Showing posts with label Nightshade series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nightshade series. Show all posts
Night Shift by Carey Decevito
Title: Night Shift
Series: Nightshade #2
Author: Carey Decevito
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/Suspense
Release Date: January 9, 2018
A serial killer…
A past that haunts no matter how much the distance…
Which one will strike first?
Eighteen deaths over eight years has left Shane Peters itching to find his mark. The death that started it all ensured his obsession with the murderer who had turned his life into a living hell, leaving him to raise a newborn daughter on his own.
Starting over wasn’t the easiest thing, but Emberlyn Roth had managed by shear grit and the skin of her teeth. It’s too bad one can’t outrun their past.
A protector of the wronged, Shane is torn between his duty as a detective for the Jacksonville PD and a quest to find himself some peace. Red tape binds his capabilities and moonlighting as an investigator for Nightshade Securities has him feeling stretched thin. Late nights on the streets and his sense of duty keeps him from being the father he wants to be. Throw onto his already rickety house of cards, an attraction to the mysterious Emberlyn, the lead he’s got on the murderer he’s been hunting for nearly a decade, and threats his woman is receiving by an unsavory character from her past, and he’s seriously tempted to take Dalton Kipper’s offer to join his team in a permanent basis.
Rules have a place, but when you’re faced with losing the one that means most to you, lines can become blurred. With the fate of his family’s future hanging in the balance, he’s ready to risk it all.
Emberlyn
It was happening again.
The gifts. The mementos. The notes.
I thought I’d been rid of those when I moved away from Orlando.
That’s when Trevor Sikes ceased to exist for me. Or what I would have liked to have had happen.
It petrified me that the man may have found me. Some of the gifts were like those he used to get for me—his sick way of apologizing after terrorizing me—and others were odd and not what I’d have thought Sikes would ever have thought to send. Those creeped me out the most.
When I moved to Jacksonville, I’d made sure that my restraining order encompassed a no contact clause. I had one for the state of Florida, and another for North Carolina. And I renewed both religiously.
The burning question in my mind, however, was why hadn’t my lawyer contacted me about him being let out? He shouldn’t have been allowed for parole for another six months.
“Unless he’s got someone doing it for him,” I thought aloud, sipping my cup of tepid coffee as I stared at the small white box I’d discovered on my front step, just moments ago. The thing sat haphazardly on the kitchen island’s edge.
Regardless, the whole thing was giving me the willies. What’s more was the fact that my home now felt uncomfortable.
I no longer felt safe.
Shane’s a cop.
Maybe I could mention what’s been going on to him, or maybe I could just get him to give me a few leads on a decent security company to install a system in my place. Either way, knowing that he was there—across the street—appeased my mind somewhat.
Setting my coffee down, I grabbed my latest eerie gift and made for the garage. I hadn’t even stored the large bin up on its original shelf after I’d added yesterday’s delivery in it. Lifting its lid, I dropped the tiny box in it, snapped the top back on, then hefted it back in its intended place. One I hoped to God and all things holy, that I’d never have to fetch again.
“Where were you?” I heard the little girl ask me when I walked into my little cottage.
I’d decided to work on invoices and tagging product I hadn’t yet packaged for the day, and hadn’t touched the production side. It just so happened, I had left a few boxes that were to be delivered tomorrow in my little craft den, when I stumbled upon the little girl.
I jumped, clutching at my chest. “Rosie, you scared me half to death!”
She had the contrite look down pat, pout included. “I’m sorry, but I was so excited that you said we’d make some lip gloss together that I couldn’t wait any longer.”
This had me smiling, despite my heart breaking. I felt for the little girl, having lost her mother, and never really having a relationship with her. She looked up to me. She genuinely enjoyed my company—and I did hers—so I really didn’t mind her regular interruptions. They broke up my day and served as a reminder that there was more to life than just work.
“You’re right.” I bit my lip. “Tell you what…How about we get together tomorrow? I never got around to picking up my supplies today, so I don’t have some of the ingredients to make it just yet.” The disappointment in her eyes cut me to the quick. “But tomorrow, I’ll have so much more that I’ll even show you how to make your very own lotion, how does that sound?”
I swear she beamed from head to toe. “Really? My very own lotion?”
I nodded, unable to keep my smile at bay. “Really. You’ll have to come up with a name for it too, because I’ve never made lotions for little girls before.”
“Can it be cotton candy like the gloss?”
I crouched down to where she was sitting and cupped her cheek. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Maybe you can help me figure out other things little girls like and we can create an entire line.”
“For real?”
As soon as I nodded, she jumped up on a squeal and into my arms. The scent of her strawberry shampoo filled my nostrils, and I curled into her a bit more. She was such a precious character.
Pulling back, I noticed her school bag right next to where she’d been sitting. “Lana Rose,” Her nose scrunched up, it was comical. I remained serious however, “Why is your book bag with you?”
“Because I came here right after school,” she mumbled to her shoes.
“Does anyone know you’re here?”
She hesitated before shaking her head to indicate the negative. “Nuh-uh.”
“Rosie!” I scolded. “You can’t do that, honey. Your grams and daddy are going to be worried.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Am I in trouble?”
“Tell you what…” I grabbed her bag, throwing it over my shoulder, then grabbed her hand. “I’ll talk to your Grams and smooth things over. I’m sure she’ll understand that you were excited.” Pulling her toward the cottage’s door, taking the time to lock it too, I led us toward her home.
It wasn’t Grams that opened however, it was Shane.
A very pissed off Shane.
“Daddy!” Rosie seemed to completely miss the fact that her father was staring at me with daggers.
“Go inside, princess. I need to have a talk with Emberlyn,” he ground out.
Uh oh!
“But Daddy–”
“Not now.”
“It’s my fault,” she confessed. “I went to Ember’s so we could make lip gloss, but she doesn’t have the stuff, so I’ll go back tomorrow, and–”
“Slow down, baby girl.” He crouched down to her level. “Haven’t we talked about this? You’re supposed to come straight home from school, young lady.”
“But–”
“We’ll talk later, Rosie. Now go inside and help your Grams.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She pouted. Looking back at me, she smiled shyly. “I’m sorry I got us in trouble, Ember.”
“No harm done, honey.” I smiled for reassurance. “Thanks for visiting.”
When the little girl disappeared, Shane stepped out onto the front porch, his intimidating stance making me take a step back, and closed the door behind him.
“Listen–”
He lifted his hand to cut me off. “Thank you for bringing her back, but it doesn’t excuse the fact that she’s been with you for well on two hours.” He was furious, as he should be. I don’t know the first thing about being a parent, but I suspect that worry can sometimes bring out the worst in us. It seemed to be doing that to Shane.
“I-I didn’t know she was there,” I told him.
His eyes rounded in surprise. “What?” he hollered. “How does a grown-assed woman not know when a kid is around? Are you that self-absorbed that all you care about is your business?”
That got my back up in a hurry. So I made my advance. “Now wait a fucking minute, you jerk!” I poked him in the chest. “I work from home, and my business is based in that cottage out back, but it doesn’t mean I spend my days there every day. I was working from the house today; invoicing, if you must know.” I huffed. The gall of the man! “Why the hell am I telling you this anyway?”
“Ember–”
“She went straight to the cottage and waited there for me,” I told him. “I figured out that she’d come to see me, instead of going home first, because I noticed her book bag. If I hadn’t needed those boxes, she’d still be sitting there.”
“I–”
Emphasising my point with another poke, I added, “It’s because of me that she’s here right now, and that you’re not out there worried sick and still searching for her. So fuck you for insinuating that I had concocted some elaborate plan to kidnap or hold your daughter captive. I promise, next time she stops by, I’ll send her right back. You have my word on that.”
Without waiting for his reply, I turned on my heel and stormed off, crossed the street, and headed up my front steps. After unlocking the front door, I entered my home, slammed the fucking thing, and turned the deadbolt.
Fuck him! Fuck men! Fuck them all!
Born and raised in small town Northern Ontario, Canada, Carey Decevito has always had a penchant for reading and writing.
More than a decade later, with weeks of sleepless nights, where exhaustion settled into her everyday existence, she finally gave in and put pen to paper (more like fingers to keyboard!) She submitted to the dreams that plagued her. And the rest, as they say, is history!
A member of the RWA, Carey Decevito enjoys spending time with family and friends, the outdoors, travelling, and playing tourist in Canada's National Capital region. When life gets crazy, she seeks respite through her writing and reading. If all else fails, she knows there's never a dull moment with her two daughters, her goofy husband, and cat who she swears is out to get her.
Night Shift by Carey Decevito
Title: Night Shift
Series: Nightshade #2
Author: Carey Decevito
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance/Suspense
Release Date: January 9, 2018
A serial killer…
A past that haunts no matter how much the distance…
Which one will strike first?
Eighteen deaths over eight years has left Shane Peters itching to find his mark. The death that started it all ensured his obsession with the murderer who had turned his life into a living hell, leaving him to raise a newborn daughter on his own.
Starting over wasn’t the easiest thing, but Emberlyn Roth had managed by shear grit and the skin of her teeth. It’s too bad one can’t outrun their past.
A protector of the wronged, Shane is torn between his duty as a detective for the Jacksonville PD and a quest to find himself some peace. Red tape binds his capabilities and moonlighting as an investigator for Nightshade Securities has him feeling stretched thin. Late nights on the streets and his sense of duty keeps him from being the father he wants to be. Throw onto his already rickety house of cards, an attraction to the mysterious Emberlyn, the lead he’s got on the murderer he’s been hunting for nearly a decade, and threats his woman is receiving by an unsavory character from her past, and he’s seriously tempted to take Dalton Kipper’s offer to join his team in a permanent basis.
Rules have a place, but when you’re faced with losing the one that means most to you, lines can become blurred. With the fate of his family’s future hanging in the balance, he’s ready to risk it all.
Prologue
“What are you doing here?” The tension around me palpable, she hurried aside to let me enter before closing the door behind us.
My blood boiled.
My skin crawled that she’d let him do that to her.
I had to get rid of it.
The taint.
Purify her.
“What have you done? You’re mine, Evie. I told you, when I came back, you’d be mine and now look at yourself.” Disgust was as clear in my voice as it was in my expression.
“Wh-whatever it is…we can talk this out,” she stuttered, her feet inching her backward as I followed her movements.
Reaching to the small of my back, my fingers wrapped around the grip as I pulled it from its sheath. The eight-inch blade caught the glint of the afternoon sun, mesmerizing me, causing me to admire the play of light against it before I focused on the woman before me.
Her eyes shone with terror. “You don’t…” She shook her head left to right, swallowing hard, stumbling against the side table next to the sofa. “You don’t have to do this.” She righted herself. “We can still be together. Now that…now that you’re back–”
I shot her an incredulous look. Did she think me a fool? “You’ve gone and done the unthinkable. You had his child!” I hollered, my knuckles gripping the knife tightly. “This is the only way…the only way to get rid of the stain.”
Her steps froze momentarily. “Stain?”
“It’s what I should have done a while ago,” I spat, cornering her as her steps were halted by the wall at her back. “What you took from me…what should have been mine,” I raged, “is what I’ll take from you.”
One moment my eyes darted toward the hallway where I knew the devil lay in slumber, and the next, Eva Peters was making a mad rush toward the door that separated me from saving us all.
“No!” she panted. “You’re crazy!”
If she only knew. “Move, Evie,” I growled, “it’s the only way.”
“She’s not here. Please!” Tears streamed down her face, her body shaking with fear.
Using the tip of the blade, I ran it over her soaked cheek, the metal sharp enough to catch on her ivory skin, causing a streak of blood to suddenly materialize.
I felt lighter instantly.
Powerful.
In control. A feeling I hadn’t had in quite some time.
Manning my knife, I proceeded to run the tip of it down to her bottom lip, nicking it just enough for another bubble of her essence to form.
“Mmm…” I groaned, leaning forward to press my front against hers, taking the time to lick her damaged lip, then whispered my new realization while rubbing my impossibly hard cock against her stomach. “I was wrong. This…” I ran my finger through the blood on her cheek, watching its movement, “is what I need, Evie.”
The sadness was overwhelming as I stared at the beauty laying limp and lifeless beneath me.
The rage I’d felt had all but dissipated with each slice of my blade through her flesh. Like a hot knife through butter, each time blood began to pour out, a weight lifted within me.
What once held pleading in her eyes, was now long gone.
She was nothing but a piece of art, trussed up by her silk scarves, a vessel conveying my message.
I’d be back…
Chapter 1
Shane
Eight Years Later
The moment I walked over the threshold, I knew a clusterfuck of epic proportion awaited me.
Blood was everywhere. Spatter by the front door, smears over the walls, and droplets leading to where I knew the victim would ultimately be laying in a pool of her life’s essence.
Forensics was going to have a field day with this one.
Just like with the other fifteen.
Donning the protective gear the lead officer had ordered me to change into before entering the scene, I made my way toward the back of the house.
Carefully avoiding one evidence marker after another, I entered the master bedroom. The grizzly sight of Victoria Spark’s mutilated body, lying face up on the bed, greeted me. The standard ligatures on her wrists and ankles proved that she’d been restrained and alive through most of her torture; the killer leaving her to die in excruciating pain from her wounds and ultimately, blood loss.
The scent of copper on the air thickened as I made my final approach, slipping my hands into a pair of plastic gloves. I was looking for something I knew was meant for me.
Setting my evidence kit down beside the bed, I bent toward the body in search of my next clue.
The sickening crack of the victim’s jaw set my stomach to roiling as I pulled her mouth open, locating the three pieces I had come to expect after so many years of chasing this perp. Letting go of the victim, I grasped my digital camera and photographed my findings. Setting the camera down, I whipped out the small evidence bag from my kit and opened it, manning my tweezers.
Fishing the objects out one by one, I dropped them in the bag, then photographed them again. Fragments of a photograph were what this sicko leaves. Camera in hand, I shot a few frames of the room, as well as the rest of the premises. The team would have their own photos, but I liked being thorough with my investigations, thus preferred gathering my own shots, comparing them with the others’.
Closing up my kit, I stood to take my leave.
Fucking sadistic bastard and his games.
It pissed me off that he was always one step ahead of me.
Thinking on those tiny pieces—the unknown subject, or unsub’s calling card—I was confused more than ever as to why he was leaving them at every scene. The letter I’d received at the precinct, a week after the first murder, had eluded that they were all part of some demented countdown…a puzzle of sorts. One thing was clear however, the perp was after me, and after sixteen murders, I still wasn’t any closer to finding this guy.
In my career as a detective, I’ve come across a lot of questionable characters. I’ve done my fair share of arresting the dregs of society and making enemies along the way. You can’t be a cop without that happening.
“I take it that Rosie is in for another disappointing birthday dinner?” Will asked, coming to a stop at my side as I exited the victim’s home.
For the last seven years, it had been the same fucking story. That in itself was enough to confirm that the unsub was gunning for me. That, and the fact that he’d started this spree of his claiming none other than my wife as his first victim.
My only problem was, my list of suspects had next to nothing. This perp was meticulously careful. Treating his kills like artwork: from the placement of limbs, to the blood spatter surrounding the victims…even those fucking pieces.
“I hate going back on my promise,” I growled. “She’s going to be pissed.”
“I know it’s your case, Shane, but I’m your partner,” Will said. “Take a few hours, go to her, then come back if you have to.”
I nodded. “I have what I need right now. You sure you can handle everything without me?”
He patted me on the back as I straightened from the body and backed away. “I’ll call if something comes up.”
Thanking him, I handed him my evidence bag, then made to leave the scene, my camera and evidence kit in tow.
Caught up in my own memories, I drove home on autopilot, scenes from eight years ago playing in my head.
The same black hair. The same look of terror in her open eyes.
Eva had been bound too.
And cut up.
Blood. God! There’d been so much blood everywhere.
I’d been the one to find her. I hated to think what would have been had my Rosie been there that day.
“Daddy!” was squealed, knocking me out of my grizzly thoughts.
Opening the car door and letting myself out, I caught her as she launched herself into my arms.
My princess.
The light of my life.
Born and raised in small town Northern Ontario, Canada, Carey Decevito has always had a penchant for reading and writing.
More than a decade later, with weeks of sleepless nights, where exhaustion settled into her everyday existence, she finally gave in and put pen to paper (more like fingers to keyboard!) She submitted to the dreams that plagued her. And the rest, as they say, is history!
A member of the RWA, Carey Decevito enjoys spending time with family and friends, the outdoors, travelling, and playing tourist in Canada's National Capital region. When life gets crazy, she seeks respite through her writing and reading. If all else fails, she knows there's never a dull moment with her two daughters, her goofy husband, and cat who she swears is out to get her.
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