Читать книгу In the Flesh - Rita Herron - Страница 9

South Beach, Florida

Some men shouldn’t be allowed to have children.

He was one of them. Detective Raul Cortez, badass cop. Lousy husband. Son of a convicted felon.

Still, when his wife had phoned earlier to tell him she was pregnant, he’d nearly cried like a baby.

This was his chance at redemption. To make things right. To be a better man.

To have a future.

He climbed into his car and laid the red roses he’d just bought at the florist on the seat, heart pumping with adrenaline. Dark storm clouds obliterated the moon, indicating a storm on the rise, but he shrugged off the bad weather, started the car and headed toward his apartment. Nothing could ruin his day. Not a downpour or the fact that his latest collar, a psycho named Louie Mulstein, had been released on bail. He was under house arrest and had to wear that ankle bracelet, but the maniac should be behind bars. Damn shrink. It was her fault he’d been released.

Her words reverberated in his head. “He’s schizophrenic, Your Honor. He’s on medication now and not a threat to the community.”

Raul had argued, had laid out the gruesome photos of the two women the man had bludgeoned to death for her and the court to see, but she had won in the end.

Tamping down his fury over the judge’s and shrink’s lapse in judgment, he vowed to forget work tonight. Anita deserved it and so did his unborn child.

As if to mock him, his cell phone rang. He checked the number—the precinct. The urge to ignore it teased him, but with two ongoing cases, there was no way.

“Cortez.”

“Captain Black. Listen, Cortez. I hate to tell you this but Louie escaped.”

“What?”

“Somehow he managed to get out of his ankle bracelet. We’ve issued an APB and my men are looking for him now.”

Raul’s heart thundered in his chest. Louie out of jail. Louie who was dangerous. A psychotic.

Louie who hated him. Who knew where he lived.

“I gotta get home,” he muttered, then disconnected the call and sped up.

He swerved to pass a truck, turned on his siren and floored the gas, racing around the curve, his tires squealing as he spun into the complex. He honked at some teens on bikes to move, careened around the first building to the second, then threw the car into a parking spot and jumped out. Sweat trickled down his face as he ran up to his door. He started to reach in his pocket for his keys, but when he touched the knob, the door squeaked open.

Instincts honed by years on the force made him draw his gun. He held his breath as he tiptoed inside, silently telling himself he was wrong. Anita was safe. Louie hadn’t had time to get to her. He wouldn’t kill her, not the day he’d escaped.

But the metallic stench of blood assaulted him, and he spotted his wife’s body lying on the kitchen floor face-up, her eyes wide-open in death, blood pooling around her head.

Grief and anger slammed into him, immobilizing him for a second. Anita dead…his baby gone…

A wail jarred him back to the truth. Louie was still here.

The scrawny bastard was huddled in the corner, knees hugged to his chest as he stared at the bloody knife. A sick sneer pulled his thin lips back over his teeth like a rabid dog as he lunged at Raul.

Raul didn’t hesitate. He raised his pistol and pumped a round of bullets into the man, sending his body flying backward against the wall. Blood splattered everywhere, and Louie’s choked cry echoed in the silence as he sank to the floor and went limp.

Raul collapsed beside his wife and screamed his rage. Blood soaked his shirt and hands as he pulled her in his arms and rocked her back and forth.

He’d killed the sicko. But it didn’t matter. Anita was dead and so was his child.

And nothing could ever bring them back.