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I nipped at his bottom lip and then opened the car door to get out. “I’ll take you to Cracker Barrel tonight for dinner. Sounds like you’re just hungry.”
He barked out a laugh, and then I waved bye and turned to face my past. I walked up the cracked sidewalk to the front porch as I listened to Jack drive away. The porch steps were fixed, and they didn’t make so much as a creak as I stepped up to the door. I took a deep breath and stuck the key in the lock. I could do this. Ihadto do this.
“Jack will be back in an hour,” I said aloud. “No big deal.”
I pushed open the door, and I expected the smell of blood and death to greet me as it had the last time I was here. But there was nothing but the faint smell of fresh paint and lemons. I walked in and shut the door behind me, looking up the stairs and into the kitchen before I looked at the spot I’d almost met my death.
A creak of the floorboards had me spinning towards the den, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t see anyone, but I knew I wasn’t alone.
"So you've decided to move in with Jack, huh?” A voice called out. “I wondered how long it would take the two of you to stop dancing and get down to business. I always did like that boy.”
I tripped over my feet and slammed back against the door. Mewling whimpers escaped from my throat as my sweaty hand fumbled for the doorknob. But then the familiarity of that voice caught up to my brain and my knees turned to jelly.
"What's wrong, Jaye? Aren't you going to say hello?"
"Dad?" I whispered, just before I crumpled to the ground.
DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDREL: A J.J. GRAVES MYSTERY ~ Coming Soon!
About the author:
Liliana Hart is the pseudonym for an author of more than fifteen books. She lives in Texas with her husband and cats, and loves to be contacted by readers.
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My Website:http://www.lilianahart.com
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Here’s an excerpt of SHADOWS AND SILK, the newest offering in the MACKENZIE FAMILY series by Liliana Hart.
Available 12/25/12!
MacKenzies were nothing but trouble.
Brant had known that for almost fifteen years—ever since Cade MacKenzie had dragged him to his home in Montana for Thanksgiving one year and shoved him into the freezing cold pond behind their farmhouse. They’d been as close as brothers ever since, and he considered the MacKenzies to be his second family, especially since his sister, Bayleigh, was now married to Cade.
But sometimes families were a pain in the ass, and this was one of those times.
He weaved in and out of the late night Georgetown traffic—the Harley rumbling beneath him—as a cool mist fell and collected in fine droplets on his riding leathers. Every instinct he had was telling him to turn around and go the opposite direction.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice when it came to this latest summons. The call from Declan MacKenzie had come early that morning—there was to be a meeting between all team leaders involved in the investigation of the del Fuego drug cartel. All agencies had been working together for the past four years to put an end to the cartel’s reign of terror, and since Brant was the special agent in charge for Homeland Security, he had no choice but to be at the meeting.
He slowed and turned onto M Street, cursing the inaccuracy of the weatherman as a loud crack of thunder rent the air and the soft mist turned into a downpour. Headlights glared off the wet streets and impatient drivers blared their horns as this latest inconvenience kept them from their social obligations. He veered around a florist van to pull into the underground parking garage across the street from O’Malley’s Pub.
With his helmet stuck under his arm, he sprinted across the street and into the warmth and familiarity of the long time hangout used by a mixed bag of federal agents. The smell of beer and the polish they used to wipe down the seats of the bar stools and booths hung heavy in the air. The floors were scarred and the wood paneling on the walls darkened with age. Music thumped steadily from the speakers, but not so loud you couldn’t hear the person next to you. O’Malley’s was a place to talk shop, let off steam, or sweet talk pretty waitresses—though not necessarily in that order
Brant ran a hand through his hair, dripping water onto the mat on the floor, and wiped his feet.
“Agent Scott,” Jimmy O’Malley said from behind the bar. “Haven’t seen you in here in a while. What’ll it be?”
