Lover Beware

preparation for seeing Costos again. But the moment he raised his tear-streaked face and looked into her eyes, she realized just how wrong she had been.
     
    CALLING ON THE deceased’s family so soon after a tragedy was one of the toughest aspects of being an agent. Damn hard to remain composed in the face of someone’s grief, yet every minute the investigation was postponed the colder the clues became.
    After the funeral many of the mourners congregated at J.D.’s house, a pretty, renovated home in the Garden District. Hundreds of flower arrangements lent a sickly sweet aroma to the rooms. The kitchen and dining room overflowed with food, which the visitors dug into like vultures on carrion. Anna could never figure out what it was about death that made people so damn hungry.
    After half an hour of milling through the guests, Anna finally worked up the backbone to approach J.D. She found him secluded in the den with his mother, Helen, and sister-in-law, Beverly Damascus, wife of Eric, Senator Jack Strong’s legislative director. It was Beverly who approached her, her eyes swollen and smudged by mascara.
    “Agent Travelli, FBI.” Anna flipped open her shield. “I’d appreciate a minute of J.D.’s time, if that’s okay.”
    “No, it’s not okay. The last thing J.D. needs right now is—”
    “Anna?” J.D. left the sofa and moved toward her. “Anna Travelli?”
    Anna moved around Beverly to smile at Damascus. “Hey, pal. Long time no see.”
    “Jesus, it is you.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding Anna so fiercely she could hardly breathe. She hugged him as tightly, closing her eyes as she felt the shudders of grief ripple through his chest.
    “God, I’m so sorry, J.D. So damn sorry. My heart is breaking for you.”
    He said nothing, just held her, his fingers twisting into her suit jacket for support. They had once been friends. Very good friends. The only person she could turn to when her relationship with Costos had begun to sour.
    At last he pulled away, swiped the tears from his cheeks, and did his best to smile. “To say I’m surprised to see you here is an understatement.”
    Anna glanced at Helen and Beverly Damascus, both women obviously concerned over her intrusion. “Could I speak with you alone?” she asked J.D.
    Only then did his gaze slip down to the shield in her hand. A spasm of pain crossed his features, yet he nodded and glanced at his family, who reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind them.
    As J.D. moved to the liquor cabinet, Anna pocketed her shield. “I’ve been assigned to the case. I know what a difficult time this is for you, J.D.—”
    “But you gotta do what you gotta do.” He partially filled up the highball glass with vodka—no ice. “I’ll make it easy for you. Tyron Johnson killed my family.”
    She frowned and joined him at the cabinet, watched as he kicked back the vodka like it was water. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that her old friend was accustomed to the drink. A light boozer would have been knocked flat on his ass.
    “Who is Tyron Johnson?”
    “Local pimp. Pretty boy who controls the hookers in the area. Enjoys beating them up when they cross him.” He refilled the glass. “I’ve dragged his sorry butt into court many times trying to put him away. Always bullied the girls into refusing to testify. The last time he threatened me in front of witnesses.”
    He turned away and drank again, easily emptying the glass. “Now I’m going to kill the bastard. I’m going to blow off his fucking head.”
    The door opened, allowing muted conversation to float through the room.
    “What the hell are you doing here?”
    Anna braced herself. This meeting had been inevitable, of course. But turning to look once again into the eyes of her former fiancé was as difficult as staring into the barrel of a loaded Glock.
    Jerry Costos slammed the door. As he moved across the room, Anna drew back her shoulders and turned to face him. Perhaps it was spite that made her withdraw her shield and thrust it toward him.
    In the six years since she had left her hometown, and Costos, he had changed little. He’d always had the uncanny ability to cut out a person’s heart with his blue eyes, as well as melt a heart. Obviously, he was now more in his slicing and dicing mode.
    “Put that damn thing away,” he snapped. “I know what the hell you are.”
    “Then you also know why I’m here.”
    “When I called the FBI requesting a