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Deadly Intent

Sonoma series, book #1

(Steeple Hill Love Inspired Suspense, July 2009)


The Grant family's exclusive Sonoma spa is a place for rest and relaxation--not murder! Then Naomi Grant finds her client Jessica Ortiz bleeding to death in her massage room, and everything falls apart. The salon's reputation is at stake...and so is Naomi's freedom when she discovers that she is one of the main suspects! Her only solace is found with the other suspect--Dr. Devon Knightley, the victim's ex-husband. But Devon is hiding secrets of his own. When they come to light, where can Naomi turn...and whom can she trust?

Excerpt from Chapter One

Chapter One




But only for a moment. Sure, they'd talked amiably-- actually, more than amiably--at the last Zoe International fund-raising dinner, but after an entire evening sitting next to her, he hadn't asked for her phone number, hadn't asked for any contact information at all. Wasn't that a clear sign he wasn't interested?



He still held her hand. She loved the feel of his palm-- cool and warm at the same time, strong the way a surgeon's should be.


"I need to speak to Jessica Ortiz."

An involuntary spasm seized her throat. Of course. Glamorous client Jessica Ortiz or plain massage therapist Naomi Grant--no comparison, really.

But something in his tone didn't quite have the velvety sheen of a lover. He sounded almost... dangerous. And danger didn't belong in the spa. Their first priority was to protect the privacy of the guests.

"Er... Ms. Ortiz?" Naomi glanced at Sarah, one of the receptionists, whose brow wrinkled as she studied her computer monitor behind the receptionists' desk. Naomi knew she was stalling--she didn't need to look because she'd checked Ms. Ortiz into the elite Tamarind Lounge almost two hours before.


Naomi cleared her throat. "Are you her physician?"

Dr. Knightley frowned down at her, but she kept her air of calm friendliness. He grimaced and looked away. "Er... no."





His switching tactics--from threatening to charming-- annoyed her more than his argumentative attitude. She crossed her arms. "I'm afraid not." She had to glance away to harden herself against the power of that smile.



"You don't understand how important this is--"















Only one of almost a hundred staff workers at the spa.










Back out in the central fountain area, the harsh smell seemed stronger, but she couldn't pinpoint where it came from. Had a sewage pipe burst? No, it wasn't that sort of smell. It didn't smell rotten, just... had an edge to it.



She flipped open the basketweave lid.

And screamed.


Chapter Two


"Where--?" He kept up with her, but not easily--for a woman in her fifties, she could book it.





"Blood?" Becca reached for her as Devon pushed past her into the room she'd just exited.

Despite the urgency, he couldn't help but be awed by the fountain in the center of a vast chamber with a veined-tile floor. Scrollwork signs on the walls pointed to "sauna" and "whirlpool" and "locker room." Luckily, no women appeared. He veered right.

He almost wasn't sure he'd actually arrived in the right place, but the carpeted room lined with teakwood locking cabinets was in line with the luxurious entry hall of what he realized was the women's bathroom.


This was not good.

He returned to the two women. Naomi's hands were visibly shaking, although her voice remained low and calm. "And I couldn't find Ms. Ortiz."

Jessica's name still caused the reflexive crunching of his jaw. But he'd never wanted any harm to come to her--she wasn't a bad person, they had just clashed too much on personal matters. And now she was missing, and there was an immense amount of blood in the bathroom. Devon's heart beat in a light staccato against his throat. She had to be okay.

"Where else have you looked?" He scanned the other corridors leading from the fountain entryway. He'd need guidance or he'd get lost in this labyrinth.

"I haven't checked the therapy rooms yet." Naomi nodded toward the larger central corridor, which ended at another set of double doors.

He headed toward them when Becca reached out to grab his arm in a bony but strong grip. "You can't just barge into private sessions."

"Why not?" He turned to face the two women. "There's blood in your bathroom and Jessica Ortiz is missing."

Naomi's light brown eyes skewered him. "Do you really think it's wise to cause a panic?"

"And I suppose you have another option?"

"Sessions don't last more than an hour or ninety minutes. We'll wait for those to finish--if Jessica's just in one of those, there's nothing to worry about. In the meantime, we'll check all the empty session rooms," Naomi said.

Becca turned to leave and said over her shoulder, "I'll check on the schedule at the receptionists' desk to find out which rooms have clients and when the sessions end. I'll call you on your cell."


It reminded Devon of the papery silks he'd seen in Thailand, giving the spa a soothing and very Asian atmosphere. His heartbeat slowed. Jessica was probably fine and had accidentally taken someone else's session in her artless, friendly way. She'd emerge from a facial or a manicure in a few minutes and wonder what all the fuss was about.

A group of three therapists turned a corner. They spied Naomi and immediately stopped chatting amongst themselves, although not fearfully--more out of respect that the boss was suddenly in front of them.

"Girls, have you seen Ms. Ortiz?" Naomi's smile seemed perfectly natural and warm--inviting a rapport with her staff, yet not too cozy. If Devon hadn't noticed her fingers plucking at the linen fabric of her pants, he wouldn't have known how anxious she was.

Two of them shook their heads, but the tall blond woman to his left nodded and pointed directly across the corridor. "I saw her talking to Ms. Fischer about an hour ago before Ms. Fischer went in for her manicure."

His heartbeat picked up. "An hour ago?"

The blonde eyed him with a hard look, but a quick glance at Naomi seemed to allay her suspicions. He had the impression that if her boss hadn't been by his side, he'd have been thrown out, even if it took all three women to do it.

Naomi was shaking her head. "Ms. Cormorand saw her leave the Tamarind lounge only thirty minutes ago."

His hopes popped and fizzled.

The blonde jerked her head at the nearby door. "Ms. Fischer is almost done in room thirty-five if you want to talk to her anyway."

"That's a good idea. Thanks, Betsy."


Copyright © 2009 by Camy Tang
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.