Midnight Pursuits Read Online Free Page B

nurses . . . Small, it’s really small.”
    â€œAll right. So you were doing your Red Cross thing, changing bedpans or whatnot, but you left early. Why?”
    â€œZoya . . .” A moan of distress slipped out of his throat. “She didn’t go to work. She was sick. Went home to take care of her.”
    Juliet reached out and took his hand, stunned by how cold it was. She wrapped her fingers around his icy knuckles and squeezed gently. “And when you got home, she was already dead?”
    Another moan, this one laced with hot agony that made Juliet vaguely uncomfortable. She knew Henry worshipped the ground Zoya walked on, but that kind of devotion was completely foreign to her. She’d shut off her emotions so long ago she didn’t remember what it felt like to love someone that deeply.
    But she had. Loved deeply, that was. Just once.
    And never again.
    Pushing aside her thoughts, she waited for her brother to continue, which he finally did after a long silence and several ragged breaths.
    â€œShe was dead. Shot. Shot in the head.”
    Juliet frowned. “In the head?”
    â€œThree times.
Three.
Goddamn. Times.”
    The frown deepened. “You saw three distinct bullet wounds? Are you sure?”
    His breathing grew shallow. “Three holes, Jules. One at each temple. One between her eyes.”
    Every muscle in her body stretched tight. Something niggled at the back of her brain, a crazy thought. A really, really crazy thought. But she shoved that away too, deciding to return to it later.
    â€œYou’re telling me the intruder shot Zoya in both temples and between the eyes,” she said slowly.
    Henry nodded.
    â€œWhat did he do when you walked through the door?”
    â€œHe swore.”
    â€œIn what language?”
    â€œRussian. And then . . . he raised his gun and pointed it at me. I . . . heard a hiss. Or a pop. Or both. And then my stomach was on fire . . .” Henry’s brown eyes were becoming more and more unfocused. “The gun didn’t make a sound.”
    â€œHe must have been using a suppressor.” Juliet paused, unease gathering in her belly like a snowball rolling downhill.
    Why would the gunman use a suppressor?
    He had to be a pro, then. A skilled professional who knew that even the slightest noise could screw up a job.
    And the way he’d shot Zoya . . .
    She swallowed. “Tell me what happened next.”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Henry said, his expression displaying pure defeat. “I think I blacked out. I was out of it, slipping in and out. And when I woke up again, I was here.”
    â€œWhat did he look like? What do you remember about him?”
    â€œTall . . . he was tall. Not skinny, but not bulky.” Henry took another weak breath. “He was wearing all black.”
    â€œHair color? Eye color? Any distinctive features? Tattoos, moles, scars?”
    â€œBlack hair. Slicked back. Dark eyes . . . scary eyes. Very pale. That’s . . . that’s all I can remember.”
    Juliet studied Henry’s familiar features, looking for any sign that she was being played, but there was nothing disingenuous in his expression. Besides, he’d never been a very good actor. As kids, she’d been the one to take the lead whenever their foster mother caught them doing something bad. Lying had come naturally to a young Juliet, while Henry blushed like a tomato when faced with evidence of his guilt.
    She believed he was telling her the truth. She believed that a man had broken into Henry and Zoya’s house, killed Zoya, and mortally wounded Henry. But unlike the lead detective on the case, she didn’t need to investigate further in order to determine what happened. Because she already knew.
    This had been a straight-up assassination.
    And Henry’s fiancée had been the target.
    â€œI’m going to