Page 1 of The Sinner's Touch

CHAPTER ONE

Angelique Lemoraux wiped down the bar and glanced at the clock. One a.m. She might be dead tired, but sleep eluded her on nights when she worked the bar. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind was still wired. Not that she’d trade shifts. Tips were always better at night, especially on the weekends. Her weekend tips could easily make a rent payment for her.

Stretching, she finished wiping down the bar. Her current patrons were all sipping drinks or snacking on food. It had been five hours since she’d had a break, so she walked down to where Ben was flirting with some college girls. Angel hoped he hadn’t given away too many free drinks. Pops, the owner, was cracking down on him. One more bad night and he was gone.

“I’m gonna take ten if you can watch my well?”

“Sure, baby doll.” He turned those sky-blue eyes on her, a look designed to make her melt. It did jack for her, which irritated him to no end. She’d only fallen for a look like that once a long time ago, and it wasn’t a mistake she’d ever make again.

“Check to see if spiky-hair over there wants food. He’s been looking at the menu for at least twenty minutes.” She turned away without waiting for a response and went through the backto the kitchen. Pete, the new cook, waved to her on her way out the back door.

Jessie, one of the servers, leaned against the wall, smoking. She’d be a pretty girl if she didn’t wear so much makeup.

“Hey, Angel. You finally get loose?” Her voice was rough even though she couldn’t be that much older than Angel, who was only twenty-six. Smoker’s voice.

“Yeah, Ben’s in charge.”

They both snickered at the thought. Ben concentrated on flirting more than he did bartending. He brought lots of girls in, though, and that was the only reason Pops kept him around.

“What are you doing out here by yourself, anyway?” Angel rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve some of the pressure. “Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“I needed a smoke.” The girl waved her cigarette. “Why areyouout here by yourself?”

“Touché.” Neither of them should be out here alone. The latest serial killer hadn’t been caught yet. He kept getting closer and closer to the Boston University campus. Police warned women to go nowhere alone, and even on campus they were telling the girls to travel in pairs or packs. It was that bad. So far, there had been a total of eight women murdered.

“Maybe they’ll catch him soon.” Jessie took another drag from her cigarette. “I heard they called in the FBI.”

“It’s about time. They need to get allCriminal Mindson his ass.”

“Pops hired more security at least. He doesn’t want us walking to our cars alone.”

“Pops takes care of us like that.” Angel loved the old man like a father. He looked out for his employees like they were his own flesh and blood. He was a good man.

Jessie tossed the butt of her cigarette and ground it out beneath her heel. “You want me to stay until you’re ready to go back in? Diane will understand.”

“No, I’m only going to be a few more minutes. I’ll be fine.”

Jessie shot her a crooked grin and wobbled back inside. At least behind the bar, Angel could wear tennis shoes. The servers didn’t have as much luck. They wore heels. Some nights, by the end of their shift, they could barely walk.

Angel arched her back. Standing for the last five hours had taken its toll on her too, despite her tennis shoes. After three years of bartending, she should be used to it. One more year of college and she'd have her degree in business. Working here was great, but she wanted to open her own bar, and that degree would put weight behind her business plan.

Raising her arms, she stretched one last time. Ben on his own spelled disaster, and Pops would have her hide if the man caused any sort of trouble. With the women who mobbed him, there could be all kinds of problems. Just last week, they’d started fighting about who he’d winked at, and Ben ate it up. Pops was so furious, she thought he was going to fire Ben on the spot. Angel shook her head at the entire situation.

She picked up some papers that littered the back alley then opened the dumpster to toss them in. Curling her nose in disgust at the scent, she glanced over when she heard a car door slam. A man in a dark blue hoodie got out of the driver’s side, whistling a soft tune. He walked to the back of the sedan to the open trunk he’d popped before getting out of the car.

Angel frowned. Why was he doing? He leaned in, disappearing from view for a moment. When he stood back up, Angel’s eyes widened. She saw a foot hanging limply from where it had slipped out of the blanket. Was he dumping a body? Oh my God! He was actually dumping a body. Her brains stuttered, trying to sort out how to react.

He moved toward her, and not thinking, she took several steps back. The raised dumpster lid fell from her hand, the clattering sound loud in the silence of the night. His head whipped up and he stared at her, surprised as much as she was.

Not good. She should be running instead of standing here like an idiot while the potential serial killer stared her down.

She tried to move, but her feet refused to work. Fear flooded her when a slow grin spread across his face. He shifted his burden and took a step in her direction. She backed up.

Instead of following her, he turned and set his burden down, her back against the brick wall of the shop next door. The streetlamp lit the alley enough for Angel to get a good look at him. Dark gloves covered his hands, and the hoodie hid his arms well. He turned back to Angel, his hood sliding back, revealing a face with a five o’clock shadow of a beard. He must trim it daily to make it look like that.

He crossed his arms and stood there, feet braced apart, like he was preparing for a fight. He’d just dumped his latest victim. He needed someone new to take her place. Angel was that someone. She knew it in her bones. Why the hell wouldn’t her damn feet listen to her brain screaming to run, to hide?

“Angel, it’s getting busy, and Pops…”

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