Murder by Alpha by Mary Ann Moody - HTML preview

Zach

“What does it say?” Elena asked Zach. She covered her delicate blue eyes with her petite tanned hands. Small bits of white blonde hair sprung loose from her ponytail while she kept her head low. Large red blotches covered her peaches and cream complexion as they waited for the results.

“It hasn’t been ninety seconds.” he replied. They watched anxiously for the result to pop up in the little window. He clutched his hands in anticipation of a positive answer. For one second, he checked his reflection in the mirror and thought he looked pretty hot. The black boxer-briefs hugged his hips and complimented his black skin tone. The light in the bathroom was pretty good and struck his side facial profile perfectly. Even his hair was on point. Fuzzy with the perfect combination of fluff. He resisted the urge to pull out his cellphone and snap a selfie to capture his own beauty.

Zachary Stewart and his wife, Elena, have tried for two years to make a baby. He had a secure job as a column writer for the New York Journal and Elena was a successful dance instructor. They owned their own home with plenty of money in their savings account. Born in Russia, Elena Soboleva moved to United America when she was fourteen-years-old. The young Elena felt proud when she auditioned for a reputable dance school in New York City and won a prestigious spot. When she was twenty-years-old, Zach saw her dancing the lead role on Broadway and was immediately smitten by the beautiful blonde dancer. She was an only child and her parents moved to America in support of her career. Currently, Masha and Alexzander Soboleva lived a few miles away from the couple. The newlyweds wanted a baby right after they were married, but a successful career as a dancer kept them from taking that step. Ten years later, she owned a dance school and they could finally get pregnant without it affecting her career. At thirty-one years old, Elena was ready for a perfect life out of the dancing spotlight. The time seemed right to move her career into the next phase with a dance studio. People came from all parts of the world to take class at her studio. The only thing that stopped her from the perfect life was a baby.

“Well?” she asked with a thick Russian accent. Her voice was light, like a soft breeze. No matter how much English she learned, Elena always spoke with a thick accent. Goddess, how Zach adored that cute little accent.

“It’s negative.” he whispered.

“Negative?” she screeched and turned around to look at the test with her own eyes. Her pretty face frowned when she saw the lone pink line. “No baby?”

“No baby. Not yet. But I promise we will, one day.”

“We keep trying?”

“Yeah. We keep trying.”

“Well, I must go. I have class.” she turned and left the bathroom. The sadness on her face reflected off the mirror when she turned away.

“I’ll make dinner, we’ll binge watch Real Househusbands of Green County, and work on making a baby for hours.”

She turned from the closet to smile at him. A black leotard hung from the door of the cramped closet, ready for her to wear to dance class. Rather than get dressed, she seductively took off her denim shorts. She took a graceful step towards Zach while simultaneously removing her shirt. The room melted away as she spun around in her bra and panties. The dying summer sunlight spilled through the window blinds, touching her skin as she leaned backwards in a dancer’s pose. Her body curved softly as she twirled around the room. Her dancing was exquisite, like watching a musical crescendo in motion. Yet, Elena was more than a beautiful woman and dancer. She was kind, patient, and didn’t like confrontation. Her heart was made of love and she treated everyone the way she wanted to be treated. Her parents were in their fifties and more in love than the day they were married. His life was simple and honest, the way it should be with the one you love.

She made eye contact with him and pursed her lips while she shook her body. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her deeply. He playfully tossed her on the bed. She giggled when he tried to remove his clothes with a dancers’ grace but caught his foot on the bed post and fell face first into the carpet.

“Baby!” she exclaimed with fear.

“I’m alright.” he popped his head up and smiled at her.

She covered her mouth to suppress a chuckle, but he pushed her hand away to kiss her plump lips. They looked into each other’s eyes after the kiss. In their eyes, their souls connected. They spent the next hour making love in the bedroom. Elena was late to class, but it didn’t matter. Hopefully, they made a baby. He felt complete as he watched her leave their perfect two story home in the New York suburbs. Her white blonde Russian hair trailed behind as she ran to the car. She looked incredibly sexy in white knee socks. The late summer breeze was stale and hot that day. She stopped to open her car door, blowing a kiss to him before she got in. Her hair blew in front of her face as she waved to him.

“I love you!”

“Love you!” she shouted and disappeared into the car.

She started the motor in her yellow little Volkswagen and backed out of the driveway. Zach stood in front of their house, waving until she disappeared down the street. When he went inside, he started making dinner in the kitchen. He noticed his cell phone blinking as he chopped tomatoes and onion for homemade salsa. He picked it up to see a message from his boss.

I got a story I want you to check out. Call me ASAP.–Gloria.

He groaned with animosity at the thought of talking to Gloria Linker, his editor. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. She was a demanding woman with a heart of stone. Thank goodness Elena was used to her demanding. The longer he stared at his cell phone, the angrier he became. He was employed as a writer for the New York Journal, a highly respectable newspaper, for five years but Gloria never allowed him to expand past the financial column. His legal last name was Soboleva, but no one knew him by that name. He used his maiden name, Stewart, as a pseudonym when he published articles. He had a small following of loyal readers and recently, Gloria allowed him to have an assistant. Jackson Stillman was fresh out of college and newly hired to be his assistant. The perks to his career kept him content, but Zach yearned to write something groundbreaking. Something that would catapult his career into the spotlight.

“It’s Zach.” he said when Gloria picked up the phone.

“What the hell took you so long to call me back?” she demanded. In Zach’s mind, he pictured his sixty-six-year-old editor pacing her pristine office while throwing demands at her reporters. Her long grey hair draped over her eyes while smoking a cigarette. “I got a tip on a story and I don’t have a reporter to cover it.”

He took a moment to appreciate Gloria calling him a reporter, which was the nicest complement she had ever given him. “You found the right man.”

“I’m sending you the email that was sent to me. I want you to get on this one, Zach. Right now.” she practically barked.

He visually skimmed over the email sent to him. “Since when do ask me to cover stories in Texas?”

“It’s not just a story in Texas. I got a guy accusing a bunch of small town cops of rape and covering the whole thing up.”

“What?” his interest peaked.

“Oh, yeah. The beautiful part is the guy has proof. Solid proof. The cop who raped him got pregnant with his kid. The victim had a DNA test done on the kid and it’s his.”

“No shit,” he muttered. “This is definitely up my alley.”

“You know the drill. Go to Texas. Talk to the guy, talk to the cops, find out everything, and report back to me. And take Jack with you on this one.”

“And if there’s no story?”

Gloria laughed over the phone. “Oh, there’s a story here. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m on it. Where did the guy say the rape happened?”

“A small town called Louise.”

--END OF SAMPLE—

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