Reese

“When?”

“In an hour.”

“Jesus, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

She hangs up before I can ask her anything else, making the yogurt feel sour in my gut.

Well, fuck me sideways. Whatever this case is, it can’t be good.

* * *

Dressed now in ripped jeans and a faded gray Metallica T-shirt, the girl from the beach feels like a distant memory as I walk into The Candy Shop. It’s back to business.

The tastefully designed reception area is deserted except for Penny, who is at the desk talking to someone on the phone.

I nod as I pass her and head straight to the bank of elevators, stepping inside when the doors slide open and hit the number for Sugar’s floor.

I stare at myself in the mirror-covered walls, my tan and lightened hair the only reminders of my little Hawaiian getaway.

The elevator stops with a ping, and the doors open. I step out onto the plush carpet, my heeled boots sinking into it as I head for Sugar’s office.

Sugar’s PA isn’t at her desk, but that doesn’t stop me. I tap on the door and open it before she calls me inside.

When I enter, Sugar is standing, gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, turns to look at me, and I stop dead when I take in her bruised face.

“What the fuck? Tell me who dared fucking touch you, and I’ll kill them,” I snarl as I stomp toward her. My fingertips gently touch the skin around her left eye when I’m standing in front of her.

“Do you really think there is anything left alive for you to kill?”

I drop my hands and swallow.

“Right, sorry. I lost my head for a minute.”

“I’m not your mother, Reese,” she tells me softly, cupping my cheek. “I’ll gut any man who lays a hand on me. And if one of them should touch my girls…” She leaves the rest unsaid. I know she’d kill for each and every one of us. Unlike my mother, who had been so beaten down by my father that she welcomed the reprieve she got when he was wailing on me and my sister instead.

I step back and collect my wayward thoughts as I sit on the elegant royal blue sofa near the desk.

“Client?”

“Not anymore.” She grins evilly, making me chuckle.

She sits in her chair, and the grin slips from her face.

“Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

She rubs her temples before sighing. “Well, that’s what I’m still trying to figure out.”

She pulls a file from her top drawer and opens it to the page she wants before turning it around and sliding it my way.

“About two years ago, there was a spate of bodies found in and around your hometown. There were no obvious connections between the victims. Profilers scratched their heads because the victims were vast and varied. In fact, they would have passed as completely unrelated if the manner in which they died hadn’t borne similarities.”

“Wait, I remember this. They were all beaten to death, right?”

“Yes, for the most part, although some were killed with various weapons. The police kept that from the public, though, but I have my sources.”

“Perhaps those were unrelated. It’s not often a perp changes their MO. Unless you think there is more than one killer?”