Her Darkest Secret by Jessica R. Patch

Author:Jessica R. Patch [Patch, Jessica R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-03-26T22:30:33+00:00

* * *

Streets were littered with people out for a good time. Mollie Fontaine Lounge had opened thirty minutes ago and Fiona was antsy thanks to Asa and Luke going off half-cocked. The jerk that Asa had acted like earlier was the Asa she’d been married to once, not the man she’d been getting to know this recently. She liked the new Asa much more.

After that debacle, she’d found Luke in the parking lot and lit into him. He’d come with ulterior motives to get under Asa’s skin and accomplished his goal. Naturally, Luke hadn’t admitted that was his intention and he’d tried to persuade her to come stay with him in Harbor Town. Not happening. But she could no longer stay with Asa, either. It had been a rotten idea to begin with.

“You good, Agent?” Violet asked. Her long hair hung in messy waves. Not a single one sticking to her neck. The humidity was out of control.

“Do you have some kind of condition that keeps you from perspiring?”

Violet paused on the sidewalk and narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“You never sweat. I’m dying out here.” Fiona fanned herself to no avail.

“Oh. I run cold.”

“Nice. You must have good genes.”

Violet’s cheek pulsed and her eyes fell flatter than usual. “Those run cold, too.”

What did that mean? As Fiona opened the door to air-conditioned bliss, Violet added, “Take lead. If he is Rhyme, he’ll only give you attention, anyway.”

Trent Barton stood in all his six-foot-two glory. Built. Attractive. Ladies’ man. The last thing he’d be pegged for was a serial killer. He made eye contact with her—dark eyes. Rhyme had dark eyes, but nothing alerted her to his presence. No chills. No gut punch that she was standing before the man who had abducted her, killed her sister or attacked her last night.

A smooth-as-butter smile was smeared across his face, warming his eyes like espresso. “Agent.” He nodded once. “What can I do for you this evening? You eating?”

“No, not tonight. Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?” she asked.

“Sure.” He tossed his bar rag to a blonde working the far end of the bar and motioned for them to follow. Glancing back, he said, “Is this about that teacher that got killed?”

“Maybe.” Could this be Rhyme? Fiona was sure she’d know him upon approach, but she could be wrong.

They entered a small break room with a couple of sofas, a table and a TV in the corner. He grabbed a chair, turned it and straddled it. She noticed heavy boots. Like the heavy footfalls on her hardwoods. A sweat broke out on her forehead. She chose to stand. Violet sat in the chair beside him, crossed her legs and threw her arm around the chair as if comfy with the situation.

“Did you ever work for All Star painting?” Fiona asked.

“Yeah. I’m not great at painting, though. I wouldn’t label it a calling.” He smirked and lit a cigarette. “You mind?”

“No.” Except she did. Rhyme had smelled faintly of smoke. She swallowed hard and studied him.

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