To the authors who have offered their support and encouragement: Joelle Charbonneau, who literally changed the course of our careers and is always ready with advice or a sanity check. Cecy Robson, who is not only quick with an RT or a phone call, but is the best sprint write partner on the planet. To Christina Hobbs & Lauren Billings, clearly you gals never met a stranger and swapping stories over cocktails was what we needed to keep the faith. We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again, we might be older than you but we totally want to be you when we grow up. And to Tara Sue Me, the kind of woman who will offer you chocolate in her blanket fort when deadlines are looming and agree to a cover quote without so much as a second thought.
Finally, to the fandoms that not only brought us together, but inspire us on a daily basis. From Fifty Shades to Crossfire to Gandy Girls, we have loved taking this journey with each of you and hope you’ll welcome Hudson Chase into the ranks of your book boyfriends.
Lemon drop martinis for everyone!
Keep reading for a preview of Book 2 in the Chasing Fire trilogy
RELEASE ME
Coming soon from InterMix
Allie tried her best to ignore the blue flashing lights in her parents’ driveway. But from her seat in the living room she had a clear view of the brick-paved courtyard just beyond the front door. And she knew that just beyond the courtyard’s limestone fountain stood a row of uniformed officers forming a human barrier along yellow tape. And beyond that tape stood a crowd of reporters with cameras and microphones, all jockeying for a better position among the curious who had gathered at the gates.
Instead she focused her attention on the detective standing in front of her. The middle-aged woman wore clothes more suited for a man and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Yet despite her hard-as-nails appearance, there was an undeniable kindness in her eyes when she told Allie it was time to take her statement.
Allie nodded but didn’t speak. She hadn’t said more than a handful of words since placing the call to 911.
The detective stood and reached inside her jacket for a small notebook. Her movements revealed the badge she wore clipped to her waist and the gun she kept holstered at her side.
Allie’s eyes drifted shut and her mind filled with images of gunshot wounds and blood.
So much blood . . .
“Alessandra.”
She opened her eyes to find Benjamin Weiss, general counsel for Ingram Media, making his way through the foyer. As always, he was impeccably groomed in a dark suit and tie with a perfectly folded handkerchief peeking out of the breast pocket. Only this time his tie was askew and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
“My apologies,” he said, out of breath. “I came as soon as I heard, but the roads are clogged with news vans.”
As soon as he heard? Allie had no idea who had called Mr. Weiss, but she was glad to have him at her side. Benjamin Weiss was more than just the family’s attorney; he had also been her father’s best friend.
A few quiet words were spoken between Mr. Weiss and Detective Green, and then she was ready to begin. She sat on the coffee table across from Allie and uncapped her pen. “Walk me through what happened after you pulled into the driveway,” she instructed. Her tone was all business; just another day at the office for a homicide detective.
Allie tried to speak but her words came out on a strangled sob.
Mr. Weiss placed his hand on her shoulder. “Would you like some water?” he asked, glancing toward the kitchen and paling as his gaze fell on the scene unfolding in the dining room.
Don’t look.
Allie kept her stare trained on the detective’s pen as she answered Mr. Weiss. “I’m fine.” There wasn’t a person in Chicago who would’ve believed that statement, but a bottle of water wasn’t going to make things any better. And with the way her stomach felt, she doubted she’d be able to keep it down anyway.
“Just take it slow,” Detective Green said.
Allie drew a shaky breath and began to retell the events of the past few hours. “I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I opened the front door.”
“How so?” the detective asked.
“The alarm didn’t make any noise.”
“You mean it was unarmed?”
Allie shook her head. “No, I mean it wasn’t working. Even if it’s unarmed, the system still chimes to announce when a door or window has been opened.”
Detective Green scribbled a few notes on the small pad of paper in her hand. “What happened after you came in the house?”
“I could see the light was on in my dad’s study, so I headed that way first.”
Tears clouded Allie’s eyes as she looked across the expanse of the paneled living room to the hallway just to the right of the front door. Her throat tightened as she thought back to how confident she’d felt striding down that hall. For as long as Allie could remember, every aspect of her life had been dictated by what was best for the family legacy. But this time her parents had taken it too far. Going behind her back to arrange a marriage that was nothing more than a business transaction was the last straw. She was done playing the role of the dutiful daughter, and she’d planned to tell them so in no uncertain terms.
But when she’d reached the door . . .
“And that’s when you discovered the body?”
“Yes,” she whispered, recalling the image of her father’s lifeless body slumped over his desk. Her gaze shifted to the Kleenex she held clutched in her hand. It had been twisted into something more closely resembling twine than tissue.
“Is your father normally home during the day?”
A few months ago she could have answered without a doubt. Her father would have never been home in the middle of the day. But lately he’d been scaling back, letting Julian lead some of the day-to-day meetings as he prepared to take the helm after their wedding.
Julian.
Just thinking about her former fiancé sent a chill down her spine. Her finger touched the remnants of the black eye he’d given her the week before. She’d done her best to cover the shadow of a bruise with concealer, but the makeup had surely been washed away with tears by now.
“Miss Sinclair?” Detective Green prodded.
“Oh, um, no. Usually it’s just my mother and the housekeeper.” Allie gasped.
“She’s fine,” Detective Green assured her. “She was out running errands until just a short while ago.”
“I assume you’re taking her statement as well?” Mr. Weiss asked.
The detective nodded. “We’ll need confirmation from the medical examiner, but it looks like this all took place shortly after she left. If that’s the case, the perpetrators may have waited for her to leave, assuming no one else was in the house.”
A flash came from the dining room, and without thinking Allie turned toward it. Flash. A photographer stood with his back to her, his camera pointed at the mirrored wall. Allie watched his reflection as he focused his lens on the blood splattered across the wall right behind the spot where her mother had last stood. Flash. He stepped closer, his lens telescoping, and she knew he was capturing details of the images she’d seen when she’d first stumbled into the room; blood and gray matter mixed with shards of mirror and bone. Flash. A moment later he squatted beside the blood that had pooled on the Aubusson rug, photographing her mother’s face, her eyes open and frozen in fear.