Shed fought the paranoid feeling when shed entered the house.
The alarm had been on, and Marlowe had thoroughly searched the place. But when he came back downstairs, she sensed a change in him. He kept his eyes on hers and his expression even.
It fascinated her how a stare could hypnotize her. She couldnt have dragged her eyes from his if she wanted to. Couldnt have stopped him from backing her into the corner and bracing his hands on either side of her head.
Good thing she didnt want to stop any part of this.
Desire balled in her stomach. Hunger clawed through her veins. Heat flowed over her skin. All from a mere touch.
He inclined his head slowly, still holding her gaze, but even when she felt his breath on her lips, he didnt kiss her. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around her nape and whispered the words she never wanted to hear.
Theres someone in the house.
A Perfect Stranger
Jenna Ryan
www.millsandboon.co.uk
A PERFECT STRANGER
© 2013 Jenna Ryan
First Published in Great Britain in 2013
Harlequin (UK) Limited
1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, including without limitation xerography, photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the prior consent of the publisher, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this work have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l.
® and are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-08-17
MILLS & BOON
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To the seven angels:
Sheena, Maya, Mystique, Salem, Serena,
Mandalay and Scarlett.
Love you all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jenna Ryan started making up stories before she could read or write. Growing up, romance alone always had a strong appeal, but romantic suspense was the perfect fit. She tried out a number of different careers, including modeling, interior design and travel, but writing has always been her one true love. That and her longtime partner, Rod.
Inspired from book to book by her sister Kathy, she lives in a rural setting fifteen minutes from the city of Victoria, British Columbia. Its taken a lot of years, but shes finally slowed the frantic pace and adopted a West Coast mindset. Stay active, stay healthy, keep it simple. Enjoy the ride, enjoy the read. All of that works for her, but what she continues to enjoy most is writing stories she loves. She also loves reader feedback. E-mail her at jacquigoff@shaw.ca or visit Jenna Ryan on Facebook.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Darcy Nolan A photojournalist, she was forced to go into hiding after she helped send a drug lord to prison.
Damon Marlowe The ex-cop turned P.I. has a dark past and no reason to care about the woman hes just exposed. But he does.
Vince Macos With his father in prison, has the drug lords son sent a killer after Darcy?
Valentino Reade A Philadelphia cop in desperate need of money.
Elaine Holland Darcys editor wants that big story, and Darcy could be it.
Trace Grogan Unpopular, untrustworthy and low, he works with and wants Darcy.
Hannah Brewster She runs a boarding house and has more secrets than people might suspect.
Cristian Turner Hannahs nephew arrived in town the day Darcy was first attacked.
John Hancock The creepy boarding house tenant spends a lot of time watching Darcy.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Prologue
Los Angeles, 2006
Los Angeles, 2006
The police station smelled of sweat and stale coffee. It sounded like the bargain basement of a New York department store. And with the outdated central air-conditioning in desperate need of repair, it was hotter than the depths of hell.
Unruffled, photojournalist Shannon Hunt fanned her face with a discarded file folder and wondered how many stories could be ferreted out of this room by a canny fly-on-the-wall reporter. Dozens, she imagined, possibly more.
The amusement that tugged on her lips blossomed into a smile when Carmela Holden, a captain in Vice for thirty-plus years, strode through the door and barked her name.
My office. She glared at the desk sergeant. No interruptions.
Inside, Holden rounded her desk. Dye your hair, she said without preface.
Shannons brows went up. Excuse me?
The captain stared hard. Dye it, cut it, buy a pair of glasses, sell your house.
Condo. And again, excuse me?
Frankie Maco got twelve years in San Quentin.
I know. I testified at the trial.
Testified and were threatened.
Very subtly, Captain, by a nephew who was high at the time.
You didnt notice Frankie grinning like a Cheshire cat in the background?
What I saw was a grimace, probably of pain over his nephews pathetic demeanor.
A threats a threat, to my mind. And twelve years doesnt cut it for me. I wanted twenty-five. He deserved that for the cocaine in his storehouse alone.
Shannon knew where this was going. Shed worked at a high-profile L.A. newsmagazine for the past eighteen months, had, in fact, contributed a good portion of the photo and video evidence that had set Frankie up. Come on, Captain she began, but Holden slapped her palms on the desk.
No, you come on, Hunt. I have a daughter who reminds me so much of you its almost scary. All youve got on her is ten years, a skull as thick as granite and the tenacity of her boyfriends bull terrier.
Shannon crossed to the desk, planted her palms on it and met the womans stare. Flattery wont work, Carmela. Id look ridiculous as a brunette, and Ive done my homework. Frankie Macos not a killer.
That you know of.
Hes also not overly powerful beyond the city limits.
That you know of.
What I know is that he has a totally screwed-up family and a handful of street connections.
Lots of screwed-up family and many street connections.
He also has enemies and rivals and an arthritic mother hes taken care of for the past fifteen years.
People around him have been known to disappear.
And more than one of them has turned up again.
Doesnt account for the dozen who havent. Smoldering, Holden hit a key on her computer, swiveled the monitor. Ive got a new name for you, as well as a revamped portfolio and an altered family history. No more army brat. Youll be Darcy Nolan, only child of Boston real estate agents Ann and Jerry Nolan. Your parents retired five years ago, died within eight months of each other. Youve got an Irish-Swedish background, so go red with the hair and wear green contacts. I can have a job lined up for you in a day. Anywhere but here.
Shannon continued to stare, but there was no malice in it. How could she dislike a woman who had her safety at heart? Your daughters going to rebel, Holden.
Ill deal with that if and when.
I dont want to
Think about it. The captain pinned her hand before she could draw away. Really think about who and what Frankie Maco is. How he operates.
Shannon regarded her trapped fingers, then narrowed her eyes on the womans face. All right, Ill think. Ill even research his extended family. But I wont, she said with the barest trace of humor, dye my hair. Im a blonde and Im staying that way.
Best I could have hoped for. Releasing her, the captain shut off her monitor. Watch your back, Hunt.
SHE WISHED HOLDEN hadnt said that because shed been feeling twitchy ever since the trial ended. No, before that, actually. Facts were facts, however, and no one in or out of his organization had ever accused Frankie Maco of murder.
Of course, there was always that first time. And what Maco couldnt do from behind bars, his son, siblings or grandchildren might.
Shannon glanced in the rearview mirror. There was no one behind her on the exit ramp, no one trailing her along the dark street, and no one lying in wait when she reached her Tujunga Canyon home. She was letting Holdens fears get to her. And wouldnt her army-for-life parents just love to know that?
On the porch, a gust of hot, dry wind blew across her arms. Even her tank top felt like too much clothing in this ninety-five-degree weather. It made people cranky.
It made vice cops worry.
A bush rustled to her left. She caught a footstep, followed by a whiff of cologne, and managed a tight curse a split second before a large hand yanked her around and caught her throat in a choking, viselike grip.
Her head hit the condo door; her breath stalled in her lungs. A pair of black eyes bored into hers.
You made a big mistake, lady, the man holding her growled. I got a message for you.
She held herself dead still, returned his stare. Let go of me, Vince. You know very well Captain Holden has a pair of officers watching my place.
Got here ahead of them, sugar. Theyre eating cold pizza, ogling your bedroom window and having dirty fantasies as we speak.
His grip tightened, and pinpricks of light began to appear before her eyes.
With her spine still pressed to the door, Shannons hand traveled to the pocket of her jeans. Hooking the ring on the black box inside, she pulled it free.
A high-pitched shriek filled the air so that Vince clapped both palms to his ears.
You wont know, he shouted above the deafening racket. You wont see or hear. You wont expect. Cab-driver, store clerk, guy stuffing money in a parking meter. Someone, someday. Anyone, any day. Me being the most likely anyone of all. One clear shot, sugar. Thats all I need. Thats all I want.
Feet thudded on the stone walkway. Above her, a handful of windows flew open. Vince let a crooked grin steal across his lips before he ducked sideways out of the barely-there light.
The officers arrived, panting. One took off in pursuit, the other drew her aside.
He asked questions. Shannon responded. But it was purely reflex. Only two things registered. His partner wouldnt catch Frankies slippery son.
And Shannon Hunt was going to die.
Chapter One
New York City, 2009
The air was stinking hot. A stale breeze carried the muffled noise of human and street traffic. Bad music thumped above; a dog barked below. It was one of those New York nights when no one in the city slept.
There had been two brownouts in two days, and the forecast called for even higher temperatures tomorrow. The police chief was asking for the publics cooperation. Would he get it? Damon Marlowe had no idea, and he didnt care. Hadnt since leaving the force two years ago.
Somewhere in the shadows of his Soho studio, a tap dripped. The pipe that fed it rattled, and the walls groaned. If he listened hard enough, he might hear the 1970s wallpaper peeling.