Risking Trust by Adrienne Giordano

Author:Adrienne Giordano
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Amazon
Published: 2011-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Boom, boom, boom. The pavement jarred Roxann’s aching knees and she lightened her steps. Continuing with this angered stomping would give her an injury and who needed that after yet another restless night.

What was with Michael’s secrecy? Was he stringing her along? Her brain said yes, but her heart had seen the anguish in his eyes. The man was tortured by whatever caused him to leave her twelve years ago. She sensed it, but he wouldn’t admit it.

She ran past Michael’s building and glanced up to see him standing on the balcony. She held up a hand to acknowledge him, but snatched it back fast. Still mad, bucko. Deal with it.

Did he always stand there in the mornings? She, oddly enough, had never noticed him. The footsteps of another runner approaching sounded from behind her and she scooted over to give way.

“Drop this story, Roxann.”

The unfamiliar voice jolted her from her thoughts and she halted. A man, maybe an inch or two shorter than her, came to a stop beside her. A baseball cap hid most of his short blond hair and wraparound sunglasses shielded his eyes. He appeared to be in his late twenties. Perhaps he worked at the newspaper.

No.

On closer inspection, she realized she didn’t know him.

A stinging sensation shot up her arms. Not good. Max’s safety lectures came rushing back.

Focus.

Pay attention to identifying features. A couple of runners and a biker behind her. Not alone. Good. And Michael was on the balcony. She glanced up. Gone. Where the heck did he go?

She brought her attention back to the man in front of her. “Do I know you?”

“I know you,” the stranger said.

The bad B movie dialogue startled her for a moment, but the security of other runners on the path bumped her flight instinct to fight mode. The phone clipped at her waist chirped. Maybe it was Michael. She tilted her head up, saw him on the balcony again. Can’t talk now.

Back to the stranger. “Do you think not telling me your name will preclude me from identifying you when I press charges for whatever threat you’re about to make? If so, you are mistaken.”

She had the urge to knock this jerk’s baseball cap off. He had the nerve to approach her, yet he hid behind a hat and glasses. He smiled in that slithering way men do when they want to get over on a woman. Creep. She took note of a crooked front tooth. Burned the image into her memory. Gotcha, crooked-tooth boy.

“No threats, just a word of caution to a journalist in over her head.”

For added effect he perused her legs and an icy burn went through her. Creep!

She folded her arms because, at the moment, it was her only protection. She glanced around again to reassure herself she wasn’t alone. A biker cruised by. Fine. Good. Back to the stranger. She could outrun him. No doubt. But no. She’d never give in to the fear. Harness it. Make it work.

“I don’t know

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