Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
AMELIA
Amelia floored the gas pedal, praying the old van would stay upright as it barreled down the road.
The SUV behind her sped forward until she was certain the driver would make contact.
Up ahead she spotted a sharp right turn that mostly only locals knew about.
If the fucker behind her was just exercising some road rage, he wouldn’t follow her onto the potholed, dirt and gravel path leading to the marina.
Especially with the snow starting to cover it.
The SUV lurched forward suddenly, slamming into the back of her vehicle and sending a hard shutter through the van. The SUV went it to a spin. A tornado of snow went up around it. Amelia sped up—until the steering wheel shook violently in her hands and the old vehicle groaned in protest.
Just hold the wheel, girl. You got this.
Her arms and hands ached from grasping the steering wheel. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her pulse pounded hard in her ears. The truck stopped spinning and moved forward again, gaining on her quickly. She knew what had to be done.
Inches from the mostly hidden turn, she whipped the wheel of her medical examiner’s van hard to the right, fishtailing wildly on the slick road as the van slid into the path that hadn’t really earned the name road.
Her pursuer slammed his brakes but slid straight past the turn.
A loud crash echoed through the neighborhood as Amelia continued down the road hoping no one was hurt but also glad she was out of danger.
As she pulled in behind the shop at the marina, Amelia put the van in park and leaned against the steering wheel, resting her head on her arms.
What the hell had just happened?
She exhaled heavily, deciding to chalk it up to road rage. There was nothing else it could be.
Something about this whole day had felt off from the moment she’d opened her eyes. Like maybe she should have just stayed in bed. The nagging feeling that her whole world was about to be altered forever—thrown off its trajectory completely even—wouldn’t go away.
No matter.
She had a job to do and with a victim waiting on her, there was no choice but to do it. Amelia put the van in drive and pulled around the building, leaving the marina by its main entrance rather than the path she’d plowed to get there.
Tremors coursed through Amelia as she willed the adrenaline crash away.
The shaking and heavy breathing brought on by her parasympathetic nervous response made it nearly impossible to concentrate on driving.
Somehow, though she made it to the crime scene address, out of her van and up two flights of stairs to the victim’s third floor apartment.
The familiar, coppery scent assaulted her nostrils the moment she stepped through the door.
Her brain immediately switched focus to the task at hand, knowing before ever making it to the actual crime scene exactly what had happened.
Well, maybe not exactly, but she had a pretty solid idea it wouldn’t be neat and tidy.
Crimes of passion never were—and this had all the makings of a passionate crime.
Two wine glasses and an empty bottle sat on the coffee table. One glass half full, the other contained a few drops of leftover red liquid.
The remains of a charcuterie spread sat beside the bottle. A few bites of cheese rolled in slices of hard salami were laid out on a cocktail napkin by the empty glass.
“Hey!” she called to one of the crime scene people. “There’s a cell phone under the sofa. You can see the edge of it right there.”
“Great catch, ma’am,” the young man wearing a badge marked INTERN said, pulling on some gloves and retrieving the phone.
Someone just tried to run her off the road and now she’s a ma’am? The day just kept getting worse and worse.
Amelia continued on through the sparsely decorated condo.
An open wallet lay on the bar top in the small kitchen area.
The license of one Jonah Perkins had been removed and set on the counter beside it.
Amelia noted his age, forty-three, and the self-assured look of a too confident man in the photo.
Following the trail of clothing labelled with evidence markers and uniformed officers milling around cracking inappropriate jokes, she walked into a back bedroom.
Despite the mask she’d donned before entering the space, dried blood—and death—permeated the air, interspersed with the sad smell of fear and desperation.
She could see why.
The man on the bed had definitely had better days. Or, nights, as the case may be. Whatever he’d expected from the cheap wine, cheese and pepperoni had probably not gone according to plan.
Maybe he should have sprung for the Greek olives too.
Not nice, Amelia.
A satin scarf was tied tightly around his neck.
The terror in his lifeless eyes spoke volumes and denounced the sexual chemistry that had probably crackled in the air prior to his death.
Lifting the sheet that had been pulled up to mid-torso, Amelia swallowed hard.
A necktie, adorned his groin like a ribbon on a Christmas gift.
His assailant had come with a grudge for sure.
An overturned lamp on a nightstand was the only indication of any sort of struggle. Not real evidence of murder but also it was a big clue that something had gone wrong.
Until what point had this been consensual? The box of condoms and bottle of fruit flavored lubricant under the lamp told a totally different story than the scene before her.
“Was she worth it?” Amelia asked her new client as she pulled on gloves. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
The air in the space changed—instantly charged with electricity that had all the little hairs at the back of her neck standing straight up.
“Haven’t you heard? Dead men tell no tales.”
She froze, dropping one of the gloves. A voice smoother than the best Tennessee whiskey and twice as sexy sounded from the door.
Her skin sizzled as the sound wrapped around her like a vice.
A voice Amelia would never ever not recognize.
She leaned down and grabbed the glove before slowly turning to face a set of blue eyes she’d never expected to ever see again.
At least not in this lifetime.
That voice though…the things he’d whispered to her…
A shock of desire caught her off guard.
Holy hell. It just couldn’t be him, could it?
One night. A serious lack in judgement. Over ten years ago.
Maybe if she didn’t make eye contact, she’d never have to know for sure and life could just continue on. So, she busied herself with jotting down a few notes, to avoid turning to face him.
“Oh, they tell plenty of tales. The dead speak loudly. You just have to listen.” Hopefully he didn’t notice the quiet quiver of her words. She inhaled slowly. How could he actually be the one standing there?
“So, what’s this one saying? Rough sex gone bad? Angry lover? BDSM without a safe word?”
“How about murder?” Amelia finally turned.
“Seems plausible to me.”
His suit was a stark contrast to the cape and mask he’d worn that night.
It fit him like it had been made just for him.
He gave her a look that churned her up insides and set her pulse rate at bullet train speed.
He didn’t say anything, just stood there looking way too damn good, smiling. Not one single hint of recognition.
Thank God.
“Can I help you?” She narrowed her eyes, sending him a questioning look with a hint of annoyed glare, hoping he was as oblivious to her identity and discomfort as he appeared to be.
The man returned her glare with another bright, cocky smile that gave the impression he was still that boy that grew up pitching baseballs and dating the head cheerleader.
She audibly exhaled her relief. He had no idea who she was.
“Detective A.J. Gibbs.” He held out his hand. Noting her gloves, he quickly dropped it back to his side. “Are you the new medical examiner?”
That voice of his…she couldn’t concentrate with him talking. It brought back too many images she’d worked hard to lock away. She shook her head to clear it.
“No?” He looked confused. “You’re not the new medical examiner?”
Embarrassment flooded through her. “Of course, I am. Do people make a habit of crashing crime scenes just for fun in this city?”
“No. But—you shook your head and...”
“Dr. Amelia Sundry,” she quickly interrupted, in a feeble attempt to regain control of the situation. “Would you mind leaving my crime scene now, please? I need quiet.”
She tried hard not to maintain eye contact, uncomfortable with the way his bright blue gaze made her blood heat up.
He looked at her like he knew exactly what was in her mind.
Except, she doubted that he did. Their last encounter, she’d been in full costume, mask included.
He’d never seen her face. The one thing that had kept her pride intact as they left that night behind them.
She’d seen his though, when he pushed his own mask aside to kiss her breathless.
Watched those blue sky-colored irises darken to deep hurricane churned waters with every moan.
He’d worn no mask then—at least not an external one.
The gates to his soul had remained tightly locked though, even in their shared moment of passion.
He didn’t recognize her then and he sure didn’t know who she was now. Amelia had obviously just been another one of his conquests.
Amelia frowned, grateful for the N95 mask she wore. It’s protection now extended to hiding her emotions. “Why aren’t you masked? We’re in the middle of a pandemic, you know.”
He shrugged. “The mask mandate was lifted. I like to breathe fresh air.”