Page 48 of Dark Angel
“I guess time will tell.” Styles grinned and shook his head. “You sure are one of a kind, Beth.”
Amused, Beth smiled.If only you knew.
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If you were completely hooked byDark Angel, you’ll love the next addictive book in the Detective Beth Katz series,Shadow Angel!
Get it here or keep reading for an exclusive extract!
SHADOW ANGEL
AN ABSOLUTELY ADDICTIVE AND NAIL-BITING CRIME THRILLER
In a dark cabin, a young woman sits totally still. Long dark hair hangs over her shoulders and heavy makeup adorns her pale face. Cherry red lips offer a hint of a smile, but she won’t ever smile again. Her body is already cold to the touch…
INTRODUCTION
In this world of equality, why can’t I identify as a psychopathic serial killer and be accepted? After all, in the animal kingdom, predators are part of the natural order of things. They’re tolerated alongside us, and yet, I’m hunted. Being the daughter of a serial killer changed my life in so many ways. As a child I figured I was normal, but by the time I discovered that being “just like dad” was unlawful… it was too late.
Psychopathic behavior can lie undisturbed, hidden in our genes, until a traumatic event triggers a violent episode, and that may be true for most like me but I’m different from the others. Think of me as a modified, upgraded version. You see, as Special Agent Beth Katz, I must hide the charismatic serial killer side of me and act “normal” to fight crime, but in the guise of the Tarot Killer, I can sneak away to seek vengeance on twisted maniacs who slip through the net of justice.
Working close to crime offers me a smorgasbord of choices, but I must move in the shadows because the law that protects kid murderers, pedophiles, and thrill killers doesn’t protect me. Can’t they understand I’m just taking out the trash?
PROLOGUE
FRIDAY
Icy fingers of dread walked along the vertebrae of Cassie Burnham’s spine under the forbidding stare of the man leaning against the bar. He’d been glaring at her with unnerving intensity each time she took the stage in the Fuzzy Peach bar at the Outlaws Saloon. Not the lustful look most patrons gave her, his contempt for her radiated across the room. Dancing and acting provocative was proving difficult under his judgmental gaze. It happened every night. The moment the music started and she wrapped herself around the glistening silver pole, he emerged from the shadows, eyes narrowed in menace.
Relieved when the final strains of her music ended for her last appearance of the night, Cassie left the stage and slapped away the hands reaching out to touch her. Most of them were miners who flocked to town on weekends, cashed up and ready to party, and apart from booze and gambling, they had nowhere else to spend their pay. Many in the audience ignored the no-touch policy, and the bouncers were too slow or lazy to cross the floor to the stage to protect the dancers. Seeing those leering faces made her skin crawl and she hated her life. Being a stripper in a mining town in the middle of nowhere had become the end of the road for Cassie. Sure, the hourly rate was good and she got to keep her tips, but it was a dead-end job.
Exhausted after hours onstage, Cassie gathered up her costume and an itchy trickle of sweat ran between her shoulder blades. She wanted to be far away from this place and searched for her discarded clothes. After wrestling a bra from one of the men in the crowd and ignoring the grabbing hands, she headed toward the dressing rooms. Outside was below zero but inside the saloon heat rose in clouds of unwashed male and stale beer. She nodded to the next dancer heading for the stage and walked along the passageway and into the dressing room, leaving the loud music, cheers, and suggestive remarks behind her. As she entered the crowded room, a wall of cheap perfume hit her, mixed with the stench of sweat and smelly feet. Women moved around, packed together like sardines, dressing or sitting in front of mirrors touching up their makeup. Stripping was the only gig in town that paid the big bucks, and she would cash in before she got too old, because the next stop would be a bartender or working at the local gas station. Saturday night was always busy, but thankfully, her shift was over. She pushed her sweaty costumes into her backpack, added her makeup bag and long blonde wig, and then made her way to the showers. It was good to wash the sparkling makeup from her body and remove the touch of the men forcing bills down her underwear. She’d set her mind on buying a new pair of boots for the winter and with tonight’s tips she’d have more than enough money. The happy thought brightened her mood and she hummed as she dried her long hair.
Ten minutes later, she opened the stage door and looked both ways. It wouldn’t be the first time an amorous drunken miner had tried to force himself on her, but the dark alleyway appeared deserted. As she stepped out of the back door it clanged shut behind her and an icy chill blasted her, seeping through the seams of her clothes and sending shivers across her heated flesh. She longed to take a deep breath of cool mountain air, but the alleyway was lined with overflowing dumpsters. Only a single light illuminated the dancers’ exit from the building and anything could be hiding in the alleyway. Cats, rats, or bears frequented the area hunting for food.
Fear gripped her as shadows moved and she paused, scanning the way ahead before stepping into the darkness. Watching the deep shadows, she maneuvered carefully through the garbage, trying not to breathe in the stink of stale Chinese takeout and cat pee. At the end of the alleyway, a single streetlight cast an orange glow like a beacon of safety and she headed toward it. The dancers always left their vehicles parked on Quartz, a narrow road that ran behind a number of industrial buildings. As she headed toward the light, she blew out a deep sigh. This area of town could be anywhere in the country. It was hard to believe the Outlaw Saloon was in the outlying areas of the beautiful Rattlesnake Creek. The picturesque center of town seemed to exist in a world of its own. It was as if time had stopped. The main street of Rattlesnake Creek resembled a town in the Old West with most of the buildings constructed decades ago from wood or rock hewn out of the mountains by the miners.
In her periphery, the shadows moved and the shape of a large figure fell across the alleyway. Heart pounding, she slipped one hand inside her purse for the can of bear spray. Man or bear, it would slow him down some and give her time to escape. Unsure if she should move forward or go back, she turned and looked over one shoulder. The dark alleyway loomed behind her frighteningly still, even the cats had deserted it. Ahead, long shadows reached out like witches’ fingers, their long nails threatening to tear her apart. She stared into the darkness for long seconds, trying to rationalize her fear. She’d walked along this alleyway one hundred times before and each time something spooked her. Gathering her courage, and taking a strong grip on the bear spray, she walked into the shadows. As she reached the end of the alleyway, she increased her pace and burst out into the light.
Pain slammed into the side of her head and she staggered, falling to her knees. The gritty sidewalk cut deep into her flesh as bright starbursts erupted in her eyes and the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue. What had happened? No one was there. The only sound was the muffledthump, thump, thumpfrom the club. She tried to turn her head to look around but moving it hurt so bad. Her mouth refused to open, and only mewing sounds came from between her lips. She’d dropped the can of bear spray and she watched helplessly as it spun on the ground before rolling away into the gutter. On hands and knees, she crawled along the sidewalk trying to get away. Seconds later, denim-clad legs and dark brown work boots came into view. Dizzy and confused, Cassie turned her head to look at her attacker when agony clanged through her temples and the sidewalk blurred. Flat on the bitterly cold ground, she couldn’t move. Was she dying?
Strong hands lifted her under the arms and her face slid over plastic. It dragged against her skin in a strange burning sensation. The man grunted behind her and as her knees smashed against metal, only a whimper escaped her lips. He said nothing as he ripped back her arms and brutally applied zip ties. Gaffer tape was wrapped around her head, sealing her mouth. She couldn’t breathe. Terror gripped her as doors slammed shut and an engine started. Face down and unable to move, she slid around on the plastic coating the floor as the vehicle accelerated around corners at high speed. Nausea gripped her as the truck swayed and bumped, tossing her around until it finally stopped. The door slid open, washing her with freezing night air. She moved her eyes as moonlight outlined the man. She could hear his heavy breathing and smell his rancid sweat. Unable to feel her arms or legs, she could only grunt as he rolled her onto her back. She flopped over and gazed into his shadowed features. Terrified and unable to fight, she stared at him.
A low chuckle broke the silence as the sharp blade of the knife in his hand reflected in the moonlight.
“Oh, don’t look so worried, little lady. We have all night and then some.”
CHAPTER 1
MONDAY
Eagle’s Nest Forest was wearing its fall dress in a multitude of golds, browns, and greens as Special Agent Beth Katz walked onto the stoop of the cabin alongside Rattlesnake Creek. It had been one of the five cabins she’d considered buying over the past few weeks as a place for her to use as a retreat. She needed a place away from the office as her home base. After witnessing a brutal murder some months previously, she’d taken the obligatory psych test, and failed. The FBI director had forced her to take time away from the big city and reassigned her to Rattlesnake Creek. In truth, being a wolf in sheep’s clothing she’d come too close to becoming the prime suspect in a murder case. Anxious to seek revenge on a serial killer who delighted in raping and killing young girls, she’d allowed her guard to slip a little. Dispatching a monster from one of her cases wasn’t her usual MO, but catching the killer in the act, she’d allowed her own dark side to take control. It had taken split-second timing to shift the blame onto the mythical Tarot Killer by leaving a tarot card floating in the murderer’s blood.
As a master of disguise and skilled in many types of self-defense, the daughter of a serial killer had become the notorious Tarot Killer—the mythical killer of monsters, who’d never left a trace behind, was also an FBI agent. She worked close to investigations, moved invisibly through the dark web as if it was her home, and hunted down unstoppable killers.
She’d left DC almost three months ago to work with Senior Special Agent Dax Styles in a sprawling mining town that time had left behind. The majority of buildings were from the original settlers way back in the 1800s, although new builds were mixed in to accommodate the growing population of miners. Lucrative mines surrounded the area and included the outlying towns of Rainbow, Serenity, and Spring Grove. Although Rattlesnake Creek appeared from the outside to be isolated, the opposite was true. The mines produced a steady flow of workers and the town had a regular bus service. She’d recently discovered the railroad ran scenic tours alongside the mountains and stopped twice daily.
As the Rattlesnake Creek FBI field office serviced many of the outlying small towns, cases requiring their expertise were few and far between, which usually meant that they assisted the local sheriff, Cash Ryder, in any local incidents. Most times it was on weekends, when the miners came into town causing a ruckus. They usually headed for the local saloons to spend their pay and clashed with workers from other mines. This meant that she would take a few days during the week in lieu of the weekend she spent on the job. This worked well for Beth because she could slip away if necessary and, disguised as the Tarot Killer, could keep her dark side happy. The cabin would make this easier, as would her new silver GMC truck, chosen because of the multitude of the same brand and color in the area. Under the guise of fixing up the old cabin and searching across the country for furniture and other items to make it comfortable, she could slip unnoticed into towns all over Montana. Once the cabin was complete, she’d take up art and, if she needed to go missing for a time, use the excuse of painting the scenery in the area.
