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Clever and ambitious, Special Agent Adam Darling (yeah, he’s heard all the jokes before) was on the fast track to promotion and success until his mishandling of a high profile operation left one person dead and Adam “On the Beach.” Now he’s got a new partner, a new case, and a new chance to resurrect his career, hunting a cruel and cunning serial killer in a remote mountain resort in Oregon.
Deputy Sheriff Robert Haskell may seem laid-back, but he’s a tough and efficient cop, and he’s none too thrilled to see feebs on his turf—even when one of the agents is smart, handsome, and probably gay. But a butchered body in a Native American museum is out of his small town department’s league. For that matter, icy, uptight Adam Darling is out of Rob’s league, but that doesn’t mean Rob won’t take his best shot.
WINTER KILL
June 2015
Copyright (c) 2015 by Josh Lanyon
Cover by L.C. Chase
Edited by Keren Reed
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from JustJoshin Publishing, Inc.
ISBN: 978-1-937909-27-7
Published in the United States of America
JustJoshin Publishing, Inc.
3053 Rancho Vista Blvd.
Suite 116
Palmdale, CA 93551
www.joshlanyon.com
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
WINTER KILL
Josh Lanyon
Prologue
It was cold.
A bitter cold that stung his cheeks and made his eyes water. Even the ripe, low-hanging moon looked frosted over. He hugged himself, stamped his feet on the hard ground, and tried not to long for home and his warm bed.
Because that wasn’t his home anymore. He and Buck were going to start a new life together. Away from here. Away from the big mouths and small minds, the people who couldn’t mind their own business because they wanted you to be as miserable as they were.
Buck was his home now.
Yeah, he liked that idea.
An owl hooted from overhead and he jumped—and then laughed at himself.
But it was lonely out here. No doubt about it. Lonely and quiet and very dark. In the moonlight the snow on the surrounding mountains looked silver, and the tips of the blue-black pine needles seemed to glow.
Anybody who thought there was only one shade of black should try standing out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by shifting shadows and wavering light.
He wished Buck would hurry up.
Then he worried Buck might have changed his mind. It felt unlucky to let that thought form, but it had taken Buck a while to come around to his way of thinking. This wasn’t an easy thing for either of them.
It would be worth it in the end.
The owl gave up asking for identification and flew away into the night.
The icy moon dipped lower behind the mountains.
He licked his lips nervously. The night tasted of snow. Hopefully he wouldn’t die of hypothermia before goddamned Buck showed up. He pounded his boots some more on the rock-hard ground and stomped back and forth across the clearing.
Come on, Buck.Don’t do this to me.
At last he heard the approaching rumble of a truck engine. His heart pounded faster and he felt a little sick with excitement and fear. It was for real. They were going to do it.
He smiled into the white glare of the approaching headlights.
Chapter One
“It was a mistake bringing in the feds,” Zeke said.
Rob thought it was a mistake too, but it hadn’t been his call, and it was too late now, so what was the point of bitching? He said, “Feebs.”
“What?”
“The FBI. They call them feebs now.”
“I don’t care if they call them fucking frankfurters.”
Rob grunted.
From the observation deck at Rogue Valley International-Medford Airport they watched in silence as Alaska Airlines Flight 477 touched down, skimmed the rain-blackened runway, and taxied slowly toward the terminal.
Rob straightened. “Come on.”
“There’s no hurry.” Zeke continued to gaze out the wet, streaked window.
The overhead speaker announced the flight’s arrival just in case anyone in the small airport wasn’t paying attention, and offered information on collecting baggage to the passengers still sitting on the plane.
A few long minutes passed before the mobile stairway was lined up with the plane doors. The cabin door opened. At last the passengers began to disembark.
Rob’s stomach growled and he glanced at his watch. It was already twelve thirty and in this weather it would take about an hour to drive from Medford to the resort of Nearby. He sighed inwardly. It had been a long morning and it was going to be a long afternoon. Of that, he had zero doubt.
Zeke said suddenly, “Fucking Barbie and Ken!”
A woman carrying a briefcase exited the plane. The rainy breeze tousled her long, pale hair. She threw a comment over her shoulder to a man in an olive raincoat. The man replied and the woman laughed.
Rob smiled grimly because that time Zeke nailed it. Tall and blond and elegant in their His and Hers trench coats, these two looked more like they were auditioning for a hot new TV series than real law enforcement. But law enforcement they were. Real live FBI Special Agents come all the way from sunny Los Angeles to offer their wisdom and expertise.
Yep, it was pretty damned annoying.
“Come on,” he said again, and this time he meant it. Zeke heaved a heavy sigh but followed him downstairs to the Arrival Gate where Barbie and Ken were impatiently scanning the waiting crowd for their welcome committee.
The bystanders parted before Rob and Zeke. There was nothing like a sheriff’s badge to clear a path.
“Special Agents Gould and Darling?” Rob asked. Not that he had any doubt.
The man—Rob’s height, green eyes, short, wavy fair hair—said crisply, “I’m Darling. This is Agent Gould.”
“Deputies,” Gould said. She had a very pretty smile. No question who played Good Cop on that team.
“Special Agent What’dyousay?” Zeke asked.
Darling directed a look that should have left Zeke encased in ice, and Rob preserved his poker face with effort.
“I’m Haskell. This is Deputy Lang,” Rob said. “How was your trip?”
“Long,” Darling said. “Shall we hit the road?”
“I could see getting that mixed up,” Zeke interrupted with his usual godawful timing.
Darling looked almost human as his green gaze met Rob’s. Gould’s pale brows drew together. “I’m sorry?”
Zeke opened his big mouth again. “I could see how someone might think you were the d—”
Rob spoke over him. “We’re parked in the lot across from the terminal.” He gave Zeke a helpful, hard nudge in the direction of the exit. Zeke winced and glared at him. “You have any luggage?” Rob asked the feds.
Gould held up her briefcase. Darling didn’t seem to hear the question, heading straight for the doors leading out to the rainy gray October day.
They piled into the Rural Patrol SUV, the FBI agents in the backseat and Zeke riding shotgun. Rob started the engine.
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