Shadow Game by Kay Maree

Author:Kay Maree
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Pronoun
Published: 2017-08-25T03:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

~

Leia

Deacon brings in my bags and stores them in his walk-in closet, grabs Elvis’ leash, brings him into the house and sets up a water bowl for him. He said he’ll grab dog food on the way home, the way he says it gives me a thrill, it’s like he’s telling me it’s my home too now. Whoa! I need to slow down, I haven’t known the man for a week yet and I’m taking over his life, giving him kids and now claiming his home!

Before he leaves, he kisses me until I’m breathless. The way he kisses me has my legs turning to Jello and leaves me breathless. I watch as he leaves, missing him already. I grab my phone and dial Georgie needing to let him know what has happened and where I am before he’s blowing up my phone with texts and freaking the fuck out. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I dial his number and listen as it rings, I run fingers over my lips still feeling them tingling.

“Lee Lee.”

“Georgie, I just wanted to let you know I’m at Deacon’s place. Some shit went down at my place this morning and he brought me here to protect me.”

“What’s happened?” I hear the worry and panic in his voice.

I try to reassure him I’m fine, but I’m not sure I am. “Someone broke into my apartment.”

“Fuck,” he grits out and I can just picture him almost passing out.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a moment and I hear the concern in his voice.

“I don’t know,” I sigh before going on. “I guess, I was at the station with Deacon when it happened.”

“Why the hell were you at the police station?”

Ah shit! I probably should have told him about that first. So, I spend the next ten minutes explaining about the tape and how I was taken to the station to make a statement. “Then, when I was finished, Deacon brought me home. We found the door to my apartment had been busted in. He started packing me a bag and said I was staying with him.”

“And, there was no room for argument?”

“No, as far as he was concerned it was happening.”

“Fuck, Babygirl.”

“Tell me about it.” I stand and head for the kitchen. I pause mid-step as I’m about to enter the living room. The hairs on my arms stand on end, a shiver gallops down my spine, I feel like I’m being watched. Moving cautiously, I scan the room, but nothing is there. I shake my head, I’m being ridiculous. Heading back to the kitchen, I flip the switch on the kettle. While I wait for the water to boil, I lean against the bench and wonder when I’ll get over this feeling of being watched all the time because I refuse to live in fear of my own shadow.

The voice on the tape recording invades my thoughts, clear and frightening. I try to block it out, but it doesn’t work and the words play on a loop in my head.

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