Harlequin Intrigue January 2020--Box Set 2 of 2 by Elle James

Author:Elle James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Violet drove Wyatt’s beast of a truck right onto Grandma’s lawn, pulling as close to the front porch as possible before shifting into Park. She’d dialed Fortress Security while Sheriff Masterson had crammed Wyatt’s face against the hood of his cruiser, then explained the night’s events to Sawyer. The engine of his vehicle had growled through the line as she spoke.

Sawyer was on his way.

Still sitting in the truck, Violet noticed how the headlights flashed over ruined rows of Grandma’s prized roses, and her heart lodged in her throat. The mulch was littered with red and white buds, pink petals and whole yellow flowers, all chopped and crushed into the ground. The remaining stems were headless, thorn-covered sticks, standing broken and naked in the moonlight.

It was a silly thing to care about in the big scheme of things. They were just flowers. Only plants. But it was another threat. And it hit home hard. Whoever had done this knew how important the roses were to her grandma. And it only solidified Violet’s opinion that Mr. Masterson was the villain in this story. Not good news since she doubted his jerk of a son would ever arrest him, short of catching his father in the act of murder. Maybe not even then.

In the morning, Violet would talk to her grandma’s doctors about moving her to a facility outside Grove County, somewhere the Mastersons couldn’t reach her.

Anywhere but here.

Violet scanned the dark yard once more, thankful they’d left the porch light on. “One,” she whispered, steadying her nerves and checking her rearview. “Two.” She gripped the handle at her side. “Three.” Violet popped the door open and jumped out. She flung the cab’s back door open and hoisted Maggie’s car seat from the cradle, baby and all. Then she shut both doors with the flick of a wrist and bump of a hip. They flew onto the porch in three long strides. Violet juggled her sleeping baby in the heavy car seat while trying to work the key into Grandma’s new lock. Her clumsy hands and fraying nerves made the simple task nearly impossible.

“Come on,” she scolded herself as fear crawled all over her.

The night sounds seemed to close in on her. The wind was an ominous whisper in her ear, a chill along her neck.

She wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind her with a whimper, securing the dead bolt and chain before checking the other doors and windows. “All clear,” she whispered to herself, repeating Wyatt’s confident phrase. The home was all clear. And she and Maggie were alone.

Violet scrubbed a heavy hand against her quivering lips, then forced her feet into motion. She tucked Maggie safely into her crib, then returned to the first floor to put on a pot of coffee. Next, she lowered her grandpa’s old rifle from its ornamental spot above the fireplace and loaded the heirloom with ammunition. Violet hadn’t had any target practice in a decade, but if someone came close enough to hurt her or Maggie, she wouldn’t miss.

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