The Killing League by Dani Amore Read Free Book Online Page B

photograph and a description of the naughty things you’ve been doing sent to the police, you’ll join us. Good luck!
Sincerely,
The Commissioner
    Dawson looked around. Had someone from work done this? Connie? No way. They had no way of knowing what he had done down in Florida.
    No, this was some sick bastard. Probably another driver. But why? It would probably be about blackmail, Dawson thought. Well, good luck with that. What were they going after, his four hundred bucks in a savings account?
    That had to be it. There was no fucking tournament. Dawson carefully pocketed the card and papers. He walked back to his rig and climbed into the driver’s seat. This was bullshit. Why didn’t everyone just leave him alone? That’s what he always wanted, and all he ever asked for. To be left alone.
    And now this.
    Okay, Mr. Commissioner, he thought. I’ll go wherever you want me to go.
    Dawson had a feeling whoever this asshole was would have no problem ratting him out to the cops.
    So he would go. But when he found this cocksucker, he’d have a little surprise for the bastard.

19.
    Nicole
    The friendship between Nicole and Tristan Burke had developed at the Culinary Institute. They had shared many a bottle of wine and late night discussions about the other students and teachers at the cooking school, as well as their hopes and dreams.
    Although Nicole had gone on to success at the Institute, Tristan had gotten discouraged and dropped out halfway through the program. She had gone back to school, gotten her degree in psychology, and now worked as a counselor for the LAPD. Most of her work revolved around job stress, but she also worked frequently with cops who were involved in fatal shootings.
    Nicole pulled up in front of Tristan’s apartment in the Acura with Sal in the backseat. She had rolled down the side window so he could stick his snout out into the fresh air, if there actually was any fresh air in L.A., and he had made the most of the opportunity.
    As Nicole parked at the curb, Tristan waved from the window to let her know she’d be right out.
    Nicole thought about her friendship with Tristan. She almost laughed that her best friend was both a lesbian and a shrink.
    Admittedly, for a long time after the attack by Jeffrey Kostner, Nicole had had issues with men. And she knew that on some unconscious level, she may have found a small amount of comfort in friendships with women who had no interest in men. Maybe she found even more comfort in a friendship with a woman who studied psychology, and because her father was a cop, knew a little bit about bad people.
    But all of that was a microscopic part of her friendship with Tristan. The fact was, she enjoyed the hell out of Tristan. Her friend was warm, funny, with an acerbic sense of humor that hid a deeply compassionate soul.
    The front door to Tristan’s apartment building opened and Tristan Burke walked out in a blue t-shirt, tan hiking shorts and hiking boots. A backpack was slung over her shoulder and a travel mug, probably filled with Peet’s coffee, was in her hand.
    Tristan was nearly six-foot tall with an athletic build and short black hair. She had a beautifully chiseled, strong face, which now creased into a smile as she opened the door and dropped into the passenger seat.
    “Good morning Nicky,” she said. Sal nuzzled Tristan’s neck. “And good morning to you, handsome man,” Tristan said to the big Doberman.
    Nicole took Pico down to Ocean, then hooked up with Pacific Coast Highway. They shot straight for the Santa Monica Mountains with virtually no traffic to slow them down.
    “So, how’s business?” Tristan said.
    “Better than I could have imagined,” Nicole said. She could be honest with her friend as Tristan had never really taken her culinary ambitions to heart.
    “We’re practically booked solid for the next two months,” Nicole said.
    “I knew you could do it, Nicky,” Tristan said. “I’m just glad my bad attitude at school