AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He could lure Zoey up there sometimes, and they’d take turns seducing each other. Or they could get all his nieces and nephews and all of hers and do a big camping trip or something.
That would be fun.
The south part of the Value Reservoir butted up against the edge of Coleson Hollow, too. Plenty of space to spend time together.
He pulled into her drive.
Her front door was open.
She was probably airing the place out. She had only had a few things left to pack. He knew the move was bittersweet for her, but it would probably be good for her overall. Having a family close to care about her.
It sure made him feel better, knowing there would be people—like her big brute of a brother, and like Sydney’s retired-cop father—just across the street to watch over his sneaky Zoey Sofia.
To be there in case she needed them, when he couldn’t be. That kind of thing.
He pulled in the drive. It wound around the back of her house. She usually parked there in the back.
Her Jeep was nowhere to be found.
Why in the hell was the front door open and her Jeep gone? That didn't make a lot of sense. Zoey wouldn’t do that. An open door like that was an invitation for trouble.
Zoey would certainly know that.
Murdoch killed the engine and headed toward the back door.
He stepped inside.
And almost tripped over Zoey’s shoes.
Right on the kitchen floor where she'd left them when she'd slipped them off the night before.
Her gun rested on the counter where she'd left it the night before.
Next to her TSP badge—right where she’d left it the night before.
The woman never carried a bag. But shealwayscarried her badge.
Just like he did.
And she damned for sure never left without her weapon.
"Zo? Honey, I'm home!"
His call echoed.
"Zoey! Woman, where are you?"
His only answer was a loud meow.
Murdoch tensed. This was wrong. Something wasn't right at all.
The house just felt empty.
Yet the woman's entire stash of clothes were two counties away from where he stood. She'd run her clothes through the washer and dryer she was including with the house—after Murdoch had so helpfully taken those clothes off her. She’d slept naked in his arms, all night long.
She definitely hadn't had a spare pair of damned shoes. He was almost certain of it. His hand landed on his service weapon, and he pulled it. He wasn’t stupid.
He found the intruder fast enough. Peach the Fuzz was the only thing in the living room. The damned cat watched every move Murdoch made.
