Dark Justice: Hunt (Dark Justice #2)
Jenna Ryan
Prologue
“I have to meet McCabe.” Taking his wife by the arms, Johnny Hunt lowered his head and set his mouth on hers.
As always, Melia Rose immediately lost her train of thought. When Johnny kissed her, her brain tended to melt. Nothing connected except wave after wave of pure sensation.
He nuzzled her lower lip, opened his eyes a little, and looked into hers. “I love you, Mel. I really, really love you.”
Offering him a seductive smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him. “Love you back, Johnny. Here’s an idea. Why don’t you forget about McCabe, and I’ll skip my night in the casino? We can drink wine, order room service, and make love until the sun comes up. Or goes down again, if you’ve got the stamina.”
“Can’t.” He nibbled her earlobe and ran his thumbs over her nipples. “We’ll have to settle for anticipation. Go to the casino and play a few games of blackjack. You’ve earned a break from the workshops and seminars.”
She kissed his cheeks, then nipped at his mouth. “If we’re lucky, McCabe won’t have much to say. It’s possible.” She laughed at the dark look he sent her. “Okay, not going to happen.” One last kiss and then she stepped away. “No more teasing. We can pick this up later, after McCabe pisses you off with a new assignment and I lose some ridiculous dollar amount at the blackjack table.”
He tugged a strand of her long red-brown hair. “Look on the bright side. You might win big.”
“If I win, the hospital gets it. We need a new CT scanner.”
He pulled her forward for a fast, hungry kiss. “Get lots of blackjacks.”
Smiling, she turned and headed for the bedroom. The door barely clicked as he left the suite.
She wore red—glittery and a little daring. Two of her colleagues met her in the lobby, and together they strolled into the gaming room.
Atlantic City might not have been as awe inspiring as Las Vegas, but Melia liked the East Coast vibe generated by the Boardwalk bars and casinos.
The three of them split up almost immediately. One wanted to play roulette, the other had a thing for slots, and Melia was determined to spend at least twenty minutes at a blackjack table.
After she chose one, a man in a casual suit, wearing a white shirt open at the collar, came to sit beside her.
“Hello there, gorgeous. Please tell me you’re here alone.”
Grinning, she showed him her finger. “Sorry, no. You’ll want to concentrate on the cards. He’s a federal marshal.”
When a server strolled past with a tray of red wine, the man plucked two glasses from the edge and handed her one. “For luck. And I mean at cards.”
Melia sipped the Merlot. It was fairly decent for house wine. Not as good as the French Cabernet she and Johnny had been drinking upstairs, but all in all the effect would probably be similar. She’d have to be careful not to drink too much more.
“Charm’s not a problem. Just as long as we’re clear. I’m not interested in knowing you better.”
He raised a hand in surrender. “Message received and processed. I’ll stay on sixteen. You?”
The wine had a silky texture that went down easily. She played three hands and busted every time.
A sigh escaped. “Oh well. This was a bonus, anyway. The convention’s the prize.”
The man grinned. “Since you’ve helped me win twice, I’d say introductions are in order. I’m Matthew.”
“Melia,” she returned. Were the lights going down, she wondered. The room seemed darker all of a sudden, and oddly claustrophobic.
“I think we should toast to our one and only meeting in this life.” When he smiled, his canines looked sharp.
Melia shook off the illusion and raised her glass. Second? Third? She couldn’t remember.
The air felt warm and sticky. So much so, in fact, that tendrils of heat seemed to rise from the carpet. The tables and machines glowed. She wasn’t sure, but she thought her fingers might be going numb. Okay, that had to be an illusion.
“Are you all right?” Matthew took her arm. “Oops, little stumble there. Maybe…do you want to go upstairs?”
Melia realized she must have answered, because he nodded and increased the pressure on her arm.
“This way. Main door’s right and the elevators are across the lobby. Do you have your key?”
“Johnny won’t be long. I’ll wait for him.”
“Waiting in your room would be better than down here, I think.” Matthew steered her gently toward the elevator.
The motion of the car rising made her feel as if she was ascending to heaven. Maybe she was. She swore she saw Johnny waiting at the gate.
“Scruffy angel,” she murmured, but he merely smiled and held out his hand to her.
We are who and what we are, Mel. I’m no angel.
He’d said something to that effect at their wedding, in the vows he’d written for her. Hers had been more poetic, even if she couldn’t bring them to mind right then.
The gate before her opened, and she floated through. She was drifting on a cloud. Images formed in her mind, a bit like a dream but not quite. Matthew danced through her head, but she had no idea why. Even fluffier clouds beckoned. When she touched them, they were soft and inviting. She sank down and let them billow around her.
There were wineglasses, and a magnificent view of Atlantic City at night.
Sighing in her sleep, she rolled over. The cloud was more solid than before. Darkness slowly gave way to shimmering dawn. Reaching out, she stroked the skin of Johnny’s back and smiled. Count on her husband to find her cloud and join her on it.
A feeling of peacefulness lingered as she stretched. She was going to take the cloud home with her. Or at least the duvet, because part of her hazy mind understood that it was really a bed and clouds had nothing to do with it.
The shimmer of light intensified. The door closed. Cool air fluttered across her cheeks.
“What the hell is this?”
Her eyes snapped open. The heavenly cocoon surrounding her dissolved. Something shattered against the wall.
“What?” She sat up with a start, shook the fog from her mind. “Johnny, what are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” He loomed over her, more dangerous than she’d ever seen him. Although fury radiated, his voice dropped several notches. “Turn your head, Melia.”
Melia? He never called her that. Never.
Dazed and confused, she did as he instructed and saw…
“Jesus.” Shoving herself a full foot sideways, she stared at the man lying on his stomach next to her. Her gaze shot to Johnny. “Who the hell’s he? I mean—” She kicked the man’s leg under the covers. “Who is he?”
While Johnny continued to glare, the man rolled over. Matthew’s lopsided smile greeted her.
“Hey, doll. That was some fantastic night, wasn’t it?”
Chapter One
Istanbul sweltered in the late afternoon sun. The mingled scents of tobacco, spice, sweat, and seawater permeated the air while, down below, the pier facing the Bosporus bustled with people. Seated on rows of chairs and benches, a group of elderly men puffed on hookah pipes. Several of them smiled haplessly at passersby. Or maybe at some private joke. Johnny Hunt knew they came to that same place every day, but even after spending six months in the crowded Turkish city, he still didn’t fully understand what the local rituals entailed.
As he stood under a rippling canopy, hoping to escape the sun that seemed to burn down to the bone, a youngish man with only a few more teeth than his senior counterparts offered him a half-smoked joint and a look of full-blown hope. Johnny scotched the look by indicating his own hand-rolled cigarette. He chuckled when the man slumped, then straightened and zeroed in on a more promising target.
“Hope springs eternal, old friend.”