The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire

Текст добавлен: 22 октября 2016, 00:05

Текст книги "The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire"

Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Thank you, thank you, thank you: Yvette, Traci, Tammy, Amy, Veronica, Audrey, Georgette, Tammy and Kelli for your constant support, guidance, patience and understanding.

Special shout-out & thank you to Stephanie Horton for loaning me your very cute accent!

The Beaumont Daily: You guys rock!

Thanks to Sarah Hansen for my gorgeous cover!

Thanks to EM Tippetts (Emily & Crew) for making everything fancy and functional.

To the readers: If you’re reading this, thank you! I appreciate you turning each page and coming back for more!

Heidi is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author.

Originally from Portland, Oregon and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup, and their newest addition of a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL.

During the day Heidi is behind a desk talking about Land Use. At night, she’s writing one of the many stories planned for release or sitting courtside during either daughter’s basketball games.

Read on for a sneak peek at No Limit by L.P. Dover, a steamy romantic suspense standalone.

“You found me.”

If there was ever a moment when I needed to keep my wits about me, it was now. But how could I do that when I wanted nothing more than to snap the man’s neck in front of me; to make him bleed like he did the families he murdered.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I spat through clenched teeth. His file flashed through my mind, the pictures of the carnage he left behind . . . those children. My blood boiled.

He was poised, ready to fight to the death by the look in his eyes. “I guess it was only a matter of time.”

His name was Michael Bruxton, a computer analyst with skills matching my own. But he had a sick hobby that cost the lives of three families over the past two weeks. I spent day and night searching for him, and now I found the bastard.

We circled each other in the rundown, abandoned warehouse he’d holed up in while on the run. On the floor were tokens he stole from his victims. The baby doll with a bright pink dress caught my attention first. My whole body shook with rage. “How could you do it, you sick fuck?”

His eyes sparkled. “It’s like putting paint to canvas.” He looked down at the things he collected and smiled. “Their pleas for help were music to my ears.”

Flashes of the children laying in their own blood, their lives taken from them at such a young age plagued my mind. They were innocent, along with their parents who only wanted to protect them. A man like him deserved to die a slow, painful death . . . and I was going to make sure that happened.

Lunging for him, we went down to the dirty floor, his head slamming against the concrete. He tried to punch me and missed. I couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through my veins. Pinning him with my weight, I punched him over and over, the feel of his bones crunching beneath my fist. I didn’t know the families who were killed, but I fought for them, bringing their murderer to justice.

The sick fuck spit to clear his throat, blood dribbling down his cheek, and laughed. “I love it when they fight back.” He pushed his arousal into me and groaned.

Jesus Christ. Grabbing his neck, I squeezed and snuffed his next words out. “You get off on pain you perverted son of a bitch?” I picked up a brick from nearby and raised it high. “Let’s see how you like this.” As hard as I could, I slammed it down on his face. “You said screams were music to your ears,” I yelled into the silence. “Where are the screams now, you bitch?” I slammed the brick back down on his mutilated face over and over again, trying to unsee the pictures of the flayed bodies he’d left behind.

Throwing the brick across the floor, I got up and surveyed the scene, breathing hard. “Now you can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“Got anything new comin’ up?” Blake asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Strapping on my holster, I shook my head. After everything that happened with Bruxton, I needed a break. “I hope not. You?”

Jaw tight, he trudged into my office, gray eyes full of turmoil. “Actually, I’m headin’ out for good. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you skipping town or quitting the team?”

Blake Evans and the rest of the guys on our team were the best undercover agents in the country. We’d already lost a couple people, including my sister who decided to move away to California to settle down. We couldn’t afford to lose another skilled agent.

A small smile splayed across his face as he sat down. “I’m still going to be a part of the team. This is my life. I’ll just be living it somewhere else.”

“Where to?”

“Wyoming. My grandfather passed away and left me his ranch. I figured I’d go since nothing’s really keeping me here. I’m single, and we’re always traveling with the job. I’m never in Charlotte that much anyway.”

“No shit. I think this is the first week in months I’ve been able to sit back and relax.” I stared at him and chuckled. “Blake Evans turned cowboy. I never would’ve thought it.”

He got to his feet. “Me neither, but it’ll sure be interesting. How about we get one last drink together at Second Street before I go?”

“Sounds good, bro. I was just about to head out.” We got halfway to the door when my cell phone rang. I looked down at my phone and walked back to my desk. “It’s the Chief of Police from Vegas.” So much for the break I wanted. Leaning against my desk, I answered the call. “Ryan Griffin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“No pleasure in this call, son. Are you still at the station?”

“I was just getting ready to leave. What do you need?”

Sounding tired, he sighed. “I sent you some files. Take a look at them for me.”

Blake took a seat while I sat back down behind my computer. It didn’t take long for it to boot back up and when it did, I found the files. “All right, I have the files opened up.” The first one was a woman who was found dead two months prior, followed by two other murder victims and one who was missing. “What the fuck is this?”

“Whoever this fucker is, he’s cutting them, strangling them, and then leaving them on the side of the road.”

I waved Blake over. “Take a look at this,” I whispered, holding the phone away. While he sat down, I moved back. “Did it all start two months ago with this first woman, or have you had similar cases?”

“Nope, all new. We’ve had eyewitnesses give us descriptions of the people these women were last seen with—all high rollers of Sin City. No one wants to talk. All we’re getting are dead ends. I need someone on the inside who doesn’t look like a cop. My people can’t get close enough.”

Blake moved out of the way and I glanced at the pictures one last time before closing them out. “I’ll be there soon,” I said, hanging up.

“That’s some really nasty shit going on out there,” Blake stated.

Anger boiled in my veins. The pictures of those women were going to forever be ingrained in my mind. “Yes, it is, and I’m going to make sure I find the fucker responsible.”

Three Months Later

“Going out again?” Ryan grumbled through the phone.

“That’s the plan. I can’t exactly do much sitting on my ass.”

“One would think that’s what you’ve been doing since you haven’t figured out shit. Please tell me you have something . . . anything other than the thousands you’ve won.”

Clenching my teeth, I took a deep breath. “I’ve given you more than what you were able to come up with on your own. For three months now, I’ve kicked ass at each casino and learned every single game. I have a name out there, but nothing’s going to make these guys seek me out. I’m nothing to them.”

Unfortunately, two more girls had shown up dead. Both were professional escorts from the same agency, which happened to be run by Ronnie Chatfield, a female pimp. I had yet to speak to her, but was determined to seek her out. The woman was invisible. On her website, it said the ranch was temporarily closed for business, yet more of their girls were disappearing.

The women were beautiful, some fuller than others, and way more expensive than the drugged out prostitutes you’d see on the street. These women were for the elite. Other than that, I did know what my suspects looked like, what their names were, where they worked, who their families were . . . basically, it was tracking them that was a complete bitch.

“But at least you’re enjoying the money in the meantime, right?” he scoffed.

“Kiss my fucking ass. I’m here to help you out. I don’t have to be here. If anyone wants to get this case solved quickly, it’s me. I’m ready to get the hell away from this place.”

Ryan huffed and the line grew silent. I had made a shit ton of money, but that was because I was good at the games. To get in with the high rollers, I had no choice but to learn. As a reward, the casinos offered me free rooms and other amenities. I was living like a king. There was no denying I enjoyed it, but my full focus was on the case, nothing else.

“Look, I hate to be a dick, but the FBI is breathing down my neck. If you don’t figure something out soon, they’re going to intervene.”

I snorted. “I’d like to see them get as far as I have.”

“Either way, they will show up. I just want you to be prepared. I’ve worked with some of those douchebags before.”

“As long as they stay out of my way, I’m fine.”

“I can already tell you now . . . they won’t.”

Keep Reading No Limit Now

THE REEDUCATION OF SAVANNAH MCGUIRE

The right of Heidi McLaughlin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000. This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9906788-3-0

COVER DESIGN: Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations

EDITING: Traci Blackwood

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