AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dread propelled him forward as a hundred horrid scenarios of what may have happened to her screamed through his brain, but he couldn’t concentrate on them now, couldn’t give in to the fear. Not when there was a chance he could save her.
But if she was injured, if anyone had harmed her . . . He’d kill them.
Plain and simple.
You’re getting ahead of yourself. Just keep focused.
Jaw set, with deadly intent prodding him forward, Reed eased forward, startling a possum that hissed, showing teeth, round eyes catching the moonlight. Reed stopped and the creature shuffled into the underbrush, disappearing behind a fallen log. Reed kept going, edging along the overgrown lane, his gun in hand, his gaze focused on the lodge.
Lamplight glowed through the dirty windows, figures appearing and disappearing. Two, he thought. A man and a woman. He squinted as he neared, closing in on the wide porch. The woman came into view again.
Ashley Jefferson. Smoking a cigarette. Owen Duval’s alibi. What in God’s name was she doing here? Who was she meeting? And where the hell was Nikki?
Ashley approached the window and peered through the panes, her nose nearly to the glass. And behind her? Coming up to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle the back of her neck?
Tyson Beaumont.
Clutching a gun in the hand he buried between Ashley’s breasts. Was she captive? Reed started to step forward and then watched as she let her head fall back, her blond hair shimmering in the lamplight as she allowed him to kiss her exposed throat.
What the hell? They were a couple? From the looks of the way he was holding her, as if he owned her, Reed would guess so. And here they were together, so soon after Owen Duval’s supposed suicide.
It smelled rotten.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a movement, something shifting in the umbra. His eyes narrowed and his pulse jumped.
Nikki! His heart tightened.
It had to be Nikki.
What the hell was she doing?
But no—the shape was all wrong. He knew his wife backward and forward, recognized how she walked, how she ran, how she carried herself. But this person? He squinted, his focus narrowing on the movement. The muscles in the back of his neck tightened. This person was definitely a woman, he could see that much, but a shorter, more petite woman than his wife.
A woman he recognized.
A small knot formed in his gut.
What the hell was Delacroix doing here?
And why didn’t the sight of her give him a sense of relief?
* * *
Hardly daring to breathe, Nikki grabbed her phone from the sill and backed up.
A floorboard groaned against her weight.
“You hear that?” Tyson demanded sharply.
Ashley asked, “What?”
“Something.” Through the window, Nikki saw him place a finger to his lips and appear to listen.
Nikki’s lungs constricted. She shrank back from the grimy window. Pressed against the siding next to the panes, she heard Tyson’s footsteps, thought she felt the ancient floor vibrate as he strode closer to the window.
She held her breath, sensed him behind the glass, a thin wall separating them.
She swallowed back her fear, but she knew he was squinting into the darkness, could almost feel the hatred palpitating from him.
