Justice Hunter

The Cold Case Detectives series heats up with a sexy new hero in this story of revenge and desire.

A tough ex-SEAL turned private investigator, Lucas Curran vows that solving his sister’s murder must come first. Even before his raging attraction to Rachel Delany, who might be a fresh lead in the four-year-old case. It’s just that he can’t trust the down-on-her-luck beauty. He’s already been devastated once by a deceitful ex. Then there’s Rachel’s rap sheet…and her infuriating tendency to withhold the truth.

But when Rachel’s life goes up in flames, they’re forced to rely on each other. Because Rachel is more than just Lucas’s ticket to outsmarting a killer and serving up justice—she’s his second chance at a burning love he never thought possible.

“Please tell me what’s going on, Rachel.”

His grip tightened in her hair. Rachel stared breathlessly up into his intense face, seeing the strength of his concern for her and his angst that she wouldn’t trust him.

He brought his head down for an energy-packed kiss.

The impact stunned her, and an instant later fire melted any thought of resisting. She let him take her mouth and fell into the velvety passion, desire so strong she couldn’t comprehend where she ended and he began.

His kiss eased into a series of gentler, quicker ones.

“He almost killed you.” He kissed her again, hard, seeking reassurance that she still lived. “I thought he was going to.”

“Lucas.”

His mouth covered hers yet again, his tongue going in for more drugging passion. Then he eased off. “I can’t lose another woman, Rachel. I can’t fail again.”

As he continued kissing her, she answered with equal fervor.

“Tell me,” he rasped.

Hearing his desperate need for her to trust him in at least that, Rachel nearly capitulated. But she could not trust him this way.

“I can’t,” she whispered harshly.

* * *

Be sure to check out the next books in this miniseries.

Cold Case Detectives: Powerful investigations, unexpected passion…

Dear Reader,

If you like cold case action, my new miniseries is for you. In A Wanted Man, you met Kadin Tandy, a sexy former New York detective who lost his daughter to kidnapping and murder. Now he’s focused all his intelligence—and bold brawn—on solving victims’ cases that have gone cold. He’s out to make criminals of violent crime pay, and he hires only the best to do the job.

Meet Lucas Curran, ex-marine, former LAPD SWAT cop who’s got personal reasons to solve the next Dark Alley Investigations murder case. Mystery. Murder. Action. What more could you ask for? How about another story after this one? I’d love to entertain you.

Jennie

Justice

Hunter

Jennifer Morey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Two-time RITA® Award nominee and Golden Quill Award winner JENNIFER MOREY writes single-title contemporary romance and page-turning romantic suspense. She has a geology degree and has managed export programs in compliance with the International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR) for the aerospace industry. She lives at the foot of the Rocky Mountains in Denver, Colorado, and loves to hear from readers through her website, jennifermorey.com, or Facebook.

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For Mom. Thanks for visiting me in my dreams. Moments cherished.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Lucas Curran bent his head against the biting Wyoming breeze, wondering for the hundredth time why a man like Kadin Tandy would choose a place like this to headquarter his renowned cold-case investigations agency. Similar to Lucas’s hometown in Montana, Rock Springs offered Wild-West isolation. No concrete jungle here. Very few violent crimes and yet...that was exactly what Dark Alley Investigations fought.

Crossing the street, he took in the classy sign jutting out from an old, two-story brick building. Quaint. Understated. No one would guess what grisly crimes this agency took on. A row of shops lined Main Street, Christmas lights off on this cringe-worthy, overcast day. Some cars crept along the sleepy, snow-swept road. A few hearty geriatrics walked the sidewalks. A couple hurried into a coffee shop. Other than that, only the snow looked busy and bustling.

He stepped up to the charming storefront, which had been renovated with tinted, bulletproof windows. His salvation. His ticket to revenge.

Excitement surged forth again, as it always did with the prospect of taking charge of his sister’s murder investigation. He wouldn’t rest until he avenged her, until he cornered and caged her killer—whoever thought he’d gotten away with the crime. Lucas couldn’t wait to look into his eyes the very moment realization struck that Lucas had caught him.

Charming or not, Dark Alley was his weapon. Above the hanging sign, a second story promised warmth, clean white blinds and gossamer scarves, hinting at a feminine touch. Kadin Tandy lived there—with a woman. No wonder the place looked so deceiving.

Opening the door to the jingle of a bell he would more expect in a bookstore or gift shop, Lucas stepped inside. Kadin Tandy had opened this godsend to those who’d given up on more traditional methods, and he intended to take full advantage of all its resources.

“Can I help you?” a woman behind a desk across the entrance asked. A little on the heavy side, but a real beauty.

The door swung closed with another jingle, shutting out the biting wind and snow. Pictures of cities hung on the walls, and a freshly painted bookshelf to the right had more than books artfully arranged on its shelves. More feminine touches. A Christmas tree dead-center in front of the window had wrapped presents beneath its pine-smelling branches. So cozy. So welcoming...for a hard-core violent crimes special ops unit. He wouldn’t put a mere private investigations label on this agency. Not with a man like Kadin in charge, not with his past and experience, and not with his thirst for bringing ruthless justice down upon the destroyers of innocence.

He walked forward, his black leather combat boots thudding on the refurbished wood floor. “I have an appointment.”

“Lucas?” she asked with a friendly smile. That congenial trait must have helped her land this job. Dealing with grieving, scared families had to be akin to dealing with death in a funeral home.

“Yes.”

“Come on back,” Kadin called from his office, the door left open.

The woman stood up, and when Lucas went inside the office to see Kadin getting up from his chair, she closed the door. All very sensitive to the nature of the business.

Lucas shook Kadin’s hand.

“Welcome aboard,” Kadin said.

He’d contracted him earlier this week and asked him to come in for what he called orientation. All of his operatives were contracted, not hired directly. To allow more freedom, Kadin had explained. Freedom to take risks. Freedom to use force. All without any liability to the company.

“Thanks. I’m happy to be part of the team.”

“Have a seat.”

Lucas sat on a black, real leather chair separated by a table. Kadin took an identical one on the opposite side. Reaching for one of two envelopes on the table, Kadin then handed it to him.

Lucas took it and parted the opening to slide out the pages within. Kadin opened his file on the table and leaned over to read the first page.

“These first few pages summarize what’s in your contract.”

“I read my contract.”

“This is just to make sure you didn’t miss the most important parts.”

“I didn’t miss anything.”

Kadin’s eyes lifted to look at him. “I’m not going to tell you how to carry out an investigation. You should already know that. If you screw up, that’s your responsibility.”

Ah, the price of freedom. Lucas didn’t mind. He’d rather have freedom than let others do the doing for him. And he wouldn’t screw up.

“That wasn’t in the contract.”

“I have three rules that can never be broken,” Kadin said, gaze unflinching. “If you break any of them, I reserve the right to terminate your contract and possibly turn you over to the feds.”

“Rule number one,” Lucas said before Kadin could. “Make sure the evidence can stand up in court.” No cheating when it came to evidence. No lawbreaking. “Rule number two—no vigilante kills.”

“And the third?”

“Always put the victim first.”

That seemed and sounded like a no-brainer to Lucas, but in Kadin’s terms and conditions, he referred—in coded language—to lawbreaking as opposite from evidence gathering. The law could be broken to save victims. Freely broken. Protect the innocent, no matter the cost. If saving a victim meant losing key evidence, then justice took on a different set of rules, an unwritten set of rules. Meaning, there were none. Unfortunately, people came to Dark Alley long after the victims had died. Kadin referred to the danger of chasing killers as the collateral damage.

“Do you think you’ll have any trouble with any of those?” Kadin asked.

“No.” Not when Lucas didn’t see it as a vigilante kill.

“Not even rule number two?” Kadin probed, as though predicting his thoughts.

He’d worried over Lucas’s motive when he’d first met him.

“Especially rule number two.” He had an unquenchable thirst for the freedom Kadin offered, and he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t kill his sister’s murderer, but he could promise he’d do it justly. Kadin may not agree with his brand of justice, however.

Kadin stared long and hard at him. He didn’t quite believe Lucas had come to Dark Alley out of a deep sense of nobility. But instead of calling him on it, he said, “Good. Now let’s talk about your sister’s case.”

On some level, Kadin must understand how Lucas felt. Four years had passed since his sister’s murder. Police had little to go on and no witnesses. An innocent life had been taken, and a guilty one still lived on.

“The last person to see her alive was her husband, Jared Palmer,” Kadin said. “He looks like a suspect.”

Lucas gripped the arm of the chair, squeezing his fingers to stave off the wave of anger just the mere mention of Jared’s name stirred. “She was alive when he left for work the morning of her murder.”

Kadin’s eyes rolled up from the page in the open file for another hard stare.

Lucas continued. “When he came home that evening, she left dinner ready for him before she went out for her monthly outing with friends at the country club. That’s all been verified. Her club friends said she left at ten. Jared claims she arrived home at ten twenty and came to bed.”

Kadin sat back, elbow on the arm of his chair, rubbing his chin before dropping his hand. “And he claims he saw, heard or noticed nothing else the rest of the night.”

“Correct.” That had always infuriated Lucas. He’d always felt Jared had lied, although his story had never changed, not one detail. That made him either a really good liar or innocent.

“I can see why you’d think he did it,” Kadin said.

“I still think he could have done it.”

“Were it not for the affair,” Kadin said.

That was the newest piece of information that had developed in the case. Jared had recently called a woman named Rachel Delany. Police hadn’t known about her, but the conversation clearly indicated the two had known each other before Luella’s murder. Intimately.

“The woman has an interesting résumé,” Kadin said. “Have you read her background?”

Lucas nodded. “In and out of juvie. All grown-up now but can’t hold a job. Doesn’t have many friends.” He showed Kadin a photo he’d pulled out from the envelope. “Beautiful.”

Kadin’s brow lifted and he nodded. “Very beautiful. But even pretty women are capable of murder.”

“How did they meet?” Nothing in the file indicated that, and Lucas found it odd that a man as well-off as Jared would end up in an affair with a woman like Rachel.

Lucas turned the photo so he could see her again. Rachel’s shiny hair tapered into a sophisticated chocolate bob, drawing striking lines on each side of golden-brown eyes rimmed by liner and long thick black lashes. Those eyes looked right at the camera, sultry, daring and full of dangerous mystery. This woman had seen the rough side of the tracks, but must have found a way into the pinkies-up crowd.

“Has she done this before?” Lucas asked, not liking how the woman’s hotness stirred baser instincts. He flipped the pages, skimming through them and finding a paragraph on her previous relationships.

“Yes,” Kadin said as he read. “She’s had other affairs, not with married men, but with wealthy men. The relationships never last.”

Lucas closed the file. “No surprise there. She’s not very together, and the type of men she chooses must figure that out sooner or later.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. She might be innocent.” Kadin leaned forward again. “What’s your plan?”

* * *

“I’m sorry, folks. We’re going to have to get another bus and transfer you. Engine problems.”

Rachel Delany stared at the bus driver, unable to believe the bus had broken down now, today of all days. She’d just finished her last college final before the Christmas break and had a thirty-minute window to get to work. She had five minutes left. Grabbing her backpack, she stood and walked down the aisle toward the front, where the midfifties black driver saw her in the rearview mirror.

“It’ll be a few minutes before the other bus gets here, Rachel,” he said.

“I don’t have time, Larry. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“It’s a couple of miles to the next stop,” he said. “That mean ol’ boss of yours can wait. Let me take you the rest of the way.”

She smiled big. Larry knew all about her troubles. “A little snow won’t hurt.”

His dark, bushy eyebrows lifted over trouble-free eyes and he smiled back. “What’d you say your degree was? Weather girl?”

Rachel laughed on a soft breath, envying his humble existence. Whenever she felt the struggle of her own life too much, all she had to do was think of him. He made a happy living on a low wage.

“Don’t stop to talk to anyone on the way, now,” Larry called.

Still smiling, she waved and stepped off the bus. She talked to people on the bus all the time. Strangers had such interesting stories, like sitting with Forrest Gump on a park bench.

She tipped her head back and let the cold flakes peck her cheeks. A little cold and a long walk never bothered her. Bozeman, Montana, wasn’t known for its balmy weather, and she hadn’t chosen this area for the fluff. She had a little Larry in her—along with a dream to make something of her life.

Checking the time, she broke into a jog. Her female boss had already warned her about being late. One minute didn’t seem too late to Rachel. She wished she could tell her boss where to go every time she nit-picked over silly things, but she needed this job until she graduated and found one with more requirements than clock-watching.

Reaching the mall, she entered with a few stomps to shed the snow and then decided rushing wouldn’t make any difference. She’d get her last check and leave. One more job to dribble into her past.

Dodging someone coming the other way down the mall corridor, Rachel’s backpack bumped against the metal door as she cut the corner too close at the store entrance. Her boss stood behind the counter, alone. Leaning against the back wall, she watched her with disapproval marring her pudgy, wrinkled face. She made a show of looking up at the clock on the wall above her head.

Two thirty-four. More than thirty minutes late. Even Rachel would call that late.

“I had a final and the bus broke down,” she said, only for the slight chance that the woman would listen to human logic.

Her boss sighed in that huffy way that so annoyed Rachel and then walked around the counter. “Rachel, I’ve given you more than enough chances to prove yourself here.”

“It was my last final. I’m on break now until January.”

“At which point you’ll only be late again,” the woman said. “I need someone more devoted.”

Rachel humphed. “It’s a retail job.”

The woman immediately took offense. “Any job has its responsibility. You’ve shown me none with yours. You’re late more than you’re on time.”

True, but Rachel considered this a means to achieve something more rewarding. “I rely on public transportation. I depend on bus schedules. They don’t always match my work schedule. I’ve asked you to consider that when you write my schedule.” She began to wonder why she even tried to defend herself and come up with excuses.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” she said. “I can’t arrange everyone else’s schedule to suit yours.”

“This is the first time I’ve been more than a few minutes late.”

The woman eyed her upper body as though her jacket didn’t cover enough of her shape. “Late is late.”

She’d often eyed her like that. Rachel let the spitfire that lower-class living had set free in her take over.

“You’ve never liked me,” she said, a revelation. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

The woman’s eyes flitted all over Rachel now, down her trim body and back up to her blemish-free face. “Liking you has nothing to do with why I’m firing you today.”

“You’ve looked for ways to fire me. One or two minutes late isn’t late. You censure the way I talk to customers.”

The woman stiffened, telltale offense. “Flirting isn’t professional.”

“I never flirt here.” The woman invented things!

“I did you a favor by hiring you. It isn’t my fault you turned out to be a disappointment.” She reached over to the counter and picked up an envelope. “This is your last paycheck.”

Rachel took the money. The envelope, its feel in her hand and the knowledge of what it contained, nearly did her in. No more checks would follow. Her will spared her from crumbling. Slowly, she looked up.

“Thank you,” Rachel said. “This is best for both of us.”

The woman’s lower jaw fell slack, and misunderstanding twitched above her nose. She expected another reaction. Would seeing Rachel hurt satisfy her, a woman driven by jealousy?

“I can do better than this.” With that, Rachel pivoted and walked toward the exit.

“If you’re thinking about filing a complaint, you should know I’ve documented everything,” the woman called after her.

File a complaint. As if she’d wasted her time on that negativity. Rachel didn’t turn or respond, just left the store. A man in a nice suit stood at a sunglasses kiosk. He didn’t look her way as she passed.

Rachel checked her phone. Her boyfriend still hadn’t texted her. She’d tried to get ahold of him all day, but he hadn’t responded. Someone to talk to right now would be nice.

She saw a woman dressed to the nines, carrying four bags and looking into the window of a jewelry store as she passed. Did she have a husband taking care of her, or had she made her own way in this vicious world? Rachel slowed her pace and watched her come to a clothing store and go inside, her face peaceful and tastefully made up, giant rock on her ring finger sparkling under the store lights. Rich husband. Pampered woman. But happy.

Rachel loved seeing people this way, comfortable in their environment, the world they created with decisions. The beautiful, sophisticated woman didn’t give off any airs. She had money, her man’s money. Rachel imagined her man treated her as though his money belonged to her just as much as it belonged to him. Equals.

Why did life have to be such a struggle for some people and so seemingly easy for others? Rachel wanted that. Just once, she’d like to know what it felt like to be that woman, the willowy one with shopping bags, admiring a sparkly dress as though contemplating an upcoming party, no worries in the world.

All her life, nothing had ever come easy for Rachel. Granted, she’d gotten herself into trouble as a teenager, but that girl had grown up. Finally. Now that she wanted a good, honest life, life seemed to oppose her every effort. What was she doing wrong? She tried so hard and never got ahead. The constant battle had become routine. She’d gotten fired today, and it had barely fazed her. Routine.

Leaving the mall, she didn’t feel like going home. Somehow, getting fired deserved some kind of memento. Rachel adjusted her backpack as she crossed the street, glancing back to see the man in the suit had left after her. Was he crossing the street, too?

As she walked down the sidewalk, she began to get an uneasy feeling. Nothing like this had happened in years, not since the disastrous affair she’d had with that executive. He’d contacted her last week, trying to reconcile. After all this time, why? His call frightened her. She’d gently refused his invitation to dinner. Had that started up trouble again?

O’Shuck’s was a few blocks from here. She covertly looked back. The man in the suit still trailed behind her. He seemed to catch her notice of him but didn’t stop following her. She didn’t recognize him, but he was far enough away not to be sure. Would Jared stalk her?

Alarm kicked up the knock of her pulse. She walked another block and looked back. Still there. He was following her.

Rachel walked faster. O’Shuck’s was just up the street now. She could see the lights. Almost at a jog by the time she reached the door, she checked the sidewalk. The man walked toward her, looking right at her.

Rachel entered the pub and breathed her relief. What was she going to do now? What if the threats started again? She wasn’t sure if it had been Jared who’d threatened her the last time, and she didn’t recognize the man following her now.

Trying to appear calm, Rachel walked toward the bar. O’Shuck’s drew a nice working-class crowd and boasted Haggis and Irish coffee. She came for the short walk to her apartment, the company and the atmosphere, which was much better than her apartment. Anything was better than that.

Dropping her backpack and putting her cell phone on the bar, she took a seat and waited for Hans to see her. Glancing back toward the door, she didn’t see the man in the suit.

“Hey, Rachel.” Hans had a deep-creased grin for her and a sparkle in his Viking blue eyes. He stepped over to her. “The usual?”

“Make it a vanilla latte.”

“Coming right up. Special occasion?”

“I was fired.”

Hans winced and then said, “Ooh. That is rough. That old bitty come up with a reason?”