Read Online Death eBook 9.8.16 by Lila Rose, Justine Littleton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lila Rose, Justine Littleton
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leave.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” I didn’t mean to sound pathetic, but the thought of being alone with the picture of the creepy-girl-with-the-melting-face dream still in my head made being in a new place unappealing. It was weird how Dean’s touch had made the nightmare all but erase from my mind. He was a great distraction.
He took a step closer and placed his hand on my cheek. My stomach twisted and turned in delight, before he said, “My jewel, you are safe here, and I promise to keep it that way. I will be in my home office most of the morning or just down the outside hall in the meeting room with my brothers. My office is beside my bedroom, over there.” He pointed across the way.
“The meeting room is the last door down the hall, the one at the end? It has the same crest branded into it as the floor in the lobby, right?” I asked. It was the only door I’d seen that looked different from the others.
He gave me a strange look that seemed to be a cross between surprise and pride. “Noticed that, did you? Yes.” He nodded. “And the brand is our family crest. I will tell you about it some other time. For now, settle in and rest. Do you have things you can do for a while?”
Nodding, I said, “Yes, I have work to catch up on.”
“Okay.” He winked. “I will see you at supper.” He gently grazed his thumb across my cheek, sending another flutter to my stomach and lower, before he slowly leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then, with one last sexy smile, Dean left me to unpack.
Even though a part of me wanted to reach out to ease the sense of loss filling my chest, I didn’t. What I was feeling for a man I hardly knew put me on edge, and I hoped distance would help sort me out.
It wasn’t until after I changed, threw away my unsalvageable panties, and finished unpacking my belongings that I realized the feeling of longing for a stranger wouldn’t leave me. With a stomp of my foot, because I hated things unexplained, I occupied myself by digging out the spare cell phone I’d thrown in my laptop bag on the way out. I explained to the cell company the case number the detectives gave me and had them transfer my old number; it was a pain in the rear, but something I had to do. Too many contacts already knew my old number. As soon as it was activated, it was like an AK-47 on helium doing a mariachi dance went off. I knew, without a doubt, all fifty-seven of those pings were from Fallon losing her shiz about the crash.
Sighing deeply, I decided to delete all but her most recent threat. That one was the last of her thirty-two text messages. It read:
I swear on all that is holy, from Mother Mary’s Golden Titties to Father Joseph’s Brassed Blue Balls, if you don’t answer me by the time I wake up for my shift at the bar tonight, I am calling and making appointments with a voodoo priestess, the local satanic sect, and the fucking Pope!! I hear he knows a thing or two about resurrections.
Please.
Just let me know you’re okay.
Or I am calling your mother as well!
I really didn’t foresee the Pope answering Fallon’s call, not with a mouth like that, but the last thing I needed was my mother alerted to an opportunity to use the accident for her own gain. My mother’s twisted version of my childhood, sold to the highest bidder… no, thank you.
Checking the clock while hoping that luck was on my side for once, and her phone was still on silent from her shift the night before, I hit Call.
Looked like whoever was doling the karma that day decided to take pity on me and sent the call directly to voice mail. Booyah!
“I see stalking is hard on the battery and you forgot to put it on the charger again. You call my mother and I will post that video of you drunk as a skunk on karaoke night singing‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’so off-key they turned the mic off after the first chorus, but you kept going to the brutal end.” After my very real threat, I told her everything, as in everything
“You’re not leaving, are you?” I didn’t mean to sound pathetic, but the thought of being alone with the picture of the creepy-girl-with-the-melting-face dream still in my head made being in a new place unappealing. It was weird how Dean’s touch had made the nightmare all but erase from my mind. He was a great distraction.
He took a step closer and placed his hand on my cheek. My stomach twisted and turned in delight, before he said, “My jewel, you are safe here, and I promise to keep it that way. I will be in my home office most of the morning or just down the outside hall in the meeting room with my brothers. My office is beside my bedroom, over there.” He pointed across the way.
“The meeting room is the last door down the hall, the one at the end? It has the same crest branded into it as the floor in the lobby, right?” I asked. It was the only door I’d seen that looked different from the others.
He gave me a strange look that seemed to be a cross between surprise and pride. “Noticed that, did you? Yes.” He nodded. “And the brand is our family crest. I will tell you about it some other time. For now, settle in and rest. Do you have things you can do for a while?”
Nodding, I said, “Yes, I have work to catch up on.”
“Okay.” He winked. “I will see you at supper.” He gently grazed his thumb across my cheek, sending another flutter to my stomach and lower, before he slowly leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then, with one last sexy smile, Dean left me to unpack.
Even though a part of me wanted to reach out to ease the sense of loss filling my chest, I didn’t. What I was feeling for a man I hardly knew put me on edge, and I hoped distance would help sort me out.
It wasn’t until after I changed, threw away my unsalvageable panties, and finished unpacking my belongings that I realized the feeling of longing for a stranger wouldn’t leave me. With a stomp of my foot, because I hated things unexplained, I occupied myself by digging out the spare cell phone I’d thrown in my laptop bag on the way out. I explained to the cell company the case number the detectives gave me and had them transfer my old number; it was a pain in the rear, but something I had to do. Too many contacts already knew my old number. As soon as it was activated, it was like an AK-47 on helium doing a mariachi dance went off. I knew, without a doubt, all fifty-seven of those pings were from Fallon losing her shiz about the crash.
Sighing deeply, I decided to delete all but her most recent threat. That one was the last of her thirty-two text messages. It read:
I swear on all that is holy, from Mother Mary’s Golden Titties to Father Joseph’s Brassed Blue Balls, if you don’t answer me by the time I wake up for my shift at the bar tonight, I am calling and making appointments with a voodoo priestess, the local satanic sect, and the fucking Pope!! I hear he knows a thing or two about resurrections.
Please.
Just let me know you’re okay.
Or I am calling your mother as well!
I really didn’t foresee the Pope answering Fallon’s call, not with a mouth like that, but the last thing I needed was my mother alerted to an opportunity to use the accident for her own gain. My mother’s twisted version of my childhood, sold to the highest bidder… no, thank you.
Checking the clock while hoping that luck was on my side for once, and her phone was still on silent from her shift the night before, I hit Call.
Looked like whoever was doling the karma that day decided to take pity on me and sent the call directly to voice mail. Booyah!
“I see stalking is hard on the battery and you forgot to put it on the charger again. You call my mother and I will post that video of you drunk as a skunk on karaoke night singing‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’so off-key they turned the mic off after the first chorus, but you kept going to the brutal end.” After my very real threat, I told her everything, as in everything
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