At fifty-four she was a twice-divorced bottle blonde with a raucous, tobacco-tinged laugh that had taken more than a few of her patrons by surprise. Most of her nights were spent at a bar in town called Little Pete’s where she regularly debated politics, sports and religion. And if the right man ...
Not that he was prepared to view Jasmine as a victim, but obviously someone did. Unfortunately, the someone who best fit the caller profile was a should-be-dead drug lord with a weighty ax to grind. Wainwright had been old school all the way. Murder for necessity, no problem. Murder for pleasure?...
James slammed the door of the small, empty shed. But before he headed back to the SUV and his waiting driver, he reached for the untraceable cell and punched in that damn speed dial number he had begun to dread calling. “Tell me Cusack is dead,” was the greeting with which the phone was answered....
The thin young woman stood in their doorway, peering through her long bangs with adoring eyes, clearly mesmerized by the sight of half-naked Brady. Petra couldn’t blame her. The man was definitely something to look at, even from the back, especially from the back. She noticed a couple of scars ac...