DEATH (The Justice Cycle Book 1) by J Kiefer (best classic books to read TXT) 📗

Dana had immediately recognized the girl, whom she identified as Amanda Pratt, a woman she’d known from college. She told him they’d shared a few of the same classes one semester. Dana had also gone to school with his little brother, Steve, and they’d even dated for a year. Amanda was the girl that Steve had shacked up with after he broke up with Dana, but neither of them had had any contact with her in years.

Both officers had talked as they parked in front of Dana’s house for about an hour and a half before she finally said good night and got out of his car. He knew for sure that he was going to pay dearly for being a good friend and partner, and he resented that. Sure, he didn’t have to drive her home—he could have just called later—but he cared about her too much to just ignore her when she needed him. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her this shaken up by a crime scene. Well, it was already done and there was nothing he could do to change it now. Jared was just going to have to suck it up and face the music.

The traffic started to move. It wouldn’t take him long to reach the restaurant. He thought of all the things he would say to try to put out the inevitable fires that would spring up, and before long he reached the exit that would take him to his doom.

Six

Jasmine sat quietly scowling into her cappuccino. She had been at the Number Six restaurant for over an hour now and Jared was nowhere in sight. She reached for her cell phone for the thousandth time but then thought better of it.

No, she told herself. I’ve called him three times already and I am not going to call him again.

This was the third time in a month that he’d stood her up. It wouldn’t happen again. She turned and waved, summoning the waiter. A short, fat, balding man, the waiter rushed to her aid, as most men did when she wanted them.

“Yes, madam, is there something I can do for you?” he said with a smile.

“The check would be nice. It appears that my friend—” her tone dripped with such vehemence that the waiter winced, “—is not going to be coming after all.”

“Yes, madam, right away.” He rushed off to get her check.

Jasmine fumbled with her purse, trying, without success, to free her lipstick. Just when she had managed to get hold of it, she lost her grip on the purse. It fell to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.

She swore and bent down to gather her belongings. Tears formed in her eyes. Jasmine was upset, more upset than she had been in a long time.

Bending down, she rummaged around, trying to catch her runaway cosmetics and an especially crafty pack of gum that seemed to elude her every attempt to capture it. On one particularly remarkable attempt that had her contorted in a manner not even a world-class yoga instructor could have duplicated, a man’s hand suddenly appeared, catching the packet of gum before it could escape her again.

She followed the arm to a very handsome face with mesmerizing blue eyes. He was smiling at her and she grinned sheepishly back. Trying her best to avoid his eyes, she quickly gathered the rest of her things and jammed them into her purse.

“Thank you,” she said, self-consciously fixing her hair. “You are a savior.”

“You’re very welcome,” replied the man in a deep, heavily accented voice.

Jasmine’s savior was tall, dark, and handsome. The kind of handsome you only find on Instagram feeds and GQ covers. He was toned and athletic with long, flowing black hair that hung down to his shoulders. He wore khaki pants, Dockers she guessed, and a baby-blue polo shirt.

“Nice,” she whispered under her breath. “Very nice!”

“Excuse me? I did not catch what you said,” the man said in that glorious accent—Romanian, maybe? She’d had a crush on a Romanian guy in her first year of college, mainly for his accent.

“Nothing,” she said with a timid smile.

“I am sorry to intrude, but I could not help but notice your plight.” He smiled at her and handed her the stray pack of gum. “I could not stand by while such a beautiful woman was in need.”

Jasmine blushed at the compliment. “Thanks again, sir. I really appreciate your help.”

“Please, you may call me Vladimir,” he said with a bow. “Vladimir Durgala.”

“Jasmine,” she replied with a giggle. “Jasmine Lassiter.”

Vladimir reached out, and before she could protest, took her hand in his. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed it, giving Jasmine goosebumps. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lassiter.”

Dumbfounded for a moment, she regained her composure. “How did you know I wasn’t married?” She flashed him a cheeky smile.

Vladimir’s blue eyes sparkled. “No man, who has the favor of such a beautiful woman like you, would ever allow her the disrespect of having to dine alone. So you must be single. And being the gentleman that I am, I would be lacking in my duty if I did not extend the invitation for you to join me at my table.”

“You are quite the charmer, aren’t you, Vladimir?” She removed her hand from his. “But I am waiting for my boyfriend.”

Vladimir’s smiled again and glanced at the table where Jasmine had been sitting. There were two menus but only half-drunk cappuccino. Jasmine realized then that he’d probably been sitting at the table next to hers for quite some time. It would not have taken a rocket scientist to conclude that she’d been stood up.

“Yes, as I said before, I could not help but notice your situation.” He glanced back at her and his blue eyes seemed to look right through her. “I am not usually so forward, but it seems to me that you have been here