Kiss and Hell (DI Olivia Austin Book 3) Read online

  Kiss And Hell

  DI Olivia Austin - Book Three

  Nic Roberts

  Copyright © 2021 by Nic Roberts

  * * *

  ‘Kiss and Hell’

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Some may be used for parody purposes.

  Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Love to read Detective Thrillers?

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Book Four

  Love to read Detective Thrillers?

  About the Author

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  Kiss and Hell

  A grisly discovery, a mysterious advert and a race against time to find the killer

  Detective Inspector Olivia Austin is back at the scene of a murder in a hotel.

  * * *

  A woman's body has been found brutally mutilated and signs point to a crime of passion, but as further sick details emerge, it's clear their killer is more dangerous than they first thought.

  * * *

  With a case stacking against her, and her own personal hell brimming over from the past, can she catch this twisted individual before he strikes again? Or, will she have finally met her match?

  Prologue

  Red lipstick stains on her glass of wine.

  Her second large glass to be exact, but who on earth was counting anyway? The staff serving her only cared about how low her top was, and the man on the stool beside her was content drowning his sorrows.

  All in all, it was a typical hotel bar.

  She checked her watch. Ten minutes late. Oh well, nobody wanted a girl to arrive dead on time. Surely, that reeked of eagerness, and being too early? Absolutely not! It was out of the question.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Where r u? Still coming?

  She took a deep breath and replied.

  Sorry, taxi got stuck in traffic. Just arrived.

  Nobody had to know she'd been there for thirty minutes already, going back and forward in her head as to whether or not she should go up. Whether or not she should go through with it. She hadn't always been interested in kink, but the older and more curious she'd become, the more it had piqued her interest.

  It was risky; she couldn’t deny that. But nothing different to the online dating sites she used to frequent.

  She downed the rest of her drink, pushing the darker thoughts from her mind. If she overthought it too much, she'd talk herself out of it. If one thing was certain, it was that she hadn't bought this expensive lingerie just to drink in.

  “Atta girl!” the drunk man next to her praised. He raised his glass to her. “No use in letting a good wine sit for an hour.”

  Rosie nodded, though her mind was elsewhere, running over the room number in her head and the memorised route she was going to take to get there.

  Lift to the third floor, down the corridor, turn left, and it was the last door on the right.

  She gave the barman a brief wave as she got up and made her way through the tables to the hotel lobby.

  The receptionist eyed her over with a hint of disgust and suspicion. She probably had her marked down as an escort of some sort. If only she knew the full story.

  She quickened her pace to the other side of the hall where the lifts were and pressed the call button. The doors opened almost instantly, and once they'd closed behind her, she rested her head back against the mirror and took a deep breath. The wine made her head tingle, and she laughed at the audacity of it all. The recklessness. What the hell had she been thinking?

  But that was what living was about, wasn’t it? Pushing your boundaries and stepping outside of your comfort zone.

  When she'd seen the ad on Craigslist, she'd felt strangely intrigued by the dark words on the screen. The request for someone to explore kink with wasn’t unusual in itself. It was the lack of information that had captured her. The mystery behind it. She didn’t know who they were or what they'd be doing. Make sure you come with an empty stomach and an empty wallet. Oh, the mystery.

  The lift stopped on the third floor before the doors opened, and slightly unsteadily, she made her way along the wall to room 308. Or was it 318?

  She paused by a large mirror atop a console table adorned with flowers to look at her reflection.

  Plain but pretty her father had once called her, and she supposed it was true, but the makeup hid her scars well. Scars from years of hurt and anger.

  Her phone buzzed again.

  Shall we reschedule?

  The tone reeked of impatience, so she took a step back, eyes wide, to try and sober up at least a little bit.

  She adjusted her wavy brown hair in the mirror, already haphazard before even stepping into the hotel room where a stranger was about to do who knows what with her. She tugged the corner of her black sparkly dress down before deciding to hitch it back up again, dangerously close to the top of her thighs. Go bold or go home, right?

  With one more swipe of her lipstick, she made her way to the end of the corridor. The door to Room 308 was spinning. Or was that the drink? She knocked loudly.

  Silence.

  Knocked again.

  Nothing.

  Maybe it was 318 after all. It was only after she turned to locate the other room that the door behind her opened with a creak.

  “I thought you'd changed your mind,” the voice whispered. “You kept me waiting.”

  The corners of Rosie’s mouth turned up into a smile as she walked inside, the vanilla bean scent of her perfume lingering momentarily behind her and the remnants of her light laugh echoing down the empty corridor.

  Downstairs, the receptionist took a phone booking and checked in an elderly couple, all the while blissfully unaware that despite her shortcomings she would be the second-to-last person ever to see Rosie Whitford alive again.

  1

  Calm. Serenity. The frothy waves lapped at the edge of the empty beach. Olivia kept her pace as she ran along the esplanade, strangely comforted by the roar that surrounded her.

  A run along the sea meant she didn’t need music to listen to. Just the sound of the nature around her was enough. The powerful scent of the ocean stayed with her as she ran, an odd sort of safety net.

  She stopped to look out at the great expanse of water.

  After the Oxford Street attack, her family had encouraged her to pack up everything she owned and return home. The moment she’d seen the green swirl of wav
es from her sister’s car, she knew they were right. Instantly, she'd felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, and although she was still mostly haunted by those events when she closed her eyes or was left alone with her thoughts, she knew that steadily she was getting better.

  It was going to be an uphill battle, one that she'd been dreading to climb, but being back home only made that process easier.

  It wasn't without its own heartache though. She remembered her younger years and being a teenager standing on this very same beach with her brother and sister. Even a few months before he went missing, she could picture his handsome face etched in her memory securely, the image of him with his wetsuit on and surfboard in hand.

  That carefree attitude that he'd been instilled with. His infectious personality that rubbed off on anybody he met. His smile, broad and reassuring even at such a young age.

  Memories were everywhere in this place.

  Back at her cottage, she stood underneath the shower and let the warm water cascade over her, washing away the somber mood her run had left her with. Initially, she'd gone to energise herself, but now as she faced the tiled walls, she couldn’t help but hate the low spirit it had left her with.

  She made it into Newquay Police Station ten minutes late. Dean was already hovering around the lift waiting for her.

  “Not like you,” he commented as he followed her to her desk. “Spoken to your parents, yet? Collins by any chance? Everything okay?”

  Olivia nodded vaguely.

  As much as she trusted him, she didn’t want to divulge her deepest, darkest thoughts. Her colleagues were still watching her every move. Watching to see if she would crumble or fall. Watching to see how well she could handle her role given her trauma, and after everything that had happened with Francesca, she knew Lawrence out of everyone was observing her closely.

  “I'm fine,” she answered simply. “My run took a little longer than intended. Did Collins ask for me?”

  She put her bag down on her desk, and Tim appeared at her side with a coffee, just as she liked it. She was ever grateful for his punctuality with drinks.

  “Thank you,” she breathed closing her hand around the mug, practically inhaling the coffee’s earthy odour. “You know, you really don't have to get me...”

  He shook his head and glanced at Lawrence. That’s odd.

  “I don't mind, honestly,” he answered. “And you’ll probably need it today so...”

  He wandered off without finishing, and Olivia turned to her partner with her eyebrows raised.

  “Do I have a ‘pity me’ sign stuck to my forehead or something?” she asked him at the same time she caught another of her colleagues, Trina, watching her from the other side of the open spaced office. “Goodness. What is everyone picking up on that I can’t see?”

  Lawrence walked his swivel chair closer to her and lowered his gaze.

  The solemn expression on his face made her heart race.

  “What is it?” she half laughed with awkwardness. She looked up and caught DC Epson glance into their makeshift office, and after seeing her, he quickstepped it away. “This isn’t funny, so if it’s a practical joke, you’ve got me. I give up.” Still nothing. “Lawrence...?”

  Her partner took a deep breath, still not able to make eye contact with her. She frowned. Someone had better speak up or she was going to have to make a scene.

  “Olivia,” he breathed, finally managing to look at her. His dark eyes had a way of cutting through all pretence, and suddenly Olivia was certain that whatever this was, it was grave. “Has Collins...”

  Right on cue, there was a knock on their internal window and Detective Superintendent Steven Collins entered.

  “Olivia, can I borrow you please?” he asked, voice gruff. Another grown man unable to make eye contact.

  Slowly, she lifted herself from her seat and followed him, doing her best to avoid the stares from around the office that no one bothered to hide. She gave Lawrence one more glance before she left. She could feel the weight of her co-workers’ eyes on her back as she passed them, and she prayed silently that it had nothing to do with her parents.

  “Close the door,” Collins ordered after they were in the safe confines of his office. Numbly, she did as she was told.

  “With all due respect, sir,” she sighed turning to him. The impatience in her voice was teetering on the edge. “What the fuck is going on?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her language, but she wasn’t going to apologise for it. She appreciated people getting straight to the point, and all the pussy footing around her was making things ten times worse.

  “Take a seat,” he replied steadily.

  She sat, running through everything in her mind. Fucking Lawrence hadn't informed him about her harsh treatment with Francesca the other week, had he? It couldn’t be her lateness... Today was the first time in a month.

  Was he unhappy about her afterparty with Shaw? It had to be that. She’d explained to him that nothing had happened, though, but...

  “I don’t know how much Lawrence told you,” he continued. “But we found a body, Olivia.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Okay.” Nothing unusual there. Bodies were found all the time. It was part of her job to survey them and find the perpetrator. This was routine—it had to be. “That's okay, it’s part of our job,” she responded. “Would you like our team to attend? Whatever happened with the Fisher case, it won’t be repeated.”

  Det Supt Collins pursed his lips. Whatever it was, he found it hard to say, and she wished he would just spit it out.

  “What happened with the...?” He paused and shook his head. “No. Look, Olivia. It's nothing to do with that. The body we've found... It was in a state of extreme decay. Possibly male. And Olivia, it was in an area where we believe your brother Alex was last seen.”

  He said the last sentence as quickly as possible, and she almost saw him wince inwardly as she processed the words.

  Her brother.

  Alexander.

  No.

  She stood up abruptly, her heart racing.

  “Olivia...” he rasped. “I'm not saying it’s him...”

  She scraped her hair away from her face, heat exploding over her.

  “But you're not saying it isn't either.” Even she could hear the panic in her voice compared to the casual tone she had addressed finding a body when it was just another victim. How fucked up was it that she didn’t much care unless it was someone she knew? Someone she loved?

  Collins nodded and watched her amongst the silence. She could only imagine the Olympic gymnastics her face was performing, trying to process the information. She had only been thinking about Alex that morning—and for his body to possibly be found? What was she supposed to do with that information?

  “DS Wilson has gone to inform your parents,” Collins added after a short while. “We’re going to fast-track DNA to get an I.D. quickly.” He kept his voice low and sighed. “You know how important this case was to me.”

  Of course, she did. He'd been a DCI back then when Alex had disappeared. Not directly working on the case, but his colleagues had, and he'd helped on many occasions. She remembered his face at one of the press conferences her parents had done, begging the indifferent cameras pointed at their exhausted frames to help bring Alex home safely.

  Her parents.

  The thought of her mother’s broken soul after hearing the news made her feel sick to her stomach. She gripped the edge of the chair, determined to stay standing even as her insides churned.

  Collins read her expression.

  “Go and be with your family,” he ordered. “We're okay here. Dean will take Tim out with him today.”

  Liv shook her head. As much as it seemed like the logical thing to do, she needed the distraction of work. She couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting at her mother’s dining table amidst a sea of sad faces. She did the same thing when Alex disappeared, fighting to make herself scarce and stay busy a
midst the chaos of his absence.

  “Was there anything else found with his remains?” she asked after composing herself. “Anything that leads you to believe it could be him?”

  Collins paused before he spoke.

  “A set of keys were amongst the belongings buried with him,” he answered. “Similar to the ones described as being on your brother’s person...”

  The memories that followed her on her run that morning flooded her mind: flashes of Alex scattered throughout her childhood.

  Olivia fought to stop the emotion on her face. Well, that was it then. It had to be him. Poor Alex. Fifteen years spent looking for the bugger, and it turned out he'd been not too far away from where he was last seen. Fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years.

  She took a deep gulp of air, but it wasn’t enough.

  “I need a moment,” she said quickly before excusing herself; within minutes she was downstairs and out through the side door into the cold sunshine.

  She took several gasps of air again as she rested against the railings.

  Would it have been better to keep that mystery surrounding his disappearance? Better to assume he was still out there living life to the fullest, wanting to start over with someone, somewhere other than here. New family. New friends. Anything was better than knowing that he’d most probably laid there in the dirt, willing his family to find him as time continued to trudge onward, the most brutal of punishments.