Beg for Mercy
Available in:
- eBook
- Paperback
- Book info
- Sample
- Media
- Author updates
- Lists
Synopsis
He lurks in the shadows, waiting and watching . . . And once he has you, all you can do is. . . Beg For Mercy Megan Flynn thought she was falling in love. Cole Williams wasn't just handsome and passionate, he was one of the good guys. Or so she thought, until he arrested her brother-the only family she has left-for a murder she knows he couldn't have possibly committed. Now, with her heart broken and her brother's life hanging in the balance, Megan will risk everything to prove his innocence. Even if that means throwing herself into the path of a sadistic killer with a hauntingly familiar MO. Seattle Detective Cole Williams had given up on making Megan see reason where her brother is concerned. But when she insinuates herself into the most shockingly brutal case Cole has ever worked, he can't stand idly by. Plunged into a secret world where the city's elite indulge their darkest desires, Cole will do whatever it takes to bring down a madman who has made Megan his most coveted prey.
Release date: June 1, 2011
Publisher: Forever
Print pages: 439
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
Reader buzz
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
Author updates
Close
Beg for Mercy
Jami Alden
It wasn’t quite over yet, but Megan Flynn was 99 percent sure this was going to go down as one of the best days of her life.
And judging from the molten look Cole Williams was giving her across her tiny kitchen table, her perfect day was about to
glide seamlessly into a perfect night.
“That was amazing,” he said, leaning back in his chair, relaxed after a day spent on the water, followed by a home-cooked
meal of fresh-caught local salmon accompanied by a bottle of Columbia Valley Pinot Noir. His plate was so clean he might have
licked it, and Megan felt a ridiculous spurt of feminine pride in having provided a meal he’d so obviously enjoyed.
Megan traced the edge of her wineglass with her finger and gave him a sly smile. “So maybe next time you make salmon you’ll
listen to me and not cook it down to a fine dust?”
Cole laughed and leaned across the table to refill her wineglass. “My mom always said you had to cook it enough to kill the
bacteria.” He set the bottle down and took her free hand in his, his thumb tracing slow circles in the sensitive hollow of
her palm.
Megan took a swallow of wine and smiled. “Since you grew up in a landlocked state, I’ll let you off the hook. But from now
on, leave the seafood to us natives. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll grill the steaks; you do the fish.”
Megan tried not to let herself get too carried away with fantasies of a lifetime of quiet dinners like this and wiped what
she knew was a completely moony look off her face.
But it was impossible for her not to get carried away with Cole, all smoldering and intense across the table from her. With
his dark eyes, dark skin, and bold, almost craggy features, Cole was a little too rough to be classically handsome. But when
his full lips pulled into that sexy smile, Megan felt like she was going to melt into a puddle and spill right off her chair.
He pushed back from the table and kept hold of her hand as he walked the few steps to the couch. He settled against the cushions
and she sank down next to him, her legs folded under her short skirt.
The short, flowered halter dress was completely inappropriate for a day out on Puget Sound on Cole’s boat. Even in early June,
the temperature out on the water didn’t get much above sixty degrees. But when she’d gotten dressed that morning, she’d chosen
the dress as a key part of her mission.
Namely, to finally break through Detective Cole Williams’s ironclad control.
Up until tonight, every date with the broodingly sexy detective had ended the same. With a kiss. Then more kisses that started
with soft pecks and worked their way up to deep, wet, tongue-sliding, lip-sucking, blood-boiling kisses. Kisses that got Megan
hotter than she’d ever been with any other man.
But no matter how hot she got, he never pushed it past hot kisses and light caresses, leaving her humming and thrumming with
unsatisfied desire.
She was done with taking it slow. She wanted Cole, she wanted him now, and judging from the way his dark gaze kept straying
down to the curves of her breasts swelling over the neckline of her dress, he was finally done too.
He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I missed you these last couple of weeks.”
He looked a little worn around the edges, and for good reason. Cole was a homicide detective for the Seattle PD, and his latest
case had him working such long hours that she’d hardly seen him.
“You sound a little surprised by that.”
“I am,” Cole replied, then held up a hand at her look of mock offense. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it, smooth talker?” Megan gave him a playful swat on the leg that left her hand resting on the top
of his thigh.
The lines around Cole’s deep-set eyes crinkled with his sheepish grin. “Usually when I’m head down in a case, I’m totally
focused. I forget to eat, forget to sleep, everything.” He leaned in closer, close enough she could feel his warm, wine-scented
breath tease her lips. “But I couldn’t forget about you.”
“I missed you too,” Megan whispered right before his mouth covered hers. She parted her lips willingly, eager for the heat,
the taste of him as his tongue thrust in. Pushing her back against the cushions, he licked, sucked, nipped, until Megan was
clutching at him, practically shaking with need.
Please let tonight be the night.
As though he heard her silent plea, his kiss turned fierce and demanding. There was something different in his touch, in the
way he kissed her. Like he was starving and she was the most delicious thing on earth.
Megan struggled to catch her breath as he pushed her back onto the couch. She’d known there was passion simmering under that
stony cop surface, but nothing had prepared her for this.
Megan slid her hand up Cole’s back, dragging the hem of his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans. She purred in pleasure
at the feel of his hot, smooth skin, the sound swallowed up by a sleek thrust of his tongue against hers. She traced her fingers
up the hard slabs of muscle, her mouth moving eagerly under his as she sought to drink in every touch, every taste.
Cole pulled the strap off the other shoulder and tugged the bodice of her dress down to her waist. His groan of satisfaction
rumbled through her core, sending a pulse of heat between her legs. He held himself still above her, muscles quivering as
his hot, dark eyes locked on her naked breasts. Her nipples were hard, aching and tingling, begging for his touch.
A vivid flush rode his sharp cheekbones. His mouth was kiss swollen, his lips parted as his breath came in hot pants. “Jesus
Christ,” he said in a low, strained voice. “I’ve been thinking about this from the second I laid eyes on you, and even then…
You’re so goddamn gorgeous I don’t know how I kept my hands off you this long.”
He tugged his T-shirt the rest of the way over his head. Megan was treated to a glimpse of a wide, defined chest and rippling
six-pack dusted with fine dark hair before he settled himself back on top of her. She let out an “ooh” at the first brush of skin on skin, a little surprised not to see sparks flying from where their bodies touched. He settled between
her thighs, letting her feel the rock-hard ridge of his erection straining at the fly of his pants, leaving no doubt as to
how much he wanted her. He kissed her again, his tongue thrusting in deep, lazy strokes that had her aching and shifting against
him in an agony of need.
Megan kissed him back with everything she had, her heart twisting in her chest with the knowledge that sex with Cole was going
to be amazing. Momentous.
Sex with Cole would change everything.
But that was okay. Because she was in love with Cole Williams. It had taken some convincing on her part to get him here, but
she was pretty sure he was on his way to being in love with her too.
As scary as the idea of love was, Megan knew that with Cole by her side, everything would be okay.
Riinnnnnggg.
Cole jerked in her embrace, his lips stilling against hers as the harsh ring pierced through the sound of fast breath and
wet kisses.
Megan tensed. A cop to his core, Cole never let anything get between him and his sworn duty. Even on his day off. She closed
her eyes and started to count to one hundred, trying to cool her body and bring herself back from the edge as she prepared
for yet another night on the razor’s edge of sexual frustration.
To her shock, the cell phone kept ringing. Cole curled his fingers more tightly in her hair and resumed kissing her with that
almost primitive intensity. Wow. Cole must really want me if he’s ignoring it. A thrill rippled through her at the thought.
A second after the ringing stopped, it started again.
“Fuck!” Cole roared.
Exactly what I had in mind, she thought. “I guess you better get that,” she sighed.
Cole nodded and let out a string of curses as he pushed himself off of her and grabbed his cell from the end table. “Jorgensen,
why the hell are you calling me on my afternoon off?”
It was his partner, Nick Jorgensen. Megan sighed and tried to swallow back her disappointment. If she really wanted a relationship
with Cole, she would have to get used to the demands of the career he loved.
Party’s over. Megan sat up and pulled her dress back over her breasts and tugged her skirt down to cover her legs. Cole was silent for
several seconds, his dark brows pulling into a tight frown over eyes that were losing their sensual haze.
She could make out a little bit of what Jorgensen was saying on the other line, but not enough to figure out exactly what
was going on. Something bad, she guessed from the grim look on Cole’s face.
“I’m off today,” Cole said. “Why don’t you handle it—”
Jorgensen answered loud and clear. She heard every word. “This is a slam dunk, asshole. Get over here now.”
Cole’s broad shoulders slumped, and he clawed his fingers through his hair. “Fine, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I’m sorry, he mouthed to her.
Megan gave him a feeble imitation of an understanding smile, her sexual glow dimming by several watts.
“What’s the address?”
Megan’s stomach seized as she heard Jorgensen give Cole the number and street.
She had to have misheard.
Cole disconnected the call, zipped up his pants, and reached for his shirt. “I’m sorry, Megan, but I have to go—”
“Did he just say the address is Forty-five Appleton Street?”
He didn’t confirm. His face was cold and wiped clean of all expression.
“Cole, that’s my brother’s address. What’s going on?” Panic roared through her veins, stealing her breath, replacing the heat
of arousal with the cold bite of fear. Cole was a homicide detective. There was only one reason he would be called to Sean’s
house. She sprang from the couch and grabbed his arm. “Is my brother dead? Did something happen? You have to tell me!”
Cole grabbed her in a brief, fierce hug. “I don’t know the details. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He pulled away, and when
she looked up, she saw that he’d gone into full-on Robocop mode. He reached for his phone and his jacket. “Just stay here
and wait for my call.”
The door hadn’t even closed behind him before she grabbed her phone and dialed her brother’s house. Straight to voice mail.
“Sean, pick up!” she yelled, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She yanked on a fleece pullover and stuffed her feet
into flip-flops, dialing Sean’s cell phone as she rushed out the door.
Her call went straight to voice mail and she left another message.
She slipped on the damp wooden stairs that led out, barely catching herself before she tumbled down the last two to the paved
driveway below. She took a deep breath and gathered her trembling legs under her before continuing.
Please God, let everything be all right. Please let Sean be okay. Sean had done ten years in the military, including his last tour in Afghanistan. He couldn’t have survived that only to return
home and…
She wouldn’t let herself think it. Her fingers shook so hard she could barely get the keys into the ignition. She made the
drive in five minutes flat.
Her heart seized in her chest as she pulled over. Flashing lights from an ambulance and two Seattle PD squad cars created
a swirling eddy of blue and red in the twilight. Cole’s Jeep was parked behind a black-and-white, but he was nowhere in sight.
Neither was Sean. Megan sprinted across the street, hearing the harsh catch of her breath and the pounding of her heart in
her head. The ambulance blocked the driveway. She skirted around and saw two EMTs standing by the back door.
“What’s happening?” she said. “Is someone dead? Is my brother dead?”
“Hey, you can’t be here,” one of them said.
“Somebody tell me what the hell is going on.”
Neither responded, but the two men shared a look.
She didn’t realize she’d started screaming Sean’s name until a uniformed cop got right up in her face.
“Hey, this is a crime scene.” The cop, with his blond hair sticking out from under his cap and ruddy cheeks, looked barely
old enough to shave.
“This is my brother’s house,” she yelled, and tried to shove past him. “You have to tell me if he’s okay.”
The cop grabbed her by the shoulders and gently but firmly made her move. “Back it up.”
“Get your hands off of me!”
“Is there a problem, Officer Dicks?”
Megan whipped her head in the direction of the familiar voice just in time to see Cole’s partner, Nick Jorgensen, rounding
the ambulance.
“Megan?” He motioned for the cop to let her go but caught her as she attempted to sprint up to the ambulance. “You need to
get out of here.”
“Is my brother in there, Nick? Is he dead? You have to tell me.”
His closed, careful expression didn’t provide any reassurance. “Megan, go home. Wait for someone to call you—”
“Not until I know—” She stopped when she saw Sean appear in the doorway. The constant strobe of emergency lights made him
fade in and out. He looked out of it, like he didn’t know exactly where he was.
“Sean,” she yelled, a half sob, half laugh, so relieved to see him alive she almost fell to her knees. Sean’s head turned
at the sound of her voice. He took a step toward her, his leg nearly buckling under him as he stumbled on the first step.
Someone jerked him hard from behind, halting his fall. Then Sean staggered forward a few more steps as though someone was
pushing him, his hands cuffed behind his back.
Other details became clear in that split second, her brain registering them in a series of high-definition freeze-frames.
Snap. She saw that her military-neat brother was wearing a torn khaki undershirt stained with reddish brown streaks. Snap. Her brain registered those same streaks on his pants. Snap. A spattering of it across the part of his arm she could see with his hands handcuffed behind him.
Oh my God. Blood.
Snap. The man walking behind her brother, shoving him down the sidewalk, was none other than her would-be lover, Detective Cole
Williams.
Megan leaped from her frozen stupor. She tried to shake off Nick, but he held her arm in an iron grip. “Sean, are you all
right?”
Cole’s dark eyes locked on her for a fraction of a second. He didn’t make a move in her direction, but instead steered Sean
to a squad car. Sean’s mouth moved, but the words were obliterated by the din of radios squawking and shouted orders. Neighbors
came out to their front stoops to gawk.
Megan’s stomach lurched as she watched Cole with her brother. She had been at the scene of enough arrests to recognize someone
being Mirandized.
“Let go of me!” She shoved at Nick and yanked until her shoulder threatened to pop from its socket, but he wasn’t about to
let her go anywhere. “Cole, tell me what’s happening.”
He shoved her brother into the back of a black-and-white and slammed the door behind him.
“Cole, answer me!”
His wide shoulders were vibrating with tension as he stalked up the lawn toward her, giving a nearly imperceptible nod at
Nick. The grip on her arm eased.
She ran, not toward Cole, but to the squad car where Sean waited. She could see his face in the window, panic in his eyes.
“Sean, Sean, it’s going to be okay.” Strong arms wrapped around her waist before she could reach the car. “No, let me go!
I need to talk to him!” she screamed. In another second the squad car pulled away from the curb.
Megan wheeled on her captor, shoving at Cole’s chest. “How could you? How could you arrest my brother?”
“I told you to stay home—” he started, his low, too-calm voice kicking her fury higher.
“Fuck you! You can’t expect me to stay home and wait by the phone. You should have told me what was happening—”
“Megan, I can’t give you details—”
“I told you this was my brother’s house!”
“I have a job to do. I can’t break the rules. Even for you.”
His eyes were flat, black chips of ice. Megan stepped back, unable to believe this was the same man who had spent the day
laughing and flirting with her. The same man who less than half an hour ago had his hand up her skirt and his mouth on hers,
holding on to his control by a thread as he slid her panties down her legs.
Right now he stared at her as though she was just another freak who’d showed up at a crime scene.
Rage dissolved into fear, leaving her desperate. “You have to help me, Cole. Help me get him out of this.”
Cole’s look thawed a degree, but his mouth stayed in a straight, bitter line. “I don’t know what to tell you. Sean’s in big
trouble.”
“No! There has to be something you can do.”
He shook his head. “You really want my advice? Get a damn good lawyer.”
She went numb.
Cole looked over her head and spoke to someone behind her. “Get her out of here.”
“Come on, miss, let’s get you home.” Male hands gripped her arms, pulling her toward the street as the man she loved turned
his back and walked away.
Seattle Tribune, January 20, 2008
DECORATED WAR VETERAN SENTENCED TO DEATH
A King County jury has formally sentenced thirty-year-old Sean Flynn to the death penalty after being convicted of raping
and killing a young woman.
Flynn was convicted last month of the aggravated rape and first-degree murder of Evangeline Gordon, twenty-one, who Flynn
met at Seattle nightclub Club One. Gordon was seen leaving with Flynn on the night of June 4. Her body was found the next
day in Flynn’s house.
Flynn’s was the first case in which King County prosecutors sought a death sentence in nearly a decade.
Flynn’s attorneys say they plan to appeal the verdict.
Outside Walla Walla, Washington, Two Years Later
An all-too-familiar tight feeling settled in Megan’s stomach as she took a right turn off Highway 12 in Walla Walla and the
towers of the Washington State Penitentiary, aka the Walls, came into view.
The sight of the squat brick buildings never failed to send a wave of dread through her, as it had every single Saturday for
the past two years, ever since Sean had been sentenced.
It still struck her as surreal, impossible that Sean could ever be convicted of murder, much less sentenced to the death penalty.
She’d been devastated when she’d learned that the prosecutor planned to ask for death in Sean’s case. Prosecuting attorney
Mark Benson had been up for reelection and had been reeling under the upsurge in violent crime. He seized on Sean’s case as
the perfect opportunity to take bold action and set an example. To show that no one, not even a decorated war hero with an
otherwise spotless record, could escape due punishment for his crimes.
Despite Sean’s continued assertions of innocence and the support of the best attorneys they could afford, it had taken a jury
less than two hours to return with a guilty verdict.
Even Megan, in her weaker moments, was forced to admit it looked bad. If she hadn’t known her brother to his very soul, she
might have questioned his innocence too. The victim, Evangeline Gordon, had been killed by multiple stab wounds, and there
was little question the weapon was the Randall knife Sean and the other members of his Army Ranger regiment had had specially
made. Evidence of sexual assault put the final nail in Sean’s coffin, as had the testimony from the victim’s friend that he
had been stalking Evangeline before she died….
Seemingly irrefutable evidence that gave the judge and jury ample reason to levy the ultimate penalty.
Megan refused to believe in her brother’s guilt. She knew, with every fiber of her being, that Sean was innocent. The man she knew wasn’t capable of what they’d accused him of.
Sean was fiercely protective and would never deliberately hurt a weaker person. He would never hurt a woman, much less rape
or kill one.
Too bad no one else gave any weight to her assertions that Sean, who had been drugged along with the victim, had been framed
by the real killer.
She’d taken her story to anyone who would listen, until almost everyone outside of Sean’s attorneys had written her off as
delusional, unwilling to face the truth.
But she knew the truth, she thought as she took the turn toward the prison. The truth was that Sean wasn’t guilty, and Megan
didn’t care if people dismissed her as a whack job. She wasn’t going to stop until Sean was free.
A dream that still felt impossibly out of reach.
Gloom had settled like a wet wool blanket on her shoulders on the drive here. Now she struggled to shrug it off and put a
goddamn smile on her face. Though she’d had hours to prepare herself, she was still practicing her cheerful pep talk as she
checked in at the entrance and pulled into visitor parking. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and made a feeble
attempt to conjure a smile that didn’t look like a grimace.
Suck it up, Flynn, she scolded herself. Sean’s already got it bad enough. He doesn’t need you coming in looking like death warmed over.
A half laugh, half sob scraped her throat at her mental phrasing.
There’s still time, she reminded herself.
She pulled her purse into her lap and took out her makeup kit. Just as she had every Saturday for the last year and a half, Megan worked a little last-minute magic. Concealer to disguise the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless
nights. Highlighter along the top of her cheekbones to make the hollows underneath look less pronounced. Blush to coax to
life what was left of the peach in her peaches-and-cream complexion. Last, tinted gloss so Sean wouldn’t see that her lips
were as drained of color as the rest of her.
The results were far from perfect, but maybe it would keep Sean from noticing the toll insomnia and stress had taken on his
little sister’s face.
Yeah right. Sean had the kind of eagle eye that had qualified him for sniper training in the Army Rangers. He wasn’t going to miss the
red eyes and road map of fatigue lines, no matter how much powder and sparkle she applied.
Megan got out of the car and felt her shoulders start to slump and her mouth turn down. She stopped herself short and paused
for her weekly mental asskicking. Get your act together, Megan! Sean needs you to be strong. Sean needs to see you’re okay. Now put on a fucking happy face
like you do every Saturday.
But it wasn’t just any Saturday, and the thought made the soles of Megan’s black Converse All Stars move at a snail’s pace
toward the visitor check-in center. She was already tired. It was a four-hour drive from Seattle to the Walls. When Sean was
first convicted and sent to the penitentiary in Walla Walla, Megan had considered moving to be closer to him. But Sean had
told her to drop the subject or he would refuse all future visits. No way am I going to let you move out here to the ass end of nowhere just so you can see me for two hours a week.
Megan had been secretly relieved. She hated it out here. If she were objective about it, she’d probably find the rolling hills,
increasingly populated by vineyards, and acres of lush farmland beautiful. But to Megan the wide-open space and sparse population
represented exile. The weekly drives took their toll on her long-suffering Honda, but they helped her cope. She used the drive
here to prepare for her visit, to think up topics of conversation, stories about the kids and families she was working with.
Brace herself for Sean’s grim silence, his monosyllabic answers, the forced smile that didn’t do anything to erase the despair
in his green eyes.
When she left, she guiltily relished her ability to leave the prison behind and drive west, literally into the sunset. She
would roll down the windows and let the wind scrub off the sickening smell of Lysol and despair that seemed to cling to her,
welcoming the transition from bright sun to Seattle’s cool, cloudy sky. A rush of shamed relief would bring her back to her
own world, her own life.
She checked her watch and forced herself to step up her pace. Visiting hours for the Intensive Management Unit, or IMU for
short, were set in stone, and if she didn’t make it through processing by 1:00 p.m., she was screwed. And today of all days,
she knew Sean would be counting on her to provide some sort of friendly contact from the outside world.
Megan went through the check-in process automatically, showing her photo ID and walking through the metal detector. After
her first visit, which seemed like centuries ago, she’d learned to lock her purse in the trunk of her car and not carry anything
but her driver’s license.
She kept her eyes forward and her face impassive, never making eye contact with anyone in the waiting room. She’d chosen her clothing as much for modesty as for warmth. The
heavy turtleneck sweater and baggy jeans gave no hint of skin or curves. Still, she could feel the eyes of the other male
visitors, even the male prison guards, making her skin crawl under her dowdy clothes.
Finally she was escorted to a booth to wait for Sean. The slight relief at no longer being on display gave way to the heavy
sadness that never failed to surge as soon as the guard locked the door behind her.
While she waited, she tried to swallow back the lump that had taken residence in her throat the day Sean was arrested and
expanded to near choking size each week when her butt hit the hard orange plastic of the waiting room chair.
But this week the lump was bigger—like a softball lodged at the base of her throat. And now tears were pricking at the backs
of her eyes. She angrily swiped them away, hoping she didn’t rub off the concealer in the process. No way was she going to
let Sean find her crying. He already thought she was too emotional to deal with his problems. Today she needed to be strong.
For him. For herself.
Earlier in the week, the Supreme Court of Washington denied Sean’s second appeal. Adam Brockner, Sean’s attorney, tried to
console her, telling her it was just a setback. When Sean’s death sentence had been held up in the state’s mandatory review
process, that, too, had been a mere setback.
Adam Brockner was full of it.
Her brother was still stuck in this hellhole for something he didn’t do. She’d call that more than a setback. She’d said as much to Brockner when he’d called her on Wednesday after the three judges on the panel had issued their ruling.
Nothing she could do about that. She’d written a lot of freelance pieces about criminal cases, and her volunteer work as a
child advocate gave her some knowledge of the legal system, but she was no defense attorney. All she could do was what she’d
been doing since the night Sean was arrested. Put on a brave face for her brother.
That, and explore every shred of evidence that might lead to Evangeline Gordon’s real killer. The appeals process could keep
Sean alive for years, but finding the real murderer was Sean’s only true shot at freedom.
After a few minutes, Megan was summoned by a guard and instructed to sit in a booth in the prison’s no-contact visiting area.
A few moments later, she watched through the Plexiglas divider as Sean was led in. Cuffed and shackled, he shuffled into the
room, his shoulders hunched slightly because of the cuffs. Even so, her brother’s tall body radiated power and strength.
He and Megan shared their mother’s high cheekbones and dark hair and their father’s deep green eyes, but the resemblance ended
there. Megan’s wide eyes, small nose, and full mouth gave her face a soft, frustratingly childlike quality—at twenty-nine,
she still got carded when she bought d
And judging from the molten look Cole Williams was giving her across her tiny kitchen table, her perfect day was about to
glide seamlessly into a perfect night.
“That was amazing,” he said, leaning back in his chair, relaxed after a day spent on the water, followed by a home-cooked
meal of fresh-caught local salmon accompanied by a bottle of Columbia Valley Pinot Noir. His plate was so clean he might have
licked it, and Megan felt a ridiculous spurt of feminine pride in having provided a meal he’d so obviously enjoyed.
Megan traced the edge of her wineglass with her finger and gave him a sly smile. “So maybe next time you make salmon you’ll
listen to me and not cook it down to a fine dust?”
Cole laughed and leaned across the table to refill her wineglass. “My mom always said you had to cook it enough to kill the
bacteria.” He set the bottle down and took her free hand in his, his thumb tracing slow circles in the sensitive hollow of
her palm.
Megan took a swallow of wine and smiled. “Since you grew up in a landlocked state, I’ll let you off the hook. But from now
on, leave the seafood to us natives. Deal?”
“Deal. I’ll grill the steaks; you do the fish.”
Megan tried not to let herself get too carried away with fantasies of a lifetime of quiet dinners like this and wiped what
she knew was a completely moony look off her face.
But it was impossible for her not to get carried away with Cole, all smoldering and intense across the table from her. With
his dark eyes, dark skin, and bold, almost craggy features, Cole was a little too rough to be classically handsome. But when
his full lips pulled into that sexy smile, Megan felt like she was going to melt into a puddle and spill right off her chair.
He pushed back from the table and kept hold of her hand as he walked the few steps to the couch. He settled against the cushions
and she sank down next to him, her legs folded under her short skirt.
The short, flowered halter dress was completely inappropriate for a day out on Puget Sound on Cole’s boat. Even in early June,
the temperature out on the water didn’t get much above sixty degrees. But when she’d gotten dressed that morning, she’d chosen
the dress as a key part of her mission.
Namely, to finally break through Detective Cole Williams’s ironclad control.
Up until tonight, every date with the broodingly sexy detective had ended the same. With a kiss. Then more kisses that started
with soft pecks and worked their way up to deep, wet, tongue-sliding, lip-sucking, blood-boiling kisses. Kisses that got Megan
hotter than she’d ever been with any other man.
But no matter how hot she got, he never pushed it past hot kisses and light caresses, leaving her humming and thrumming with
unsatisfied desire.
She was done with taking it slow. She wanted Cole, she wanted him now, and judging from the way his dark gaze kept straying
down to the curves of her breasts swelling over the neckline of her dress, he was finally done too.
He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I missed you these last couple of weeks.”
He looked a little worn around the edges, and for good reason. Cole was a homicide detective for the Seattle PD, and his latest
case had him working such long hours that she’d hardly seen him.
“You sound a little surprised by that.”
“I am,” Cole replied, then held up a hand at her look of mock offense. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it, smooth talker?” Megan gave him a playful swat on the leg that left her hand resting on the top
of his thigh.
The lines around Cole’s deep-set eyes crinkled with his sheepish grin. “Usually when I’m head down in a case, I’m totally
focused. I forget to eat, forget to sleep, everything.” He leaned in closer, close enough she could feel his warm, wine-scented
breath tease her lips. “But I couldn’t forget about you.”
“I missed you too,” Megan whispered right before his mouth covered hers. She parted her lips willingly, eager for the heat,
the taste of him as his tongue thrust in. Pushing her back against the cushions, he licked, sucked, nipped, until Megan was
clutching at him, practically shaking with need.
Please let tonight be the night.
As though he heard her silent plea, his kiss turned fierce and demanding. There was something different in his touch, in the
way he kissed her. Like he was starving and she was the most delicious thing on earth.
Megan struggled to catch her breath as he pushed her back onto the couch. She’d known there was passion simmering under that
stony cop surface, but nothing had prepared her for this.
Megan slid her hand up Cole’s back, dragging the hem of his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans. She purred in pleasure
at the feel of his hot, smooth skin, the sound swallowed up by a sleek thrust of his tongue against hers. She traced her fingers
up the hard slabs of muscle, her mouth moving eagerly under his as she sought to drink in every touch, every taste.
Cole pulled the strap off the other shoulder and tugged the bodice of her dress down to her waist. His groan of satisfaction
rumbled through her core, sending a pulse of heat between her legs. He held himself still above her, muscles quivering as
his hot, dark eyes locked on her naked breasts. Her nipples were hard, aching and tingling, begging for his touch.
A vivid flush rode his sharp cheekbones. His mouth was kiss swollen, his lips parted as his breath came in hot pants. “Jesus
Christ,” he said in a low, strained voice. “I’ve been thinking about this from the second I laid eyes on you, and even then…
You’re so goddamn gorgeous I don’t know how I kept my hands off you this long.”
He tugged his T-shirt the rest of the way over his head. Megan was treated to a glimpse of a wide, defined chest and rippling
six-pack dusted with fine dark hair before he settled himself back on top of her. She let out an “ooh” at the first brush of skin on skin, a little surprised not to see sparks flying from where their bodies touched. He settled between
her thighs, letting her feel the rock-hard ridge of his erection straining at the fly of his pants, leaving no doubt as to
how much he wanted her. He kissed her again, his tongue thrusting in deep, lazy strokes that had her aching and shifting against
him in an agony of need.
Megan kissed him back with everything she had, her heart twisting in her chest with the knowledge that sex with Cole was going
to be amazing. Momentous.
Sex with Cole would change everything.
But that was okay. Because she was in love with Cole Williams. It had taken some convincing on her part to get him here, but
she was pretty sure he was on his way to being in love with her too.
As scary as the idea of love was, Megan knew that with Cole by her side, everything would be okay.
Riinnnnnggg.
Cole jerked in her embrace, his lips stilling against hers as the harsh ring pierced through the sound of fast breath and
wet kisses.
Megan tensed. A cop to his core, Cole never let anything get between him and his sworn duty. Even on his day off. She closed
her eyes and started to count to one hundred, trying to cool her body and bring herself back from the edge as she prepared
for yet another night on the razor’s edge of sexual frustration.
To her shock, the cell phone kept ringing. Cole curled his fingers more tightly in her hair and resumed kissing her with that
almost primitive intensity. Wow. Cole must really want me if he’s ignoring it. A thrill rippled through her at the thought.
A second after the ringing stopped, it started again.
“Fuck!” Cole roared.
Exactly what I had in mind, she thought. “I guess you better get that,” she sighed.
Cole nodded and let out a string of curses as he pushed himself off of her and grabbed his cell from the end table. “Jorgensen,
why the hell are you calling me on my afternoon off?”
It was his partner, Nick Jorgensen. Megan sighed and tried to swallow back her disappointment. If she really wanted a relationship
with Cole, she would have to get used to the demands of the career he loved.
Party’s over. Megan sat up and pulled her dress back over her breasts and tugged her skirt down to cover her legs. Cole was silent for
several seconds, his dark brows pulling into a tight frown over eyes that were losing their sensual haze.
She could make out a little bit of what Jorgensen was saying on the other line, but not enough to figure out exactly what
was going on. Something bad, she guessed from the grim look on Cole’s face.
“I’m off today,” Cole said. “Why don’t you handle it—”
Jorgensen answered loud and clear. She heard every word. “This is a slam dunk, asshole. Get over here now.”
Cole’s broad shoulders slumped, and he clawed his fingers through his hair. “Fine, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I’m sorry, he mouthed to her.
Megan gave him a feeble imitation of an understanding smile, her sexual glow dimming by several watts.
“What’s the address?”
Megan’s stomach seized as she heard Jorgensen give Cole the number and street.
She had to have misheard.
Cole disconnected the call, zipped up his pants, and reached for his shirt. “I’m sorry, Megan, but I have to go—”
“Did he just say the address is Forty-five Appleton Street?”
He didn’t confirm. His face was cold and wiped clean of all expression.
“Cole, that’s my brother’s address. What’s going on?” Panic roared through her veins, stealing her breath, replacing the heat
of arousal with the cold bite of fear. Cole was a homicide detective. There was only one reason he would be called to Sean’s
house. She sprang from the couch and grabbed his arm. “Is my brother dead? Did something happen? You have to tell me!”
Cole grabbed her in a brief, fierce hug. “I don’t know the details. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He pulled away, and when
she looked up, she saw that he’d gone into full-on Robocop mode. He reached for his phone and his jacket. “Just stay here
and wait for my call.”
The door hadn’t even closed behind him before she grabbed her phone and dialed her brother’s house. Straight to voice mail.
“Sean, pick up!” she yelled, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She yanked on a fleece pullover and stuffed her feet
into flip-flops, dialing Sean’s cell phone as she rushed out the door.
Her call went straight to voice mail and she left another message.
She slipped on the damp wooden stairs that led out, barely catching herself before she tumbled down the last two to the paved
driveway below. She took a deep breath and gathered her trembling legs under her before continuing.
Please God, let everything be all right. Please let Sean be okay. Sean had done ten years in the military, including his last tour in Afghanistan. He couldn’t have survived that only to return
home and…
She wouldn’t let herself think it. Her fingers shook so hard she could barely get the keys into the ignition. She made the
drive in five minutes flat.
Her heart seized in her chest as she pulled over. Flashing lights from an ambulance and two Seattle PD squad cars created
a swirling eddy of blue and red in the twilight. Cole’s Jeep was parked behind a black-and-white, but he was nowhere in sight.
Neither was Sean. Megan sprinted across the street, hearing the harsh catch of her breath and the pounding of her heart in
her head. The ambulance blocked the driveway. She skirted around and saw two EMTs standing by the back door.
“What’s happening?” she said. “Is someone dead? Is my brother dead?”
“Hey, you can’t be here,” one of them said.
“Somebody tell me what the hell is going on.”
Neither responded, but the two men shared a look.
She didn’t realize she’d started screaming Sean’s name until a uniformed cop got right up in her face.
“Hey, this is a crime scene.” The cop, with his blond hair sticking out from under his cap and ruddy cheeks, looked barely
old enough to shave.
“This is my brother’s house,” she yelled, and tried to shove past him. “You have to tell me if he’s okay.”
The cop grabbed her by the shoulders and gently but firmly made her move. “Back it up.”
“Get your hands off of me!”
“Is there a problem, Officer Dicks?”
Megan whipped her head in the direction of the familiar voice just in time to see Cole’s partner, Nick Jorgensen, rounding
the ambulance.
“Megan?” He motioned for the cop to let her go but caught her as she attempted to sprint up to the ambulance. “You need to
get out of here.”
“Is my brother in there, Nick? Is he dead? You have to tell me.”
His closed, careful expression didn’t provide any reassurance. “Megan, go home. Wait for someone to call you—”
“Not until I know—” She stopped when she saw Sean appear in the doorway. The constant strobe of emergency lights made him
fade in and out. He looked out of it, like he didn’t know exactly where he was.
“Sean,” she yelled, a half sob, half laugh, so relieved to see him alive she almost fell to her knees. Sean’s head turned
at the sound of her voice. He took a step toward her, his leg nearly buckling under him as he stumbled on the first step.
Someone jerked him hard from behind, halting his fall. Then Sean staggered forward a few more steps as though someone was
pushing him, his hands cuffed behind his back.
Other details became clear in that split second, her brain registering them in a series of high-definition freeze-frames.
Snap. She saw that her military-neat brother was wearing a torn khaki undershirt stained with reddish brown streaks. Snap. Her brain registered those same streaks on his pants. Snap. A spattering of it across the part of his arm she could see with his hands handcuffed behind him.
Oh my God. Blood.
Snap. The man walking behind her brother, shoving him down the sidewalk, was none other than her would-be lover, Detective Cole
Williams.
Megan leaped from her frozen stupor. She tried to shake off Nick, but he held her arm in an iron grip. “Sean, are you all
right?”
Cole’s dark eyes locked on her for a fraction of a second. He didn’t make a move in her direction, but instead steered Sean
to a squad car. Sean’s mouth moved, but the words were obliterated by the din of radios squawking and shouted orders. Neighbors
came out to their front stoops to gawk.
Megan’s stomach lurched as she watched Cole with her brother. She had been at the scene of enough arrests to recognize someone
being Mirandized.
“Let go of me!” She shoved at Nick and yanked until her shoulder threatened to pop from its socket, but he wasn’t about to
let her go anywhere. “Cole, tell me what’s happening.”
He shoved her brother into the back of a black-and-white and slammed the door behind him.
“Cole, answer me!”
His wide shoulders were vibrating with tension as he stalked up the lawn toward her, giving a nearly imperceptible nod at
Nick. The grip on her arm eased.
She ran, not toward Cole, but to the squad car where Sean waited. She could see his face in the window, panic in his eyes.
“Sean, Sean, it’s going to be okay.” Strong arms wrapped around her waist before she could reach the car. “No, let me go!
I need to talk to him!” she screamed. In another second the squad car pulled away from the curb.
Megan wheeled on her captor, shoving at Cole’s chest. “How could you? How could you arrest my brother?”
“I told you to stay home—” he started, his low, too-calm voice kicking her fury higher.
“Fuck you! You can’t expect me to stay home and wait by the phone. You should have told me what was happening—”
“Megan, I can’t give you details—”
“I told you this was my brother’s house!”
“I have a job to do. I can’t break the rules. Even for you.”
His eyes were flat, black chips of ice. Megan stepped back, unable to believe this was the same man who had spent the day
laughing and flirting with her. The same man who less than half an hour ago had his hand up her skirt and his mouth on hers,
holding on to his control by a thread as he slid her panties down her legs.
Right now he stared at her as though she was just another freak who’d showed up at a crime scene.
Rage dissolved into fear, leaving her desperate. “You have to help me, Cole. Help me get him out of this.”
Cole’s look thawed a degree, but his mouth stayed in a straight, bitter line. “I don’t know what to tell you. Sean’s in big
trouble.”
“No! There has to be something you can do.”
He shook his head. “You really want my advice? Get a damn good lawyer.”
She went numb.
Cole looked over her head and spoke to someone behind her. “Get her out of here.”
“Come on, miss, let’s get you home.” Male hands gripped her arms, pulling her toward the street as the man she loved turned
his back and walked away.
Seattle Tribune, January 20, 2008
DECORATED WAR VETERAN SENTENCED TO DEATH
A King County jury has formally sentenced thirty-year-old Sean Flynn to the death penalty after being convicted of raping
and killing a young woman.
Flynn was convicted last month of the aggravated rape and first-degree murder of Evangeline Gordon, twenty-one, who Flynn
met at Seattle nightclub Club One. Gordon was seen leaving with Flynn on the night of June 4. Her body was found the next
day in Flynn’s house.
Flynn’s was the first case in which King County prosecutors sought a death sentence in nearly a decade.
Flynn’s attorneys say they plan to appeal the verdict.
Outside Walla Walla, Washington, Two Years Later
An all-too-familiar tight feeling settled in Megan’s stomach as she took a right turn off Highway 12 in Walla Walla and the
towers of the Washington State Penitentiary, aka the Walls, came into view.
The sight of the squat brick buildings never failed to send a wave of dread through her, as it had every single Saturday for
the past two years, ever since Sean had been sentenced.
It still struck her as surreal, impossible that Sean could ever be convicted of murder, much less sentenced to the death penalty.
She’d been devastated when she’d learned that the prosecutor planned to ask for death in Sean’s case. Prosecuting attorney
Mark Benson had been up for reelection and had been reeling under the upsurge in violent crime. He seized on Sean’s case as
the perfect opportunity to take bold action and set an example. To show that no one, not even a decorated war hero with an
otherwise spotless record, could escape due punishment for his crimes.
Despite Sean’s continued assertions of innocence and the support of the best attorneys they could afford, it had taken a jury
less than two hours to return with a guilty verdict.
Even Megan, in her weaker moments, was forced to admit it looked bad. If she hadn’t known her brother to his very soul, she
might have questioned his innocence too. The victim, Evangeline Gordon, had been killed by multiple stab wounds, and there
was little question the weapon was the Randall knife Sean and the other members of his Army Ranger regiment had had specially
made. Evidence of sexual assault put the final nail in Sean’s coffin, as had the testimony from the victim’s friend that he
had been stalking Evangeline before she died….
Seemingly irrefutable evidence that gave the judge and jury ample reason to levy the ultimate penalty.
Megan refused to believe in her brother’s guilt. She knew, with every fiber of her being, that Sean was innocent. The man she knew wasn’t capable of what they’d accused him of.
Sean was fiercely protective and would never deliberately hurt a weaker person. He would never hurt a woman, much less rape
or kill one.
Too bad no one else gave any weight to her assertions that Sean, who had been drugged along with the victim, had been framed
by the real killer.
She’d taken her story to anyone who would listen, until almost everyone outside of Sean’s attorneys had written her off as
delusional, unwilling to face the truth.
But she knew the truth, she thought as she took the turn toward the prison. The truth was that Sean wasn’t guilty, and Megan
didn’t care if people dismissed her as a whack job. She wasn’t going to stop until Sean was free.
A dream that still felt impossibly out of reach.
Gloom had settled like a wet wool blanket on her shoulders on the drive here. Now she struggled to shrug it off and put a
goddamn smile on her face. Though she’d had hours to prepare herself, she was still practicing her cheerful pep talk as she
checked in at the entrance and pulled into visitor parking. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and made a feeble
attempt to conjure a smile that didn’t look like a grimace.
Suck it up, Flynn, she scolded herself. Sean’s already got it bad enough. He doesn’t need you coming in looking like death warmed over.
A half laugh, half sob scraped her throat at her mental phrasing.
There’s still time, she reminded herself.
She pulled her purse into her lap and took out her makeup kit. Just as she had every Saturday for the last year and a half, Megan worked a little last-minute magic. Concealer to disguise the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless
nights. Highlighter along the top of her cheekbones to make the hollows underneath look less pronounced. Blush to coax to
life what was left of the peach in her peaches-and-cream complexion. Last, tinted gloss so Sean wouldn’t see that her lips
were as drained of color as the rest of her.
The results were far from perfect, but maybe it would keep Sean from noticing the toll insomnia and stress had taken on his
little sister’s face.
Yeah right. Sean had the kind of eagle eye that had qualified him for sniper training in the Army Rangers. He wasn’t going to miss the
red eyes and road map of fatigue lines, no matter how much powder and sparkle she applied.
Megan got out of the car and felt her shoulders start to slump and her mouth turn down. She stopped herself short and paused
for her weekly mental asskicking. Get your act together, Megan! Sean needs you to be strong. Sean needs to see you’re okay. Now put on a fucking happy face
like you do every Saturday.
But it wasn’t just any Saturday, and the thought made the soles of Megan’s black Converse All Stars move at a snail’s pace
toward the visitor check-in center. She was already tired. It was a four-hour drive from Seattle to the Walls. When Sean was
first convicted and sent to the penitentiary in Walla Walla, Megan had considered moving to be closer to him. But Sean had
told her to drop the subject or he would refuse all future visits. No way am I going to let you move out here to the ass end of nowhere just so you can see me for two hours a week.
Megan had been secretly relieved. She hated it out here. If she were objective about it, she’d probably find the rolling hills,
increasingly populated by vineyards, and acres of lush farmland beautiful. But to Megan the wide-open space and sparse population
represented exile. The weekly drives took their toll on her long-suffering Honda, but they helped her cope. She used the drive
here to prepare for her visit, to think up topics of conversation, stories about the kids and families she was working with.
Brace herself for Sean’s grim silence, his monosyllabic answers, the forced smile that didn’t do anything to erase the despair
in his green eyes.
When she left, she guiltily relished her ability to leave the prison behind and drive west, literally into the sunset. She
would roll down the windows and let the wind scrub off the sickening smell of Lysol and despair that seemed to cling to her,
welcoming the transition from bright sun to Seattle’s cool, cloudy sky. A rush of shamed relief would bring her back to her
own world, her own life.
She checked her watch and forced herself to step up her pace. Visiting hours for the Intensive Management Unit, or IMU for
short, were set in stone, and if she didn’t make it through processing by 1:00 p.m., she was screwed. And today of all days,
she knew Sean would be counting on her to provide some sort of friendly contact from the outside world.
Megan went through the check-in process automatically, showing her photo ID and walking through the metal detector. After
her first visit, which seemed like centuries ago, she’d learned to lock her purse in the trunk of her car and not carry anything
but her driver’s license.
She kept her eyes forward and her face impassive, never making eye contact with anyone in the waiting room. She’d chosen her clothing as much for modesty as for warmth. The
heavy turtleneck sweater and baggy jeans gave no hint of skin or curves. Still, she could feel the eyes of the other male
visitors, even the male prison guards, making her skin crawl under her dowdy clothes.
Finally she was escorted to a booth to wait for Sean. The slight relief at no longer being on display gave way to the heavy
sadness that never failed to surge as soon as the guard locked the door behind her.
While she waited, she tried to swallow back the lump that had taken residence in her throat the day Sean was arrested and
expanded to near choking size each week when her butt hit the hard orange plastic of the waiting room chair.
But this week the lump was bigger—like a softball lodged at the base of her throat. And now tears were pricking at the backs
of her eyes. She angrily swiped them away, hoping she didn’t rub off the concealer in the process. No way was she going to
let Sean find her crying. He already thought she was too emotional to deal with his problems. Today she needed to be strong.
For him. For herself.
Earlier in the week, the Supreme Court of Washington denied Sean’s second appeal. Adam Brockner, Sean’s attorney, tried to
console her, telling her it was just a setback. When Sean’s death sentence had been held up in the state’s mandatory review
process, that, too, had been a mere setback.
Adam Brockner was full of it.
Her brother was still stuck in this hellhole for something he didn’t do. She’d call that more than a setback. She’d said as much to Brockner when he’d called her on Wednesday after the three judges on the panel had issued their ruling.
Nothing she could do about that. She’d written a lot of freelance pieces about criminal cases, and her volunteer work as a
child advocate gave her some knowledge of the legal system, but she was no defense attorney. All she could do was what she’d
been doing since the night Sean was arrested. Put on a brave face for her brother.
That, and explore every shred of evidence that might lead to Evangeline Gordon’s real killer. The appeals process could keep
Sean alive for years, but finding the real murderer was Sean’s only true shot at freedom.
After a few minutes, Megan was summoned by a guard and instructed to sit in a booth in the prison’s no-contact visiting area.
A few moments later, she watched through the Plexiglas divider as Sean was led in. Cuffed and shackled, he shuffled into the
room, his shoulders hunched slightly because of the cuffs. Even so, her brother’s tall body radiated power and strength.
He and Megan shared their mother’s high cheekbones and dark hair and their father’s deep green eyes, but the resemblance ended
there. Megan’s wide eyes, small nose, and full mouth gave her face a soft, frustratingly childlike quality—at twenty-nine,
she still got carded when she bought d
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
