Wicked Exposure By Katana Collins

Wicked Exposure
Wicked Exposure # 1

By: Katana Collins

Releasing April 28th, 2015

Aphrodisia, an imprint from Kensington

Nothing left to hide…

A forensic photographer with the NYPD, Jessica is devastated to receive word of her sister’s death in a robbery gone awry. But when she arrives home in Portland and the local PD asks her to take pictures, she finds more than she bargained for. With each new photo she exposes more of her sister’s secret erotic life. And when she shares her discoveries with Sam, the super sexy local detective, she experiences passion she never knew possible. But Jessica soon learns she’s merely a pawn in a deadly game of betrayal and revenge and begins to wonder if her next picture could be her last…

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Katana Collins splits her time evenly between photographing boudoir portraits and writing steam-your-glasses romances. In addition to navigating life as a small business owner, a first-time homeowner, and a newlywed, she is the author of the Soul Stripper trilogy and the graphic novel Cafe Racer, co-written with her husband Sean Murphy. She and her comic book artist husband commute back and forth as they please between Brooklyn and Portland, Maine, with their ever-growing family of rescue animals. She can usually be found hunched over her laptop in a cafe, guzzling gallons of coffee, and wearing fabulous (albeit sometimes impractical) shoes. Visit her on the web at katanacollins.com

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I pressed the binoculars to my eyes, watching from the other end of the street as she moved gracefully up the front steps despite the bulky luggage dragging behind her. Her sunglasses, shifted to the top of her head, pulled her silky brown hair back from her forehead, acting as a headband. She craned her neck back and looked up at the house.

Cassandra’s house. The house that I needed more than anything. Using the binoculars, I scanned Jessica’s body. A camera bag was strapped over one shoulder and bounced off the small of her back as she cocked a hip, examining the stoop. A wry grin crossed my lips and the weight of my own Nikon pressed into my lap. I lifted it, dropping the binoculars down, and with several swift clicks, I captured the moment in time. A moment that was seemingly uneventful. A moment that within Jessica Walters’s life probably wasn’t even a blip on her radar.

But that’s the thing with photography. It takes nothing moments and immortalizes them, suddenly creating more than there ever was before. When—and if—Jessica ever sees this photograph, she’ll be thrust back into the smells, the thoughts, the emotions of today . . . right now. Even though in the moment, it meant nothing to her.

If Jessica was a good girl—if she did exactly as she should— these photos would never need to see the light of day. She’d never need to know just how close I’ve been all this time. Just how close she is to falling into the same fate as her sister. But in case she decides to be a hero, I’d be here . . . watching. And waiting. Because if there’s one thing I had to guess that the Walters sisters had in common, it was martyrdom.

A shudder rolled through my body. The weight of my gun pressed into the clip at my ankle, its warm steel an easy reminder of how simple it would be to end this right here and now. Kill Jessica and the house would go into an estate auction, easily swept up by me. A thrill rushed through my body; an excitement at the memory of pulling the trigger. The feeling of a gun pulsing in your hands as a bullet careens toward your victim. There was no feeling quite like taking a life. But no. I had to remain under the radar until Cass’s death had blown over.

Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck and rolled down my spine, getting caught in a musky puddle between my shoulder blades. I cracked the driver’s-side window, and orange light sprang through the split, illuminating the otherwise dark, tinted sedan.

I sucked in a breath of the crisp afternoon air. This had to be a clean kill. Shooting in cold blood right now defeated the purpose of how carefully we had murdered Cass. Last minute? Yes. But calculated and tidy. The way I liked things in life. Organized. Clean. We had the plan in place for that night and were ready to kill, if needed. And oh, how it was needed.

But still, a small part of me trembled, excitement pulsing in my veins. Would Jessica run? Fight back like Cass? Or would she beg for her life, falling to her knees in tears? I closed my eyes imagining Jessica submitting to me—to death—while I stood above her. Powerful. What would her screams sound like? A breeze rushed through the open window and across my dampened brow. The screams were the best part.

My heart hammered as I jerked the camera back to my face and zoomed in as closely as I could to her neck.

Click.

Strong, lean shoulders tensed from beneath her shirt and I nibbled the inside of my cheek as she pulled out a set of keys, opening the door.

I shouldn’t want to kill her as much as I did. But death was the ultimate form of control.

Murder, mystery, deception, lies, hidden truths in plain sight, and old loves coming back to haunt you. Forensic photographer and sister of the deceased, Jessica must take an unexpected journey into the darker side of sex to find out what happened to her sister.

Twists and turns abound as slowly evidence surfaces. It’s completely unclear who she can trust. Alone in her sister’s home, Jessica keeps finding confusing and contradicting information about the sister that she thought she knew. With the added mind muddling feelings she has toward the police Detective ( and her childhood love)

Sam McCloskey, deductive reasoning and inference may uncover the truth or will seduction be the key?

It’s a great read and for those of you that have read the prequel, Wicked Shots, it certainly answers a lot of questions. It’s smart, a bit funny, and definitely sexy with loads of intrigue.

4 STARS 

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