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Synopsis
Previously published in Pivot
A young woman with a complicated past finds herself fighting for her life in New York Times bestselling author Alexandra Ivy’s thrilling novel of secrets, murder, and riveting romantic suspense . . .
That secret explodes when Melanie Cassidy spots two men trying to kidnap a young boy she tutors and responds by ramming them with her car. The last thing she expects is for the man she once loved, Detective Gray Hawkins, to appear and rescue them both. Now she has no choice but to trust him as they investigate the truth about a conspiracy of dirty, drug trafficking cops—and the truth about their relationship . . .
Release date: December 27, 2022
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 96
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Echoes from the Past
Alexandra Ivy
Few people whizzing along Interstate 5 noticed the blocky, white stone buildings. The structures looked like any other office complex in Seattle. It wasn’t until you entered the front door that it became obvious it was a correctional facility that housed many of the city’s most dangerous prisoners. Including Bart Kowalski.
Kowalski, or Ski, as he was known on the street, was a tough guy who had a long history of violence that’d recently ended when he was shot and arrested for attempting to kidnap Lily Jones, the newly adopted daughter of Ian Brodie.
Detective Gray Hawkins had been called in to assist in the takedown, arresting Ski along with the kingpin of the crime, Joey Bandini.
Gray had returned to Spokane after the arrest. Then, three weeks ago, he’d suddenly decided to move back to Seattle. He told people that he wanted to be closer to his family who lived in the area. A perfectly legitimate reason. Only the chief was aware of the true motive for his return.
Well, the chief and Bart Kowalski, who was hoping to avoid a life sentence by turning state’s evidence. Not only against his partner Joey Bandini, but the dirty cops who were involved in trafficking drugs into the city.
Entering the jail, Gray allowed the uniformed guard to lead him to one of the conference rooms that were reserved for attorney-client meetings. It’d been arranged by the chief, since it was the only place in the jail where they could speak without being monitored.
The guard glanced over his shoulder, taking in Gray’s casual jeans and flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He could sense the younger man’s puzzlement. God knew he didn’t look like a lawyer with his thick chestnut hair tousled by the stiff breeze and a five o’clock stubble on his lean face. And he suspected his silver-gray eyes were smoldering with frustration.
No doubt the guard was wondering if he was there to stage a jail break. Then, with a small shrug, the young man seemed to conclude that his unease about the unknown visitor was above his pay grade, and he shoved open the door.
Gray entered the small, windowless room to find a narrow table and two wooden chairs bolted to the tiled floor. Bart Kowalski was already seated and glaring at him with blatant impatience.
The man was as large as a mountain, with a bald head and heavily chiseled features. Most of the bruises he’d received during his arrest looked like they’d healed up in the past weeks. Gray couldn’t see the bullet wound on the man’s leg beneath the blue prison uniform, but he assumed it was healing as well.
Gray closed the door, moving to take the empty seat across the table from Ski.
“’Bout time you got here,” the man groused.
Gray leaned forward, his expression hard with warning. “I shouldn’t be here at all. You’re going to blow my cover.”
“I have to talk to someone, and you’re the only one I trust.”
Gray frowned. He was in Seattle because Ski was anxious to make a plea deal by ratting out those involved in the local drug trade. During his confession, he’d revealed that there were a couple dirty cops who were working with the cartel. Gray was there to ferret out the traitors.
“What about your lawyer?”
“No one but you,” Ski stubbornly insisted.
“Why?” It was a question that’d been nagging at Gray since he received word that the man was demanding to speak with him. “As far as I can remember, we’ve never met other than at your arrest. Why trust me?”
“I shared a cell with Spider a few years ago,” Ski said. “I overheard him telling the guard that he’d worked as your snitch and that you were a stand-up guy. At least for a cop. He said you even stopped by and checked on his mother while he was locked up.” Ski lowered his voice, his eyes darting around the cramped room as if making sure they were alone. “Plus, you wouldn’t have been the one picked to sniff out the dirty cops if you weren’t squeaky clean.”
Gray remembered Spider. A low-level drug dealer and street hustler who’d provided just enough information to keep himself from a protracted jail sentence. Not the finest character reference, but he’d take it if that meant Ski would open up to him.
“Did you remember something?” he asked.
The man muttered a curse. “How many times do I have to say it? I’ve told you guys everything I know.”
“It’s not enough,” Gray protested. They needed names if they were going to root out the corruption in the department.
“I was at the bottom of the food chain. I didn’t get invites to the secret meetings and carry-in dinners.”
Gray narrowed his eyes. “If you want to be a smart-ass, do it on your own time. I have better things to do.”
“Wait,” Ski grunted as Gray started to rise from his chair. “I need your help.”
Gray sat back down. He didn’t miss the edge of panic in the man’s voice. “What’s going on?”
Ski did the looking-around thing again. Did he think there was a guard hidden behind the potted plant? Then, the man reached into the pocket of his uniform pants to pull out a piece of paper.
“I found this in my bed last night,” he said, shoving the note across the table.
Gray read the scribbled words out loud. “‘Talk and your kid is dead.’ Kid?” He lifted his gaze to study his companion in confusion. “What kid?”
Ski looked oddly uncomfortable. “I have a boy. Donny. He’s six. I haven’t had much to do with him until a few months ago when my ex dumped him on my doorstep. She has a new dude and a new kid and no room for Donny,” he said. “My mom’s been taking care of the boy since he got to town.”
Gray tapped his fingers on the table. He’d read through Ski’s file a dozen times, and he didn’t recall a mention of a child. Which meant . . .
“He wasn’t living in Seattle until recently?” Gray demanded.
Ski shook his head. “He lived in LA, and I never saw him. My old lady said I was a bad influence.” Ski made a sound of self-disgust. “She was right. But then Donny got in the way of her new life, and she suddenly didn’t care that I get the trophy for the worst dad in the world. She just wanted to get rid of him.”
Gray shuddered at the thought of a young child being in the care of this brutal man. With an effort, he forced himself to concentrate on the reason he was there.
“Who would know you have a son?”
Ski blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My ex and her new douchebag of a husband,” he said. “And of course, my mom.”
“What about Joey?”
Joey Bandini was a complete lowlife. He’d have bartered Ski’s son to the bad guys in a heartbeat if he thought it could help him. Hell, he’d been willing to threaten his own daughter for a few bucks to buy drugs.
Ski shook his head. “I didn’t want anyone to know about the kid. I might not be the father of the year, but I’m not completely stupid.”
“What about school?”
“I haven’t got him signed up yet.” The man shrugged. “I don’t even know when it starts, to be honest.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “I think my mom takes him to some community center to help with his reading, but I doubt anyone there would know I’m his father.”
Gray continued to tap his finger on the table. “So, no one in Seattle knows you have a son besides your mother?”
Ski started to shake his head, only to suck in a sharp breath. “Wait. I caught one of the guards looking through the letters that I have in my cell. A couple of them were from Donny.”
Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “What’s the guard’s name?”
“Butch.” Ski held up his hands at Gray’s impatient glare. “That’s all I know.”
“When did you catch him going through the letters?”
“Two nights ago.”
A sudden unease cramped Gray’s stomach as his gaze strayed back to the note on the table. It could be an empty warning, but if there was even a small chance the boy might be in danger, he had to act. Now.
“Where is Donny?”
“With my mom.” Without warning, Ski leaned forward, his brutish face pale. “Look, I know I’m scum, and I’ll probably die in this shithole, but the kid is innocent. You have to protect him.”
“Give me the address,” Gray commanded.
Ski rattled off the street number, watching as Gray grabbed the note off the table and tucked it in his pocket.
“You’re going to make sure Donny’s okay?”
“Yeah, I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” Gray shoved himself out of the chair. “Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be back.”
Without waiting for Ski to respond, Gray walked out of the room and motioned for the nearby guard to escort him to the exit. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a sudden, urgent sense that the boy was in trouble.
He’d learned long ago never to ignore his instincts.
He jogged across the park. . .
Kowalski, or Ski, as he was known on the street, was a tough guy who had a long history of violence that’d recently ended when he was shot and arrested for attempting to kidnap Lily Jones, the newly adopted daughter of Ian Brodie.
Detective Gray Hawkins had been called in to assist in the takedown, arresting Ski along with the kingpin of the crime, Joey Bandini.
Gray had returned to Spokane after the arrest. Then, three weeks ago, he’d suddenly decided to move back to Seattle. He told people that he wanted to be closer to his family who lived in the area. A perfectly legitimate reason. Only the chief was aware of the true motive for his return.
Well, the chief and Bart Kowalski, who was hoping to avoid a life sentence by turning state’s evidence. Not only against his partner Joey Bandini, but the dirty cops who were involved in trafficking drugs into the city.
Entering the jail, Gray allowed the uniformed guard to lead him to one of the conference rooms that were reserved for attorney-client meetings. It’d been arranged by the chief, since it was the only place in the jail where they could speak without being monitored.
The guard glanced over his shoulder, taking in Gray’s casual jeans and flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He could sense the younger man’s puzzlement. God knew he didn’t look like a lawyer with his thick chestnut hair tousled by the stiff breeze and a five o’clock stubble on his lean face. And he suspected his silver-gray eyes were smoldering with frustration.
No doubt the guard was wondering if he was there to stage a jail break. Then, with a small shrug, the young man seemed to conclude that his unease about the unknown visitor was above his pay grade, and he shoved open the door.
Gray entered the small, windowless room to find a narrow table and two wooden chairs bolted to the tiled floor. Bart Kowalski was already seated and glaring at him with blatant impatience.
The man was as large as a mountain, with a bald head and heavily chiseled features. Most of the bruises he’d received during his arrest looked like they’d healed up in the past weeks. Gray couldn’t see the bullet wound on the man’s leg beneath the blue prison uniform, but he assumed it was healing as well.
Gray closed the door, moving to take the empty seat across the table from Ski.
“’Bout time you got here,” the man groused.
Gray leaned forward, his expression hard with warning. “I shouldn’t be here at all. You’re going to blow my cover.”
“I have to talk to someone, and you’re the only one I trust.”
Gray frowned. He was in Seattle because Ski was anxious to make a plea deal by ratting out those involved in the local drug trade. During his confession, he’d revealed that there were a couple dirty cops who were working with the cartel. Gray was there to ferret out the traitors.
“What about your lawyer?”
“No one but you,” Ski stubbornly insisted.
“Why?” It was a question that’d been nagging at Gray since he received word that the man was demanding to speak with him. “As far as I can remember, we’ve never met other than at your arrest. Why trust me?”
“I shared a cell with Spider a few years ago,” Ski said. “I overheard him telling the guard that he’d worked as your snitch and that you were a stand-up guy. At least for a cop. He said you even stopped by and checked on his mother while he was locked up.” Ski lowered his voice, his eyes darting around the cramped room as if making sure they were alone. “Plus, you wouldn’t have been the one picked to sniff out the dirty cops if you weren’t squeaky clean.”
Gray remembered Spider. A low-level drug dealer and street hustler who’d provided just enough information to keep himself from a protracted jail sentence. Not the finest character reference, but he’d take it if that meant Ski would open up to him.
“Did you remember something?” he asked.
The man muttered a curse. “How many times do I have to say it? I’ve told you guys everything I know.”
“It’s not enough,” Gray protested. They needed names if they were going to root out the corruption in the department.
“I was at the bottom of the food chain. I didn’t get invites to the secret meetings and carry-in dinners.”
Gray narrowed his eyes. “If you want to be a smart-ass, do it on your own time. I have better things to do.”
“Wait,” Ski grunted as Gray started to rise from his chair. “I need your help.”
Gray sat back down. He didn’t miss the edge of panic in the man’s voice. “What’s going on?”
Ski did the looking-around thing again. Did he think there was a guard hidden behind the potted plant? Then, the man reached into the pocket of his uniform pants to pull out a piece of paper.
“I found this in my bed last night,” he said, shoving the note across the table.
Gray read the scribbled words out loud. “‘Talk and your kid is dead.’ Kid?” He lifted his gaze to study his companion in confusion. “What kid?”
Ski looked oddly uncomfortable. “I have a boy. Donny. He’s six. I haven’t had much to do with him until a few months ago when my ex dumped him on my doorstep. She has a new dude and a new kid and no room for Donny,” he said. “My mom’s been taking care of the boy since he got to town.”
Gray tapped his fingers on the table. He’d read through Ski’s file a dozen times, and he didn’t recall a mention of a child. Which meant . . .
“He wasn’t living in Seattle until recently?” Gray demanded.
Ski shook his head. “He lived in LA, and I never saw him. My old lady said I was a bad influence.” Ski made a sound of self-disgust. “She was right. But then Donny got in the way of her new life, and she suddenly didn’t care that I get the trophy for the worst dad in the world. She just wanted to get rid of him.”
Gray shuddered at the thought of a young child being in the care of this brutal man. With an effort, he forced himself to concentrate on the reason he was there.
“Who would know you have a son?”
Ski blinked, caught off guard by the question. “My ex and her new douchebag of a husband,” he said. “And of course, my mom.”
“What about Joey?”
Joey Bandini was a complete lowlife. He’d have bartered Ski’s son to the bad guys in a heartbeat if he thought it could help him. Hell, he’d been willing to threaten his own daughter for a few bucks to buy drugs.
Ski shook his head. “I didn’t want anyone to know about the kid. I might not be the father of the year, but I’m not completely stupid.”
“What about school?”
“I haven’t got him signed up yet.” The man shrugged. “I don’t even know when it starts, to be honest.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “I think my mom takes him to some community center to help with his reading, but I doubt anyone there would know I’m his father.”
Gray continued to tap his finger on the table. “So, no one in Seattle knows you have a son besides your mother?”
Ski started to shake his head, only to suck in a sharp breath. “Wait. I caught one of the guards looking through the letters that I have in my cell. A couple of them were from Donny.”
Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “What’s the guard’s name?”
“Butch.” Ski held up his hands at Gray’s impatient glare. “That’s all I know.”
“When did you catch him going through the letters?”
“Two nights ago.”
A sudden unease cramped Gray’s stomach as his gaze strayed back to the note on the table. It could be an empty warning, but if there was even a small chance the boy might be in danger, he had to act. Now.
“Where is Donny?”
“With my mom.” Without warning, Ski leaned forward, his brutish face pale. “Look, I know I’m scum, and I’ll probably die in this shithole, but the kid is innocent. You have to protect him.”
“Give me the address,” Gray commanded.
Ski rattled off the street number, watching as Gray grabbed the note off the table and tucked it in his pocket.
“You’re going to make sure Donny’s okay?”
“Yeah, I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” Gray shoved himself out of the chair. “Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be back.”
Without waiting for Ski to respond, Gray walked out of the room and motioned for the nearby guard to escort him to the exit. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a sudden, urgent sense that the boy was in trouble.
He’d learned long ago never to ignore his instincts.
He jogged across the park. . .
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