tagInterracial LoveDead Heat: Shattered Hearts Ch. 04

Dead Heat: Shattered Hearts Ch. 04



Tommy swung the door smasher and the cheap portal exploded inward. As we filed in, weapons drawn, people screamed and tried to run. We shouted in return, ordering them down and pleased that most complied. Gunfire erupted in the back room and I rushed to help Brad, who was pinned down in the hallway. Jonas Adams, crack dealer and purveyor of death, was in the rear bedroom, upset that we had intruded on his rape of a drugged-out young woman. He was shouting expletives, still pumping his half-hard prick and hoping to quickly be rid of us so he could finish.

Obviously, that wasn't going to happen. I acted as a diversion and Brad laid one right between his eyes, dropping him on the spot. The young woman just smiled, her glassy eyes reflecting Jonas' dead ones and reached for his cock. Brad covered and whisked her away. It took another two minutes to clear the house and we were disappointed not to find Ronnie and Mykal. In one of the upstairs rooms, I found a neatly folded square of toilet paper tucked inside an empty tube.

To whoever finds this, please inform my mother, Miss Fyona Hughes, that I am alive and well and that my father does not intend to hurt me. He only wants to talk to her. If this can be arranged, he will allow me to go free.

I phoned Fyona right away and listened to her cry over the phone lines. She was so happy to hear that her son was okay. "So how do we do this?"

"How do we do what?"

"Set up the meeting."

"Fyona, you're not seriously thinking about meeting with him, are you?"

"Of course, I'm going to! Are you crazy? That's my child we're talking about!"

"Fyona, you can't meet with Ronnie! Have you forgotten what he did to you?"

Her words were bitten off with anger. "I've never forgotten that, Pete. It's kinda hard to forget every time I undress." I wasn't sure what that meant but I wasn't happy. "And don't think you own me just because I kissed you!"

"I'm not, Fyona, and you know it!" It was our first fight. "I'll own you when I make love to you!" Jesus! What the hell was wrong with me?

"If you make love to me!"

I immediately countered, growling, "When and I guarantee, you won't forget it!"

We were both silent for a few moments. "I'm sorry, Pete."

"Fyona, I care very much for you. I never want to see you like you were when we first met again. Now that I know you, every time I think about that, my heart just breaks."

"Pete … "

"Don't ask me not to care." I heard the hitch in her breath and knew that tears weren't far behind. "If you want to go through this meeting, then I'll arrange it, but under no circumstances do I want you to meet with this jerk alone, okay? I'm not trying to own you; I'm just trying to protect you. Okay?"

"Yes, Pete."

"Ugh! Don't answer me like that! I don't want a woman that kisses my ass … " I hesitated, dark thoughts creeping in. "Well, at least not like that!" I heard a soft snicker. "I want you to be as passionate about arguing with me as you are about making love with me."

He heard her chuckle again and was thankful that he could make her forget the seriousness of the situation. "I haven't done either in such a long time that I think I'd have to practice."

"You know what they say, 'Practice Makes Perfect'." I know I was bold but I couldn't help it. Our sexy banter just felt right. It was so easy to talk to her, even in these circumstances. "We'll have plenty of time for that later. Why don't we just concentrate on Mykal now? Deal?"


"Okay. Let me make some arrangements and I'll get back with you."

"Thanks, Pete, and I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, hon." I smiled, hoping she could hear it in my voice. "You stay put and I'll drop by later."

"Good. I fried some chicken today. There's plenty."

"Call you later."

I went home and took a shower, scrubbing every inch with extra thorough care. I didn't know but I was hoping to have her tonight. I couldn't seem to think about anything else except her. Everything about her screamed my name. The warmth of her body and the passion in her kiss awakened something that had long been dormant in me, like a pleasant childhood memory. I hadn't told her my story.

I hadn't told her about Sarah and the havoc she wreaked on my life before she nearly murdered me and I had to arrest her for being America's second female serial killer. I hadn't told her that I watched Sarah plunge a knife into her stomach and kill her unborn child, my unborn child, and then laughed about it. I had gone through such trauma that I had decided not to date or ever marry.

All of this had occurred two years after I'd encountered Fyona and since then, I had buried myself in my work. I hadn't really paid too much attention to my looks, just making sure that I was trim for the job. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Hard, blue eyes glared back. Blond wavy hair that was a tad bit too long covered my collar. My thrice-broken nose tilted like the old Tower of Pisa and a nasty cut neatly bifurcated my bottom lip, giving me a sexy snarl.

The rest of me was sleek skin over hard muscle and for the life of me, I couldn't see what Fyona saw in me but I sure as hell wasn't going to question it. I threw on jeans and a Polo shirt, grabbed the cold wines I bought for the evening and drove over to her house.

A different car was in the driveway, a silver Mustang with gleaming rims. The SUV was nowhere in sight. I didn't give it much thought since the lights were on inside. The front door was my first clue. It was cracked slightly and I nudged it open with my boot, my hackles rising and instincts tingling. Anita Baker's torchy voice filled the living room and I saw the table had been set for two, unlit candles and fragrant roses proclaiming an intimate affair.

But I also saw the broken bottle of gewürztraminer soaking into the sisal rug and a spurt of adrenalin tightened my chest. I set the bag on the table and drew my gun, stepping through the rest of the house. I found what I'd dreaded: signs of forced entry at the back door, a crowbar discarded in one of the bedrooms and a hastily written note on the master bedroom's mirror.

Pete, someone's breaking in and I think it's Ronnie. If it is, he will either kill me here or take us to the old apartment where Mykal stabbed him the first time. I hope you get this before he has a chance to kill us. Sorry, Fy.

My entire body felt numb and I must have been on auto-pilot because I didn't remember calling Brad and telling him to pull a ten-year-old file and give me the address. But he did and he didn't ask twice when I told him to bring my gear and meet me there.

I only hoped that I wasn't late.

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