Page 1 of Deadly Designs

Prologue

Aja Blue LaLonde, known for beingnotoriously early for everything from a doctor’s appointment to aformal dinner, was running unfashionably late. She grabbed herpurse as she rushed out the door of her penthouse condo and smashedthe button for the elevator across the hall. Her home was the onlyone on the floor, so it required a special key for access. Theelevator often took a while, and she considered using the stairs,but then the bell chimed, indicating its arrival.

As soon as the doors swished open, Aja Blue stabbedthe button for the lobby. Unfortunately, the car that arriveddidn’t go to the underground parking lot, so she would have toswitch to a different one, adding time she didn’t have to hercommute.

Using the mirrored wall, Aja Blue fastened her hoopearrings and straightened her blouse. Her business, Aja BlueDesigns, focused on interior design for corporations like hotelsand restaurants. She also had a flourishing furniture and accessoryline. Though she’d been considering it for a while, she hadn’t yettaken on personal clients until Eleanor Hawthorne Sinclair, wife ofHeathcliff Baldwin Sinclair (one of the wealthiest men in theUnited States—heck, the world), had persuaded her to redecoratetheir new pool house overlooking Chesapeake Bay. Aja Blue couldn’tafford to refuse the price Mrs. Sinclair had quoted. It would coverher payroll for the next year, and that was only from the fee. Theamount of money the woman wanted to funnel into the project wasjaw-dropping.

Aja Blue cursed under her breath when the elevatorslowed and opened a few floors down. A man and woman with threesmall children shuffled on. Her mouth gaped in horror when tinyhands reached for the buttons, a look of glee on the toddler’sface. Thankfully, the father was faster and scooped him up beforehe could punch each one. Aja Blue might’ve let a curse word or twoslip out had it happened, though she’d learned at an early age tophrase her bad words in a more flowery way.

By the time they reached the lobby, they had stoppedon three more floors, and she was in the back of a very crowdedcabin, silently fuming, mostly at herself. She never overslept.Today, of all days, she had.

As soon as she slid behind the wheel of her LandRover, Aja Blue called Mrs. Sinclair to let her know she wasrunning late. During their initial meeting at Aja Blue’s office,the woman had practically dropped to her hands and knees, beggingAja Blue to accept her as a client, so she was understanding aboutthe delay. Next, she texted Jay Guitterez, her assistant, to lethim know she was on the way. Jay lived five miles away, so itdidn’t take long. He was waiting for her outside, arms crossed,shoe tapping. His black hair was slicked up in the front, and hewore a navy suit with a light blue tie. He looked professionaltoday.

“Don’t tell me Miss Perpetually Punctual overslept,”he said in lieu of a greeting as he slid inside.

“I am human, you know.”

“Hum.” He sniffed. “So you say.”

She smiled. Jay might be gruff sometimes, but he wasthe sweetest, most generous person she knew, and he could alwaysmake her laugh. Their sense of humor was compatible, so spendingtime with him was a joy.

Traffic was horrendous, made even worse by anaccident on a bridge across the bay. Aja Blue’s nerves—already onedge—sparked like Fourth of July fireworks.

“Oh, lordy, this will take forever,” Jay muttered.“But there’s nothing we can do about it, so chill, Stressball.Unclench.”

Aja Blue cut Jay a look. It was good he was anexcellent assistant; otherwise, she might’ve snapped at him. Hewasn’t fazed by her past fameorher title as his boss. Jaycould be very lippy when he wanted, which was ninety-nine percentof the time, but it was mostly an act. He had the world’s biggestheart and would give anyone the shirt off his back if needed. She’dnever met a more genuine, caring person in her life.

She inhaled deeply, held her breath, and slowlyreleased it, using the yoga techniques she’d learned years ago.After four more times, she felt relaxed. Jay was right. It wasn’ther fault they would be excessively late. Okay, it wasalittleher fault. If she’d woken up when she was supposed to,they might’ve avoided the backup caused by the accident.

“So, tell me about this client.”

As soon as Jay posed the question, his cell chimedwith a text. Aja Blue noticed his hand trembling and his jawclenching as he read the message.

“What is it?” When he didn’t answer, she prompted,“Jay?”

He looked up like he’d forgotten she was there.“Huh?”

She couldn’t read his eyes through the tintedsunglasses, but she knew they would be troubled. “Something’sbothering you. What was that message?”

He flipped the phone over. “It’s nothing.”

“Jay,” she warned. Aja Blue knew someone—or severalsomeones—had been harassing him lately. After Jay had appeared in alocal television commercial and social media push promoting a newnightclub, all the crazies had come out of the woodwork like aswarm of angry bees. She hadn’t told him they’d started harassingher, too, for employing him. He was dealing with enough. He didn’tneed more stress added to his plate.

Jay always brushed off her concern whenever she triedto comfort him like he was doing now. She would not let him getaway with it. “Tell me.”

“It was simply fan mail.” He gave a tight smile.“That’s all.”

“Okay, then let me read it.”

He sighed and rolled his head as if accommodating herwas a chore. With a huff, he slapped his phone into her palm. Thescreen hadn’t gone to sleep yet, so she read the message. AjaBlue’s jaw firmed.

Die, you skanky faggot piece of shit. I can’t waitto see you eat a bullet. Or maybe hang from the end of ahigh-strung noose, wrapped so tight around your scrawny neck youroxygen is cut off. Your time is coming, freak. Be afraid. Be veryafraid. In fact, be terrified.

Now, her hand was shaking but with rage. The messageto her had been vanilla compared to the hateful vitriol in thattext. “Jay, this is a direct threat.”

He scoffed. “It’s nothing.”

“It is something,” she insisted. “Have you gone tothe cops?”

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