Chopped Read online

  CHOPPED

  Alison Golden

  Gabriella Zinnas

  Contents

  FREE PREQUELS

  PRAISE FOR THE DIANA HUNTER MYSTERY SERIES

  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

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  SPECIAL OFFER

  DIANA HUNTER WILL RETURN…

  EXPOSED

  THANK YOU

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE DIANA HUNTER SERIES

  ALSO BY ALISON GOLDEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHOPPED

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  PRAISE FOR THE DIANA HUNTER MYSTERY SERIES

  “Awesome.”

  “On the edge of my seat…”

  "Page turner.”

  “I cannot tell you the last time a group of characters endeared me as quickly...”

  “Diana Hunter is a strong, intelligent, and very likeable heroine.”

  “Grabbed me from the first page, and I sat up until 4:30 in the morning reading it.”

  “The story line is quick-paced and attention-holding. This one deserves 5+ stars.”

  “This book will keep you turning the pages to find out the who, what, why, and how.”

  “Couldn't put it down!”

  “Left me wanting more.”

  “Peter and Diana have a great chemistry.”

  “I love the author's writing.”

  “A pleasure to read.”

  “Really captivating.”

  “Fast-paced, well-written, fun stories.”

  “I can't wait to read the next book in the series.”

  “I'm hooked.”

  “Kept me reading until the wee hours.”

  “Diana Hunter is becoming one of my favorite characters”

  “Super read. Cracking heroine.”

  “One of the most enjoyable books I've read in a long time”

  “A gem.”

  “Diana Hunter is knowledgeable, experienced, quick-witted, and even sexy.”

  “Can you write quicker, please?”

  CHAPTER ONE

  DIANA FORCED HER eyes open. She glanced outside. It was still dark. The bright green numbers on her alarm clock said four o’clock. AM. Why was she awake? She had had only two hours sleep.

  She concentrated for a moment. No strange noises were coming from her apartment. No one had broken in. She sighed. Whatever had awakened her, she didn’t rightly care. She turned over, burrowed deeper into her covers, and sighed. It was time to get back to sleep. A moment later, peppy, upbeat tones sprinkled their way loudly across the silence of her bedroom. Diana’s eyes snapped open. Again.

  She turned over with a grunt and glared at her cellphone. She considered her options. Throw it across the room and smash it to pieces? Or answer and explain a few facts of life to whomever was calling at this ridiculous hour?

  Choosing option two on the basis that it would be less expensive in the long run, she picked up her phone and looked at the caller ID. Hopkinson. “What?” she barked.

  “Aren’t you cheerful?” Peter’s sunny voice rang in her ear.

  “Do you know what time it is?” She was in no mood for Peter’s quips. Her soft pillows called out, tempting her to rest her head in that lovely softness and let the warm cocoon of sleep take her back to Neverland. And Peter bloody Pan here just had to ruin it.

  “Yup. Four o’clock. Were you still asleep?” he asked.

  “No, I was wide awake. Like everyone is at four in the morning. I was lying here thinking about how I’m going to torture you the next time I see you,” she replied.

  “And that’s precisely why we get on so well,” he said.

  “Why? Because I threaten to do you grievous bodily harm all the time?”

  “That, and the fact that you’re such a sweet, caring person.”

  “Peter, if you just called to irritate me, you’re doing a damn good job of it,” she growled into the phone.

  “Unfortunately, murders don’t have the decency of occurring on a nine-to-five schedule,” he said gravely, the light and teasing tone gone in a flash.

  Diana’s eyes flew open, and she was instantly alert. “You’ve got a new one?” she asked. They had been working together for seven months, but it had been more than two weeks since their last case. Diana was itching for some action. She had reached her limit with egotistical writers, annoying suppliers, and everything to do with running her magazine. The work seemed so trivial and mundane compared to working on a case with Peter. She mostly enjoyed her regular job, but right now she was frustrated and snapping at everyone. A little sleuthing action was just what she needed.

  “You know, you worry me. Every time we get a case, you’re like a kid in a candy store,” Peter said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “More, please, sir,” she replied in a high-pitch.

  “That’s what I mean. You worry me.”

  The doorbell buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat. “Please tell me you’re not standing right outside.” Larry, the night doorman, would only let one person upstairs this early in the morning. Peter.

  “Yes, I am. And I come bearing gifts.” He was too smug for his own good sometimes.

  “Well, thanks for the heads-up,” Diana snapped. She flew out of bed, grabbed a robe, and shrugged into it. She glanced over at Max, her tiny, white Maltese terrier. He was sleeping soundly. He was so used to Peter coming around at all hours of the day and night that he simply didn’t react anymore. He had a sixth sense, even in sleep. He always knew when Peter was at the door. Anyone else, he barked his head off. The pizza delivery guy was terrified of him.

  Peter hadn’t let up on her doorbell. Typical. How old was he? Eight? She hurried to the door and yanked it open, glaring at the six foot two detective who filled up her doorway. His blue eyes twinkled at her, and he flashed her an all-too-pleased grin.

  She glared at him. “Stop it,” she hissed. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” She sniffed the air and looked down. He held a cardboard tray with two coffees. “Espresso?” she asked hopefully.

  He nodded. “Of course. Am I forgiven?” he asked.

  Diana rolled her eyes. “Get inside.” She stepped back to let him in. He brushed past her, raising the tray so she could get a better sniff of the coffee. It hadn’t taken Peter long to learn that Diana didn’t do well in the mornings without coffee. She was not fun before her first cup.

  As he passed by her, Diana felt a familiar sense of unease. Peter had gotten to know her very quickly in the time they had been working together. What she allowed him to know, anyway. Ever since her parents’ murders, Diana had done her best to keep her relationships as light and as casual as possible. She knew that whomever was responsible for Lydia and Jo
hn Hunter’s deaths was keeping a close eye on her, and she had vowed not to put anyone in danger. Yet she had broken this rule with Peter. He was her friend. Her only friend.

  She hadn’t told him her backstory. He knew nothing about her parents or the room, just a few yards away, where she kept all their things. They were her secret. She felt guilty. And vulnerable. She would tell him. She owed him that much. And she’d do it soon, she promised herself, before she got so attached to him that her heart would break into a million pieces when he ran the other way.

  “So, where’s my favorite four-legged buddy?” he asked.

  “Asleep, just like I should be,” she muttered. “Give.” She tried to grab the cup of coffee he was still waving under her nose. He quickly moved it out of her reach.

  “You really are a terrible morning person,” he said. He took pity on her and handed her the cup.

  Diana took it and lifted the lid, inhaling deeply. It would be perfect, she knew. Two sugars and enough milk to give it a caramel color. She took her first sip with a moan of pleasure. “No, I’m not a morning person at all. And this isn’t morning. It’s still the middle of the night.”

  A sleepy Max crawled into the room and whined pathetically at Peter. “And look who just got up.” Peter lowered himself to his haunches and gave Max a good scratch between his ears.

  “Traitor,” Diana muttered at Max. “You’ve completely corrupted my dog.”

  “He’s smart. He knows who he can trust.” Peter grinned up at her and winked.

  Diana hid her smile. Max did trust Peter, and so did she. Up to a point. She trusted him with her life, but not with the truth of her past. Not quite yet.

  “I’m going to get dressed.” She turned away, her cup of coffee still cradled lovingly in her hands. “Do we have time for breakfast?” she threw over her shoulder.

  “Of course,” Peter called out. “We have about an hour before they’re expecting us.” He walked over to the island dominating the center of her kitchen.

  Diana froze in her tracks and walked backward until he was in her line of sight again. “You’re telling me I could have slept in at least another half an hour?”

  “Uh no, definitely not. Remember the last time I dragged you straight from bed to a crime scene without coffee and food? You made one of the uniformed officers puke, you had the rookies practically in tears, and even Doc, the most patient man I know, and Tina, who worships the ground you walk on, wanted to brain you.”

  “It’s not my fault that uniform had a weak stomach,” she huffed. “And those rookies were just standing there, gawking, instead of doing their jobs. They were completely incompetent. They couldn’t even hold back the crowd.”

  “For your information, when you explain in detail how bodies liquefy when they decay, and then proceed to provide visual corroboration by poking at the dead body, making it ooze, anyone would throw up,” he said.

  “You didn’t,” she pointed out. “And at least I asked Doc’s permission before I did it.”

  “He thought you were trying to determine something relevant to the case!” Peter threw his hands up in exasperation. “He’d no idea you wanted revenge on that poor constable simply because he found the body, and didn’t, as you put it, have the decency to wait until a more civilized time of the day to report it!”

  She smiled sheepishly. “At least I waited until the rookies left.”

  “Well, that’s alright then. Thank goodness for small mercies. Now, go get dressed,” he ordered.

  She snorted. “Why are you in such a rush? It’s not like the body’s going anywhere.” Peter narrowed his eyes and squinted at her. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Might I point out that’s precisely where I was heading until you accused me of being a tyrant?”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  Diana glowered, but a small smile appeared when she turned her back. She marched into her bedroom, and slammed the door. “Don’t even think of cooking anything,” she hollered.

  Peter bragged about his famous pancakes all the time. Like a fool, she had once given him carte blanche to put his money where his mouth was. It had been a monumental mistake. The pancakes were incredible, no doubt about it. Her kitchen, though, had been a disaster. Peter was permanently banned from cooking in her apartment. It had taken her three days to clean up!

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered. He took a seat at the island and sat back. It was hard to beat an early morning tussle with Diana.

  CHAPTER TWO

  PETER SIPPED ON his coffee as he waited. He was constantly on Diana’s case about how long she took to get ready, but the truth was she was a speed demon. He didn’t know any woman, and he’d known a few, who could get ready as fast as she did. No matter how disheveled she was when he found her, she always emerged shortly afterward looking perfectly put together.

  Hauling her out of bed at all hours of the night hadn’t gotten old, either. And he had a great excuse. She’d asked to be called in on any unusual case. As a senior detective for Vancouver Police Department, most of his cases were unusual.

  The first time he had been called out in the middle of the night, he waited until a more reasonable hour to bring her in. She hadn’t been pleased. All manner of people had traipsed through the crime scene before she’d gotten there. She had wanted to see it intact, and she made sure everyone knew it. He had learned his lesson well. Now he called her immediately, no matter the time.

  When they first met, Diana and Peter had disliked each other instantly, but as he had gotten to know her, his opinion changed. She thought she was always right, and that she could manage any situation, even if she couldn’t. But she was loyal. Intensely so. And she was willing to risk her own life to save someone else, no matter who. Even him. Especially him?

  More than once he had caught her placing herself between him and a potential threat. She was like a hawk. She noticed the minutest signs of danger and made corresponding tiny movements to deflect them. She would angle herself so she stood between him and whatever it was that had the potential to harm him. He watched her closely and saw that she did it every damn time.

  He’d called out her crazy, reckless behavior. He was ex-SpecOps with more than a hundred missions under his belt. He didn’t need her to protect him. Diana had exploded. He could shove his sexist, macho views where the sun didn’t shine. Apparently, he was imagining things. She hadn’t put herself in harm’s way to protect him. Why should she? He was a big boy and could take care of himself. Especially when he was often the one antagonizing the suspects in the first place. It had been quite an ear-bashing.

  Over time, it had become clear to him that her instinct to protect was subconscious. She had no idea she was doing it. He warmed to her for it, but it also infuriated him. This stupid habit of hers would get her killed one day.

  In a short space of time, they had become friends. They still fought like cat and dog, and most of the other cops in the division knew to hide when they started in on each other. It was a lot safer not to get caught in their crossfire. Even Donaldson made himself scarce when they were having one of their arguments. The superintendent had told them they were his best team, but they were as volatile as a nuclear bomb. He loved their results, but he didn’t want to get caught in the blast area.

  “Diana?” he called.

  “Coming,” she answered. A few moments later, she appeared, looking more like her usual self. “What is it?”

  “How do you eat?” he asked. That sounded a little moronic. Her raised eyebrows and skeptical look confirmed it.

  “I put food in my mouth, I chew, then I swallow. You know, like most living creatures.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a strawberry. “Like this.” She slowly took a bite out of the red, juicy fruit, gazing at him as she chewed.

  Peter cleared his throat. “You know I don’t mean that,” he said. “You spend so much time working for VPD, and I know how little they pay you, so how can you afford to eat?”

  She shifted her attention
back to the contents of her fridge. When she hesitated, he spoke up. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to pry. I know it’s none of my business.”

  She shrugged. “You just caught me off guard. I never worked at the magazine for the paycheck. It was just a nice change of pace from CSIS.” Diana had worked for the Canadian Security Intelligence Service after which she became the editor for Crime & Punishment magazine. CSIS conducted covert and overt operations concerning threats to national security both within Canada and abroad. Sometimes these involved local, but serious threats such as drug or people trafficking. Other times, they got involved in counterterrorism. Diana had been a field agent. A good one.

  Her sojourn from fighting crime hadn’t lasted long. It had taken less than a year for her frustration with her much-too-calm life at the magazine to build up to a boiling point. She had solved the problem by joining VPD as a consultant. Working on cases with Peter now took up the bulk of her time.

  “When I left CSIS, I received a bunch of back pay in a lump sum. I wanted to get the most out of it. So, I did my research, and I learned everything I could about the stock market and currency trading. I took some of the money and put it into long-term investments, while the rest of it I traded on the currency market, multiplying it exponentially.”

  This was mostly true. The investing part of it, at least. The lump sum from CSIS had been small however, the bulk of the money had come from her parents’ estate.

  “So, you’re a woman of independent means? Rich? he said.

  “I wouldn’t say rich, exactly. Let’s just say that if I never receive another paycheck again, I can still afford to live comfortably and take a nice vacation a few times a year,” she said with a small smile.

  “You’ll have to teach me,” he declared. “I’d enjoy having that kind of freedom, able to do whatever I wanted without money being an issue.”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s no big deal. You’re already good at spotting patterns, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t do well.”