Desperate Measures

Their mission to catch a killer

may make them his next victims

Jake Lamont needs evidence to finally catch his twin sister’s killer, and blog reporter Monica Wright is the only person who can help him. Monica’s motive for justice may be different than Jake’s, but they both want the serial killer off the streets. As the stakes grow higher, Jake knows he needs to stay focused. Because letting down his guard may cost him the life of another woman he loves.

CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.

Also by Carla Cassidy

Desperate Strangers

Desperate Intentions

Scene of the Crime: Bridgewater, Texas Scene

of the Crime: Bachelor Moon

Scene of the Crime: Widow Creek

Scene of the Crime: Mystic Lake

Scene of the Crime: Black Creek

Scene of the Crime: Return to Bachelor Moon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Desperate Measures

Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 9781474093989

DESPERATE MEASURES

© 2019 Carla Bracale

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“And the winner of this year’s most innovative design in the Kansas City area goes to Jake Lamont of Lamont and Star Architects Incorporated,” the emcee for the night announced.

Jake rose as the people in the ballroom stood and clapped. He pasted on a fake smile, the same one he’d been wearing for the past couple of years, and made his way to the podium to retrieve the large shiny trophy.

He wove through the white-draped tables holding the remnants of a dinner that had consisted of a piece of dry chicken with a strange, mysterious green sauce over the top and potatoes and purple cauliflower on the side.

The meal had been horrible. The night already seemed endless, and he knew after the official itinerary was over there was still a cocktail party that would be filled with congratulations and glad-handing.

He should be thrilled with the recognition he’d just received, but it was an empty victory without Suzanna standing by his side. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stand beside him because she was dead. He shoved these painful thoughts away as he accepted his award with a short speech.

Twenty minutes later he stood in a circle of other architects talking about the huge renewal projects taking place in the Kansas City downtown district.

“I’ve got to admit it, your building at Tenth and Main is a real visual beauty,” John Davis said. “And you’re working on another one, aren’t you?”

Jake nodded. “Third and Main is also mine.”

“That’s going to be some addition to the skyline,” Richard Burke said. “What is it? Eighteen...twenty stories high?”

“Actually, it’s twenty-two stories,” Jake replied.

He stiffened slightly as Tim Lathrop joined the group. Jake and the dark-haired man with his cold blue eyes were often in competition for a job, and Tim had a reputation for not always playing nice.

“You know that award should have gone to me,” he said.

“You can take it up with the members of the committee if you think a mistake was made,” Jake replied.

Suddenly he was exhausted. He was tired of the fake smile he’d sported all night long. He wanted to rip off his gray-and-black tie and get out of his black suit and into something casual. The polite social chatter was wearing on him. He had so many other important things on his mind...things like murder.

It took another half an hour before he finally took his leave. He stepped out of the building where the celebration had been held and into the oppressively hot late-August night air. He made his way to his car parked down the block and as he walked he yanked to loosen the tie around his neck.

He couldn’t wait to get home in his own space. All he wanted at the moment was a drink and his recliner, where he didn’t have to smile or interact with anyone.

This was the first real social event he’d attended in the past two years and he’d found it beyond exhausting. He wouldn’t have attended at all if it hadn’t been for him receiving an award.

He’d only gone a short distance when a female voice called out from behind him. He turned and saw a petite, dark-haired woman hurrying toward him.

He frowned. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her and in any case had no idea what she wanted with him. She wasn’t one of the attendees of the night’s festivities, for instead of wearing a cocktail dress she was clad in tight blue jeans and a royal blue tank top.

Despite her casual dress, she was quite attractive, but when she drew closer to where he stood beneath a streetlamp, recognition slammed into his gut.

Monica Wright. Oh, hell no. What was she doing here? The last person he wanted anywhere in his life was the investigative reporter with her popular podcast. And why did she want to speak to him?

“Mr. Lamont, could I just have a moment of your time?” She finally reached where he stood.

Despite his initial impulse to turn and hurry away, he smiled at her and played dumb. “And you are...?” He looked at her quizzically.

“Monica Wright of The Wright News podcast.” She offered him a bright smile.

He’d found her attractive when he occasionally tuned in to her podcast, but in person she was even prettier. She was petite and shapely. Her eyes appeared more blue, a startling and beautiful contrast to her long dark hair. She had a heart-shaped face and full lips that were more than a little bit appealing.

“I see you brought home the big prize,” she said with a gesture to the large trophy he held.

He relaxed. Maybe that’s why she wanted to speak to him. “Yes, I’m very honored.”

“The building you won for is a real beauty.”

“Thank you. It’s always nice when people recognize your hard work.”

“And how did you feel when Max Clinton was murdered two nights ago?”

He stiffened, gut-punched by the unexpected question. “No comment.” He turned on his heel and once again headed in the direction of his car.

“Mr. Lamont, I’d really like you to come on my podcast. I’m sure you have an interesting story to share.”

She followed him like an annoying, yappy Chihuahua. “You must have some thoughts and feelings about Max Clinton being murdered by the Vigilante Killer.”

Thankfully by that time he’d reached his car. He opened the door. He then turned back to face her. “I told you no comment and that’s all I have to say on the matter.” He got into the car and slammed the door.

He ignored her presence as he started his engine and then roared out of the parking lot. He headed north and tried to keep his mind empty.

But of course, that was impossible. With a single question, Monica Wright had stirred up a lot of thoughts...all of them bad. Why had she singled him out? Had she talked to some of the other men who had found their personal justice through a pact forged in hell? How had she possibly learned about them...about him? The last thing he wanted was to get tangled up in any discussion concerning the Vigilante Killer.

Home was a four-bedroom brick house on an acre of land. He’d had it built three years ago. At that time, he’d believed the bedrooms would eventually be filled with children. He didn’t believe that anymore. He hadn’t believed in anything like happiness or family since he’d lost his sister.

He pulled into his garage and then entered the kitchen, where he placed the trophy on the countertop. Eventually it would find its way into his downtown office, but not right now.

The first thing he did was head to his bedroom, where he changed out of the suit and into a pair of jogging pants and a T-shirt. He went into the family room and to the minibar in the back corner. He poured himself two fingers of Scotch over ice, and collapsed in his black leather recliner.

He took a sip of the drink, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Instantly, a vision of Suzanna filled his head. Whenever he thought of her, it was with her head thrown back and her eyes twinkling with laughter.

She’d been so beautiful, with her short dark hair and sparkling green eyes. She’d had an exuberance, a love of life that had been intoxicating to the people around her. She’d been the star in Lamont and Star. She’d been Jake’s inspiration, his partner and his twin sister. And since her murder two years ago, Jake had been utterly lost.

He took another drink as his thoughts shifted to Max Clinton, the man who had killed Suzanna. He’d been Suzanna’s boyfriend. He should have been her champion, the man who had her back, and instead he had beaten and strangled her in a fit of jealous rage. Unfortunately, his lawyer had managed to put enough doubt in the minds of the jury that he’d walked away a free man.

How did he feel when he’d learned that Max was the latest victim of the person the news had labeled the Vigilante Killer? He’d felt so many emotions that it had been difficult to sort them all out.

There had been the intense relief that Max Clinton would never again be in a position to hurt another woman. There had also been a renewed grief as Max’s murder had caused a rush of memories to torment him...memories of his beautiful sister’s life and torturous memories of the brutality of her death.

Two nights ago, Max had been killed by the Vigilante Killer, who liked slitting his victim’s throats and then carving a deep V into their foreheads. Some would call Max’s death karma, but Jake knew better.

Max’s murder had come out of a meeting of Jake and five other grieving, angry men who had entered an agreement that assured them each a place in hell.

Finally, Max’s murder had evoked a chilling, confirming fear as Jake recognized that he and those men had unleashed a monster on the community.

* * *

MONICA CURSED BENEATH her breath as she slit the tip of her finger on a piece of paper. So far, she was having a horrible morning and it was only nine o’clock.

She’d been up far too late the night before, waiting for her police department source to return her call. She wanted anything new he might have on the Vigilante Killer. Unfortunately, he hadn’t returned her call.

Then first thing this morning her single-serve coffee machine had gasped and sputtered and refused to give up a cup of coffee. Her shower had spurted out only a trickle and had reminded her she’d been meaning to buy a new shower head. And when she walked outside to retrieve her morning paper, she stepped squarely in a pile of fresh dog poo.

And now this...a tiny cut that hurt like hell and refused to stop bleeding. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and wrapped it around her finger, then leaned back in her chair and released a sigh of frustration.

And the source of her frustration wasn’t the events of the morning, but rather that she hadn’t been able to get Jake Lamont to be on her podcast that evening.

He would have made a compelling guest. He was the only surviving member of his family after his twin sister had been brutally murdered. The alleged perpetrator had walked scot-free and then two years later was murdered by a killer who seemed to be on a bloody journey of justice denied in the Kansas City area.

So far the police had admitted this particular killer had murdered four men, each of whom had been suspects in heinous crimes and each of whom had walked free due to glitches in the judicial process. And the killer seemed to be on a fairly fast track—four kills in less than two months and with no end in sight. So far he’d left no clues behind for the authorities to follow.

Monica wanted to be the one to break the case wide open. It was a lofty aspiration for a woman who had a nightly news podcast with just over twenty thousand subscribers and news that focused on the Kansas City and surrounding areas.

She wanted to break the case not only in hopes of expanding her visibility, but also to quiet the self-doubt that had driven her for most of her life. She needed to prove to her father that...

She jumped as her landline rang. She never answered this phone. It was a tips line of sorts that she advertised each evening when she ended her show.

So far, she’d received eleven marriage proposals, countless invitations to be a baby mama and several phone calls that had offered her the chance to be involved in strange sexual situations.

Lately she’d also been getting calls from Larry Albright, a local contractor. Monica had done an exposé on him three days ago when it came to light that he was scamming people out of thousands of dollars.

In the past two days he’d left dozens of nasty and threatening messages for her. She now chewed on the nail of the index finger that didn’t have the paper cut on it as she waited to see who was calling this time.

“Hi, Monica. My name is Janet McCall. You don’t know me, but I’m a huge fan of yours. Uh...but that’s not why I’m calling. I know you’ve been asking for any information anyone might have concerning the Vigilante Killer.”

The woman paused and Monica leaned forward, the paper cut on her finger forgotten. “This might be nothing at all and I could be wasting your time. I run the Northland Survivor Group and I just thought it was an odd coincidence that the Vigilante Killer has killed four men who perpetrated crimes against four of the men who attended my group for a short period of time.”

Monica picked up the phone. “Janet, it’s Monica Wright.”

“Oh... I didn’t expect to speak to you in person.” She released a nervous laugh. “I’m a huge fan of yours.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it, but I want to make sure I understand what you’re telling me.”

“Okay...hmm...according to the reports, the Vigilante Killer’s first victim was Brian McDowell, who beat Matt Harrison’s mother to death. The second victim was Steven Winthrop, who raped and killed Nick Simon’s wife. The third kill was of Dwight Weatherby, who killed Troy Anderson’s daughter, and now this fourth victim was Max Clinton, who beat and strangled Jake Lamont’s sister. Matt Harrison, Troy Anderson, Nick Simon and Jake Lamont all belonged to the Northland Survivor Group for several months and then they all stopped coming to the meetings about the same time.”

There was a long pause as Monica slowly digested the information. Janet gave another small, nervous laugh. “That was clear as mud, right?”

“Not at all, I’m just trying to wrap my mind around it,” Monica replied. “Have you spoken to the police or any of the authorities about this?”

“No. I didn’t really know if the information meant anything or not.”

“Right now I don’t know, either, but I’d like a little time to check into it before you give it to the police,” Monica said.

“Of course,” Janet replied slightly breathlessly. “So you think this might mean something?”

“To be honest, I don’t know, but I really appreciate you bringing this to me.”

Minutes later, Monica reared back in her chair, her mind racing with the information she’d just been given. Was it just a coincidence that the Vigilante Killer had murdered the bad guys of four men who attended a small survivors’ group?

There were dozens of survivors’ groups around the Kansas City area, yet according to what Janet had just told her, the Vigilante Killer had focused in on this particular group. Why?

And now she had another reason to talk to Jake Lamont. Although she couldn’t see how this information worked in the puzzle she was trying to piece together, it definitely warranted further exploration. And that’s what she did for a living.

For the rest of the morning she worked on the material for her podcast that night, and then she left the house to shop for a few groceries and to buy a new coffee machine. There was no way she was going to go a full day without her coffee.

It was nearly three by the time she got back home. The whole time she’d been shopping, her brain had worked overtime on the information Janet had given her. She made herself a cup of coffee and once again sat in her office chair.

Rather than thinking about the killer, she found herself thinking about Jake Lamont. He was definitely one hot hunk of a man. His suit had fit perfectly over his broad shoulders. His dark hair had been slightly shaggy and his eyes had been the deep green of a primal forest.

She’d come home the night before and had done a search on him. She’d learned that he was single and a successful architect. She’d reread articles about his sister’s murder, and she’d also used a search engine that had provided both his work and home phone numbers and his home address.

At four she left her small ranch house and drove the fifteen miles to where Jake Lamont lived. She had no idea what time he got home from work. She didn’t even know if he did work today, considering it was Saturday. But she intended to go to his house and try to talk to him again.

She especially wanted to speak to him now, armed with the new information she’d received from Janet. If he wasn’t home when she arrived, then she intended to be there waiting for his return.

She still hoped to get him on her evening podcast and now she also wanted to ask him about the time he’d spent at the Northland Survivor Group and the other three men who had attended with him.

Jake’s house was a large, beautiful brick with a huge bay window in the front. The lawn was neatly manicured, with trimmed bushes and flowers surrounding a beautiful fountain. Both the oversize plot and the expanse of the house whispered of money and success.

The first thing she did on arriving was knock on his front door. When there was no answer she assumed he wasn’t home, and she pulled out of his circular driveway and parked down the street where she could see him when he arrived.

She’d taken him by surprise last night. She was hoping tonight he’d be more willing to talk with her. She’d just settled in to wait when her cell phone rang. There were only a few people who had this number.

Looking at the caller identification, her stomach instantly clenched tight with a familiar stress. “Hi, Dad,” she answered.

“What are you doing?” Neil Wright’s deep voice boomed over the line.

“I’m working.”

Her father’s dry chuckle twisted the nerves in her stomach even tighter. “I was hoping by the time you hit thirty you’d put that podcast silliness aside and get a real job.”

“Dad, this is a real job,” she replied, knowing it would do no good. She’d been a disappointment to her father since the moment she’d been born a girl instead of a boy.

She was the youngest of three girls and according to her father, was the last chance for him to get the son he’d desperately wanted.

It hadn’t been so bad when her mother had been alive to soothe the hurt her father sometimes caused, but her mother had died from breast cancer when Monica had been eight.

“So, what’s up?” she now asked.

“I’m heading out early in the morning for a day of fishing with Harry and Frank, but those parts I ordered for my truck came in at the Liberty location so I was wondering if while you’re out running around tomorrow, you could pick them up for me.”

Monica stifled a deep sigh. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Great, just drop them off in the garage. I’ll be home late tomorrow night.”

When the call ended, she released the sigh she had stifled moments before. Her father often asked her to run errands for him and to her it was just another indication of how little he respected her and her job.

She knew she could gain his respect if she went back to school and became a nurse or a lawyer, like her two sisters had become.

But news was her passion and she absolutely loved what she did. Always in the back of her mind was the notion that if she became big enough, if she reached a certain number of followers or one of her stories got picked up by a national news source, maybe then she’d be good enough for her father to love.

All insecurities and thoughts of her father flew out of her head as Jake Lamont’s car passed hers and turned into his driveway.