Deadly Bonds Read online

  Deadly Bonds

  By Anne Marie Becker

  Book three of The Mindhunters

  A dedicated profiler. Dr. Holt Patterson has thrown himself into his work since his wife’s death, and his relationship with his young son, Theo, is suffering. He’s caught in an impossible choice—how can he make the world a safer place for his son without sacrificing valuable family time?

  An unrequited love. Sara Burns, the director at Theo’s prestigious academy, once loved Holt Patterson, but he was her best friend’s husband. Now a decade has passed, and Sara realizes that her feelings are just as strong—but how can she act on them without betraying her friend’s memory?

  A terrifying killer. A violent man develops an interest in Sara, and sends a body instead of flowers to get her attention. Holt is determined to keep her safe. But the killer is much closer than they expect...

  For more of the Mindhunters, check out Only Fear and Avenging Angel, available now!

  90,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to our July lineup of books! If I’m not on the beach somewhere while you’re reading this, there’s something wrong with life (unless you’re reading this in December—in which case, I hope I’m by a fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa in my hand). But no matter where you are while you’re reading this, I can tell you one thing: you’re in for a treat. (Sure, I say that every month, but it’s always true!) This month brings a fun mix of returning authors and debut authors, with fun, contemporary beach reads, some troublesome dragons, a few steps back in time, and characters in a race against time and a fight for their lives.

  Let’s kick off with the perfect beach read. Make sure you pick up Christi Barth’s Love at High Tide. Beach reading doesn’t get much better than this. It starts with a beach rescue, continues with a beach romance, and has sun, sand, sexual tension and two characters you will love.

  Maybe the beach isn’t your thing in the summer, but baseball is. Take a peek at Alison Packard’s The Winning Season. After hitting rock bottom, bad-boy catcher Matt Scanlon is traded to the team he’s loathed since boyhood, and he must confront a painful incident in his past before he can rebuild his life and his career. Once you’ve fallen in love with Matt, go back and read Alison’s debut romance, Love in the Afternoon.

  Continuing in the contemporary romance genre, we have party planner Tess, who can’t believe that hotel manager Jeremy could possibly be interested in her. She’s everyone’s BFF, not friends-with-benefits material. But he’s got more than friendship on his mind in Kate Davies’s Life of the Party, book three in the Girls Most Likely to... series.

  Maybe you like your romance with a side of suspense? If so, check out Anne Marie Becker’s Deadly Bonds, and Betrayed by Trust from Ana Barrons. Two romantic suspense books, four characters in fights for their lives.

  Or maybe you like your romance with a large helping of sexy times? If so, Lynda Aicher’s Bonds of Desire is the book for you. Lawyer Allison English never planned to return to The Den—despite her naughty fantasies about being bound by owner Seth Matthews. But when club guest Tyler Wysong is injured in a scene, Seth turns to Allie for help. Aroused by both men, Allie should turn the case down. But she can’t...

  Joining Lynda in the erotic romance category this month are two male/male titles. First up is His Roommate’s Pleasure by Lana McGregor. Adam had no idea that his jock roommate was gay—and into leashes, paddles, and domination. And Adam, an inexperienced virgin who’s only ever kissed one guy, is surprised to find himself curious about submitting... Then Samantha Ann King returns with the follow-up to her debut romance, Sharing Hailey. In Waiting for Ty, too many beers and four long years of denying their feelings for each other thrust two men together in a lip-lock and a night of no-holds-barred sex that forces them to confront their greatest love and their deepest fears.

  In Sky Hunter, the third and final installment of Fae Sutherland’s male/male space opera romance series, Skybound, the Crux Ansata’s brash and rebellious ship mechanic, Jeret, finds himself face-to-face with a dangerous past he never thought to revisit—and the only man he has never been able to forget.

  Looking for more books in the paranormal category? Start with Ruth A. Casie’s The Guardian’s Witch and Desperate Magic by Rebecca York. And for fans of historical romance, in Georgie Lee’s Hero’s Redemption, a widow and a war hero brought together by a scheme must learn to trust one another and accept the tragedy that links them in order to find love. Meanwhile, historical romance author Susanna Fraser, who can always be counted on to deliver a unique and unusual historical romance, returns with A Dream Defiant, in which a black British soldier marries a beautiful English war widow, but he can’t believe she wants him for himself, and not merely as her bodyguard and protector.

  This month Carina Press is pleased to announce three debut authors. Mystery author Patricia Hale will grip you by the throat with her suspenseful story of retribution, In the Shadow of Revenge. As children they witnessed horror and created a pact, as women they planned their revenge and waited.

  Also debuting this month is Reese Ryan, with Making the First Move. When ambitious HR exec Melanie Gordon falls for sweet, sexy philanthropist Raine Mason, she discovers that his selflessness is driven by a dark and tragic secret that threatens to keep them apart.

  And joining Carina Press with her Golden Heart–winning paranormal romance is debut author Lorenda Christensen. Fans of Katie MacAlister’s Aisling Grey and Light Dragons series will want to check this one out, and so will any fans of fun paranormal romances featuring dragons and heroines with a bit of backbone. In Never Deal with Dragons, the first in a new series, a human mediator bites off more than she can chew when she agrees to partner with an ex-boyfriend to stop a war between two dragon monarchs.

  I hope you enjoy all of this month’s new releases. There’s certainly a variety to choose from, to keep you occupied no matter what your summer (or winter) activity.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Dedication

  For Dad, who laid the groundwork for my writing career. I love you.

  And for teachers everywhere—you are bright lights that shine on the future.

  Acknowledgements

  Words of gratitude can’t express how much I appreciate the sacrifices made by my husband and kids. Thank you for your patience, and the gift of time in which to create.

  To Jill Marsal, my agent, Angela James and the staff at Carina Press, and Deb Nemeth, my fabulous editor, my thanks for helping bring this book to life.

  Arlene Hittle, Rita Henuber, Autumn Jordon and Donnell Bell, I appreciate you lending an ear and a pep talk or two.

  And last, but definitely not least, thank you to Andrea and Danny, my beloved beta readers. Your time and input is much appreciated.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Ch
apter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Dark Deeds

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Late July

  Finally. Who would have thought an asshole with a broken moral compass would be working this late on a Friday? But then again, maybe the almighty Illinois State Senator Roy Beechum had unfinished business with his piece-on-the-side secretary before going home to his wife for the weekend.

  From the floor of the backseat of the bastard’s Mercedes, Toxin could see—with only a slight movement of his head—both the side-view and rearview mirrors. In the latter, Beechum’s image finally appeared. He stepped off the elevator without so much as a glance at his surroundings. His attention was glued to the screen of his phone as he confidently made his way across the basement-level parking garage, his shiny shoes reflecting the dim yellow light. His steps echoed off the concrete walls.

  The guy’s suit was tailored to an average-sized body kept in above-average shape. Toxin’s surveillance had revealed that Beechum worked out daily and was careful about what he put into his body. Hell, the senator took care of everything in his life—including this Mercedes with the vanilla-scented air freshener and the untouched leather backseat. He took care of every fucking little thing except defending the helpless constituents who needed him. Yet the majority of Chicagoans thought Beechum was John F. Kennedy reincarnated. There were even rumors of a future presidency in a decade or two.

  The guy could be Superman and none of that would matter. Once Toxin’s little surprise hit Beechum’s bloodstream, his heart would stop beating within, oh, two and a half minutes. Kryptonite in the form of a lethal venom. No amount of healthy living could counter that.

  Justice: one. Two-faced politicians: zero.

  Besides, Beechum wasn’t the only one who’d been working out. In order to carry out his mission, Toxin had been strengthening his body and mind against weakness for months. A warrior had to prepare for anything.

  Careful not to make any detectable movement, Toxin’s glance slid toward the side-view mirror as Beechum got close. Still clueless, the guy simultaneously texted someone with his right hand and pulled his keys out of his pants pocket with his left. Toxin’s quick glance to the rearview mirror showed the garage was still deserted, long ago emptied of cars that belonged to people eager to be home for the weekend.

  A distracted target. A secluded, deserted location. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. This one’s for you, Josh.

  Adrenaline flooded Toxin’s bunched muscles as he clutched the needle in his left hand. His black hooded windbreaker, carefully matched to the Mercedes’ black leather interior and tinted windows, would hide him until Beechum was too close to evade the attack. He ignored the pain in his legs, which burned and cramped from crouching behind the driver’s seat. Not much longer now. His breathing quickened and he reviewed the anger management tips he’d picked up in those mandated group therapy sessions, surrendering himself to a focused calm. Good to know those unbearable hours surrounded by miscreants had yielded something useful. Little did that chirpy do-gooder who taught the classes know the skills she’d bestowed upon him would be used to kill. The upshot was Toxin would find much relief for his anger in about twenty seconds.

  Beechum stopped at the driver’s side and tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants, then shifted his keys to his other hand to unlock the door. Definitely right-handed, as previous observations had indicated. It was a useful tidbit of information when it came to withstanding any attempts by Beechum to deflect the attack.

  Toxin wasn’t going to fail. He hadn’t before. He wouldn’t now. He was unstoppable because he was right and these other people were so, so wrong.

  Beechum pulled open the door. The car’s equilibrium shifted slightly to the left and the leather creaked softly as he sat in the driver seat. Keys jangled. Before making a move, Toxin waited for the gentle scrape of metal indicating Beechum had inserted his key in the ignition.

  Leaping into action, Toxin wrapped his right arm across the guy’s neck and shoulder from behind. He put his forearm against Beechum’s chin, forcing his head up and back into the headrest and silencing any attempt to scream or shout. Not that there’d be anyone to hear.

  Beechum grunted and tried to open his mouth to bite, but with Toxin forcing his chin up, it was useless and ended in more grunts and groans. As expected, Beechum’s hands came up to Toxin’s arm, trying to dislodge it.

  With his free hand, Toxin jabbed the needle into the exposed left side of the man’s neck. His thumb depressed the plunger. Beechum’s hands clawed, his manicured fingertips ineffective against the polyester windbreaker and gloves sheathing Toxin. The senator bucked in his seat, but Toxin held firm.

  Right makes might.

  He hummed a tune that would fill the final two and a half minutes of Beechum’s pathetic life.

  * * *

  “He’s supposed to be here by eight-thirty, after staying up late with friends?” Holt made his doubt and suspicion clear. He was having what his nine-year-old son, Theo, would have called an opposite day—if Theo had been where he was supposed to be this beautiful Saturday morning. Everything that was supposed to go smoothly was as lumpy as his mother’s oatmeal, starting with Holt showing up to pick his son up from his parents’ house, only to find they’d given Theo permission to sleep over at a friend’s house the night before. “Didn’t he know I’d be picking him up?”

  His mother set down a bowl of steaming scrambled eggs next to a plate heaped with pancakes, freeing her hands to flutter about. “We asked him to be home by ten.” Anxiety was evident in the edge in her voice and her jerky movements, but Betty Patterson never let anyone see her sweat. His mother had an agenda—and it smelled suspiciously like an intervention. The expansive breakfast so artfully arranged on the table was the bait.

  “Ten?” He could have gotten two more hours of case analysis done.

  Betty’s gaze went to her plate. “We were hoping to talk to you. We never get a chance to sit down together. You’re always rushing this way or that.”

  Holt’s father pushed his plate aside. “Oh, for God’s sake, Betty,” Ron muttered. “You’d think he was some stranger. Just tell him.”

  Betty glared at Ron before turning a miserable look on Holt. “We’re worried. You’re not okay, and it’s time you admitted it and let us help you. It’s been nearly a year.”

  Holt laid his fork down on his plate, leaving the rest of his pancake sitting there, soaking up a puddle of syrup. The sweet smell of maple was suddenly abhorrent, and his stomach clenched. His mother couldn’t seem to sit still. She rose and retrieved the coffeepot from its perch on the counter, then returned to the table and refilled everyone’s mugs. Just what Holt needed, more caffeine to amp up his racing pulse.

  “And in the meantime, Theo is also suffering,” Betty continued. “More so, since it seems he’s lost his father too.”

  Theo had lost a mother and Holt had lost a wife and a good friend. Yeah, the world was sometimes a shitty place. But Theo hadn’t lost his father. “I’m here for him.” Holt was unable to keep the defensiveness from his voice.

  “On the weekends, yes. And on nights that you’re not working late, which isn’t all that often.”

  “He knows I’m only a phone call away.”

 
“He knows nothing of the sort. In fact, he’s been acting out at school, trying to get your attention.”

  “He’s nine. It’s normal for kids his age to engage in pranks.”

  “And Theo is a bright boy who shouldn’t have to go to summer school, and yet that’s where he’s spending his time.”

  Better there than with his father. Holt smashed the thought. At his elbow, his phone rang, jostling against the table where it sat. Relief flooded him until he realized the call must be from work. On a Saturday morning, that was never a good sign. It looked like today’s metaphorical oatmeal had formed another lump. He picked up the phone.

  The lines that bracketed his mother’s mouth deepened. “Can’t that wait? We’re talking about your future, your son’s future. Sara is very concerned.”

  Sara. The name set Holt’s teeth on edge even as a memory of warm, soft lips slipped past his defenses. He stuffed it away. “It’s work. I’ll just be a moment.”

  He went out the sliding door onto the patio and took a deep breath of cool, summer-morning air. Freedom. He didn’t want to discuss his future. He was just starting to get his bearings in an Elizabeth-less world. His wife had been a bright light, a firecracker that added spark to the monotony. For the past few months, he’d finally been able to climb out of bed each morning without an anchor weighing his chest down. But flashes of the past and his failure to save Elizabeth sometimes left him curled into the fetal position. Was that what his parents wanted to hear? It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to share.

  He answered the phone before it could go to voicemail. “Dr. Patterson.”

  “Good morning, Holt. Your assistance has been requested.” Damian Manchester’s voice was deep and sure and rarely fluctuated. The man was all business, but he was damn good at that business. As one of Damian’s employees, Holt appreciated that.

  “Where and when?”

  “Here in Chicago. Now. The CPD found a body they believe is linked to two other murders over the past several months. They called us because the latest victim is high profile.”