Kiss of the Cobra, the eighth in the Detective John Bowers series, reunites Bowers and his partner Detective Minola Raye on a desperate pursuit. This time the Portland Homicide Team tries to fit the puzzle pieces together after gruesome murders of young, single women with no plausible connection. The City is on DefCon 1 until women with the murderer’s victim profile are safe. Stranger to stranger killings are the toughest to solve, and the Detectives must use a Task Force to hunt down their suspect and stop him before he kills again.
It’s all hands-on deck, twenty-four-seven shifts working a frustrating case with more dead ends than signposts when John Bowers and his wife Georgie face a crisis of trust with the paternity of Minnie’s twins questioned. Is love ever enough to right the boat in stormy seas?
KISS OF THE COBRA
He had a thing for cars. Coupes got him hotter than sedans or hatchbacks. Especially red ones with sexy wheels. It started way back when he collected Hot Wheels. Then he had slot cars he ran in the basement. He ogled cars the way other guys tracked pussy. That’s why he was working at the car wash, rubbing, polishing getting it on with cars all fucking day. The perfect job for both a dude who was in love with cars and one who liked to track hotties.
When he looked up, he saw a candy-apple red Honda Prelude poking its nose between the brushes. The driver was bending over the dash, slipping in a CD. When the Honda jerked out to his finish station, he rubbed the windshield streak-free and saw her face. She looked up and smiled at him. Nice teeth, and her lips were like his Granny’s sofa cushions. Then he saw her hair in the sunlight as the car moved forward. It was the color of polished brass. Long and silky so when she put her head down, it fell over her cheek like a golden waterfall. He was especially attracted to long hair—blonde or honey brown, no dark roots, no frizz jobs. This girl was nearly perfect. He smiled back at her. His lucky day.
While he dried the spots off the side mirrors, he looked up to get a better view of her torso. He especially admired tits like his sister’s. Not so big they flopped and seemed to crease the chest wall like they’d been split down the middle. No. Not like that. He wanted the cushy kind, firm, round with small nipples. Like his sister Nadine. Hers were almost perfect. Until she hooked up with that mental dude Rayall and got knocked up. The kid ruined her boobs for good. Now they hung like hams in a butcher shop. Real turn offs.
She saw him staring and smiled quickly. He turned away. She shouldn’t study him like that, like he was a monkey in his cage at the zoo. He was a person. A very important person who was going to play a very important part in her life. Let her wait. Yeah, he resolved as he flipped his wipe rag in the bin and waved her on. It wouldn’t be long before she knew he was.