Fallen Giant Read online

  An eRedSage Publishing Publication

  This book is a work of complete fiction. Any names, places, incidents, characters are products of the author’s imagination and creativity or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is fully coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form whatsoever in any country whatsoever is forbidden.

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  Red Sage Publishing, Inc. P.O. Box 4844 Seminole, FL 33775

  727-391-3847 eRedSage.com

  Fallen Giant

  An eRed Sage Publication All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2016

  eRedSage is a registered trademark of Red Sage Publishing, Inc.

  Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.eRedSage.com

  ISBN: 9781603100656; 1603100652 Fallen Giant eBook version

  Published by arrangement with the authors and copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  Fallen Giant © 2017 by Monica Owens

  Cover © 2017 by Fiona

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  ebook layout and conversion by jimandzetta.com

  For Levi, the gentle giant

  For Michael, love of my life

  LEVIATHAN – once a Seraph, Levi’s life in Hell consisted of guarding the gates and keeping souls in line. He has exceptional ability to locate demons and their evil deeds. He heads up the small pocket of fallen angels that live in Las Vegas.

  Fallen Giant

  ***

  By Monica Owens

  TO MY READERS:

  Enjoy another fallen angel story, this one set in the hot desert of Death Valley. Let me know who you want next!

  READER ALERT!:

  Leviathan is ready for anything, except maybe the delectable Trish Redding. They argue, they fight, they clash, and they are made for each other.

  Chapter One

  It was the flies that made these crime scenes unbearable.

  Detective Trish Redding rubbed the back of her wrist against her forehead, attempting, not for the first time, to wipe away the sweat. Her delicate silk camisole stuck to her lower back because, yeah, ladies didn’t sparkle out in Death Valley, they sweat like pigs.

  The deputies had set up a makeshift tent over this latest body, but all that did was keep the sun out. The air around them was stagnant and stunk like charred meat. The flies, the flies, were everywhere.

  Trish let out a breath and tried not to breathe through her nostrils.

  The medical examiner arrived twenty minutes ago. He was only now squatting down by the decaying pieces of the body.

  “Yep, just like the other ones,” he said to no one in particular.

  Trish closed her eyes and swore under her breath.

  “Dismembered. Flayed. Skull cracked open here, here, and here,” he paused, then looked up at the young man he’d brought with him. “You want to start taking pictures?”

  The flash of the camera taking in all this carnage allowed Trish to turn away a moment. Her hands were slick with sweat and it was difficult to get her surgical gloves off. But she did it, then flung them into the garbage a deputy had set up. Better him doing that than losing his lunch like the other deputy.

  “Detective?”

  Trish brought her hand up and squeezed the bridge of her nose, then turned back to the medical examiner. “Doc, what’ve you got?”

  “Same as before. My man will take pictures, but this crime scene is almost identical to the other two.” The medical examiner, a man whose name escaped Trish at the moment, stood now, his polo shirt sticking to him. “The victim appears to be a young male. Head, torso, arms, and legs all severed and left in a pile—”

  “Is the pile significant? Are they piled the same as the others?” she interrupted.

  The ME glanced down. “Well…”

  “It’s hard to tell,” his co-worker muttered, still snapping away with his camera. “This is some sick shit.”

  The ME’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t correct the other man. “Detective? Can we talk?” He gestured away from the body.

  Trish didn’t like when MEs wanted to talk. “Sure.” She folded her arms across her chest and stalked a good way off from the tent. When she stopped and turned, the ME was right behind her. “What is it?”

  He cleared his throat. Trish happened to like this particular ME, but she knew she wouldn’t like what he had to say. She watched as he stripped off a glove, then pushed his glasses up. They promptly slid back down his nose. His bald head was beaded with sweat and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “These murders…”

  When he said no more, she prompted him. “You said the first one might have been coyotes.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  Trish brought her hands to her sides, attempting to give this man welcoming body language. Attempting. Hadn’t her superiors told her to be more welcoming? More approachable? She tried to gentle her tone. “The second one was murder, but the body could have been torn apart by coyotes.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No…”

  “That’s what you said,” she accused.

  “I was wrong.”

  “But you said…” Trish trailed off and closed her eyes. She attempted to count out her temper, and the ME took the opportunity to speak.

  “The first one looked an awful lot like coyotes had gotten a wayward hiker. But the autopsy showed that there was more damage done to that body, more than what a coyote would do. The second one was murder, but I don’t think coyotes got to it after it was dumped.”

  “You said there were teeth marks,” she retorted accusingly. “On both bodies.”

  “And there are teeth marks on this body.”

  Trish again squeezed the bridge of her nose, irritated. “So if there are teeth marks it stands to reason that the coyotes could have—”

  “They aren’t coyote teeth marks.”

  Trish sucked in a breath. Mistake. Even upwind she could smell the decomposition. “Not coyote teeth marks,” she echoed.

  The unspoken question hung between them, almost tangible in the heat of the day. The sounds of a crime scene went on around them, but neither of them moved.

  A trickle of sweat fell between Trish’s breasts. She didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to ask…

  “If they aren’t coyote teeth marks,” she said slowly. “What kind of teeth marks are they?”

  The ME cleared his throat. “Detective…Trish,” he corrected. “This is bad.”

  She closed her eyes. The heat of the day was maybe getting to her. Surely he wasn’t suggesting…? “Human?” she whispered.

  A car horn blared.

  Trish’s eyes flicked open and she glared at the newcomer’s car. “Can we keep this between us right now, Doc?” she demanded.

  “Trish.”

  “Please?” She swiped more sweat out of her eyes and began to walk toward the car. “Just until you can make sure on this body?” She walked backward, pleading with the ME.

  He nodded his bald head. “For this afternoon, at least.”

  “Thank you,” she told him. Then she executed a turn as she walked and converged on the car that had pulled up to her crime scene.

  Out here in the middle of Death Valley, there weren’t any roads, so this wasn’t some passerby. Even so, Trish knew exactly who was driving this black sedan with the tinted windows and she knew exactly why she didn’t want him at her crime scene.

  The mayor of the nearby town, the town where the sheriff’s department had their offices, stepped out of his car. His impeccable suit and tie should have had him frying out here in the 110 degree heat. Instead, he looked cool as a cucumber, and smoothed his red tie down his chest.
>
  “Mr. Mayor,” Trish greeted.

  The sheriff got out of the passenger side.

  Well, fuck.

  “Trish.” He nodded.

  “Sir.” Stomach acid boiled in her gut. What. The. Hell. Now the mayor and the sheriff were teaming up against her? She launched into a report of the situation. “About 12:40 a hang glider was coasting over the area and saw what appeared to be a disturbance out in the desert. Lots of tire marks, several buzzards, and what he described as ‘a lump of something’ in the middle of nowhere. He called 9-1-1 when he made it back safely, and judging by where he flew out of and his directions, we located the site and found a body.” When no one said anything, she added, “Sirs.”

  The mayor came walking around the front of the car. “Third body?”

  Well, double fuck.

  “Yes, sir,” Trish said strongly.

  The mayor glanced around, taking in the loneliness of this place, no doubt. The ease of the body dump. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? The mayor hated her, the sheriff hated her and they wanted to take this case away from her. She didn’t have an ego, but she did have pride. And no doubt they called Atlanta and asked all about her last case worked out there and they didn’t trust her with this one. Trish gnashed her teeth.

  “This part of Death Valley falls into our county,” the sheriff began. “Considering that, we’ve had the lead on all these cases.”

  “Yes, sir,” Trish said through clenched teeth.

  “Don’t you think, young lady, that maybe this is a bit much for just one detective to handle?” the mayor asked, his hands going in his pockets.

  She wanted to scream at them. Maybe use her taser on the mayor. Kick the sheriff in the balls. Instead she relaxed, including stretching out her fingers and letting her arms hang limply at her sides. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “I mean a serial killer is probably dumping his kills in Death Valley, sugar,” the mayor retorted.

  Sugar? That got Trish’s hands balled into fists again. But she blew out another big breath and tried, tried, to relax. “Sir, I have plenty of experience with big city crime. I can handle a case of this magnitude.”

  “Seems to me your big city crime got the better of you,” the mayor rejoined.

  For that, Trish had nothing to say.

  “Detective Redding,” the sheriff said quietly. She looked over at him, in his dusty uniform, his hat always riding back on his head. “When you were hired, we knew we were getting a detective that had plenty of experience. That’s not the problem.” The mayor snorted, but the sheriff continued. “What we’re concerned about is the manner of these killings.”

  Now Trish was confused. “The manner?”

  “We don’t want to call in the FBI, create a huge manhunt for one of our own, because this is, indeed, one of our own,” the sheriff kept on. “But the…well, frankly, the unsettling nature of these murders is something we haven’t seen before. Even in the big city of Atlanta.”

  The mayor shot the sheriff a nasty glare. Trish felt a little better for the sheriff’s attempt to soothe her temper. He wasn’t all bad.

  “We brought someone in,” the mayor announced abruptly. “And we’ll expect you to work with him until this killer is caught.”

  Trish felt like she’d gotten hit with a hammer. Right to the gut. “Brought someone in?”

  “Someone that’s seen some bad things,” the sheriff was quick to say. “Someone that might know what’s going on here.”

  Both the mayor and the sheriff turned as the back passenger’s side door opened. Trish was brutally angry and wanted to scream at both of these blowhards. Did they think that this savior would just waltz out of this car and save the world? Sure these were odd murders, but she’d solved dozens of murders over the years. Including a few in Magnolia, the county seat. Didn’t she arrest that drunken loser for killing his ex-wife and mother-in-law just two months ago? She certainly didn’t need—

  A boot hit the ground and Trish caught a glimpse of a finely pressed pant leg. The top of the man’s head came into view, then kept rising and rising and rising—Dear Lord, the man was a giant. He was looking off into the distance behind the car so all she saw was dark hair, shaved close, except for a strip in the middle that hung to the side. His wide shoulders dwarfed the sheriff and his suit coat was more of that fine material that matched his pants. A big hand came out and hooked on the side of the door, slamming it shut behind him. In that instant he turned and Trish felt her knees wobble a bit. Probably because of the heat, she told herself.

  Full dark beard, high cheekbones, kissable lips, aviator sunglasses. He pulled the glasses off as he came closer to her and she almost fainted. Hazel eyes. A tiny breeze blew and that thick dark hair wafted in front of his eyes. Caught on eyelashes that were too long to belong to some man. He shoved the hair back with a tattooed hand. Up and down every finger, on the back of his hand…silver rings on almost every finger.

  After pushing that hair back, he held that hand out. “Name’s Levi,” he said clearly in the deepest fucking masculine voice Trish had ever heard.

  Reluctantly Trish took his hand and he firmly shook hers. It didn’t occur to her to introduce herself.

  “This is Detective Trish Redding,” the sheriff said while she sulked. “At the moment we only have one homicide detective and she’s it. You can imagine how much work this is for one person.”

  “We have deputies,” Trish said mulishly. God, what was wrong with her? Faced with this seven foot—at least—Adonis, she should be making more sense. Had her brain finally short circuited in this heat?

  “Don’t want to step on anyone’s toes,” Levi told her, his masculine, kissable lips curving into a smile. “I happen to be sort of an expert on odd and unusual and I’m just here to help.”

  Kissable? She must be losing it. This man wanted to show her up and all she could think was that his lips were kissable? She glared at him.

  The mayor clapped his hands together and Trish jumped. “Well, we’ll leave you to it. Levi, you’ll catch a ride back with Trish?”

  “Um—” Trish began.

  “Sure,” Levi answered.

  “Now that’s settled. Sheriff?” The mayor gestured to the car. “Let’s get out of this heat, shall we?” Here, the mayor paused and glared at Trish, telling her with mean eyes that she should be nice.

  Nice? When someone was coming to do her job? A job that she could perform on her own with no one’s nosey busybody nose getting involved? She wanted to tell the mayor to go fuck himself, but he already knew she thought that.

  The sheriff smiled at her sadly and retreated to the car.

  Within minutes, the black sedan with tinted windows was gone, stirring up dust as they left. And Trish had an unwanted partner in a possible string of gory, horrifying mutilations perpetrated by a serial killer.

  And he was handsome. Drop dead gorgeous.

  Shit.

  What a crappy day.

  Chapter Two

  Leviathan watched the detective he’d been paired with shoot daggers out of her eyes at the retreating black sedan. Yeah, no love lost there. The mayor was a prick, Levi knew that, but the sheriff wasn’t a bad sort. He had a feeling that Detective Trish Redding wasn’t ready to murder the sheriff.

  “Detective?” he asked. Because it was fucking hot out here. Fucking hot. If there could be a worse place in the world for a fucking serial killer, he hadn’t found it.

  “Oh,” she said when she realized he still stood there. “Right.”

  “There’s a body…?” he prompted when she remained where she was, now glaring at him.

  “Yes,” she said tightly and turned on her heel to walk abruptly away.

  Levi grinned. This woman hated him. Didn’t matter, though, he could still enjoy the sway of her hips as she walked. The way her ponytail bobbed as she stalked toward the crime scene. Detective Trish Redding was a beauty, that was certain, all thick hair and glorious blue eyes, a hint of a Southern accent. He wo
ndered if she was as toned as her pants suit hinted at, then shrugged. Not his problem. Nope, he was here to do a job. A job that was getting literally more odious as they approached the gaggle of people working.

  Detective Redding had stopped by the open tent where two men were calmly working. “This is Doctor…” She paused. “This is the medical examiner.”

  The ME looked up and nodded. “Detective?”

  “Yes?”

  That was the nicest he’d heard her voice soften to all day. He didn’t blame her for the anger that was no doubt coursing through her veins. But he wouldn’t put up with it forever. Especially not in this heat and stench.

  “What we talked about before?”

  “Yes?”

  “Confirmation. I’ll have to double check the other bodies to see if the pattern is the same. That might not be today. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Will it take that long?”

  “Judging by how late we got here and how far we’ve got to transport the remains, I might not get to the autopsy today,” the doc answered.

  Detective Redding bit her bottom lip, but briskly nodded. “Understood.”

  “We’ll take a few more pictures in situ, then load the remains. We should be out of here in about half an hour,” the medical examiner said, then turned his back on both of them.

  Detective Redding gave a brief nod, then turned away to bark at a deputy. Levi moved closer to the remains. To the doctor. To the pattern, whatever it was.

  The assistant shrank back from him, but the ME only glanced at the new boots in front of him. “I don’t know you.”

  “No, sir, you don’t.”

  “You’ll get my report when Trish gets it.”

  Levi hunkered down next to the body and eyed the remains. Dismembered. Flayed. He hooked his glasses over the neck of his T-shirt. “Teeth marks. Coyote?”

  The ME didn’t look up. “No.”