Chapter One
Sebastian Sutcliff
August 15th
“Say again? Where are you?” Closing my eyes, I picture any number of scenarios from my wife’s recent investigations, none of them good.
“Bed Sty. I’ll text you the address.” Sam must’ve fallen and hit her head. No way in hell, after all of our conversations, would she dare venture into such a dangerous neighborhood at this hour of the night.
“Don’t worry, Suds. I’m fine. I just um… need you here.” The little hesitation is a sure tell my danger magnet has yet again attracted trouble.
“Stay where you are. I’m coming. Sam? You there?” I snatch the car keys from the hook, slide my leather holster over my shoulder, and unlock my gun from the safe. On the way out, I fill Catrina’s food and water bowls. Who knows how long this might take? Knowing my wife, she’s got herself mixed up in some kind of crazy shenanigans.
As my CO used to say, nothing good happens at two in the morning.
Fuck. When our connection ends, I run every red light on Ocean Parkway and rev up to seventy-five mph. With the help of the Google Lady, I turn multiple times until I spot a half dozen police cruisers and an ambulance flashing in front of an ancient brick apartment building.
Shit, is she hurt?
The SUV is parked illegally, near a hydrant. Praying I don’t get towed, I place her dad’s business card in my windshield and dash inside.
Me: I’m here. Where the hell r u?
Sam: Third floor
The strong stench of urine in the lobby stings my eyes. Covering my mouth and nose, I make my way upstairs. With no air-conditioning, it has to be close to one hundred degrees and by the time I reach the landing, my t-shirt is soaked. Wiping sweat from my face, I run up the next few floors until I see her familiar form.
Her pretty face turns and she waves me over to where she stands in the busy hallway.
All the air whooshes out of my lungs as I swallow hard and take her into my arms. “Why’d you hang up on me?”
I cup her cheeks and capture her gaze. “You worried the fuck out of me.”
“I’m sorry. They didn’t want me calling anyone.” Her head tilts at the officers bustling in and out of an open apartment door.
One, an older cop, narrows his eyes at my holstered weapon and takes in my Patten Securities T-shirt.
“You can’t be here, sir.”
