Deadly Sins, a Taci Andrews Mystery. 

Copyright November 2018, Amy Manemann

CHAPTER TWO

I pulled into the parking lot of the Riverdale Times and eased into a parking spot near the front. Shifting into park and cutting the engine, I looped my purse over my shoulder and headed inside. The front lobby of the Times had seen better days, but the welcoming scent of ink and paper greeted patrons when they first entered the building.

Standing like a sentry at his post was our receptionist and resident live action roll playing guru, Corey. The nineteen year was the Times editor and chief’s nephew on his wife’s side of the family, and rumor has it, Bryce’s wife, Alice, brow beat him into giving Corey the job.

“Good day to thee, M’lady Andrews. ‘Tis a fair day to behold, though doest not compare to thine beauty,” Corey said grandly in his usual flare.

I tried not to roll my eyes, humoring him with a smile.

Corey participates in live action roll playing, which requires the participants to dress up in whatever fantasy realm their world was made from. Corey’s realm consists of knights of the old days, and when he wasn’t on the larping field slaying dragons and enemies of his kingdom, he came to work dressed in brown slacks with a tunic thrown over top, and a velvet lined cape secured across his shoulders.

I know, kinda weird, but he's a good kid. When I was kidnapped while investigating illegal profiteering, it was Corey and his larping friends who came to my rescue. The kid could come to work dressed in a potato sack for all I cared. He was definitely okay in my book.

“I’m great Corey, thanks for asking. Any messages for me?” I inched my way towards the elevator doors, ready to make my escape.

Corey thumbed through the stack of messages on his desk, slowly shaking his head. “No messages for ye today, m’lady, but I shall notify thee should any come yonder.”

“Great. Thanks, Corey.” Giving a little finger wave, I turned to the elevator, preparing to hit the button. Only I paused when the elevator dinged, signaling its arrival to the first floor. I stepped back to get out of the way of whoever would be stepping off and came face to face with my younger brother, Reese.

“Heya, sis. Just getting in?” He pushed a mail cart ahead of him through the open doors, a floppy grin on his charismatic face that I was hard pressed not to return. I’d had my reservations about getting him the job in the mailroom at the Times, but even I had to admit my once irresponsible younger sibling had definitely taken a sharp u-turn onto maturity drive.

Not only did he cut his shaggy blonde hair into a shorter, more professional looking style, he showed up to work on time, stayed whenever they needed an extra hand, and was actually proving to be a responsible adult. Quite a shock coming from a man whose biggest aspirations to date had been trying to figure out which keg party served the best beer.

“Please. I’ve been in and out twice today running errands for Bryce.”

“Errand girl, eh? And here I thought you were a reporter,” he teased, sidestepping when I made to swat his arm.

“A girls gotta pay the bills, Reese. Speaking of which, I need to run.”

“You always do.” Reese ruffled my hair, steering his cart towards the back offices on the main floor. “It’s cool, though. I have deliveries to make. Catch ya later, sis.”

I rode the elevator to the news floor, a sense of calm washing over me as I stepped into the chaos. There was just something about being in the newsroom that quickened my step, sharpened my focus, and made my adrenaline kick up a notch. I was like a junkie needing a fix when it came to my work, and I couldn’t imagine any place I’d rather be. Other than home with Parsons, that is. Being a reporter was probably bad for my addiction, but hey, a girl needed to have her fix.

Shuffling past the rows of desks lining the newsroom floor, I headed to my office, already anticipating the millions of messages my inbox would have for me. It never seemed to matter how many times a day I checked my email and voicemail. My inboxes were always overflowing.

Just inside the doorway, I flipped on the light, drawing a sigh at the red light glaring at me from my desk phone. Ugh. I really should have just had my calls routed to my cell phone while I was out. It would have saved me the time and energy it was going to take to go through the messages.

I dropped my purse into the bottom drawer of my desk and nudged it shut with my toe before plopping into my chair. As I waited for the computer to log on, I quickly ran through the messages left on my phone, relieved to find only two were waiting for me.

“Yes, Miss Andrews, my name is Delilah Barnes and I was wondering if you might be able to help me with a little problem I have. Please, give me a call,” an elderly woman’s voice spoke, rattling off a phone number that I quickly scribbled down on the scratch pad of paper I kept next to my phone.

The next message was from Alex in copy editing, looking for the outline for my most recent story. I scowled, anger simmering. You have got to be kidding me. This is the second time this week they lost my outline. Deleting the message, I punched in the extension to Alex's desk. 

“Alex Mitchell.”

“Hey Alex, it’s Taci. What do you mean you need my outline?  I sent it over an hour ago. Do you need me to resend it?” I balanced the phone receiver between my shoulder and cheek as I logged into my email account. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time technology is a wonderful thing. It was that other one percent that made me yearn for the old days of life in a paper world. 

“You did? Hmm, let me check again." The sound of fingers tapping across a keyboard filled the phone line. Seconds ticked by, and he released a groan. “I’m sorry, I guess I do have it. Must have overlooked it in my inbox.”

Phew. That was a sigh of relief. “No problem, I’m just glad it’s there.” My inbox finally loaded, and I grimaced at the number of messages waiting for me. Jeez. Gone for an hour and everybody and their brother decides to email you.

“Yeah, we’re good to go. Speaking of good to go, you must be excited about the upcoming wedding. Are you going to Gavyn and Annie’s engagement party Friday night?”

Excited was an understatement. After watching my best friend, Annie Hastings, undergo a nasty divorce, I was thrilled that Annie and her three daughters were finally getting the happily ever after they deserved. Even if it was with my coworker. Don’t get me wrong, Gavyn Davis is actually a pretty great guy. I’d recently discovered he moved to Riverdale to escape the anonymity of his famous news reporter father, Hoerschelman Davis. Though Gavyn was the consequential poster child of a trust fund baby, his down to Earth, easy going attitude belied his richer roots. It's probably why he and Annie get along so well. 

“Since I’m the maid of honor, it probably wouldn’t look good if I ducked out. I’ll be there.” Not that I would duck out, of course. This was Gavyn and Annie’s big night. Whatever they needed, I was going to make sure they had it.

“Oh cool, I’ll be sure to look for you then. Mandy and I are going to go together."

That brought out a true smile, my earlier annoyance forgotten. “As in a date? I didn’t know you and Mandy were at that level, Alex.”

Alex chuckled. “It took her long enough, but she finally came around. They always do.”

“So you say. Talk with you later, Mitchell,” I laughed, setting the receiver back in its cradle. 

The next hour was spent trucking through emails, answering phone calls and following up on leads from the news room. Riverdale may be small town America, but we have more than our fair share of big city trouble. At any given time, finding the right story was literally only a stone's throw away. You just needed to know where to aim. 

It was after four when I finally pushed away from my desk. My eyes were dry and scratchy from spending the afternoon staring at the computer screen, and I was in dire need of a good backrub. Unfortunately for me, as good as that sounded, something told me Parsons wouldn't be around until much later and my backrub was going to have to wait.

As I leaned back in my chair, my eye caught on Delilah Barnes note. I hadn’t called her back to see what she needed, and though I could probably sweet talk someone else into doing it, there was something about the message that had me intrigued. Lifting the phone to my ear, I dialed her number. 

“Yes?” a frail voice tentatively answered. I could hear the pensiveness in her tone, an odd mixture of suspicion and worry. My curiosity grew.

“Miss Barnes? This is Taci Andrews. You left me a message to call you." I was careful to keep my voice gentle, not wanting to spook the poor thing. 

“Oh yes, thank you so much for calling me back.”

“Of course, Miss Barnes. What is it that I can do for you?”

“I had hoped you might pay me a visit so that I can discuss this problem with you in person. I’m told you’re the best investigator there is.” Her voice had lowered, as though she were afraid someone was trying to listen in.

I frowned. “Miss Barnes, you do know I’m a reporter for the Riverdale Times, correct? I’m not a detective.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware of who you are, Miss Andrews, and of your investigative skills. If I wished to have a detective investigate this I would have phoned my nephew on the police force. No, this is something of a delicate nature and needs to be handled with…discretion.”

Yikes. I bit my lower lip, warring with indecision. Delilah Barnes definitely had my attention, but what was up with all the discretion? Something smelled fishy, and I wasn't referring to Pete's fish market down by the river. 

“It isn’t anything illegal, is it?” I felt it prudent to ask. I knew I wanted to know either way what Delilah’s story was, but being on the right side of law would probably sit better when Parsons heard of this. 

“Goodness no, child,” she laughed, before adding, “at least not that I’m aware of.”

I winced. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. She definitely had my attention. Now the real question was how much trouble was I about to get in to, and why did I get the feeling the calendar in Bryce’s office was about to be thrown off its perfect track record?

Read the Prologue and Chapter One of Deadly Sins HERE.

Deadly Sins, a Taci Andrews Mystery. 
Copyright November 2018, Amy Manemann

Prologue

Flight or fight. An age old, built in response mechanism that allows our brain to quickly rationalize and respond. When faced with a life or death situation, your heart and lungs accelerate, your mouth goes dry, and you suddenly have a newfound respect for those who would normally drive you to drink.

My current situation was grim, no doubt about it. I’d been in many tough situations in the recent months that would have made a saner person step back to reconsider their life goals. This one probably took the cake.

Kidnappers I could handle, being held at gun point hadn’t fazed me too badly. But this might be pushing the barrier. The clues were right in front of me, yet I’d refused to take a closer look. In the end, my naivety would be my undoing, and judging by the long handled knife that was now kissing the edge of my skin, things were about to get a whole lot worse.

CHAPTER ONE

When I was a teenager, the thought of an approaching holiday like Valentine’s Day would fill me with both excitement and dread. Excitement for the possibilities surrounding the day of love, and dread knowing those possibilities were probably not in the cards for me. Being a single girl in a small town like Riverdale, Iowa, my options were pretty limited to stoners, jocks and the occasional egghead. You can see my dilemma.  

This year, things were different. I was in a relationship even my mother was proud of, and though we’d gotten off to a rocky start, things were going pretty well. Lucky for me, rocky starts happen to be what I excel in. My name is Taci Andrews, and I’m an investigative reporter for the Riverdale Times.

This past year has been rough, to say the least. As with any job, being a reporter for the Riverdale Times has its ups and downs. The pay is good, there’s always something interesting going on, and I have a coworker who keeps me plied with coffee and doughnuts. Those would be the ups of the job. The downs consist of being shot at, nearly blown up, kidnapped, drugged and, of course, kidnapped again for good measure (I think the bad guys were running out of ideas on what to do with me).

Remarkably enough, I’ve managed to go three months without any downs of the job occurring. An amazing feat according to my boss, Bryce Pierce. He has a calendar on the wall in his office that he marks with a big red X at the end of each day that I go without incident. It’s sad, but true.

With the Midwest temperatures for February keeping any evil doers at bay, things have been slower than normal at work and I’ve been able to turn my attention to a new rite of passage. You guessed it. I, Taci Lynn Andrews, was about to purchase a Valentine’s Day card for my boyfriend, former Fireman and current FBI Agent, Tony Parsons.

My relationship with Parsons began back in grade school when he looked up my skirt during the school Christmas Pageant and told everyone about my little pony underwear. I gave him a black eye. Years later, during a moment of raging teenage hormones, I let him feel up my shirt, which I later came to regret when he told everyone my cup size. In turn, I gave him another black eye.

Fortunately for him, I’m a forgiving kind of girl. It probably helps that the man in question has grown up to be sinfully handsome with deep blue eyes that darken when he’s turned on, dimples in each cheek that make my heart do a weird flip, and a rock hard, well-muscled body that makes my girlie parts quiver. He also happens to have a full set of delicious lips that he’s used on more than one occasion to kiss me senseless. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a guy who knows how to kiss.  

Anyway, that’s Parsons in a nutshell. He also happens to be bossy and overbearing when it comes to any trouble I manage to find myself in. Probably for good reason, considering the trouble I typically find myself in is usually the deadly, bad for my health, kind of trouble.

I stared at the rows of cards lining the rack in front of me, chewing my bottom lip. Heart shapes, puppy dog faces and smooching lips stared back at me, as if mocking my decision at every turn. I don’t know why picking the right card for Parsons was so important, but I felt like the weight of our relationship rested in the balance of a piece of card stock. Lame, I know.

After reading through over a dozen cards and discarding them one by one, I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding the right card. That’s when I spotted it, a kitten with soulful eyes staring up at me, beckoning me in for a closer look. Reaching out, I pulled it free from the rack just as the woman standing next to me made a grab for it.

“That’s mine,” she snapped, keeping a firm grip on her end of the card.

Somewhat taken aback by her rudeness, I eyed her expectantly, retaining my grip as well. “I’m sorry, but I had this one first.”

Despite the bright smile I flashed, the ladies eyes narrowed, and her grip tightened.

“I don’t think so. My hand was on it first, and as you can see, there isn’t another one in the bin so you’ll need to pick a different one,” she insisted.

Hard as it was, I managed to keep my mouth from falling open. Was she serious? Now, this would be the part where a normal person’s common sense would kick in and tell them to just let go of the card. It just so happens that I’m sorely lacking in the common sense department. Instead, mine was replaced by a sheer will of determination to purchase the card gripped tightly between my thumb and first finger.

“I hate to break it to you, but I had it first, so it looks like you will have to pick something else.” I gave the card a tug for emphasis.  

The woman tugged back, her jaw clenched in determination. “I’m not letting go.”

“Well, I’m not letting go.”

People stood off to the side, watching the debacle going on in the card isle. We were making a spectacle and I really didn’t care. There was no way this rude woman was getting my card.

She pointed a well manicured fingernail at me, poking me in the chest. “I suggest you let go if you know what’s good for you.”

My temper flared, my eyebrow lifting in disbelief. “Did you just poke me?”

She nodded, poking me again. “Yeah, I did. What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I’m going to do about it…” My voice trailed off as I took a menacing step forward, coming to an abrupt halt when a strong arm snaked around my waist, bringing me up short against a well-muscled chest. The card slipped from my fingertips as a very familiar, very musky cologne filled my nostrils, and I knew, without looking, who had interrupted the card war.

“Causing problems at the grocery store? Tsk, tsk, Angel Face, that’s not like you at all.” His deep voice rumbled in my ear. I couldn’t help it. The sound of his voice made my toes curl inward and a suspicious warmth flood my body.  

I threw a glance over my shoulder, taking in Parsons’ profile. And what a profile he had to behold. I knew for a fact beneath the rugged lines of the form fitting jeans and firefighter muscle t-shirt lay a body that was sinful in itself, as I’d been up close and personal with it on more than one occasion. Lucky me.  

“You know me, I make do wherever I am.” My voice came out a bit breathlessly, the feel of his warm breath tickling the back of my neck causing the hairs to stand on end.

The card thief eyed Parsons appreciatively, pasting a smile on her face. “Well now, it’s nice that a big strong man like you stepped in to put things right. Thank you, sir, for handling the situation. This woman was getting a bit out of hand.”

My teeth ground together, and I’m pretty sure steam escaped my ears. Knowing my temper well, Tony’s arm tightened on my waist, a silent warning that there was no way he was about to let me go.

“Absolutely ma’am, I’m happy to help.” I knew without looking that he was flashing his dimples, because the woman got all giggly and had the grace to flush. I seriously contemplated stomping on his foot.

Instead of doing Parsons bodily harm, however, I watched the card thief saunter off to the checkout line with my card clenched tightly in her hand.

Tony’s arm loosened around my waist, though he retained his hold on me. He probably expected me to vault after the thief and retrieve the card. A tempting thought.

I spun around in his arms to find his laughing blue eyes. “You can let go now.”

He grinned. “You weren’t card shopping for me, were you, Tace?”

“I was, but since you let that woman take off with my card, I don’t know if I feel like finding you another one.” I poured as much sugary sweetness into my voice as I could, rewarded when he chuckled before leaning down to drop a kiss on my upturned lips. Seeing that the excitement was done for the day, the crowd began to disperse, returning to their grocery shopping.

“You could always do something original, like make me coupons with sexual favors that I can randomly cash in.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

I laughed. “You wish. What’s with the fireman shirt?” I gave his sleeve a tug. “Run out of clean clothes to wear?”

“I heard chicks dig firemen, so thought I’d test the theory. Is it working?”

I stepped back to openly ogle him. “Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but this chick definitely digs it.”

Parsons grin deepened. “You must be feeling better. Does this mean we can play damsel in distress later on tonight? I’ll wear my boots.”

His mention of my health was a sobering reminder. We recently had a pregnancy scare when my period came a week later than normal. Thankfully, it was all due to stress and not the fact that we had a bun in the oven. Someday I would love to have kids. Now was not the time.

“Parsons wearing nothing but fireman boots? Count me in.” My grin slowly faded. “Seriously though, what gives? Are you working today?”

He shrugged, eyes flitting away. Oh boy. Parsons had an uncanny knack of changing the subject when he didn’t want to answer a question. I got the feeling something was up.

Since there was no way I was going to look for a card with Parsons hanging around, I headed towards the exit. Call me crazy, but there was just something tacky about your boyfriend watching you pick out the card you’re planning on giving him.

He fell into step beside me. “I was officially done a month ago, but they’re short staffed and needed a hand.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Since I’m going to be hanging around Riverdale for a while to wrap things up, I said I’d help out until they found a replacement.”  

I frowned. “And your other job? The higher ups are okay with you playing fireman instead of focusing on other cases?”

When Tony first came back to Riverdale, he was working undercover for the FBI as a fireman at Central Fire Station. It just so happened that the shady characters who were under his radar ended up being tied in with the story I was working on. What began as a story about a missing girl, evolved into a drug ring bust, illegal profiteering and eventually attempted murder, all with the Mayor of Riverdale pulling the strings. At the end of the day, we put an end to the Mayors’ corruption, I didn’t end up in the city morgue, and I landed a hot boyfriend to boot.

The only thing overshadowing that happiness was the betrayal of my childhood friend and former police officer, Charlie Duncan. It turned out Charlie was also involved in the Mayor’s criminal ring and had moved back to Riverdale to oversee management of the Mayor’s group. When the party came crashing down, Charlie managed to escape authorities and was still at large.

“The higher ups are cool with it as long as I’m around when they need me.”

“What about me?” I paused next to my Honda Civic, regarding him with interest. “Does that mean you won’t be around when I need a back massage?

His lips twisted into a lopsided grin that made my heart flip flop. “Baby, I’ll always be around for back massages, and anything else you feel needs a good rub.”

I couldn’t help it. My body tingled.

“So, I’ll see you later tonight then?” I leaned in to trail a fingertip along the front of his chest. Instead of an answer, he pressed a kiss to my mouth that included a whole lot of tongue before he drew back.

“You’ll see me later,” he promised, sneaking in one more kiss before turning and heading to his truck. I watched him go, my body on overdrive and thoughts centered on what the evening would bring. Parsons may be bossy and overbearing, but he definitely had one thing going for him. The man was a God when it came to his prowess in bed, and he had this girl wrapped around his little finger.

Enough said.

Chapter Two now available!!

~*~

Read where it all began, pick up your copy of DEADLY REUNION today!