Treasured Temptation [Triple Dare County, South Dakota 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Polyromance) Read online

  Triple Dare County, South Dakota 4

  Treasured Temptation

  Amy Gresham goes to Triple Dare Co., South Dakota to hide from the person who is killing people involved in one of her first trial cases.

  Torrad Davidssons and Chad Stedman are planning a change in their lives. They’re going to quit their jobs and settle in Triple Dare Co. But first, they want to protect Amy. The killer is determined to find her. Her aunt leaves the state for safety and urges Amy to stay with Chad and Torrad for protection. Amy tries to resist falling in love with them, but they’re way too tempting. She keeps reminding them she has plans to return to work once the killer is caught.

  When she can go back to work, she finds herself torn between her old plans and a new future. And then her life is in the balance again, and she realizes nothing matters but love.

  Genre: Contemporary, Multiple Partners, Romantic Suspense

  Length: 55,140 words

  TREASURED TEMPTATION

  Triple Dare County, South Dakota 4

  Paige Cameron

  EVERLASTING POLYROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Everlasting Polyromance

  TREASURED TEMPTATION

  Copyright © 2013 by Paige Cameron

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-494-5

  First E-book Publication: August 2013

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Treasured Temptation by Paige Cameron from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Paige Cameron’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Cameron’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To my granddaughters: May you find your way to happiness and whatever you love.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  TREASURED TEMPTATION

  Triple Dare County, South Dakota 4

  PAIGE CAMERON

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Amy Gresham opened her paper on the way up in the elevator. Her stomach dropped. The black letters of the headlines and the picture jumped out at her. She leaned against the steel wall and took a deep breath before getting off.

  “Morning, Amy,” one of the secretaries called out.

  “Hi, do I have anything pertinent to take care of this morning?” she asked Lizzie, her assistant.

  “You’re due in court at one, and you have an appointment to talk with your client, and then lunch with your friend. You said you wanted to leave here at eleven.”

  “Good. I need a few minutes before we start.”

  Lizzie stared at her. “You don’t look good.”

  “I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee. I worked late and had to dress and run.”

  “I’ll get your coffee and a donut. Donald brought in two dozen this morning. He’s celebrating his win in court yesterday.”

  “Can’t blame him for that, but I can get my own java.”

  “Sit. Take a breath. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Lizzie left, Amy opened the paper and read the article. A man, dressed in black and wearing a hat and dark glasses, had gunned down another man on a busy downtown sidewalk. Because he’d used a silencer, the people around him didn’t realize what had happened until the victim fell, and the shooter had disappeared in the crowd. Amy dropped the paper and walked to the windows to stare out at the bustling city below.

  “Here’s your coffee and two donuts.”

  “You eat one. Two would be too much sugar.”

  “Amy, you’ve lost weight the past six months. Our bosses keep you running all day and sometimes half the night.” Lizzie handed her the coffee cup and set the plate with the chocolate-covered, glazed donuts on her desk.

  “You don’t play fair. You know these are my favorites.”

  Lizzie glanced at the paper Amy had laid on her desk. “I heard about this man getting killed on the early morning news. It makes you afraid to walk in the streets.”

  “I knew him.”

  “You did?”

  “He was my star witness in one of my first cases when I was a federal prosecutor. He did well on the stand, and he convinced the jury the defendant was guilty of insider trading. The witness was given one year probation for testifying, and the man on trial got fifteen years. There were threats made at the time about getting even with the star witness, me, and the judge.”

  “Has the guy been released from prison?”

 
“No. I received word about a year ago that he’d been killed in a prison riot.”

  “Then why are you worried? It must be one of those random killings that have no explanation.”

  Amy forced a smile. “I’m sure you’re right. Give me the mail, and I’ll get to work. It’ll be eleven before I know it.”

  “I’ll bring it in shortly. Drink your coffee and eat first.”

  When Lizzie went out and shut the door, Amy sank into her leather chair. Why have I let this story upset me? The wife of the man sentenced to jail divorced him and moved away. There weren’t any children to want to avenge him. Shake it off. I’m being stupid.

  She took a bite of the donut and the chocolate frosting melted in her mouth. Hmmm, this was good, and the coffee was strong and hot. Her world settled back into its normal niche.

  Her phone rang just as Lizzie brought in the mail. Lizzie answered while Amy glanced through the envelopes.

  “What is it?” Amy asked as Lizzie put the receiver down.

  “I guess it was a wrong number. No one was there when I answered. But it’s your personal number. You might check with your family, or wait and see if they call again.”

  “If it’s important they’ll ring back. Most of this can be filed.” Amy handed the letters back to her. “I’ll keep this one to think about.”

  An hour later, Amy’s personal phone number rang again. “Hello. Hello.” No one spoke, but she sensed someone on the line waiting. “I don’t like games,” Amy said and hung up.

  A shiver ran across her shoulders. It was nothing. I have to forget about the article in the paper.

  She opened the file on her desk regarding the client she’d be defending this afternoon. She’d drive to the federal courthouse and talk with him one more time before meeting her friend, Beth, for lunch.

  Amy would be giving her opening statements today after the prosecutor. She was prepared.

  Her mother called her the organizer. Mom liked to do things on the spur of the minute or have meetings and luncheons planned to attend. She was popular with the social set in Boston and was out most days. There had been maids to clean the house and nannies to handle the children, only her siblings could be quite creative and the nanny kept quitting.

  At twelve, Amy took over and found she had a gift for organization and managing. When her mother saw how much better Amy did than the nanny, she fired the last one and Amy took care of her younger siblings.

  “Thank you, Mom,” Amy mumbled under her breath as she put the file in her briefcase and headed to court. Amy had found her calling with the law and her years of learning to organize at home had come in handy.

  Beth met her at twelve in the courthouse cafeteria. They found a back table and settled.

  “You look prepared as usual. I love that pink suit with your dark-red hair. You’re striking, and the jury will pay attention to you,” Beth said. “You plan every detail, including your clothes.”

  “Force of habit.” Amy shrugged. “Mom says if I don’t relax and quit organizing my drawers and cabinets at home, I’ll never find a man.”

  “Is she on you again about marrying?”

  “When isn’t she? My baby sister, Marilyn, is marrying a rich man who owns several financial corporations. After the wedding next month, I’ll be my mother’s only unwed child. I expect the pressure to get much worse.” Amy grimaced.

  “You are so bad. You are the oldest, you know.”

  “You sound just like her. I love my mother, but she doesn’t understand being a career woman and working ungodly hours to become a partner at my firm leaves no time for a social life.”

  “What about your dad? What does he say?”

  “About the same as mom does. He’s an old-fashion conservative.”

  A man bumped Amy’s chair. He mumbled sorry and hurried out the door.

  “Who was that?” Beth asked.

  “I’ve never seen him before. Amy glanced at her watch. “I’d better get going.” She swung her handbag across her shoulder and grabbed her briefcase. Something fluttered to the floor. Amy bent down and picked it up. The Wicked shall be Punished had been printed in large letters on a torn piece of paper.

  “What does it say?”

  Amy read the words out loud. She held the paper by her fingertips. “Open my briefcase and take out one of the plastic bags I have tucked in the side. Then open it.” When Beth did as she said, Amy dropped the paper in. “Do you have time to take this by the lab?”

  “Sure. I’ll drop off the bag on my way to my office.”

  “Ask them to check for fingerprints and DNA. Tell them it has to do with a case I’m working on.”

  “Does it?” Beth asked.

  “No, but I’ll get the results quicker.”

  Beth took the bag and waved as she left. “Good luck in court.”

  She’d need luck. The note had raised the hairs on the back of her neck. I know I’m overreacting because of the article I read. I’ll stop in the bathroom and give myself a chance to calm down before entering the courtroom.

  Once the trial started, the prosecutor took forever giving his opening statement. By the time he’d finished, it was four.

  “Miss Gresham, is your opening statement longer than an hour and a half?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, sir, about two hours.”

  The judge glanced at the jury. “Would you like to stop for the day and start fresh in the morning?” All their heads nodded. “Then we’ll adjourn until tomorrow at nine-thirty.”

  They all stood as the judge left. While gathering her papers together, Mark, one of the federal prosecutors she’d worked with in the past, walked to her table.

  “You’re lucky to have them nice and fresh for you,” he said and grinned.

  “How’s the family, Mark?”

  “Good. By the way, did you see the paper?”

  “Yes. A witness from an old case of mine got shot while walking downtown.”

  “Gary’s been pacing his office. He thinks there’s a connection to that long-ago case. Do you?”

  “I’ve thought about it. But who is there to avenge his death?”

  “That’s what I said. It’s one of those freaking random killings.”

  “But just in case I’m wrong, ask Gary to contact me if he gets any calls or notes.”

  “Sure.” Mark looked puzzled. “You’re worried, too, just not as much.”

  If he could only see inside me, he’d know I’m as scared as Gary, the head prosecutor. “I don’t know how you still do the prosecuting side with such weird people out there.”

  “Someone has to bring the bad guys to justice or you and your buddies would slap them on the wrist and send them all home.” He grinned, waved, and started toward the door.

  “Tell Mary and the kids I said hello.”

  “I will.”

  The courtroom was quiet. Everyone had rushed off to go wherever. Amy sat in her seat and looked around. This is where she felt the most alive, the most challenged. Tiredness swept over her. Today, she planned to go home and rest. Her paperwork could wait. She took her belongings and headed to the double doors.

  At first she thought she’d heard a car backfire, but then realized it was a gun. There were running footsteps, and the squeaky door to the stairwell opened. Amy peeked out in time to see a man in a long, flowing black coat running through and onto the steps. She walked down the hall and turned left toward all the judge’s chambers.

  Who had he shot? The door was open to the last office on the left. Judge Hartcourts lay on the floor. She felt for his pulse as she punched in 911. His heartbeat was faint. She punched the emergency button for security. The guard, who stayed late until everyone left, didn’t respond.

  In the distance she heard the elevator door open. Amy yelled, “I’m in Judge Hartcourts’s office. He’s been shot.”

  Two guards rushed in, one was from the floor below, and the other was the chief of security. He bent beside Amy.

  “What the hell happened?�
��

  “I heard a gunshot and saw a man running down the stairs. I came to check on whoever else was here besides me and found the judge.”

  The chief got on his phone and talked to the city commissioner. “Yeah, it looks bad. The lawyer who found him already called 911. I think I hear them arriving on the elevator. I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later.”

  Two medics rushed in the room and pushed him and Amy aside.

  Several policemen followed. She told them the little bit she knew.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a good look at him. He had on a flowing, long black coat, a hat, and was running fast down the stairs.”

  “Sounds like our guy from yesterday,” one of the cops said.

  “But what’s the connection?” his partner asked.

  Amy watched as the medics worked on the judge before putting him on the gurney and rolling him to the elevator. Then she glanced at the policeman who’d spoken.

  “I think I know how the two shootings are associated.”

  The men turned, giving her their full attention. “How?” one of them asked.

  “I had a case about six years ago. I was the federal prosecutor. The man gunned down in the street was my star witness. The judge for the case was Judge Hartcourts. The man died in a prison riot last year. Someone could be angry enough to want revenge.”

  “Did he have family?” the policeman asked.

  “His wife divorced him, and there were no children.”

  “Our detectives will be here in a few minutes. They’ll want to talk with you.”

  “They’ll want to check out the surroundings. I’m going home. You have my statement and address. I don’t know anything else. If he needs to see me, he can call.” Amy strode down the hall and onto the elevator. One of the policemen ran after her.