Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
But it’s a train wreck. I can’t not look.
The door to my bedroom hangs on only one hinge as I walk through. My mattress is overturned and slashed open, and my sheets and comforter are ripped. All the drawers to my dresser are open, and my clothing scattered. My closet is ransacked, clothes torn and cut.
Then the bathroom…
My shampoo and conditioner has been squirted on the walls, and the mirror above the sink is shattered.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the flashback of shattering the mirror in the changing room at Falcon’s. Then plunging, plunging, plunging the jagged glass into a man’s flesh.
I breathe in, out, in again…but my heart…
My fucking heart….
It’s racing like a freight train… Racing…
Falcon’s fingers. Massaging my shoulders.
It helps.
And it doesn’t.
“Come on.” He leads me out of the bathroom.
And my gaze falls on—
“No!” I cry.
I didn’t see it before.
My photo of my brothers and me as kids that I keep on my bedtable.
The glass is cracked, the photo torn…
This wasn’t business.
This was personal.
They want me, and they’ll destroy everything I love to get me. But why? What do I represent, other than some convoluted alliance with my family?
“It’s personal,” I gasp out, choking back sobs. “It’s a message.”
Falcon nods. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” He turns me so I’m facing the door. “We need to get you out of here. The Shaws live next door, right? Let’s check and see if they heard anything.”
My heart is hammering as we head next door and knock.
No answer.
“Mrs. Shaw?” I yell. “Mr. Shaw? It’s Savannah.”
Falcon pounds on their door harder.
Still no response.
I open the screen door and check the doorknob. To my surprise, it opens.
“Why would they leave this unlocked?” I ask.
“A lot of people in small towns do that. It’s one of the benefits of living in such a place.”
I open the door and step in. “Mr. Shaw? Mrs. Shaw?”
Then a groan, and it seems to be coming from—
“No!” I gasp.
I run into the kitchen. Mrs. Shaw lies there, her face bloody. The groan came from her. How long has she been lying here? Hours… Hours…
“Mrs. Shaw! Are you all right?”
Stupid question. Of course she’s not all right. “Falcon, help me!”
Falcon doesn’t answer, but he appears a moment later. “I found Mr. Shaw. He’s in the bathtub.”
“Taking a bath?”
But already I know that’s not the case.
“Call 911,” I say. “She needs help.”
Falcon kneels and checks the pulse in Mrs. Shaw’s neck. “She’s alive. Man, we’re giving the paramedics a workout today.”
He doesn’t mean to take this lightly. The look on his face is one of pure remorse.
But this isn’t his fault.
It’s mine and mine alone.
He pulls out his phone and dials while I go to the sink, wet a washcloth, and wipe the blood from Mrs. Shaw’s face with my left hand. “Can you hear me? It’s Savannah.”
She groans again. “They were looking for you.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry.” I continue wiping. “The paramedics will be here soon.”
At least we’re in town and we won’t have to wait as long.
“Fred?”
“Just hush. You need to rest. Conserve your strength.” I look her over. She doesn’t seem to have any other injuries. Just a few blows to her face. She must have been unconscious for a while.
Who would hit an old woman?
Giancarlo, apparently. Or the other one, Abel.
Jordan can’t dump his ass fast enough. He won’t call her tonight. Unless he’s conscious and memorized her phone number, which I doubt.
Falcon leaves the kitchen while I continue to try to sooth Mrs. Shaw.
He returns holding a Glock wrapped in a towel. “Is this yours?”
I widen my eyes. “I don’t know. It could be. It’s the same as mine.”
“Did you happen to look for the safe under your bed when we were at your place?”
“I… I wasn’t thinking. I was just overwhelmed by the damage they caused.” My safe. Under my bed. They’d have to get it open… How? Why do I even ask that question? These are professional criminals.
“I have a feeling you won’t find your gun, Vannah.”
“You mean…” I rise and leave Mrs. Shaw for a moment as I follow Falcon into the living room.
“Mr. Shaw was shot…most likely with this gun. His body’s in the tub.”
Without thinking, I begin to walk toward the bathroom, but Falcon yanks me back. “You don’t want to see that.”
“Are they really going to try to frame me? Shooting him with my gun?”
“You have an ironclad alibi,” Falcon says. “You were with me.”
“An ex-con,” I mutter.
“Hey.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a valid point. But the two assholes knew you were with me. I don’t know how they knew if they came here first. I may be an ex-con, but we can prove you weren’t anywhere near your place at the time of Shaw’s death.”
“I know….” I bury my head in my hands. “I came here to get away from all this, and now I’ve dragged you into it. Jordan. The Shaws. God, the poor Shaws.”