The Survivors Club by J. Carson Black Page A

the girl’s fear as he choked her—a girl who knew what it was like to require air and fight for it.
    That was when it occurred to her that someone had to mark the scoreboard for the good guys.
    So every time Tess solved a case, every time a bad guy was put away, she picked out a souvenir that had some meaning to the case. To remember them. To remember the victims. Not as victims, but for the people they were.
    Tess’s souvenirs were distributed across three shelves, and placed before each of them was a card, neatly labeled. Right now there were six victims and six symbols of what had meaning for them: a baby’s rattle; a rodeo buckle; a bottle of Juicy Couture perfume; a bottle of CK One cologne; a Genesis CD; and a healing crystal from the Desert Oasis Healing Center.
    Her gaze lingered on the healing crystal. She thought of all the bad things that had been generated by the Desert Oasis Healing Center.
    And the one good thing that came out of it.
    Max Conroy.

CHAPTER 9
    When Brayden got to Le Bar this evening, he was there, waiting for her.
    Going out with her friends was supposed to be fun.
    He was strange. Good-looking—really good-looking—but he was way too familiar. The way some guys are, you know the type. But this was different.
    He scared her. And Brayden did not scare easily.
    Her instincts were good, and alarm bells were going off.
    He was a handsome guy, really, but his grin was crooked with just a hint of his teeth, little teeth. Just thinking about it sent shivers up her spine.
    And he leaned too close.
    Two days ago, they’d perched on stools by the long bar near the dance floor, a place that funneled the cute guys through. The place was just a zoo, tons of people. Brayden was with her two friends from college and work, Melinda and Daffy (they called Daphne Daffy because she kind of was.) Brayden had been divorced for five months, and it was nice to get back out again in public. Nice to flirt a little.
    Frankly, it would be nice to sleep with someone again, without having to share the rest of her life with them. After Justin she could go without marriage for the rest of her life.
    But this guy, Steve, bothered her. It was almost as if he’d targeted her. She knew that Melinda and Daffy were hotter than she was. And better at flirting, too, because they hadn’t been out of commission for seven years. So why didn’t he go after Daffy, who was slim and stunning and had boobs to die for?
    (They were fake.)
    When he’d first stared at her across the bar, she couldn’t believe it. He was absolutely gorgeous. Only when he came over to talk to her did she feel uneasy.
    Really, like he was targeting her. Like a predator who wanted to eat her.
    That creepy smile of his.
    But it wasn’t just that.
    He gave her the impression he’d studied up on her. He had a familiarity with her family—at least that was how it sounded. He didn’t come right out and talk about her little girl, or her ex, or her family, or what she did. But she got the idea from context that he knew stuff.
    When he went off to the bathroom, she decided to grab her purse, pay her part of the tab, and get out.
    The next day, he’d called her.
    Mel had given him her number.
    Brayden made some excuse, managed to get off the phone.
    When Mel and Daffy wanted to get together tonight, she’d thought about saying no. But they were going someplace else, way on the other side of town, and while Tucson wasn’t a big city, it had plenty of bars.
    When she got there, he was sitting with them.
    She was about to turn around and walk out when Mel saw her and waved.
    His back was to her—he hadn’t seen her. Brayden ignored Mel’s waving and slipped into the crowd—so many people at the bar tonight—and worked her way through and out the door. Out into the cool night, the moon riding high in the sky.
    Walked briskly to her car.
    “Hey, Brayden!”
    She kept walking. Only fifty yards or so and she would be there.
    She heard his footsteps