Chapter One

The annoying buzz of the digital alarm clock sounded at precisely 7AM, just as it did every morning. Without even so much as cracking his eyes open, Drake Mathias was blindly reaching an arm out to smack the snooze button. There was nothing worse than that relentless buzzing waking him up from his slumber, and more often than not, he wanted to grab and hurl the clock across the room and watch it smash into the wall. He never got the chance, because just as he was mashing the snooze button, a warm body was curling up against his side under his arm, manicured nails lightly dragging through the thin carpet of hair that covered his chest.

The gentle stroke of her fingernails to his chest served to draw him further out of his drowsy state and finally, his eyes were opening to slits. With the slight cant of his head, a hazel gaze peered down at his wife with a lazy smile. "Morning," he rasped out, his tone deeply laced with sleep as his hand came up to smooth his palm over her bare shoulder.

"Good morning," Devlin purred in a thick French accent, her cheek resting against his chest as her face angled up to look at him. A small smile graced her lips as she eased in closer to him to brush her lips tenderly across his scruffy jawline. "Do you know what today is?"

The pads of his fingers lightly grazed over her shoulder as he quietly studied her, her question causing a smile of his own to tug up the corners of his lips. With long, chestnut hair that was incredibly soft to the touch and deep blue eyes that any man could get lost in, his wife looked just as radiant as she had the first day he had met her. Ten years they had been together, with seven years of marriage. While he wouldn't consider himself a mawkish person, he loved and adored Devlin, more than he had any other woman he had encountered throughout his life.

The day she spoke of was their anniversary, one of the few days of the year that he could actually remember without having to be reminded. "Ah, yes," he responded, his British accent surfacing as he shifted under the sheets to urge her onto her back. With a sheepish grin on his face, his mouth was closing over hers in a slow kiss. "Unfortunately, I have to work."

Her slender arms looping around his neck, her nails gently scratched at his scalp as she teased his lips with her own. She knew that he had to go to work and she also knew that no amount of pleading with him would get him to stay, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try. He was very career driven, but never worked so much that she felt neglected. She took pride in the fact that she had a good man; one that would work, or rather one that needed to work. He would easily get stir crazy if he was off work for too long, she had witnessed that first hand several times during their relationship.

"Take the day off," she suggested, her palms running down across his broad shoulders as she pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth. Her purpose was to distract him, but she already knew she would fail. Just as he had to work, he had to be on time or early. Tardy was not in his dictionary.

"I can't, love." He knew what she was up to. She had made these attempts more times than he could count over the years. "I will be home this afternoon and we'll go out to celebrate."

Slowly pulling away from her, he slipped out from under the sheets to get out of bed. The soft hum of the television mounted on the wall caught his attention, an eyebrow perking upward as one of the news channels was broadcasting what looked to be a grisly crime scene. A blond reporter was speaking but the volume on the television was so low that he couldn't quite grasp what she was saying.

"Turn it up?" he asked as he moved into the closet to get his police uniform, or what he called a police uniform. He never fancied the idea of actually wearing a uniform. With his stocky frame, he preferred a more casual and comfortable dress.

Devlin retrieved the remote and did as he requested before she climbed out of the bed to disappear into the bathroom. The shower sounded after a few moments and as he returned to the bedroom with his uniform, he could hear her humming a melody. As much as he would have loved to join her in the shower, the blond reporter speaking about a murder the night before had his attention. His eyes were fixated on the television while he dressed and took in the details of a young woman's murder.

Random murders were not uncommon in Miami, Florida, or in the world, yet over the last couple of months, the reports of murders and crimes were escalating at an alarming rate. No one was certain as to what exactly was happening. Some claimed it was the end of the world, while others chose to ignore the constant violence that surrounded them. Drake wasn't sure what to think, but it worried him. Many people no longer felt safe walking the streets, or even in their own home.

Gathering a pair of socks and his shoes, Drake came to sit on the edge of the bed, slipping on his socks and pulling on his shoes. He could only wonder why no one had called him. Even though he wasn't on duty the night before, he would have gladly lent his colleagues a hand. He took his job seriously and perhaps sometimes he took it too seriously.

Pushing up to his feet when a commercial came on, he strode over towards the nightstand to turn the alarm off before it started buzzing again.

Devlin appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, her slender frame wrapped up in a cotton towel. She was even more striking with droplets of water sliding down fluidly over her skin to disappear beneath the towel. Another attempt to distract him.

"Anything interesting?" she questioned curiously as she moved out of the bathroom and scooped up the pack of menthol cigarettes off the nightstand. With a quick flick of her lighter, the cigarette ignited with a slow draw, the slivery-gray smoke wafting through the air as she exhaled.

"Another murder," he simply replied, as if that wouldn't be much of a surprise. It wasn't. His wife seemed less than interested. She was one of those that preferred to ignore what was going on around her. He always encouraged her to be more aware of the events that take place in the world but it was like talking to a brick wall each and every time he tried. Not that he could blame her. As some would say, ignorance is bliss.

Her lips pursed together before she rested her cigarette in the ashtray and unfastened her towel. It dropped to the floor, leaving her completely bare in front of him. With a sly smile on her face, she climbed back on the bed to stretch out, her fingers running through her damp hair.

"Are you sure you don't want to take the day off?" she asked in her most seductive tone, blue eyes traveling over him suggestively. "You'd have a lot more fun playing with me."

Drake couldn't resist a smirk, but instead of taking her bait, he was reaching into the nightstand to pull out his nine millimeter pistol.

"Tempting…" he spoke in a low, husky tone as his gaze swept over her, admiring the beauty that was his wife. She was tempting but he couldn't be late for work and with the elevated crime rate, he was focused on figuring out what was causing the rise of violence.

Leaning over the bed, his mouth touched hers in a brief kiss. "I have to go," he whispered against her lips before drawing away from her. "I love you. I will see you when I get home. Happy Anniversary."

She released a heavy sigh in defeat as she realized that once again, she lost out to his work. "I love you too," she replied, reaching for her cigarette to bring it to his lips. With a slow inhale of the toxic smoke, she watched her husband step out of the bedroom and moments later heard the front door open and close with his departure.