Page 2 of Twin Threats In Austin
She blinked up at the man who was almost a foot taller than her five foot, two inches.
“Home,” was all he said as he smiled down at her. There was something about the way he looked at her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it caused her to shiver.
Is this what a man looks like right before he makes love to a woman?
At thirty-two, Justina wasn’t a virgin, but it had been a long time since she’d been with a man, and she’d sure as heck never done it with a stranger.
After downing the last drop of beer, she set the bottle on the table near the exit. Papa drank beer out of a can. Bottles were classy.
Cute Stranger’s big hand covered hers as they exited the club.
At his pickup, he even opened the door for her. Justina smiled at him. She’d found herself a real gentleman this time. If only Papa was alive to watch how this man treated her.
The investment in the miniskirt and makeup was paying off.See, Papa? Men do like me.
After climbing into the cab of the pickup with the help of Cute Stranger, Justina felt loopy and a little bit drowsy. Those ten-hour shifts spent lifting overweight old folks were catching up to her. She worked at an old folks’ home, except she’d been warned not to call it that anymore. It was still true. At twenty-six dollars an hour, she didn’t care what they wanted her to call the place.
Cute Stranger took the driver’s seat as her body numbed. A beer too many? What did it matter? Justina was beginning to relax. She felt loose, like not much mattered, and life was playing out in front of her, no longer happening to her.
“Put this on,” Cute Stranger said before handing over a black silk sack big enough to put over her head.
“What for?” she asked, figuring she had a right to know even though she had no power to resist.
“Because I said so,” Cute Stranger stated.
Justina didn’t like how much Cute Stranger had just sounded like Papa. Though, it was like she was out of her body, watching, so she put the bag over her head anyway.
“Now, you’re mine,” the man said in a low growl.
Chapter One
Tall, dark, and handsome.Those words fell terribly short of describing the US Marshal standing next to Rochelle Paddock’s service vehicle. The man had been patiently waiting.
“Sorry,” she offered, still distracted as she sat in her SUV, reading the new missing-person report. “Be with you in one second, sir.”
“Everything alright?” the marshal asked as he quirked an eyebrow. She’d been asked to assist him in serving a federal warrant since the perp had been turned in by a relative who’d been pressured to take him in. Austin was the PD’s jurisdiction. They were always willing to cooperate with other government agencies.
Rochelle shook her head. “This is the third missing person in a couple of weeks. I’m afraid we have a serial criminal on the loose, and I need to have a conversation with a guy we have a picture of, but not a positive ID.”
The marshal frowned. “My name is Camden Remington, and I’d like to offer my services since we’ll be working together anyway to serve a warrant once we finalize the felon’s location.”
“Rochelle Paddock,” she said, skipping the labels likedetectiveandAustin PDsince the marshal—Camden—already knew that about her. “Never hurts to have a fresh set of eyes on a case.” She glanced at him. “Take a look at this.”
The missing-person report wasn’t the reason they were joining forces today, but a fresh perspective from someone else in a different branch of law enforcement never hurt.
Camden leaned in. His spicy scent filled her as she replayed the footage from the bar where the victim had last been seen.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Do you mind playing that again?”
Rochelle zipped to the part where a ball-cap-wearing male walked out of the nightclub, holding hands with the victim. He’d been smart enough to keep his head down so the camera above the exit couldn’t get a good read.
“I know that guy,” Camden said.
“How?” she asked.
“I’m the one who arrested him two years ago,” Camden explained. “He just got out for good behavior, and I was planning to swing by his apartment while I’m in Austin to check up on him. I don’t have to remind him how fast he can end up back in jail if he breaks the rules of his parole.”
This might be Thanksgiving week, but it was beginning to feel like Christmas morning. “What charges did you arrest him on?”
