HOME (Alyssa Donovan Series #2)

By Tracie Gerardi

New York City Homicide Detective Alyssa Donovan is back! Along with her partner, Detective Jack Keller, she faces an incredibly dangerous and elusive criminal. One with a deep secret and a horrifying motive. Alyssa and Jack have to tail a vicious psychopath, who is keeping them on their toes and challenging their skills. What begins as an ordinary case takes a cyclonic turn for the worst, and from the moment the two lay eyes on the first victim, one thing is clear: they definitely aren't in Kansas anymore. And they'll have to do more than just click their heels together to find their way HOME.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracie Gerardi
• Release date: May 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476038650

Book preview

HOME

An Alyssa Donovan Mystery

By Tracie M. Gerardi

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HOME

An Alyssa Donovan Mystery

By Tracie M. Gerardi

Copyright 2011 BKMysteries and Tracie M. Gerardi

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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For Mom:

You told me not to be afraid of flying over the rainbow.

For the rest of you:

It’s never too late to defy gravity.

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Table of Contents

PROLOGUE Interrupted

CHAPTER ONE Labor Day

CHAPTER TWO Labor Day, Part Two

CHAPTER THREE Bowled Over

CHAPTER FOUR Lovebirds, Lunch, and Luck

CHAPTER FIVE Innocence

CHAPTER SIX Party

CHAPTER SEVEN Bubbles

CHAPTER EIGHT Desk Duty

CHAPTER NINE Surprises

CHAPTER TEN Lily

CHAPTER ELEVEN Babes on Broadway

CHAPTER TWELVE A Star Is Born

CHAPTER THIRTEEN I'll Get You, My Pretty

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Ease On Down The Road

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Sisters

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Confession of Killer Queen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Another Go

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Aftermath

CHAPTER NINETEEN Over

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PROLOGUE

Interrupted

Monday, September 7th, 3:25 AM

She was looking around the living room staring at boxes, wondering how the hell she acquired so much shit when she never had time to go shopping. She scanned the penthouse, amazed at how spacious it was. The entire apartment she’d left behind would fit inside this room. In fact, her entire apartment was in the living room, in boxes, making the immaculate space look more like a neighborhood swap meet.

She let out a slow breath as she padded, barefoot, on the polished hardwood floor, into the kitchen. She took a sharp breath, marveling at what she saw around her. She glanced back at the white leather sectional sofa, large enough to seat ten people, and she wondered if she even knew ten people.

Her eyes slowly traveled over the walls, over the built-in mahogany bookshelves, to the floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the city skyline in a panoramic view. Her lips curled into a pensive smile as her gaze dropped to the accent tables with inlaid marble tops. She turned her gaze back to the granite countertop of the kitchen island, taking in the sight of the stainless steel refrigerator and glass-top stove.

She took another step, toward the counter against the wall. and ran her hand over the smooth stone surface, unable to truly understand how this was all hers now. With another sigh, she reached up into a cherry-wood cabinet, letting her hand rest on the shiny silver handle for a bit too long. She pulled out a crystal goblet with a J etched into the side and hummed a bit as she held it up to the dim light and watched the rainbow dance on the white wall.

She carefully set it down on the marble and poured herself a glass of merlot hoping it would calm the nerves that had crept up on her.

She took a long, slow sip before trotting back into the elegant living room and settling on the floor in front of one of the large cardboard containers. She set the goblet down on the dark wood, sliding it far enough away to avoid knocking it over as she worked. Opening the box, she smiled at its contents before grabbing a few items and immediately rising, again, from her position on the hard wood and finding special places for the framed photos on the shelves and marble mantle.

He was watching her from the bedroom doorway, smiling. It took a great deal of convincing to get her to move in with him at first, but here she was, in the middle of the night, unpacking her first box. Sure, it was only a box of pictures, but it was a step in the right direction. She’d gotten out of bed a few minutes ago, awakened by the blare of a car alarm and police sirens. He’d woken up because he felt the empty space in the bed next to him.

He watched her carefully place the photos around the room and tilted his head, smirking. He’d never had pictures of his friends and family in his home before, because his ex-wife hated them. He picked up a photo she had just put down and stared at it with a grin. The two of them were sitting on their joined desks at work, laughing as she picked bits of colored paper out of his hair. He remembered this moment. Last year, the gang had thrown him a mini-surprise party and Sanders, may he rest in peace, had thrown confetti at him the second he walked into the room.

A low rumble and queasiness in his belly prompted him to put the photo down and run into the bathroom. He took a moment to steady himself, leaning against the glass doors of the steam-shower.

Oh boy, he said quietly to himself, moving toward the sink. He gripped the sides of the hand-painted stone, and he raised his head, looking at his reflection in the etched mirror. Less than a week, Jesus!

He turned the crystal knobs with a choked sigh. Splashing cold water on his face, he took a deep breath and shut his eyes. It’s only a number, he said to himself.

What is?

He turned to find her standing in the bathroom doorway, holding her glass of wine. He let his eyes travel the length of her body, as the cool water droplets rolled down his face and dripped onto his chest. She was wearing a light pink tee shirt and low riding, pink, plaid, flannel pants. Her brown hair was down, because he liked it down, just grazing the top of her shoulders. She looked so beautiful in the dim room. The light trickling in from the window from the moon, the streetlights, and the neon glow of the city reflected off of her tanned skin and made her look absolutely radiant.

He pressed a towel to his face, never taking his eyes off of her, and then stepped toward her, taking the glass from her hand and putting it down on the sink before pulling her into a passionate kiss.

Thirty, he said, as he pulled away from the kiss that had left them both breathless, which finally answered her question.

Oh, she chuckled, Yeah, it is. So’s twenty-six.

She saw the serious look in his eyes. You’re worried about your birthday? We’ve got a busy week, Jack. Florists, meeting with the manager of the Tea Room, final tasting with the caterer, I don’t think I’ll even remember by Thursday, she said sarcastically.

Lyss, I don’t want you making a big deal out of this, he warned.

Sure, Jack. She didn’t sound very convincing as she pulled him toward the bed.

It was a brand new king, bigger than the old one and higher off the ground. It, like all of the wooden furniture in their penthouse, was a deep cherry. It was a sleigh-style bed with a canopy, something Alyssa had wanted since childhood. The comforter set was a beautiful brown and pink velvet, lace and Egyptian cotton pattern that Alyssa had picked out. The canopy was a matching brown and pink velvet curtain with lace trim. The high ceiling and walk-in closets only added to the romantic ambiance of the master bedroom.

Jack had decided to get a new bed because he just didn’t feel right sharing the same bed with Alyssa that he’d shared with his psychotic ex-wife. Granted, he had rarely been in the bed with Maggie, preferring to stay on the couch or in Alyssa’s bed, but it was the principle of the thing. A new life with Alyssa warranted a new bed.

I’m serious, he said as he settled his hands on her hips and looked into her eyes. I just want Thursday to come and go. Don’t even say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me. He gave her a wicked look as he lifted her up in his strong arms and placed her gently in the middle of the mattress. He slowly crawled on top of her and kissed her collarbone, breathing her scent in as he let his lips glide along her neck.

Mmm hmm, she murmured, agreeing even though she was unsure of whether or not she actually heard what he’d said, as she tugged at his shirt.

No cake, no candles, he warned, pulling his shirt over his head, leaving a trail of soft sweet kisses from her neck up to her ear, and running his hand up and down her inner thigh.

Whatever you say, she whispered as her eyes slowly fluttered closed, getting hopelessly lost and deeply involved in his touch.

Three-thirty in the damn morning, normal people are sleeping, and I have never been more turned on by anyone in my life, he mumbled, more to himself than her, as he sat up on his knees, briefly, pulling her up with him. You do this to me all the damn time, Lyssie, he muttered to her.

He pulled her tee shirt off of her, reveling in the sight before him for a moment before dropping her back down, falling with her and kissing her soundly on the lips. He rested one hand on the mattress next to her head for support, allowing the fingers of his other hand to lightly run down her side. She jumped a bit, making him pause.

Tickles, huh? he asked with a cocky grin on his face as his hand ran along the elastic waistline of her pants, teasing, tugging, and frustrating her. Tell me what you want, Lyssie.

You, Jack, She sighed, rolling her hips up into his to emphasize her point. Just you.

He grunted, grinned, and growled as he tugged her pants down quickly. She felt his hands creeping slowly, teasingly, up her legs, and she was about to get exactly what she wanted when the two cell phones on the side table bleeped.

Why, in the name of all that is good and Holy? she cried in frustration, slamming her head back into the pillow.

Jack rested his head against her heaving chest and tried to calm down a bit before they reached for their phones and simultaneously answered.

Donovan. Keller. Last names shouted in an irritated greeting to whoever was calling.

The voice of their captain blared through both phones. Clearly, he had them on a conference call. Sorry to wake you, Detectives, but we have a body. One-Oh-Nine East Forty-Second Street. Killer sent us a message, too. I expect you to get down to the scene within the hour. Oh, and, uh, don’t eat breakfast yet.

Thanks, Cap, said Alyssa as she hung up, rolling out from underneath Jack. You call Hannah. She’s still pissed off at me since I woke her up last time. You want coffee?

I don’t need coffee, Lyss, I need a cold shower. I can’t go to a crime scene like this! He gestured down to his lap, indicating his current condition, and made a very angry noise.

She smiled at him suggestively. Well...we could both use a shower. Oh, and Jack, she paused to look back at him. "I like my showers very, very hot." She raised an eyebrow and chuckled, walking into the bathroom.

He gulped, and sat up on the bed, staring, for about three seconds before he realized what she meant and ran in after her.

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CHAPTER ONE

Labor Day

Monday September 7th, 4:15 AM

One-Oh-Nine, East Forty-Second Street, Alyssa reminded him as she got into their silver Lexus. The Grand Hyatt Hotel, she said, a reminiscent expression on her face.

How the hell do you...oh, Jack said as the memory of their three day encounter at the Manhattan property came back to him. Yeah. A goofy grin spread across his face.

That was one hell of a weekend, Alyssa mused with a chuckle. You told Maggie you had to run a seminar on handling firearms or something. She turned the key and they were on their way.

Hey, as I recall, my firearm got plenty of handling, he sassed. So much handling, in fact, that we never left the room.

Whose fault was that? Alyssa asked, raising an eyebrow. "I wanted to go out! I wanted to go dancing, out to dinner, up to the roof! But no, someone wouldn’t even let me get dressed!"

Jack had a shit-eating grin on his face as he chuckled. And you loved every minute of it, he replied. He opened a bottle of water and peered at her, challenging her to deny it.

Absofuckinglutely, I did, she agreed.

The weekend they were recalling had been incredible. It was early in their relationship, before they had labeled it what they thought it was at the time: an affair. Jack had promised her a romantic weekend, away from prying eyes, where they could behave like a real couple, but the moment they checked into the lavish room, plans had changed.

She’d wanted to relax and then go out for a nice dinner, but he’d decided that the weekend would consist of forty-eight hours of non-stop, mind-blowing sex. By the time Sunday night rolled around, they were surprised they could still walk.

As she pulled up to the hotel, they knew their conversation about sex, affairs, and other private matters had to end. They weren’t exactly supposed to be together, let alone, engaged. The NYPD was making a very exceptional exception for them, since they were the best investigative team New York had ever seen, and in order to stay together, both professionally and romantically, they had to keep their relationship and partnership completely separate.

The fewer people who knew about it, the better off the pair was.

Stepping out of the car, Alyssa pulled a pair of latex gloves out of the pocket of her well-worn, black leather jacket and onto her hands as she walked over to the bright yellow crime scene tape. A uniformed officer lifted it for her and she glided under it, nodding her thanks the way she usually did. She stopped to take a look around, taking in more of the city than just the crime scene.

She sighed as she realized that she never got to really see the city at night anymore, since she was usually preoccupied. The lights were shimmering and showing off their rainbow of colors, the orchestra of sounds from the four corners of New York played a beautiful melody punctuated by the syncopated rhythm of a rattling trash can.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling the aroma that was pure city-street: pizza, sushi, car exhaust, cigar smoke, roses, coffee, dead fish, and