Gut Instinct. Barb Han

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Gut Instinct - Barb Han


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since they’d last spoken. “She’s all grown up now with a family of her own.”

      “Did she have a boy or girl?”

      “A boy.”

      “Another fine Campbell man,” she noted. The pride in her tone caused Luke’s chest to swell.

      “He’s an Evans, but, yeah, he’ll always have Campbell blood running through him.” He absently rubbed the scruff on his face. “He already acts like one of us. He’s taken over their lives.”

      “Then she married Riley.” A melancholy look overtook her otherwise-exhausted expression. “I wish I could’ve been there. Your sisters were always kind to me. I can’t even imagine your gran’s reaction to the news. She must be so proud.”

      “She’s beside herself, all right. You know how she is. We had a big barbecue to celebrate the day he came into the world.” He smiled, and a little bit of the tension from the day subsided.

      “Mind if I ask his name?” She sat on the edge of the bed, folded her hands in her lap and beamed up at him.

      “Henry, but we call him Hitch for the way he hitched a ride in all of our hearts.” For a second, time warped. There she sat on his guest bed, wearing the AC/DC T-shirt she’d stolen from him. She’d claimed he’d broken it in for her. Conversation was easy, just like old times. He leaned against the doorjamb. Luke forgot how much he missed talking to his wife. Ex-wife, a little voice inside his head corrected.

      As much as he wanted to stay on memory lane a little longer, he couldn’t afford to get sidetracked for so many more reasons than just this case. “I should check in and see what the team has come up with. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

      Her chest deflated. “Okay.”

      The image of Julie on his bed in his nightshirt stirred an inappropriate sexual reaction. Luke changed his plan and headed to the shower.

      The blasting cool water went straight to his throbbing midsection. He folded his arms above his head and braced himself against the wall, allowing water to cascade down his back. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the case.

      A distraction right now was about the worst thing. He needed to keep a clear head and his thoughts off those long silky legs of hers. Of course, his body screamed accomplishing that feat would be easier said than done with her under the same roof.

      A serial killer wanted to stop her heart from beating, he reminded himself.

      He let the thought sit for a minute, bearing the full weight of the returning rock.

      The shower helped him refocus. Luke toweled off and threw on boxer shorts and a T-shirt.

      Downstairs, he made a sandwich and then booted up his laptop. Skimming through two hundred–plus emails, he took a bite and chewed.

      The first email he opened was from the leader of the evidence response team. Preliminary data didn’t give them much to work with, other than the orange juice. They’d combed the place in a grid, as per standard operating procedure. Nothing stood out. Didn’t seem to help that he hadn’t had time to spread bleach everywhere, and especially on the victim. They’d pulled carpet fibers anyway. They’d taken photographs and diagrammed the scene. If they found anything useful, Luke would be the first to know, the team leader promised.

      Luke scanned emails for Garcia’s name or anything from tech.

      Nothing yet on either count.

      His cell phone buzzed. He moved to the table and retrieved it.

      There were eight texts. They must’ve come in while he was in the shower. He scrolled through them and stopped at Garcia.

      His message said there were no cities or residents named Devil in the state of Texas. But there were twenty-four people in Texas with the last name Devel.

      Luke texted Garcia. Excellent. We can split the list and start from there.

      Garcia pinged back immediately. I’ll email the names and addresses.

      Luke replied. I’ll take the bottom half.

      He thumbed through the rest of his messages. Most were from his family. There was a new picture of Hitch. A pain hit hard and fast looking at the little boy’s round cheeks and toothless smile. For a split second, Luke wondered if his and Julie’s baby would look like his nephew.

      Shaking off the thought, the ache in his chest, he moved to his laptop.

      In the system, he pulled up the email from Garcia and scanned all twelve names. He printed the list. Three were female. He’d pay them a visit anyway in case one had a brother, husband or father sharing the name. He put a question mark by their names.

      One Devel was dead. He crossed out that entry. Eight names drew more interesting possibilities. Two weren’t far. They lived in Addison and Dallas. The other names came from Austin, San Antonio and Houston. He could drive a circle. It would take only a couple of days max to investigate everyone on his list.

      They’d start tomorrow.

      Since both of his brothers worked in law enforcement, a U.S. marshal and a Border Patrol agent, Luke sent the list to them, as well, asking for background checks, paying special attention to anyone in the medical field.

      The stairs creaked and Julie stepped into the room. “Just wanted a glass of water. Hope that’s okay.”

      “Help yourself.” He motioned toward the kitchen. Being around her, especially at night, made him want things he shouldn’t. He kept his gaze focused on the monitor, where it belonged.

      She poured her drink. “Not sure if I can sleep just yet. Mind if I sit?”

      “Not at all,” he said, but his brain protested. If she knew how his body went on autopilot sex alert every time she was near, he wondered if she’d run. He also wondered if she still made that sexy little groan when he traced his finger behind the back of her knee.

      She took a seat across the dining room table from him. “Find anything interesting?”

      He glanced up and his heart squeezed. “Not yet. Garcia sent a list of names. We’re going on a road trip tomorrow to investigate a list of people who have a last name spelled D-e-v-e-l.”

      “How’d you get that name?”

      “From his note. He capitalized the name Devil. We ran variations and this is the best match.”

      “Sounds promising.”

      “Might not be anything.” They were playing probabilities. The real reason the letter d had been written in uppercase could mean something else entirely. Yeah, a copycat. Or Rob could simply be playing with them, waving that big IQ like a you’re-an-idiot flag.

      She took a sip of water.

      He didn’t want to get her hopes up, considering they had little to go on. “We don’t know if it’ll lead anywhere just yet.” He looked into her amber eyes and saw that the color had deepened, the way it did when he brushed his lips across hers. Damn.

      What time was it?

      He glanced at the clock, needing a reality check.

      “It’s well after midnight,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

      “We need to get on the road early tomorrow. I was hoping we could leave by six.”

      She gasped. “In the morning?”

      He chuckled. She’d never been an early bird. Then again, he wasn’t, either, when he’d had the chance to lie in bed with her, hold her, kiss her. He could lose an entire day with her in his arms. Nothing else mattered but the two of them, being together. Hell, they’d missed more than a few meals in favor of staying in bed. The war broke him of needing sleep. Broke him of a lot of other things, too.

      Or maybe just broke him.

      She


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