Dead by Wednesday. Beverly Long

      

       “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

      Her face was close. Close enough that he could see the tears that still clung to her long lashes. Her skin was a lovely mocha and her lips were pink and inviting. He leaned forward. She stilled.

      He bent his head and kissed her. She tasted like spaghetti sauce and red wine, sweet with just a hint of sharpness. And when she pulled back quickly, he had to force himself to let her go, to not demand more.

      Her dark eyes were big.

      “I hadn’t planned on that,” he said, proving that adult men lied, too. Maybe he hadn’t exactly planned it, but for months, he’d been thinking about kissing Carmen.

      She didn’t answer. She just looked as shaken as he felt. A few more strands of her silky hair had fallen down, and her lips were trembling.

      Dead by

      Wednesday

      Beverly Long

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      As a child, BEVERLY LONG used to take a flashlight to bed so that she could hide under the covers and read. Once a teenager, more often than not, the books she chose were romance novels. Now she gets to keep the light on as long as she wants, and there’s always a romance novel on her nightstand. With both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in business and more than twenty years of experience as a human resources director, she now enjoys the opportunity to write her own stories. She considers her books to be a great success if they compel the reader to stay up way past their bedtime.

      Beverly loves to hear from readers. Visit www.beverlylong.com, or like her at www.facebook.com/BeverlyLong.Romance.

      MILLS & BOON

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      To my good friends, who have always believed it was

      possible. Your support made the difference.

      Now, please pass the wine.

      Contents

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Epilogue

       Excerpt

      Chapter One

      Wednesday

      Robert Hanson looked up from his computer screen when Lieutenant Fischer approached his desk. He wasn’t surprised or worried about the anger that flashed in his boss’s eyes. He knew what had put it there. Had heard the news before he’d gotten off the elevator. Even though it wasn’t his case, it had been enough to make him shove his half-eaten bagel back into the bag and toss his untouched orange juice into the nearest waste can.

      “Got another dead kid,” his boss said.

      Robert had really, really hoped that the pattern would break. For the past three weeks, there had been a new dead kid every Wednesday morning. This was week four. “I heard,” Robert said.

      “Did you hear he was Alderman Franconi’s nephew? His sister’s kid.”

      Robert shook his head. Franconi was tight with the mayor. The heat was going to be turned up high. Not that every detective on the force wasn’t already aware of the case and keeping his or her eyes open 24/7 looking for some kind of clue.

      “Where’s Sawyer?” his boss asked.

      “On his way. He’s dropping Liz and the baby off at Options for Caring Mothers.”

      “Okay.” His boss started to walk away. Then stopped, turned and edged close to the metal desk. “Carmen Jimenez still work there?” he asked, his inquiry casual.

      “I guess so,” Robert said, working hard to keep his tone neutral. He hadn’t seen Carmen since the wedding three months ago, where his best friend, Sawyer Montgomery, had married her best friend, Liz Mayfield. Robert had been the best man. Carmen had been the maid of honor. Her dress had been an emerald-green and it had wrapped around her body in a way that had made him break out in an instant sweat.

      The groom had been calmer than he’d been.

      Which was ridiculous because everybody knew that Robert Hanson never got rattled by a woman. He managed relationships. Not the other way around.

      “Pretty woman,” Lieutenant Fischer said.

      Robert raised an eyebrow. The lieutenant had been married for twenty years and had kids in high school.