Santa Assignment. Delores Fossen
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of being at the very bottom on that theoretical list. But he had no plans for her to see him.
Not until he was actually in the process of killing her, that is.
He smiled. The thoughts of her death sent a rush of pleasure and anticipation through him. It wouldn’t be fast. Not some impulsive act born out of rage and the need for vengeance. It would be methodical. Precise. Cold-blooded. Because she had to be punished for what she’d done, and a quick bullet to the head wouldn’t punish her enough.
No.
Not nearly enough.
He’d made a mistake when he’d killed her sister, Dana. But he’d learned a lot from that little faux pas. Without suffering, retribution just wasn’t very satisfying. This time, there would definitely be suffering.
In fact, he’d already set his plan of suffering into motion with the surprise he had left in her house while she was out. It’d been easy to disarm the security system and slip inside. And his gift would perhaps rid her of any peace of mind she’d managed to find since her sister’s death.
Sweet, delicious torture. With the promise of much more to come.
But for now, he watched.
Waited.
And savored the scene that was unfolding right in front of him. He resisted the urge to open the van window so the heavily tinted glass wouldn’t obstruct his view of her and the encounter that was about to take place.
Pausing at the bottom of the steps, she stared up at the tall imposing visitor in the black coat who stood on her front porch. Even through the tinted glass of his car window, he could see Ashley’s expression go from astonishment to concern.
He laughed.
Because he knew that concern would only get worse, much worse, when she learned why her former brother-in-law, Lt. Brayden O’Malley, had come all the way from San Antonio. It was a stroke of luck, really. A special kind of torment for both of them that even he couldn’t have planned.
Not only had the lieutenant indirectly led him to Ashley—through the PI the man had hired to check up on her—but Brayden O’Malley would be the one to deliver the first blow. Or maybe the second, if she found the little surprise first. But it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
No. He would do the final deed himself.
After he’d played with her for a while.
He laughed at that thought, too. And he settled back into the seat, turned up the volume on his eavesdropping equipment and waited for Ashley Palmer’s world to come crashing down around her.
Chapter One
“Did hell freeze over?” Ashley asked, stepping onto the porch.
She spared him a glance, barely, before she turned her back to him and pulled out a key ring from her black leather shoulder purse. A tiny canister of pepper spray dangled from the large brass ring and clanged against the keys.
Brayden took a deep steadying breath. It didn’t help. Of course, that was asking a lot from a mere breath. Not much would steady him at this point. Especially not coming face-to-face, or rather face-to-back, with a woman he’d vowed never to lay eyes on again.
He’d made that vow exactly two years, seven months and four days ago. At a moment when Ashley still had his dead wife’s blood on her hands—both literally and figuratively. But Brayden had to push aside those brutal images. While he was at it, he had to dismiss the vow he’d made.
Because he desperately needed her.
Of course, now he had to figure out how to tell her that he wanted to take her seemingly ordered life and turn it upside down. Oh, and that the upside-down part would include forging a highly intimate, permanent relationship with a man she hated—him.
Whatever the opposite of a piece of cake was, this was it.
“Maybe hell did freeze over,” Brayden admitted under his breath. “Because I could swear there was just a sharp drop in the temperature.”
He obviously didn’t mumble it nearly low enough because Ashley glanced over her shoulder at him. The corner of her peach-tinged mouth lifted. Not from humor. Nope. There wasn’t a trace of fun and merriment on that mouth or in her cool turquoise-blue eyes.
So that she could reach the lock on the door, Ashley stepped closer. Close enough for him to catch her scent.
Something exotic and high priced.
A reminder that his former sister-in-law had expensive tastes, even if she no longer lived in luxury. This modest one-story place was a far cry from her sprawling upscale house in San Antonio.
Ditto for her present job. According to the background check he’d had run on her, she was practicing law—but mainly pro bono cases—for single mothers trying to collect overdue child support. Not exactly a six-figure income, and it was a huge financial step down from being the rising star of criminal defense attorneys in San Antonio.
“Come inside before you get frostbite or something,” Ashley said, shifting the paper sack of groceries to her hip so she could open the door. The security system immediately began to whine, and she reached inside to press the buttons on a keypad to disarm it.
Like her pseudosmile, her words weren’t really an invitation. Definitely not driven by a need to be polite, they were no doubt a product of curiosity. But he sensed apprehension as well. Lots of that.
Brayden understood completely.
Every inch of him was apprehensive.
She set the bag on a counter that separated the tiny living area from the dining room and peeled off her burgundy leather coat and hat. She’d cut her hair. Short and fashionably unstyled. And it was no longer honey-blond, but a dark chocolate that was a startling contrast against her cool pale skin. And surprisingly attractive.
Brayden truly wished he hadn’t noticed.
It had to be the fatigue and the stress.
It had to be.
“I’m not sure how this should work,” Ashley admitted, moistening those peachy lips. “Do we try some chitchat first? Or should we just get straight to the point of the argument that we both know we’ll end up having?”
His former sister-in-law had faults, but her directness sure wasn’t one of them. Under the circumstances, he found it refreshing.
“Let’s skip the chitchat. And just to let you know up front—brace yourself because you’re not going to like the point,” he volunteered.
“I figured as much.” She propped her hands on her hips. Not waif hips either. Curved ones. She was definitely built like a woman, and the snug jeans only emphasized that.
Yet something else he wished he hadn’t noticed.
Ashley studied him a moment. “So, you found out, huh?”
Brayden was almost certain he blinked. He hadn’t thought she would be the one delivering the surprises today. “Found out? About what?”
She blinked too. And for a split second, there was a panicky look in Ashley’s eyes. But she quickly covered it with a huff, which had a definite duh tone to it. “About where to find me, of course. Let me guess—you want to confront me about your unresolved anger? And this is some kind of requirement for a twelve-step program to help you deal with Dana’s murder?”
“No twelve-step program could help with that.” It’d taken long agonizing months to push the pain of his wife’s death aside just so he could function. It’d taken longer still for the numbness to go away. And even now, his life wasn’t normal. Never would be.
“Well, yeah,” she grumbled. “You got me there.”
Ashley turned her back to him again, pulled a pint of caramel-fudge ice cream from her grocery bag and strolled