Vows of Vengeance. Rita Herron

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СКАЧАТЬ police car swirled through the darkness, the neon lights of the Sunset Motel blinking as he parked. One letter was missing in the word Sunset so it read the Sunet, and the building was so dilapidated it should have been condemned. A smattering of rattletrap cars filled the lot, a group of spectators already hovered in the parking lot, smoking cigarettes and mumbling, obviously aware their peaceful night had been interrupted by crime.

      He barreled his sedan into a parking spot, killed the engine, then grabbed his badge and flashed it at the locals working to secure the scene.

      “Special Agent Devlin.”

      The squatty officer at the bottom of the steps spoke first. “Detective Black said you’d be here.”

      Luke nodded, grimacing. The man obviously knew about his past. As Luke climbed the steps to the second floor, he dodged a reporter and cameraman. The motel rooms were lined up, each with its own outdoor access to the balcony. The doors were painted an avocado-green that had faded to a pea-green color from the blistering sun and relentless summer heat.

      Seconds later, he stopped at the doorway, his gaze skimming past the security guard talking to one of the local cops. Through the open doorway, he cataloged details of the scene.

      Blood was splattered everywhere, soaking the sheets and dotting the stained gray carpet. The foul odors of death hit him. The mumblings of policemen at work. A crime scene crew that had just arrived.

      He saw Detective Black inside, then his gaze landed on Stella, and his heart literally seemed to stop beating.

      She sat stone-stiff in one of the motel chairs, her hands knotted, her normally olive complexion a pasty-white, while Black questioned her. Luke hadn’t imagined the gut-wrenching reality of seeing her alive, in the flesh.

      The hair that had been buttery-blond was now jet-black, not short and layered as when he’d known her, but a long tangle of ebony waves that sent a bolt of surprise through him. Surprise and sexual desire. He had wanted Stella the first moment he’d met her. The moment he’d looked into her pale green eyes.

      She’d been leaning against a bar wearing a red dress that hugged her curves and a pair of rhinestone earrings that had dangled down to her shoulders. Although surrounded by gaping men, she’d appeared disinterested. Instead she’d looked lost and lonely.

      After the death of his partner and the questions surrounding J.T.’s final days, Luke had been vulnerable himself. He’d always admired the way Osborne had juggled his career and a wife, and for the first time in his life, Luke had wanted the same.

      In an uncharacteristic move, he’d bought Stella a drink. Three vodka martinis later, and they’d crawled into bed for some of the steamiest sex in his life. Stella had completely poleaxed him with her odd mixture of shy vulnerability and her bold lack of inhibitions about her body.

      A month later, they’d eloped and that blissful month of premarriage heaven had turned into the year from hell.

      He cleared this throat, struggled for calm and entered the room. An eerie quiet descended as if the black cloud that had been following him had swallowed the light. Two officers parted, their stares burning his back as he walked toward her. They knew who he was. Knew this was his wife.

      When he stopped, only a breath away from her, he expected recognition. He waited, bracing himself, tamping down his anger.

      She looked up, and he stared into her light green eyes, was caught anew by the sensuality and sweetness he’d once seen there. A bruise darkened her cheek, though, and a cold look of horror filled those crystalline eyes, as well as a dead emptiness that shook him to the core.

      Yes, it was Stella.

      But not the Stella he remembered.

      She didn’t speak, jump up and greet him, or offer an explanation. Didn’t acknowledge that she was his wife. Didn’t move to touch him, to hold him or beg him for forgiveness.

      He had to clear his throat twice to make it work. “Stella?”

      He waited, his lungs tight.

      “Yes.” An odd, almost distant look glazed her expression, then her voice came out in a low whisper. “Who are you?”

      STELLA’S HEAD was swimming. First from waking up to find the dead man beside her, her hands coated in blood. Then the security guard and police with their questions and accusing eyes.

      And now this stranger…was staring at her, calling her name, looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost.

      As if she should know him.

      “Come on, Stella,” he said in a harsh voice. “It may have been over a year since we were together, but don’t pretend you don’t recognize me.”

      “I…” She gripped her hands in her lap, shuddering at the blood on her fingers. The sticky dark substance had seeped beneath her fingernails, soaked into her skin, settled in the fine lines on her palms. The smell suffocated her, the feel of the dried blood caking her hands nauseating her.

      She desperately wanted to shower and rid her body of the stench of the dead man, but the detective beside her had already informed her bathing was impossible. They had to collect evidence. Fingerprints, DNA. Protect the crime scene.

      So they could nail her for the murder.

      Even though confusion muddled her mind, she knew what they were thinking. Realized she looked guilty. For God’s sake, she’d been holding the gun when the cop had arrived.

      And what had this man said—that it had been a year since she’d seen him? Denial swept through her. If she’d ever met him, she wouldn’t have forgotten him. He was too powerful. Virile. Sexy. Intimidating.

      Then again, she couldn’t remember anything except her name.

      “Stella?”

      She studied his features, searching for familiarity, for any dot of a memory to return. His tight jeans accentuated the massive power of his body. He was tall, over six feet, broad-shouldered and muscular. His eyes were dark, too, like two hot coals on fire, probing, unnerving as if he never smiled. A broad jaw brushed with dark stubble gave him a sexy appearance, but the tight set to that jaw indicated he was angry.

      Why would this man be angry with her?

      “I…don’t know who you are or why you think you know me.” She met his gaze, determined to prove her point, but somewhere deep inside, in the far recesses of her mind, something intangible registered.

      A wild and primitive awareness flickered in his eyes, something predatory, an almost hungry look, as if she’d not only met him, but he’d known her intimately.

      As quickly as the moment came, it fled, and she was thrust back into the depths of lost time.

      “This isn’t funny, Stella.” The man stalked toward her, stopped and gritted his teeth. “I’ve been searching for you ever since you ran out on our wedding night.”

      Stella gasped, perspiration beading her lip. Wedding night? What was he talking about? She’d never been married….

      Had she?

      LUKE STUDIED СКАЧАТЬ