Ashes - Book 2 (New Adult Romantic Suspense) Read online

  Book 2

  By

  Leslie Johnson

  Copyright © 2015 Leslie Johnson

  Published By: Atrevida Publishing

  Table of Contents

  Book Description

  Chapter 1— Gage

  Chapter 2 — Beth

  Chapter 3 — Gage

  Chapter 4 — Beth

  Chapter 5 — Gage

  Chapter 6 — Beth

  Chapter 7 — Gage

  Chapter 8 — Beth

  Chapter 9 — Gage

  Chapter 10 — Beth

  Chapter 11 — Gage

  Chapter 12 — Beth

  Chapter 13 — Gage

  Chapter 14 — Beth

  Chapter 15 — Gage

  Chapter 16 — Beth

  Chapter 17 — Gage

  Chapter 18 — Beth

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Atrevida Publishing

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are all made up in my mind. In other words, nothing is to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  © 2014 Leslie Johnson

  Published by: Atrevida Publishing

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  ... and you will be notified by email when the next book is available. Don’t miss a single installment of Leslie Johnson’s captivating romance series.

  Book Description

  Welcome to Book Two of the Ashes Series. You should read Book One first.

  A day of fun turned into an evening of horror, and Beth and Gage find themselves in each other’s arms. Emotions run high. Libidos too. Way too high for this commitment phobic duo.

  Feet planted firmly back in the friend zone, they go their separate ways, both determined to get the other out of their head.

  But terror strikes again. A nightmare turned reality. And this time there’s no one there to help.

  This second installment in Leslie Johnson’s steamy suspense series turns up the heat and will leave you panting for more.

  Chapter 1— Gage

  The death surrounding me is like a living thing, pulling me in and pushing me back at the same time. The stench invades my pores and scurries up my nervous system while my eyes refuse to comprehend what they are seeing.

  The white dresses.

  Exactly the same.

  Fuck. This can’t be real.

  An hour ago, I was having a perfect day with Beth and now I’ve been thrown into the seventh circle of hell.

  Seventh.

  Seven.

  Seven women dead.

  Who could do something this cruel? This contrived? This barbaric?

  I turn and stumble from the cave before I vomit or destroy a key piece of evidence that might capture the beast who slaughtered these women and placed them in their rocky tomb.

  “Gage!”

  Beth’s calling me, concerned. My name echoes through the valley and back, almost like an accusation.

  “Gage!”

  She’s scared. Holy shit. Is the beast here? Trying to get to her? Will he attempt to add her to his grisly collection?

  I grab my ropes and hustle around the curve of the ledge, back to the spot where I’d been a hero only moments before. Time has stopped and sped up simultaneously.

  Time.

  I glance at my watch, knowing the importance of noting the time. Daniel had been rescued and flown to the hospital only four minutes before.

  “Gage!”

  I look up and see Beth’s face staring down at me, a mask of worry marring her beautiful features. What do I say to her? How can I be the one to destroy her day too? We’d had so much fun hiking to the summit of Turtlehead Peak. We’d been a great team as we’d rescued the boy. Now … now none of that mattered. Today will always be the day we found those women.

  “Call 911!” I call up to her, then spit off the rocky ledge. I can taste the smell. I can feel the smell. It’s crawling over my skin.

  Pull your shit together, I tell myself. I’ve seen dead bodies before. Not just post-fire or accidents, but the ones where the body had been dead for days or weeks. It’s a horrible thing to see, but you never get used to the smell. It’s a wall of cheap perfume mixed with rotting meat so pungent it hangs in the air like a lethal fog, covering everything it touches.

  “Oh my god, are you hurt? What happened? Do I need to come down?”

  “No!” I nearly scream at her. I spit again and look up. Most of her face has gone pale, a stark contrast to the circles of red high on her cheeks.

  “Talk to me, Gage.”

  “We have a big problem,” I call up to her. “It’s horrible. I found a cave. There are seven bodies in there. Call 911. Tell them to bring climbing equipment.”

  “Dead bodies? Seven?” She’s so stunned she has to repeat the words to make the unreal become the reality it is.

  “Yes. In a cave.”

  Her hand is over her mouth, her eyes huge. Then I see her pull her own shit together. She blinks and her eyes clear. “I’ll have to run back up the hill for a signal. How do we get you up from there?”

  I shake my head. “I’m staying down.” I can see the concern etched over her features. “I won’t disturb the crime scene, but I’m going to search for additional caves.”

  She disappears and is back in just a few seconds. “Heads up. You need to drink this.” I snag the bottle of water she drops down to me. “I’m going to find a signal. Be right back.”

  I chug half the bottle. Gag. Spit. Then chug the rest.

  I examine the rock face of the ledge I’m standing on. It’s about six feet wide and runs far past the curve of the grisly cave. To my left, I see no caves. I turn to my right. It’s the direction I don’t want to go.

  Kneeling, I open the first aid kit I’d used to treat Daniel’s injuries and pull out a pair of gloves, slipping them on. I don’t plan on touching anything, but I’m a ‘safer than sorry’ kind of guy. I inhale a last gulp of the relatively fresh air and mentally prepare for the wall of hell that’ll greet me when I round the corner.

  I want to be careful and the shadows are coming quickly as the sun moves further to the west. Good thing I have my flashlight. I remember a training we had where the instructor talked about evidence and how the killer always leaves a piece of themselves at the scene.

  Looking at the ground, I notice there are no footprints except mine. Either the killer hasn’t been here in a while, or he swept the prints away when he left. I walk the ledge again, careful to only step on my previous tracks. I pass the cave and walk as far as my safety harness will allow.

  No additional caves in this section. Thank the fuck.

  Retracing my steps again, I pause outside the cave and steel my heart. My nerves are fine. It’s my soul that is taking a beating at the sight of these women so ‘honorably’ displayed.

  Sick bastard.

  I shine the light just inside the cave and again, no other footprints. This is definitely a very thoughtful killer.

  I pull my shirt over my mouth and nose as I carefully step just inside the tomb. It doesn’t help much with the smell, but every little bit helps. At least I’m not tasting the sour air.

  The bodies are about six feet from the opening, arranged in a horizontal line going back into the cave. They are all dressed the same … white eyelet dresses. No shoes. A ribbon in their hair. They look like little girls, but they aren’t.

  The nearest one is identifiable, but th
e ones toward the back are much more decomposed. The furthest body is nearly a skeleton. I’m not surprised to see some of the women are missing limbs, but they are remarkably intact. Although this cave is a perfect hiding place, a starving animal — maybe even a vulture — would have found a way to secure a meal.

  Pinpointing my light to pull my gaze away from the broader scene to look more closely at each detail, I scan down the body of the closest one and notice she’s holding something in her hands.

  A flower.

  Scanning across the other six, I see the same thing. The fucking bastard has crossed their hands over their abdomens and each have what appears to be the remnants of a rose in their hands.

  White dress.

  Pink rose.

  The flashback nearly takes me to my knees and I mentally shake myself — I can think about that later. Right now, I have seven human beings I need to honor by keeping my shit together.

  Flashing the light around the cave, it picks up something I hadn’t noticed before. I grit my teeth. Any trace of doubt is gone. This is a ritual killer. And this isn’t a grave; it’s a shrine.

  In the very back of the cave are pictures in frames. Seven of them, each with a pile of small bones lying in front of it. They are too small to be human bones, but bones nonetheless. And, what is that? Feathers? Yes, feathers. I can’t tell if they were placed here or had fallen from birds coming in to feed on the corpses.

  My vision blurs and I blink the salty tears back. I look at each woman again. I look at them with the honor they deserve.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper to each one in turn.

  Then I back out of the cave, careful not to disturb the scene.

  Chapter 2 — Beth

  The pain in my side becomes a pounding ache as I run back up the trail, searching for a cell signal. Blisters have formed on my feet and sweat is pouring down my face, but I run as fast as the rock and gravel will allow.

  Dead bodies?

  Seven of them?

  I can’t imagine what Gage is going through right now.

  I make it to the spot where I’d spoken to 911 not long before, while we were trying to get help for Daniel. I’d snatched the phone away from his hysterical mother and instructed the rescue team of our location, credentials and how Gage was prepared to secure the boy, making their job a hundred times easier.

  Speaking to 911 for the second time that day, I still can’t believe how we’ve morphed from a dream into a nightmare.

  “911. What’s your emergency?”

  The signal is weak, the dispatcher’s voice breaking in and out. I climb higher, asking the woman to hold while I find a place where it’s stronger.

  Barely able to breathe, I force myself to calm down. “This is Beth Richards; I spoke to Ryan earlier regarding a child who had fallen on a Red Rock trail.”

  “Yes, Miss Richards. Is there something else?”

  “Yes. The fireman who assisted says he’s found seven bodies near where the boy had fallen.”

  Pause. “Seven dead bodies? Please confirm.”

  “Yes. Seven. Whoever you send will need climbing gear.” I look at the sun. “And lighting. He said he found them in a cave.”

  “One moment.”

  I wait an eternity before she comes back. “Are you at the exact same GPS location as before?”

  “Yes. No. I’m further up the hill. My cell won’t work at the cliff. But I’ll be there to meet whoever responds.”

  “One moment.”

  I want to growl or kick a rock in frustration. I hate standing up here, doing nothing.

  A few minutes later, she’s back. “Miss Richards, officials are on route. Red Rock search and rescue is on their way as well to assist. Please ask the fireman to not touch anything or disturb the scene.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I’m heading back down the trail now.”

  “Be safe please. I hope I don’t hear from you again today.”

  I bark a short laugh, grateful for the opportunity for that momentary emotional release. “Me too.”

  Back at the ledge, I wrap the rope Gage secured for me around my waist and drop to my belly to look down.

  “Gage!” I call out to him and then call out again, louder.

  I don’t hear him, but I see his safety line moving. I wait. And wait. Then see him coming around the corner.

  Dear God, it must be bad down there. He looks terrible, as if he’s aged two lifetimes in the past twenty minutes. I pull back and search through our packs for more water. Two bottles left. Damn. I twist off the lid, take a small sip and tie a small hand towel I found around it.

  I lower myself to the edge again. When I look down, he’s staring up, waiting for me to reappear.

  “Head’s up.”

  I drop the water and towel and watch him pour some of the water on the cloth. He lays it on the back of his neck and then takes long drinks from the bottle. I hate that I can’t do anything more for him.

  “What can I do?” I call down.

  He shakes his head. “What’s the ETA?”

  “Not sure. Red Rock SAR is on their way. They’re the closest, but I don’t know how long it will take.”

  The shadows in the valley are getting long and my ability to see Gage has grown dimmer since I left to call for help. I look up and catch my breath as the fiery red orb begins its descent beyond the horizon. Threads of light mingle with a few dotting clouds and the heavens are dyed with long rays of orange, red and pink.

  The cruelty of life has never been so evident as it is to me in this moment. No matter how ugly life can be, the world moves on without seeming to care. The sun rises and it sets. Earth spins on its axis and the moon continues to cause the tides to ebb and flow.

  Looking back down at Gage, I notice him also watching the sun sink into its daily slumber. It’s our first sunset together, I realize. We’ve never taken the time to … well, do anything as intimate as this. Sex, yes. Lots of it. But nothing is as intimate as witnessing the hand of God at work.

  But we have witnessed the hand of the Devil at work before. I think he’s seen its evil hand at work again.

  Gage turns back to me, but is distracted by something that catches his eyes. He shines his light that way and steps up onto a rock.

  “What is it?” I ask him, edging further off the ledge in an attempt to see.

  “Anchors. They’re driven into the rock.” His light moves up the face of the rock. “Several of them. Spaced about ten feet apart straight up the cliff.”

  I scramble to my left until I’m just above his light. There’s a pile of rocks on the edge and I carefully move them away. I see it. A steel half circle with huge nail like things pinning it to the rock.

  “One up here too.”

  “Don’t touch anything,” he reminds me.

  Shit. I don’t tell him I already have and debate whether I should cover it up. I don’t. Better to leave well enough alone.

  In the distance, I hear a buzzing. I stop and listen; it’s getting closer. It takes me a few minutes to recognize the sound. A dirt bike? In the growing darkness, I can’t see it approach.

  I drop to my belly again. “I think someone’s coming,” I call down to him.

  “Thank Christ,” he calls back.

  Chapter 3 — Gage

  The sound of the dirt bike is a beautiful thing. It whines its approach, then shuts off abruptly. I hear voices. Beth and a man. I try to be patient as I imagine Beth filling him in.

  A few minutes later, a rope drops from the cliff. I step quickly out of the way. “Careful!” I yell.

  Almost before the words are out of my mouth, I look up and see a body hauling ass down the rock face and Beth’s head pokes back over the ledge. She gives me the smallest of smiles.

  Within seconds, a dust cloud rises almost in unison with the thud of feet. It’s a young guy wearing a Red Rock Search and Rescue t-shirt.

  He sticks out a hand. “You must be Gage. I’m Brent, Red Rock SAR.”

  We shake. �
�I’m very glad to see you.” And I am. This man and the SAR team have my full respect. They volunteer for this shit and are known far and wide as the team that doesn’t quit.

  Brent drops to a knee and digs through his pack. I’m surprised and grateful when he pulls out some menthol gel for my nose.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking it from him.

  “No problem, I can smell it from here. We don’t get too many bodies, but you never forget the smell.”

  As I swipe the gel over my upper lip, Brent pulls out additional lanterns and pretty soon, the ledge is fully illuminated.

  “You done?” he asks and holds out his hand for the gel. I give it over even though I want to rub it on my clothes and hair, and dip my nose into the tub. I’m gonna burn these clothes when I get home.

  “Done enough. Thanks. I’ve seen more bloated and rancid bodies than I would wish on my enemy. I’m a firefighter, by the way.”

  “Yeah, I heard. I don’t usually have someone who knows anything about rescue at the scene. Maybe I can learn a few tricks from you.” He gels up his nose, practically pushing the goop up his nostrils.

  “Doubt it, Brent. This is your territory. When are the cops getting here? Any idea?”

  He shrugs. “Nah, they’re a little slower than us. They have to drive up and then do all the police shit. Props to the FD though. You guys are on it. I guess a body isn’t really that big a hurry. It will be here when they make it.”

  “What did you hear?” I ask, noticing he said ‘body’, as in singular.

  “That there’s a dead body in a cave.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Not one. Seven.”

  He turns around and his face would have been the very definition of surprise if I’d looked it up in the dictionary. “No shit?”

  I say nothing because I know my expression says it all. Then I point to the menthol he’s still holding in his hand. “I wouldn’t put that away.”

  Almost on cue, a slight breeze picks up and the two of us are physically assaulted by the smell of death.

  “Holy Mother of God,” Brent says, then straightens his shoulders. With a last deep inhale, he heads toward the source of the smell. I follow right behind him.