Deadly Past Read online

  Deadly Past

  Book 3 of the Deadly Series

  By K.L. Humphreys

  Other books by this Author:

  Deadly Series:

  Deadly Hunt: https://amzn.com/B01HN6KZL2

  Deadly Obsession: http://amzn.to/2dkY58V

  DEADLY PAST

  First Edition published in 2017

  Text Copyright © K L Humphreys

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Editing by Danni (Ellie) Williams

  Cover Design by Kennedy Kelly

  Cover Crush Designs

  Formatter Veronique Poirier

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1978380349

  ISBN-10:

  1978380348

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.

  —Anonymous

  Prologue

  Luke

  I walk out of the courtroom glad that I don’t have to worry about getting a fucking raging hard-on yet again.

  Fuck! What the hell is it with this woman anyway?

  A few months ago, a new addition to our team showed up, and now I can’t stop thinking about her. This is the last thing I want, much less need.

  Last time I felt something like this was when I met that bitch, Alex.

  Detective Morgan Yates recently moved to the Major Crimes Unit in New York. I was in the station talking to Tony about a case when I saw her. She wasn't dressed like a typical cop - she was wearing painted on jeans, knee length boots, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket that screamed 'come get me, bad boy!'.

  I was intrigued.

  When my eyes finally made it to her face, my dick stood up and saluted. Fucking suit pants did nothing to hide the tent I was parading.

  Her black hair fell past her breasts, framing her oval face and drawing attention to her yearning to be kissed lips.

  See, I paid way too much attention to her. So here I am making my way out of the courthouse and down the steps.

  “Dallas, wait up.” That sultry tone stops me in my tracks.

  Shit. I thought I had gotten away.

  I turn slightly her way to let her know I hear her but also hide the visible dance my dick is doing in my pants, begging for attention. That might have been a mistake because her skirt is so tight that my imagination doesn’t even have to get involved. I’m not entirely sure how she walks without splitting that motherfucking thing. I can see all that ass has to offer. Her suit jacket is form-fitted, making her tits stand out.

  I sigh and as soon as she approaches me, “Yes, Detective Yates. How may I be of assistance?”

  I’m being rude, but I just don’t have it in me to care right now. I’m dog-tired, and it’s looking as though that motherfucking child abusing bastard is going to walk away scot-free. I still have clients to see, and I’m due back in court again in two hours.

  This day needs to end soon.

  “We need more evidence on this bastard. I am not sitting around waiting for that asshole to violate another girl.” Her voice has taken a dark edge to it, but damn, it’s still hot. Her Detroit accent is sexy.

  “Damn it. I want nothing more than to get this bastard behind bars, but my schedule is booked solid. I’m sorry Detective Yates.”

  I truly am fully booked. I’ve been searching for some way to make sure this bastard rots in jail, but somehow he’s made sure the only evidence we can find is circumstantial.

  “That’s okay Dallas. I’m not working tonight, so I’ll go through everything again. I’m hoping to find something that was overlooked. I can’t let this lie, it isn't right.” The anger in her voice is palpable.

  “Morgan, come to my place this evening, and I’ll help look through the evidence.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying.

  Damn, this is a bad idea of epic proportions. I barely have control when she walks by. How the hell am I going to keep it together in close quarters?

  Her eyebrows rise a notch in surprise but quickly recover. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you later, Dallas.”

  I watch as she walks away. My eyes remain glued to the sway of her hips and the way her walk enhances her ass.

  ***

  The doorbell rings just as I am getting out of the shower. I don't even have time to dry myself. I’m seriously dreading tonight.

  I wrap a towel around my waist, water drips onto the hardwood floor as I walk toward the door. Yet again I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking by asking Detective Yates to come over.

  On opening the door, I see her eyes do a full sweep of my body, I watch as they darken with lust. I didn’t want to see that. I don’t want to think about what it’d be like having her mouth wrapped around my dick or better yet have my dick buried deep inside her. And I definitely don’t want to think about what it would be like waking up next to her.

  I slam the door shut on those thoughts quickly, visibly shaking them off. I look at her only to see she’s waiting for me to speak, her eyes still speaking volumes of her own inner turmoil.

  “Come in. I won’t be long. I just need to get dressed,” I say.

  Morgan’s eyes seductively follow the droplets of water still trickling down my chest and to my waist, landing on the white towel still draped around my hips. She licks her lips as I pull the door open wider and then steps into my apartment. I watch her ass sway as she walks into the living room. I hate how she affects me.

  I head to my bedroom. Where I quickly put on jeans and a tee, regretting yet again even inviting her here tonight. I just have a terrible feeling and I don’t think I can keep a tight rein on my control for much longer.

  Morgan is sitting on the couch, sifting through paperwork when I return. Her dark hair is still pulled into a no-nonsense tight bun, and her face is scrunched up in deep concentration. She must sense my presence because she turns and faces me. Her smile is like a sucker punch to the gut. I push that feeling down as far as a deep breath will let me then take a self-confident step in her direction.

  I'll be damned if I let her see me falter.

  “I found three women that made complaints against him. All were dropped, but they were all consistent. They say he was rough and made them dress up like school girls. If we could speak to them, they could help the case, maybe show he has a thing for teenage girls.” She sounds so hopeful.

  I sigh and sit down on the chair. With my sigh, her body goe
s rigid, and I watch as she starts picking the nail polish off her nails. She’s apprehensive. It’s something I’ve never seen her do, and I hate being the one to cause her to feel this way. Her being uncomfortable around me doesn’t sit right.

  “The evidence will be thrown out because they all withdrew their statements. The dickhead was never charged.” I try conveying empathy for being the one to burst that bubble, but it's hard when I'm so pissed; not at her but at the situation.

  How is it that a forty-seven-year-old man can molest, thirteen year-old schoolgirls and look as though he’s about to walk away? It's cases like these that make me wonder if I chose the right profession.

  “I’ve looked into them already. I’ve spent every waking moment going over every inch of evidence we have.” I shake my head. “I need a whiskey. You want one?”

  She stares at me for a beat then nods. I also order a pizza. I’m starved, and I’m sure she could eat.

  We’ve been trying to find something that will stop this bastard from walking for the past three hours. I get up and grab us a few beers. Morgan is deeply engrossed in the file. The tight bun on her head is gone, and her hair now hangs loose. She’s relaxed and has never looked more gorgeous. I wonder what her hair would look like on my pillow. Where do these thoughts keep coming from? Damn it. That will never happen.

  “Yes! Luke, I’ve found it.” I hear Morgan shout as I make my way back from the kitchen with our drinks.

  The excitement in her voice does nothing to stop the aching in my dick. In fact, it’s now awake and is at half mast. I take a swig of whiskey and walk back into the living room. She’s staring at me with the biggest smile on her face, and it is the most beautiful thing I think I've witnessed.

  “Luke, look what I discovered," she murmurs and points to the papers.

  I take a seat beside her and hope it isn’t a false alarm and it truly is something new. I look at her still beaming face full of pride and relief. I place the whiskeys on the table and read the emails between Robert Mills and a girl, who is now fourteen years old. The emails show this girl telling him she’s thirteen and Mills proceed to tell her what he would like to do to her.

  Morgan did it! She actually found the piece of evidence that could nail this bastard to the wall. How the hell did everyone miss this before?

  I turn to her and feel her breath on my face as she reads over the email again.

  “Luke,” it comes out as a breathy whisper.

  And there goes the last of my self-control. I can’t keep myself from kissing her. Next thing I know, my lips are on hers, and I’m kissing her as if she is a lifeline preventing me from drowning in a sea of passion. This is such a bad idea, but damn, the woman can kiss. The feel of her tongue on mine sends my thoughts spiraling.

  I wind my hand into her hair and pull her head back, using the gasp she releases to my advantage. I kiss her harder. My tongue invading her mouth, consuming it. My other hand is on her ass pulling her closer to me. I feel her tits against my chest as she moans into my mouth.

  I lightly pull on her hair, and she does what I want. She arches toward my chest, and I pushed her down until she was lying back on the sofa. I look into her eyes and see anticipation, lust, and a trace of fear. I don’t know why she is afraid, but I’m so far gone in my lusty haze that I ignore it and carry on.

  I start raining quick kisses on her lips as I make my way down her neck. I untangle my hand from her hair, grab the hem of her blouse and pull it up. She gets the hint and sits up a bit. Her hair drifts back down after I remove her shirt and the whisper of vanilla and lavender teases my nose.

  ***

  The beeping of my alarm wakes me up and has me throwing my hand out and shutting it off. Damn, how much did I drink last night? My head is pounding like a jackhammer has taken up residence in my skull. My eyes flutter as they adjust to the light coming from the window, I close my eyes and see a barrage of images floating in my head.

  Memories of my hands roaming all over Morgan’s body. Her head thrown back as she rides me. Me, looking down as she is giving me a blowjob and my deeply gratifying release. Then I see me leaning over and seeing her hair like midnight waves on the frosty sea of my silk pillowcases as I make her scream in ecstasy.

  What the hell came over me last night? I raise my head to face the reality of what happened last night and realize she’s not lying next to me. I listen but don’t hear her in the house, either. I throw the covers off and leap out of bed stalking through the house to see if she’s here, but the place is empty. For fuck's sake. Did she really leave without saying a word? I feel used. I am aware it should never have happened, but for some reason, I want her again. So how do I convince her to be friends with benefits?

  Chapter One

  Morgan

  Luke and I have been having what most would call a “friend with benefits” relationship for the past two weeks. When Luke proposed the idea of it, I was in shock. I never thought I would do something like that. I wasn't exactly opposed to the notion. It just wasn't something that had ever crossed my mind. When I envisioned being with someone, I always thought it would be someone I’d date, then fall in love with and be happy.

  Despite that, I agreed to Luke’s proposition and have been having a blast. It’s better than being in a relationship. We’re having all the fun you get at the beginning of the relationship, that new vibe that is so exciting. The only thing that I don’t like about it is we don’t talk about personal things. I know that Luke has a brother and a sister and his mom is dead, and his dad’s a detective. I've heard Steven, Luke’s dad, talk about them at the precinct.

  My best friend Sabine is on her way over for a girl’s night in. That means either an evening watching TV show boxsets or watching loads of movies. Sabine moved from Detroit with me when I left. She told me that I was out of my mind if I thought she was staying behind. Who else would make sure I stayed alive.

  Sabine's mom, Agnishika, agreed with her. Hell, she probably told Sabine she had to come with me. That thought brings a smile to my face. I’d been on my own for a long time before finally gathering the courage to leave home. I felt as though I was abandoning my father. He changed after my mother died. I hated him for such a long time but later realized the loss of his wife had him drowning in loneliness. He just didn't know how to deal with those emotions and me at the same time.

  I eventually forgave him for the way he treated me, but I’m still hurt. He got worse after I moved away from home. He hated it when I went to his house to visit, and he let it be known. So, moving to a different state was probably the best thing for both of us.

  Sabine set me straight on that. She told me I needed to live my life for myself. She was right. I’m so happy I moved away and carved my own path in life. Sabine has been with me through all the ups and downs, and I don’t know what I would do without her. Sometimes, I think she knows me better than I know myself.

  I regret not telling her about Luke. Well, other than calling on my way home the morning after the first time. She reassured me I had done the right thing by leaving. She said staying would have only led to heartache. I think that’s why I've kept the last two weeks from her. I don’t want her to think less of me.

  I hear the key in the door and know she is here. We gave each other a key for emergencies, and as a backup, in case we get locked out. We’re practically family. We've been best friends since we were little girls.

  “Hey Moy, what’s for dinner?” She calls me Moy for my initials, Morgan Olivia Yates. She wanted something unique that was just hers since most people just shorten it to Morgs or Morg. It's just like her to barge in asking about food. She’s always thinking with her stomach. My mom used to say she had hollow legs because she was always eating but didn't gain any weight.

  “I don’t know Sim, what do you want? You know I can't cook, so it’s take-out. You pick.” I call her Sim, short for Simba from The Lion King. When we were younger, there was a boy she liked who told her she was cute like the lion fro
m The Lion King. I called her Simba from that day on, but as we grew up, I shortened it to Sim.

  “Oooh, I get to pick? You don’t let me choose anything because you always say I complain and can’t make up my mind. Spill, what have you done?” She has her hands on her hips and throwing out some major sassiness. She has a fierce look on her face, the one that says I know you and you'd better come clean, or else.

  “Come on, don’t leave me in suspense.” She’s such a bossy little thing.

  “God, can we at least eat first?” I know I should just come out and say it, but I need a minute to gather the courage to tell her. I’m dreading her reaction. She has an opinion on everything. I love her to bits, but I don’t want her to think I’m silly for doing this. Plus, I love winding her up, she hates not knowing things and me having something she doesn’t know about is literally killing her.

  She’ll start pouting and stomping her foot soon.

  “Moy, please tell me.” She’s actually whining. I start to giggle until her face starts turning an unhealthy shade of red.

  Get ready for it.

  And there it is. The pout!

  Her bottom lip is poked out so far, I think it may be hitting her chin. “Morgan, please tell me. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

  “Geez Sabine, can you not just leave it? I’m hungry, and we both know you are too. So, sit down and decide on what we are eating.” I can’t help but smile as I say it. I'm being mean, but I don’t care. I’m having too much fun, and she makes it too easy.

  Just as I predicted, she stamps her foot but does as I say and sits down beside me.

  “Fine. Ugh! You’re lucky I’m hungry, but make no mistake Moy, you will be telling me what the hell is going on. I hate not knowing.” She pouts yet again. “I want Indian tonight. I want a lovely Masala and rice.” That actually sounds nice. “Oh, and Naan bread and Samosas.”