Photo Finish

Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118

Photo Finish
Copyright © 2010, Kris Norris
Edited by Christine Allen-Riley
Cover art by CKE,
www.creationsbykendra.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-183-2

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic release: August 2010

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

As always, to Kyle, Jared and Sydney. Of all the accomplishments in my life, your three are my greatest joy.

To Jess, Tiff and the awesome cover artists of Resplendence. Thanks for having a place where authors feel like family.

And to Chris…my friend, confidant and mentor. As always, your wisdom and patience has shaped this book into more than just a collection of words.

Chapter One

“Paige Sommers.”

“Pier two, nine p.m. Watch your back.”

The raspy tone of the man’s voice cut off as the phone disconnected, an eerie silence taking its place. Paige pulled the cell away and stared at the smooth surface, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. Tired, hollow eyes stared back at her and she shoved the phone in her pocket before she had too much time to think about it. She’d been waiting months for a break like this, and nothing was going to get in her way. Even if she had to camp out all night, she’d get the proof she needed to finally put that bastard, Jason Tate, where he belonged.

His name echoed through her empty heart, and she grabbed her helmet, hoping to quiet the sound. Six months, and she still couldn’t move on. Couldn’t forget.

The gravelly hum of her motorcycle filled the evening air, adding to the shivers racing down her spine. She checked her watch as she palmed the handles and revved the engine, matching it to the rapid beating of her heart. She had just enough time to get to the pier and set up her camera before the show began…and she wasn’t about to miss a moment of it.

The setting sun glared against the water, lighting up the surface like sparkling bits of shattered glass. Ships passed in the distance, and flocks of seagulls cried out overhead as Paige wove her way through the winding streets, heading toward the outskirts of town. Most of the shoreline had been renovated over the last fifty years, but a small section of old warehouses still remained north of the city. Chipped paint and black graffiti covered the metal walls, displaying another side of Washington State—a side built on money and power where innocent people suffered at the hands of men like Tate.

The sharp taste of bile lingered in the back of her throat, fueling her determination, as she wedged her motorcycle behind a stack of large canisters. She’d pulled onto an adjacent pier, hoping Tate wouldn’t have men patrolling this side of the dock. She couldn’t afford to get caught before she’d unearthed enough evidence to put his sorry ass away for good. Maybe then, she’d find some peace.

Peace…

Just the thought of the word ignited other memories, and she fought against the sudden rush of emotion. She still couldn’t think about Brogan without the familiar sting of tears. She cursed as one pooled and slipped free, tracking determinedly down her cheek. Now wasn’t the time to get reminiscent, not with Tate so close. Besides, Brogan was dead and no amount of crying was going to bring him back.

She swiped the back of her hand across her face, grabbed the small case strapped to her bike and darted across the pier, hiding behind every stray canister and chunk of rotting machinery before squeezing between a cluster of rusted metal drums. She’d managed to weave her way close to the ocean, where the jutting landscape gave her a clear view of the large, storage warehouse across the short expanse of water. Dusk shrouded the area in a patchwork of shadows, but that wouldn’t help Tate hide…not this time.

Paige smiled as she opened the case, removing the long lens. She’d spent over ten thousand dollars on the magnificent piece of Canon ingenuity, and it looked as if it was finally going to pay off. This bad boy could take a picture of the creep’s fillings if he opened his mouth wide enough. But she wasn’t interested in his smile. She wanted proof that he wasn’t the suave businessman he proclaimed, and that his money came from dealing weapons, even if it meant killing people who got in his way.

Her chest constricted around a sob as she thought about Brogan. She could still see the sexy tilt of his lips as he’d kissed her on the couch, promising to be back before midnight. She’d followed him to the door, an uneasy feeling shadowing her steps. There’d been something in the way he’d traced his finger along her jaw that had sent a chill down her spine. She’d pulled him back before he’d darted out the door and, for the first time in the eighteen months they’d been together, had asked him to stay.

A flash of pain had flickered in his eyes before he’d grabbed her wrists and pulled her tight to his chest, slamming the door shut before backing her into it, his lips crushed against hers. There’d been no seduction, no slow build up until they were both burning with need. He’d conquered her. Ripped off her pants and hoisted her up around his waist, using his weight to hold her captive against the door. She’d tried to remove his jeans, but he’d snagged both of her hands with one of his and had pinned them above her head. The harsh sound of his zipper had reverberated through the air as he’d freed his cock just enough to thrust it inside her. The rough denim had abraded the skin on her inner thighs, but it’d only added to the frenzied need she’d felt welling within her.

She’d come hard and fast as he’d pummeled into her, his thick shaft finally exploding, drenching her with his hot seed. She’d gasped for breath with her head nestled against his neck, his wispy hair fluttering against her cheek with every frantic exhale. She’d still been trying to ease the pounding in her chest when he’d gently lowered her to the floor and pulled his weakening erection free. She’d caught only a glimpse of his slick flesh covered in her cream before he’d tucked himself back inside his pants and zipped them shut. Emotions had collided in her heart, but when she’d tried to speak, he’d silenced her with a warm kiss. She’d just opened her eyes, when he pressed a single finger to her mouth, shifted her to the side and darted out the door, a whispered, “I love you,” hanging in the air.

More tears threatened as the memory shuffled in her head, wavering his image in the growing darkness like a ghostly apparition. Brogan hadn’t told her much about his assignment, but she’d known Tate was involved, and as she looked back, she realized that night had been his way of saying goodbye. But the only closure she’d received was when his partner, Doug, had rung the doorbell, his face white, his lips drawn into a pale pink line. He’d only mumbled, “I’m sorry,” before she’d fallen to her knees, unable to speak.

She’d spent the next two months walking around in a daze, too broken to work, to eat. Then she’d caught a glimpse of Tate in the newspaper, and her determination had finally resurfaced. She’d called her editors and had accepted every controversial assignment involving the creep, hoping to build a network of contacts that would eventually lead her straight to the source. Now, as she peeked over the rim of one of the drums, she prayed the information was right.

Paige ducked back down, screwing the heavy lens into place. Just the zoom weighed eleven pounds, but the accuracy was worth it. She slipped the strap around her neck, took a deep breath and popped back up, looking through the eyepiece at the surrounding wharf. A quick twist brought the warehouse into view. It still looked deserted, with only a couple of lamps on the end of the pier casting any kind of glow. She fiddled with the settings, increasing the light sensitivity and changing the aperture and shutter speeds until she was confident the images would be clear.

She panned the area, finally spotting two armed guards walking the length of the pier. Large rifles led the way as they scanned the dock. She’d have to wait a few more minutes, until the last of the light faded into black before she’d feel confident shooting some pictures. She couldn’t chance they’d catch a glare off the lens.

Minutes ticked by, increasing her anxiety until she felt as if her head was going to explode. She glanced up at the sky, watching the last strips of red vanish into the night. She smiled and raised her head, once again scanning the wharf.

The guards had gathered by the open doors. One of the men had his hand to his ear, and while she couldn’t read his lips, it was obvious he was talking to someone. She tensed when a low rumble vibrated through the ground. She twisted to the left, cursing the stack of pallets obscuring her view. Brogan had taught her to be careful…to think through a plan before committing to it. But somehow, she’d managed to wedge herself inside the circle of drums without worrying about the pesky details. In the end, all she needed was a clear shot at Tate.

Fear gnawed at her gut as she waited, absently brushing strands of hair from her face. She’d already tied it back into two stubby pigtails at her neck, but some of the ends had slipped free and seemed intent on tickling her nose. She swatted at them when the front end of a car crept out from behind the pallets. She tensed and raised the camera to her eye, adjusting the lens as the car pulled up to the doors. A faint squeak filtered across the water as the breaks engaged and the vehicle shuddered to a stop. She tried to get a glimpse of the man seated in the back, but the tinted glass was too dark. She looked at the license, a smug smile tilting her lips. His personalized plate glared back at her and she knew he was in there…hiding.

She cursed when the rear doors remained shut and focused on the two men climbing out of the front, their large figures covered in dark leather jackets. They strutted forward, then stopped just inside the entrance, turning slightly toward her. Paige narrowed in on the guy to the left. His dark skin blended with the shadows, making him all the more wraith-like. He wore tinted shades and a hat twisted to the side. She panned to the other guy, curious what kind of bastard worked for a man like Tate, when a cold shiver crawled down her spine.

She pulled back and gave her head a shake. Was she completely crazy, or was there something in the way the guy tilted his lips when he smiled that seemed familiar? She sealed her eye to the viewer again, drinking in every detail of the man. His skin was lightly tanned, but darkened by a short dusting of stubble along the jaw line. His nose looked narrow, and in profile, she could just make out a slight bump near the top. The same kind of bump…

The sense of déjà vu returned. She increased the magnification, determined to see the color of his eyes, but they were hidden behind a designer pair of sunglasses. She cursed and zoomed back, taking in his entire body. He looked muscular and fit, with shoulders to spare. He turned away from her for a moment, giving her a clear view of his nicely tapered waist and tight ass.

Unexpected heat gathered low in her belly, and she pulled the camera away to give herself a mental slap. What the fuck was wrong with her? Weapons dealers and arousal didn’t mix. There was absolutely nothing sexy or alluring about a man who made his living working for a bastard like Tate.

Paige wiped the sweat from her brow with the cuff of her jacket. It must be the damn temperature. She should’ve taken the time to remove her leather jacket instead of sweltering in the late summer heat. She took a soothing breath and went back to work. She needed to photograph everything, so she could compile enough evidence on Tate to turn over to the Feds.

The camera felt strangely heavy as she lifted it back to her eye. She started snapping shots and found herself concentrating on the guy with the cropped, dirty blond hair and killer body. Surely, she just recognized him from a picture she’d seen in the newspaper. Tate made no reservations about walking around with security or women. But even as she tried to convince herself, inklings of doubt settled in her mind. She watched the guy’s every move, clicking the limited angle he presented to her until a whine echoed across the wharf.