Betrayal of the Dove - By Capri Montgomery Page 0,23

care of my land. I don’t want it to go downhill, so when I’m not working on something I’m usually working around the house or the property line. I like to keep things secure.”

“Security is always on your mind, isn’t it?”

“Not always.” He looked over her facial features as if he were studying every curve, every line, every diminutive detail and committing it to memory. “What are you having?”

She blinked in confusion until she realized the waitress was standing at their table and it was time to order their food. “I’ll start with the fruit salad, and for the main course I’ll have the chicken, broccoli, potato and cheese meal.”

“Good choice,” Shane said. “I’ll have the Caesar salad, and main course the steak, well done, and potato for my first side, coleslaw for my second side.” He handed the waitress the menus. “Could you bring us some more water please?”

“With lemon?” Alyssa added. She turned to look at Shane. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for joining me.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled before trying to find something to focus her attention on, something other than the incredibly gorgeous man sitting next to her. His eyes were so deep she could drown in them, but his gaze, the way he looked at her, nearly set her on fire. She really, really liked this man. And she shouldn’t. She had given up on relationships, why was she starting to change her mind on the matter now? What was it about Shane Maxwell that made her want to take a chance again? The man was there as a favor to a friend. Eventually he would leave and then where would that leave her? Where would that leave them? She resolved not to worry about any of that tonight. Tonight, she was just going to enjoy a nice night out with a good man, and then tomorrow they would go back to their standard business and professional relationship. That was what she had told herself anyway, but somehow, looking at the man next to her, she wasn’t sure they would be able to not explore the attraction they had to each other. Because she was sure he felt something, even if only lust, he felt something. He was too busy working hard trying to make sure she felt it too, for him not to have some thoughts of them as a couple on his mind. The more she thought about the possibility, the more she told herself not to go there. She couldn’t go there, no matter how much she wanted to.

Nevin DuPont looked at the photos on his wall. “Dove Team,” he snarled. They thought they were better than everybody, better than him. They would all soon learn that they were nothing, that he was the master of his craft and they, they were just a bunch of spineless dick heads hiding behind the crest of the elite team.

He had already killed one of them. He made sure it looked like an accident—for now anyway—because he didn’t want to alert the entire team and if it looked like anything other than an accident they would all go on high alert before he was ready for them to. “Brakes gone bad,” he chuckled to himself. He had got David Killinger first, right down there in New Orleans. He had made sure to empty just enough of his brake fluid and put a little hole to make the rest leak out. He fiddled with the censor so it wouldn’t show and he waited. He waited patiently for the man to be in that truck when the breaks gave way. He hadn’t expected his pregnant daughter to be in there with him when the accident happened, but she had been. Too bad for her because when his truck rolled over on the highway and then went “boom” she had gone out with him. “Oh well,” he shrugged. “Casualty of war,” he excused the extra loss of life.

It had been seven months since his last kill and he had spent those seven months preparing for the subsequent ones to follow it. He had them all planned out, but he knew, with his next kill, they might start to get suspicious. Maybe they wouldn’t, but if they were as smart as they tried to claim they were, they might at least start to wonder why two of their comrades had fallen in accidental deaths. This next one would be fun for him. Larry Bessler was a smoker. He