Murder by Design Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by J.P. Bowie

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Read more from J.P. Bowie

  More exciting books!

  About the Author

  Pride Publishing books by J.P. Bowie

  Single Books

  The Set Up

  Ride ‘em Cowboy

  Ride ‘em Again Cowboy

  Personal Trainers

  Halloween Angel

  The Officer and the Gentleman

  With a Little Help from My Friends

  Blood Relations

  Nowhere to Hide

  Trip of a Lifetime

  A Ghost Story

  Happy Ending

  A Highlander in LA

  Journey to Hope

  Paris Connection

  All I’ll Ever Need

  Every Breath I Take

  Highland Hearts

  Evan Sent

  Fear and Loving in Las Vegas

  Breaking the Habit

  Fear of Flying

  Love on the Rocks

  My Vampire and I

  My Vampire and I

  My Vampire Lover

  Duet in Blood

  Blood Resurrection

  Bound in Blood

  Blood Lure

  Blood Lust

  Blood Talisman

  Blood Vigilance

  The Journeyer

  The Journey Begins

  The New World

  The Fight for Freedom

  Anthologies

  Fabulous Brits: Under the Law

  Naughty Nooners: Lunches in Laguna

  Friction: Cruising

  Saddle Up ‘N’ Ride: Ride ‘em Hard Cowboy

  Promoted by the Billionaire: Fly to Him

  Heatwave: Summer Bliss

  Collections

  Christmas Spirits: A Present Christmas

  Homecoming: Blueprint for Love

  Yule Be Mine: A Special Christmas

  Immortal Love: Night Wing

  MURDER BY DESIGN

  J.P. BOWIE

  Murder by Design

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-743-2

  ©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2019

  Cover Art by Cherith Vaughan ©Copyright April 2019

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2019 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  An unexpected meeting in a bar gives Detective Sam Walker a real chance of finding long-awaited happiness. All he has to do is stay alive.

  Detective Sam Walker gets a surprise phone call the day he wakes up with the hangover from hell. The caller informs him that his name is Justin and that they met the night before in a gay bar. Not only met, but kissed and traded phone numbers and Sam has no memory of it at all. Intrigued, Sam wants to meet Justin again, but any chance of that is delayed when he and his partner are assigned a murder investigation and told to take care of it ASAP.

  Sam has a problem, a deeply personal one that he doesn’t talk about, but when he’s with Justin the problem seems to disappear and he’s convinced he’s been given a new lease on life. His elation is short-lived, however, when the case he and his partner are working on takes a dark turn.

  Justin also has a problem…Maria Esteban, a fiery-tempered Puerto Rican who owns the fashion company Justin designs for. Theirs is a volatile relationship and when tragedy strikes, the finger of suspicion points at him.

  Can Sam save Justin not only from a bigoted detective intent on cracking the case quickly, but from a new and unexpected source, too? Or is their love affair doomed before they can truly savor Sam’s newfound freedom from the past?

  Dedication

  Thanks once more to Claire at Pride Publishing and to Rebecca my super editor for their continued help and encouragement. Also to Phil who has stuck by me for 24 years and never complained…well, that’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  7-Eleven Inc.: Seven & I Holdings Co., Ltd.

  Alcoholics Anonymous: Founders: Bill Wilson and Bob Smith

  Amazon.com, Inc.: Jeff Bezos

  Audi: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft

  Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson

  Big Mac: McDonald's Corporation

  BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke AG

  Boeing 747: The Boeing Company

  Cruella de Vil: Dodie Smith

  The CW Television Network: CBS Corporation, AT&T

  Disneyland: The Walt Disney Company

  Fox News: Fox Entertainment Channel

  Glendale Mall: Kite Realty

  Glock: Glock Ges.m.b.H.

  Kirby Grip: Kirby, Beard & Co. Ltd

  Macy’s: Macy's, Inc.

  McDonald’s: McDonald's Corporation

  MSNBC: Comcast Corporation

  Star Wars: LucasFilm

  Superwoman: DC Comics

  The Flash: DC Comics

  Uber: Uber Technologies, Inc.

  Viagra: Pfizer Inc.

  Walmart: Walmart, Inc.

  Wendy’s: The Wendy’s Company

  Prologue

  The tall Hispanic man sighed as he regarded the petite woman glaring back at him, her eyes blazing with rage.

  “You dare to deny me what is rightfully mine?” she screamed at him.

  “I have told you, Golden Finance is going through a rough patch. There is not enough money to expand your business.”

  “Mentiroso!” she spat. “You lie! Stop wining and dining your putas and there will be plenty money. You think I don’t know what you are doing behind my back?”

  He clenched his hands
into fists, trying to control the anger that built inside him, threatening to explode at any moment. He took a step backward from her in case he actually did what he longed to do. This bitch had made his life a living hell for the past two years with her constant carping, complaining and threats of exposing him as an adulterer. He had asked her for a divorce, but she’d refused, suddenly following Catholic doctrine after ignoring the Church for years.

  “And don’t even dare broach the subject of divorce again,” she continued to rant at him. “We are married until death do us part, and don’t forget it. Now, I want that money so you’d better find a way of getting it. Entiéndeme?”

  “I understand only too well.” He swung away from her, the blood pounding in his temples, his rage mounting with every spiteful word that spewed from her mouth.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me. Bastardo!” She grabbed his arm and smacked him hard across the face.

  For a moment he almost lost control. Almost reached out to take her by the throat and throttle the life out of her…stop her hateful rhetoric forever. Instead he turned away and strode toward the door, slamming it behind him, his wife’s shrieking not at all dampened by the barrier of wood and glass. He paused to take a few deep breaths.

  A woman stood in the hall, regarding him with sympathy, but he could not bring himself to have an even halfway normal conversation at that moment. He nodded as he passed her, feeling her eyes on his back while he made for the elevator. When the doors opened he glanced at her and said, “Later.”

  Chapter One

  Los Angeles, California

  Every time Sam Walker woke up with a hangover to end all hangovers, he vowed never to go on another bender again. Okay, so last night had been a kind of celebration and the guys from the precinct had more or less forced him into joining them in their favorite bar…but still, was this awful freaking headache and queasy stomach worth it? Carefully, he eased himself out of bed and headed with unsteady steps to the bathroom.

  Staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, he groaned. Jeez…a face only a mother could love, or so the saying goes. Well, maybe not his mother. She hadn’t loved anything about him for a long time. It wasn’t the handsomest mug at the best of times, in his opinion. His jaw was too square and that stupid cleft in his chin made it hard to shave without a deal of careful blade maneuvering. He sighed and pulled down his lower eyelid, shuddering at the red that was practically overwhelming the blue. Ugh… He ran the cold water and splashed his face and chest for a bit, hoping it would liven him up some. He could go back to bed. There was nothing pressing at the precinct. The captain had told him and Martin McCready, his partner, to take the day off, so why not take advantage of it? Maybe a cup of coffee first.

  His cell buzzed as he made his way to the kitchen. He pretended not to see the trail of clothes he’d left strewn across the bedroom floor. After a glance at the ID screen he croaked, “Hey, Martin. What’s up?”

  His partner’s chuckle was followed by, “You sound real chipper this morning.”

  “I might be after a caffeine fix. How’re you doing?”

  “Fine and dandy. Better than you by the sounds of it. Of course, I didn’t stay till closing time like I’m guessing you did.”

  “And I wouldn’t have if I had a beautiful wife and kids to go home to.” Sam tucked his phone against his ear so he could prep the coffee machine and talk at the same time.

  Another chuckle. “That would make headline news.”

  “Smartass. So why are you calling me so damned early?”

  “It’s almost ten, Sam. Liz wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with us tonight. Think you can handle a home-cooked meal for a change?”

  “Hey, I cook…”

  “Yeah, anything that comes frozen or canned.” Martin tsked. “I don’t know how you keep in such good shape eating all that crap all the time. Anyway, Liz is making meatloaf, her mama’s recipe, the one you had three helpings of last time. Abe and Sara still talk about Unca Sam putting it all away. Sara wanted to know why you don’t have a belly like mine.”

  Sam smiled as he spooned the coffee into the filter. “Metabolism, I guess. Plus, three workouts a week, at which you could join me if you wished. And the answer is yes, I would love to have dinner with y’all. What time and what can I bring?”

  “Forget the workouts. Raising a family is enough of a workout for me. Six, and you don’t have to bring anything. You know that. And especially all that stuff you always bring to spoil the kids with.”

  “Okay, six it is,” Sam said, ignoring Martin’s last remark. “Looking forward to it, Martin. Thanks.”

  Waiting for the coffee to brew, he counted himself lucky to have a partner like Martin McCready. A lot of detectives had good partners, but Sam always felt he’d struck gold with Martin. An African-American, tall with big shoulders and big fists, a good guy to have with him in tight corners, but also sane, with no judgment and a great sense of humor. Sam was sure that no matter what, Martin had his back, and when it came down to it, he had Martin’s, no questions asked. He’d heard the expression about taking a bullet for someone, and he thought he really would for his partner…without a doubt.

  Plus, he had the added bonus of being included in the McCready family. He had none of his own, being one of those teens thrown out for being gay—and maybe he overcompensated by bringing Martin’s kids ‘stuff’ every time he visited, but what the hey? He’d been banned from seeing his own niece and nephew so he couldn’t spoil them. Their loss, he’d told himself a hundred times over the years, but deep down, sometimes it still hurt.

  Sam’s dad had stared at him, his face mottling to a dark red. ‘You are—what did you say?’

  ‘I’m gay, Dad. I want you and Mom to be okay with it. I know it’s probably a shock, but I don’t want to live a lie. I want—’

  The punch to his jaw had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t gone down, but he’d staggered backward, staring at his father in complete shock.

  ‘You fuckin’ faggot,’ his father had screamed. ‘You are everything that is vile and loathsome. You are condemned by God and you will get the fuck outta my house right now.’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘I am not your dad. Not anymore, and you are not my son, now get out. Thank God your mother and your sister’s not home to listen to this.’

  Tears had sprung to Sam’s eyes. His jaw had throbbed, but it had been the hatred in his father’s expression that had caused him to sob. ‘Dad, you don’t mean this, you can’t—’

  ‘I mean every fucking word, now get out—get out!’

  He had wanted to tell him that his friend Kenny had come out to his parents a few days ago and they’d been okay with it, telling him they loved him no matter what. That was what had encouraged him to tell his folks. Never had he anticipated this kind of reaction. Just two days ago, his dad had come to the ballpark and had cheered him on with everyone else when he’d thrown the Hail Mary that had won them the game. But now, the outrage that had darkened his father’s face had told him he didn’t want to listen to any kind of explanation.

  He had run up to his room and stuffed his backpack with some clothes and his textbooks. Jim Walker had been waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘You take nothing with you.’

  ‘I have to have clothes, Dad, and I need my books for school.’

  ‘I said nothing!’

  He’d grabbed for Sam’s backpack, but Sam wouldn’t let go. They’d tussled, his father had tripped and fallen on his ass and Sam had made for the door. His father had become a raving lunatic and Sam had needed his stuff. He’d grabbed his bike that was lying on the driveway, vaulted onto it and taken off down the street, his dad’s hate-filled words following him until he’d turned the corner and could no longer hear him.

  Sam shook his head to clear his mind of those ghastly memories. Shit, why would a call from Martin send his mind spinning into that vortex of hate? Bad enough that the case they’d closed only yest
erday had been brutal.

  Long hours tracking the suspects, days of frustration when it looked like they couldn’t get enough to justify an arrest, then, like in a lot of cases, the unsubs had gotten careless. One of the victims had managed to escape and there they’d been, Sam and Martin, ready to scoop the little girl up and listen to her directions to where the creeps had been holding her and her sister. Busting up that child-slave ring had been one of the more rewarding moments of Sam and Martin’s lives, along with the other cops they’d used as backup. Sam had relished putting his fist on the jaw of the fat slob terrorizing the kid’s sister and the other little ones being held in that vile place.

  When the rest of the felons had been rounded up, cuffed, charged and locked away pending a court date, Sam had felt in need of a drink and had voiced that opinion long and loud.

  ‘Just one,’ he’d lied. It had taken more than one to help him forget, for the time being at least, the state of those little kids, the fear etched on their faces and the sheer trembling relief when they realized they’d been saved from whatever hell their kidnappers had in store for them. So, he’d overdone it a bit and was now paying the price. The coffee tasted good though…damned good.

  He sank down on the couch and tuned the TV into the morning local news. Yep, there it was, the coverage on the kiddy slave ring. The police chief up there giving the reporters what they wanted to hear, kids reunited with their families after weeks of anguish, pics of the little tykes—How in hell could any human being even think of selling these pretty girls, or any kid, to some slavering sex monster? God, but he’d wanted to rip the heads off the slavers. It was of some consolation that those pigs would have a really rough time in prison. Guys in there had their own code of justice, especially when it came to dealing with those responsible for child molestation. Oh, and a picture of me without Martin…he’ll be pissed. Heh, heh…

  His cell buzzed and he reached for it. Not a number or name he recognized. Robertson, Justin?