Driven to kill, p.1
Driven to Kill, page 1
The name of the victim can’t be Mueller.
The name brought a whole host of bad memories flitting forward. But Nolan couldn’t dwell on that now. Now he needed to focus on learning everything he could about the criminal who’d attacked her.
He could hear another NYPD officer talking to the victim just around the corner. He couldn’t see her face. “Detective Clayman will speak with you now. Tell him everything you already told me, then he’ll see you home.”
“Thank you,” she said.
The timbre of the woman’s voice shook him, making the memories he tried to forget burn bright.
No. It can’t be the same woman—the same family.
Nolan stepped forward. His heart dropped to the floor.
Sitting in front of him was the brown-haired beauty who’d haunted him for years.
Her wide blue eyes lifted to meet his. The wariness and fear were swiftly replaced with anger. “You!”
She shot to her feet and the soft lines of her face morphed into hard, jagged angles. “No way in hell I’m talking to you.”
Dear Reader,
I may be a small-town girl from Ohio, but I’ve always loved the hustle and bustle of the city. I love to spend time getting lost in the shuffle and discovering new places. I love the sounds that come together to create a soundtrack for the lives people live in these fabulous places.
I was lucky enough to be exposed to New York City when I was in college. When writing Driven to Kill, I knew I wanted to make a soundtrack for New York as well, and what better way than by writing a heroine who uses her love of the city as inspiration for her music?
I’m not a musician and never will be, but I understand what it’s like to have a passion that drives you. A passion that is as much a part of your life as breathing. I hope I was able to convey that when giving Lauren her passion for music and piano. I hope when you dive into these pages, you can get lost in this world with all its amazing sounds. And I hope you all always tend to the passions in your lives.
With much love,
Danielle M. Haas
DRIVEN TO KILL
Danielle M. Haas
Danielle M. Haas resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. She earned a BA in political science many moons ago from Bowling Green State University but thought staying home with her two children and writing romance novels would be more fun than pursuing a career in politics. She spends her days chasing her kids around, loving up her dog and trying to find a spare minute to write about her favorite thing: love.
Books by Danielle M. Haas
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Matched with Murder
Booked to Kill
Driven to Kill
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
To my father, Michael Pennington, and his lovely wife, Christal. Thank you for always being proud of me and cheering me on. I hope you both always hear the music of life and continue dancing through the years with as much joy and kindness and love as you have today. You both are truly one of the biggest blessings in my life. Love you both forever.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Excerpt from Under Colton’s Watch by Addison Fox
Chapter 1
Frustration had Lauren Mueller tightening her arms around the mess of sheet music she hugged close to her chest. She’d give her right leg to go home and collapse in a warm bed, but that wasn’t an option. Not tonight when another gig waited for her across town from the upscale lounge she played four times a week.
The blast of horns and drunken yells of New Yorkers and tourists rang into a Friday evening, mingling to create the soundtrack of Manhattan. A song that it had sung to her since before she could remember. A song that lived inside her, inspiring her to choose her own melody—and musical path—that she could pound out on the ivory keys of a piano.
But tonight, the cacophony of the city she loved so much didn’t inspire her. Instead, it weighed down her already exhausted body. Her day had been long, first eight hours on her feet selling high-end jewelry, followed by a two-hour set playing piano for a crowd that hadn’t even noticed she was there.
The door to the bar swung open and an onslaught of music and a group of giggling thirtysomethings poured onto the sidewalk.
A long-legged blonde with a face as smooth as stone stopped in front of Lauren and stared wide-eyed then wagged a finger in her direction. “You! You’re the woman who played the piano in there. You were amazing.” The light drawl on her words told Lauren this group of women were far away from home.
Pride straightened her spine. Okay, so maybe not everyone inside had ignored her. “Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed the music.”
“Enjoyed it?” A striking brunette, whose hair was a touch darker than Lauren’s mousy-brown locks, cut in with a laugh. “We sang along to every song.” She pressed a hand to her black sequined top, awe clear in her green eyes. “Will you play here again tomorrow? We only have one more night in the city. We’d love to watch you play again.”
Her heart swelled. This was why she’d devoted so many of her twenty-nine years to her music. For moments like these, when strangers approached her with praise. Okay, maybe not the whole reason. She didn’t have the ability to articulate the desperate need in her soul to sit on a hard bench and let her fingers fly over the keys. It was simply a part of her.
But having her talent recognized definitely didn’t hurt.
She flashed a bright smile as she struggled to keep her overstuffed tote bag high on her shoulder and the sheets of music in her arms from billowing away on the warm summer breeze. “Not tomorrow. I’m so sorry. But enjoy your time in the city.”
As she watched the group laugh and waltz down the busy sidewalk, she snagged her phone from her pocket. She’d had the forethought to order a car on the At Your Service app before loading her arms down with all her crap. The picture of the driver and information about his car were front and center.
Standing on the edge of the sidewalk, she stood on the toes of her ballet flats. But she was too short to see over the Friday-night crowd, no matter how high she went on her tiptoes. She struggled to catch a glimpse at her watch, then blew out a long breath, the wisp of air pushing her layered bangs out of her sight line.
She’d nabbed a coveted late spot at a bar in the Meatpacking District. A trendy place that could put her in front of people with the means to change the trajectory of her career. But if she didn’t make it there on time, it wouldn’t matter who showed up to watch her play. She tapped her finger against the back of her music as irritation zipped through her body.
A silver sedan cut a path through traffic and glided to a stop in front of her. The small neon sign in the windshield broadcasted the name of the ride-sharing service she used. Finally. If they didn’t get caught at too many red lights, she should make it to the bar in time. Before stepping off the sidewalk, she glanced at the license plate and confirmed she had the right car then struggled to reach the handle. Sheets of music spilled from her arms, and she bent to pick them up before they blew away.
A car door closed. Jean-clad legs and name-brand sneakers caught her attention. A man with a Yankees baseball cap crouched beside her and plucked pieces of paper from the sidewalk, gathering them in his arms before handing them over. “Here ya go, miss. Sorry. I should have opened the door for you so you didn’t drop your things.”
Securing her music, she stood and offered the driver a smile. The bill of the hat hid the top of his face in shadows, but the light skin and blond scruff on his chin matched the photo on her app. “Thank you so much. I would have been in a whole world of trouble if I’d lost that.”
The driver dipped his chin then opened the back passenger door wide. “Not a problem. Go ahead and hop in.”
She slid onto the cloth seat and rested her head on the seat back. Time wasn’t on her side, but she’d take the precious minutes she had to relax.
The driver jumped back in the car and drove into the bustling traffic.
Although grateful for his assistance, she stayed quiet, taking in the colorful lights outside her window. Small talk wasn’t something she enjoyed on a good day. On a day like today, filled with annoyed customers and rude patrons, the idea of making chitchat with a stranger made her teeth hurt.
A few minutes passed, and the lights became less pronounced. The amount of foot traffic decreased. She sat taller, paying attention to each turn. She might not be super familiar with the area where they headed, but she’d grown up in the city and had a general idea of the direction they should be going, so the scenery around them made less and less sense as they co ntinued.
“Excuse me? Sir? Are you sure you have the right address?” She didn’t want to be a rude backseat driver, but she couldn’t sit back and let him take her to the wrong destination. No GPS blurted out directions. Maybe he was confused about where to go.
“Sure do. Just trying to get you there a little quicker.”
She stayed on the edge of her seat. Uncertainty bounced her foot up and down on the carpeted floor that rumbled over uneven concrete. She moistened her suddenly dry lips and tightened her hold on the sheet music pressed to her chest.
“Almost there. The place is around the block. I’m just driving in from behind. The front entrance is always crowded—so many bars and restaurants popping up in this area now. Let me park on the side street. I can get closer that way.”
Anxiety bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know what. She just needed him to park so she could get out of the car and put the whole weird vibe she was getting behind her.
The driver turned into a dark alley, parking the car against the curb. “Here we are.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave a tip on the app.” With her arms loaded down, she struggled to reach the handle.
“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” he said. “But let me help you out.”
Before she could protest, he climbed out and ran to her side of the car.
Her heart pounded and instinct had her inching her fingers toward her purse.
The door swung open, and the driver launched himself into the car. His hands circled her neck, and the weight of his body pressed her against the seat.
Her arms flung wide, dropping her belongings to clutch at the hands on her neck. The light inside the car didn’t flicker on—something that hadn’t registered before—and long shadows were cast over the man forcing her down.
“Help!” she croaked, the word barely squeezing through her constricted throat. Air leaked from her burning lungs. She thrashed, clawing at the tough skin over his knuckles. She tried to connect her knee to his soft middle pinning her to the seat, but she didn’t have enough range of motion. Couldn’t move her legs beneath his bulky frame.
Not enough oxygen was making it to her brain, making the world around her spin. No. She couldn’t die. Not like this. Trapped under a strange man in a dark alley, with no one around to hear her cries. “Stop. Please.” The words caught on a silent sob.
His face was close to hers. His warm breath on her cheeks turned her stomach. “I’ll teach you a lesson,” he said through clenched teeth. Anger radiated from his every pore.
Blackness edged her vision and pain pounded against her skull. His hands squeezed impossibly tighter. She sputtered and gasped, trying to block out what felt like razor blades scarping against her throat. She focused on her fingers as they moved through her purse still hung on her shoulder until she found the cylinder-shaped spray attached to her keys. Using all her strength, she yanked it out of the bag, aimed the can at his face and pushed down on the little plastic trigger. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes, turning her head to escape as much of the blast of fiery spray as she could.
Pepper spray pelted his skin, and he rose up, creating space between their bodies, and wiped frantically at his eyes.
She kept the can trained on his face as she struggled out from underneath his body. The pungent spray hung heavy in the car, burning her eyes and making her nose run.
“Sonofabitch!” he cried, leaning away from the onslaught of potent chemicals.
With her legs free, she brought her knees to her chest, pressing them outward in unison, screaming with the effort and pain as her first fresh breath broke through her bruised throat. The soles of her shoes connected with his torso and propelled him farther back with a thud and a grunt. He stumbled against the broken sidewalk, choking against the blast of chemicals she’d delivered.
She scrambled for her bag, opened the opposite door and flew onto the road. “Help!” she called again as she fumbled for the phone in her purse.
She rounded a corner, desperate to find anyone on the eerily quiet street.
A low growl sounded behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and panic tightened every muscle in her body. The man was after her. She’d knocked the hat off his head. His eyes were red and hatred twisted in the lines on his face. She fought for focus as she sprinted down the sidewalk. Searching for anyone to help her. Tears fell from her burning eyes, mingling with the warm night air. But she couldn’t fall apart. Not when her life was on the line.
She sprinted forward. A convenience store sat on the corner of wherever the hell he had taken her. Her ballet flats pounded on the uneven sidewalk, each footfall vibrating her shaking legs. She didn’t chance another look behind her, but heavy breathing and curses reached her ears, confirming the man was still after her.
Adrenaline zipped through her veins and pushed her harder, faster, until she reached the store. She yanked open the door and practically fell across the threshold. “Please. Someone help. Call the police. I was just attacked.” Each word scraped against her raw throat, but she spit them out. Desperately seeking someone to aid her.
A man with a wrinkled brow and kind eyes behind the counter ran to her side, a phone in his hand. “Are you all right?”
She drew in a shaky breath then winced as the air sliced through her esophagus. “I am now,” she said, bending at the waist as she struggled to keep her composure.
“I’m calling the police. Everything’s going to be okay.”
* * *
The summer heat hadn’t gone away when the sun went down. And for reasons unknown, when the heat simmered in the concrete jungle of Manhattan, the predators came out in droves. Detective Nolan Clayman was on the hunt for one of those predators, a killer who’d stolen a young woman’s life and discarded her in an alley like she was nothing more than the trash he’d left her in. Two days had gone by, and Nolan was no closer to finding the bastard now than he was when he’d stood over the poor woman’s body and promised to get her justice.
But all that changed the second he received the phone call that tore him from a quiet night at home, poring over notes. The red and blue lights of the squad car parked in front of the convenience store in the Lower East Side urged him forward.
Creating his own parking spot next to the cruiser, he jumped out of his SUV and approached the officer who stood guard by the door. A few pedestrians strolled by, curiosity slowing their pace, and Nolan scowled and waited for them to pass before addressing the young woman in uniform.
“Evening, Officer...” He let his words hang, fishing for the woman’s last name.
“Jeffery. Evening, sir. Victim’s inside with Officer Stanley.” She kept her stance wide, her hands clasped behind her back.
He glanced over the woman’s head and spied Officer Stanley standing in front of someone seated in a folding chair. Only her slim calves and black shoes were visible from this angle. “Any sighting of the suspect?” He’d ask more questions once inside but might as well get what information he could now.
“No sightings that lead anywhere,” she said. “A teenage couple witnessed the man running after the victim before she reached the store. Couldn’t provide a good description of him or the vehicle he left in. But the victim got a visual, as well as the information on the car service app she used to identify both.”
Nolan took a step back and studied the tops of the buildings. “We’ll need access to the security footage. Let’s see if we can uncover which way he went.” If the driver brought his target to the Lower East Side, he had a reason. And that reason might be more than just the maze of quiet alleyways and nooks he could use to get his hands dirty.
Officer Jeffery nodded. “I’ll put in the request right away. A few officers are going door-to-door, searching for more witnesses. But gaining permission for the security feed would be a better use of time.”
“Agreed. I’ll want all the information and data sent my way. But first, I want to speak with the victim. Grab her statement so she can head home. I’ll touch base with you when I’m done.” He entered the store and made a beeline for Officer Stanley.
