Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
If she meant to run away, she’d have taken something. She would’ve packed her bags in advance, tucked away a few mementos and keepsakes. There would’ve been things missing from the house, things she needed, money missing from her bank account or signs of her using it somewhere else.
Instead, there’s an abyss.
Celeste ran out with nothing but that dress on her back, her little clutch purse with her phone and ID, and that ugly goddamned bracelet.
She expected to come back.
I linger on Montero’s cold face in the photo, his sleazy old-world charm, then glance up as a familiar splash of color goes cruising past where I’m parked on the edge of the town square.
Delilah’s Kia, winding around the central roundabout onto the street leading down to the school.
Maybe it’s that I’m still caught up in bad memories or maybe it’s just this pull Delilah has on me.
Or maybe I’m just a nosy bastard.
I can’t help myself today.
I start my patrol car and pull out after her.
By the time I arrive at the school, she’s already out of her car, looking trim and sleek today in a loose shirt, capri jeans, and sandals so worn they’ve got to be devilishly comfy.
She’s got a huge shoulder bag today, bulging with school supplies and massive rolls of poster board, making her clumsy as she tries to jiggle the door the way I showed her.
I slip out of my car and walk up behind her.
“Let me,” I say, nudging her aside gently and reaching for the handle.
Delilah gasps. She flinches away, looking up at me without recognition, but with a look I know too well.
That flash of fear.
What I’m not expecting is the relief on her face when it clicks that it’s me. Then she smiles, stepping back and letting me have the door and the key.
“Just like Superman,” she says. “Always showing up where you’re needed. Superman was a stalker too.” Her lips curve into a teasing grin. “He just used his superhuman hearing to do it. What’s your excuse?”
“Good timing, luck, and the fact that my patrol shifts overlap the hours you’re out and about.” I hitch the door handle up just right and push it open, holding it for her. “After you.”
“Thanks. I didn’t have any trouble with it when I came in for the faculty meeting this morning, but I wasn’t carrying half a craft store, either.”
She ducks under my arm, and as she passes, I catch a whiff of that soft floral fragrance rising off her hair.
That scent practically kisses me, reaches down deep, and strokes me rock hard.
Goddamn.
In the hall, Delilah turns, watching me with her lips quirked. “You coming, or did you just stop by to help with the door?”
I hesitate.
There’s no good reason to be here. I should be watching my beat just in case this is the one day something serious happens in town while I’m fucking off doing other things.
Too bad it sticks with me.
That flicker of fear in her eyes, and not for me.
Who are you afraid of, Lilah?
I want to ask, but I know this little cactus woman. If I prod her now, she’ll just gore me with her spines.
Yeah, I’ll stick around a little. See if she’ll volunteer a little information, or at least give me an opening to ask without getting stabbed.
Hell, and maybe I want to stay close by.
Wherever I can guard her and make her feel safer.
“I’m not doing much right now,” I say.
Her gaze flicks to my badge, my uniform, her mouth quirking, telling me she doesn’t believe me.
“Could help you with that, if you like.” I nod at her bag.
“So arts and crafts are among your many other talents?” Delilah’s brows rise, her voice mocking me gently. “You install alarm systems, you repair steps, you cut glass, you jiggle doors... is there anything you don’t do?”
That pings me for a second. It’s a familiar line from a movie, and when I remember why, I grin.
“Fly,” I grind out.
She blinks, flushing faintly.
“What? You’ve seen Ever After?”
“I’m a man of varied tastes, New York.”
Delilah laughs. “You’re definitely no Danielle.”
“And you’re damn sure no Prince Henry.” I duck into the hall, stepping closer to her. “Guess I can toss you over my shoulder to rescue you, if you’d like.”
Her eyes widen and she stares at me incredulously.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wanna bet?” I crouch down like I’m about to spring, prowling closer.
She takes a step back with a sharp breath, then turns with a high laugh and takes off running, her sandals pelting the tiles. “Don’t even try it, Graves!”
It’s fucking on.
I don’t think I could stop myself from chasing her if my whole life depended on it.
That fluttering black hair pulls on me like a leash, draws me like a will-o’-the-wisp, luring me deeper and deeper into her.
I take off after her, sprinting, a rough laugh slowing my stride. Or maybe I’m just letting her win because I don’t quite trust what I’ll do if I catch her.