthia Charbonneau. The mayor’s daughter. She’s planning a last-minute ceremony for next weekend. Her mother called and offered me a generous retainer fee for the extra work it’s going to take. I couldn’t turn her down, even in the middle of the spring rush.”

“Would you have otherwise?”

“Turned her down? No, I don’t base my business on rumors about my clients. And she’s been a good regular customer—she has a standing order for a fresh arrangement each week.”

Rio’s silence conveyed his agreement. Damn it, but she wished she wasn’t still so in tune with him. That she didn’t notice that in his black T-shirt and the casual blazer he looked like some kind of freaking model.

It would be much easier if Rio looked like a toad.

But even if he looked like the ugliest creature on earth, she’d still have a problem. Because Rio Ortega was the most loving, most generous man she’d ever met.

He was also the most career-driven—at times arrogant but always professional—law-enforcement worker she’d ever known. And she’d known plenty.

“Do you think it’s true, Rio? Do you think the mayor rigged the election?”

“I can’t comment on that, Kayla. But what I can say is that if it smells like manure, chances are that’s what it is. No matter how pretty the field it’s in.”

“You’re never short on your own kind of poetry, Rio.”

“You should have stuck around, Kayla. I could have regaled you with all kinds of fancy words.”

The heat in her cheeks was immediate, as was her desire to close the short distance between them and press her body against his. But anger reined her in as she realized that was his intent—to remind her of the hot nights they’d spent together when she’d agreed to date him late last fall.

Before he’d told her he was a cop. A detective. His not telling her about his career was what she’d used as her defense against his potent invitation to take their relationship deeper. She’d argued that she couldn’t be with a man who wouldn’t reveal who he was or what he did right from the get-go. The mere thought of being with someone who went undercover for unknown lengths of time stressed her out.

And admittedly she still felt a little stupid for not facing her trepidations about his profession before she’d gone to bed with him, much less started to fall for him.

“I’m sorry, Kayla. You’ve just had a terrible shock and I’m giving you grief. We’re going to have to continue this at the station—I need your statement. Do you mind going with Officer Ogden and getting started? You don’t need to be out here in the cold any longer. I’ll be along shortly.”

“I can drive myself.” She needed the reassurance of her van. It was a second office, and a reminder that she wasn’t just an almost-victim of a crime, or a murder witness.

“Let Officer Ogden drive you. I’ll have another officer bring your van to the station.”

The real Rio was back, the one with whom she could get herself into a lot of trouble. His hand was on her elbow, his warmth soothing.

“I’m all right, honest. I’ll follow Officer Ogden there.”

“It’s not a question, Kayla. It’s protocol. You were at the scene of a murder. We have to take a look at the van before you get back into it.”

“You’re kidding, right? You’re treating me like a suspect?”

Rio’s mouth was a thin line. “Damn it, Kayla, I know you’re not a murderer. But I can’t make any exceptions—”

“When it comes to your job. I think this is right about where we left off last year, isn’t it?”

She wrenched away her arm and stalked over to Officer Ogden, who stood next to a Silver Valley PD sedan. Kayla had no idea why or how it had happened, but she’d found herself at the mercy of the law again.

* * *

Rio watched as Kayla got into the patrol car with Ogden. Forensics would do a formal check of her van later.

He’d learned through years of police work to never rely on just his eyes. The criminal could have had an accomplice or circled back and hidden in the roomy van. Kayla hadn’t thought of that—she’d only recognized that he needed to be scrupulous about inspecting her van. He saw it all the time—witnesses and victims felt as if they were being victimized a second time by the work the police needed to do to ensure justice prevailed.

It stung more than usual because the witness was Kayla. He’d relived those few weeks with her more than he’d ever admit to himself, always questioning whether they still might be together if he had told her from the beginning what he did and what case he was working on.

He hadn’t expected to have those feelings after that first night. But when one night turned into a week, he’d had to tell her that he didn’t work only as a detective. He often went undercover. She hadn’t been happy to find that out. When her brother’s case came up, he could have passed it to another detective, could have done a lot of things to preserve at least their friendship.

But she found out first, when she’d been in the same diner as Rio. He’d been eating a quick lunch with three uniformed officers. As a detective he almost always wore civilian clothes, his weapon holstered under a jacket or blazer. That day he’d finished up a long undercover case and was still dressed to fit in with the members of the drug ring he’d infiltrated. Baggy jeans, big gold jewelry and his baseball cap on backward. The warmth and rush of awareness he associated with Kayla had hit him when he’d looked across the booths and found Kayla staring at him. She’d been dining with her girlfriend from yoga class Zora Krasny.

The “oh, shit” moment had been the end of their relationship.

She wouldn’t even look at him now as she sat in the police car, staring straight ahead through the window.

Kayla’s pallor shook him more than he cared to admit. The woman he’d thought he might be falling for was strong and quick to defend anyone, from her employees to a surly customer.