Three Southern Beaches: A Summer Beach Read Box Set by Kathleen Brooks & Christie Craig & Robyn Peterman

Author:Kathleen Brooks & Christie Craig & Robyn Peterman [Brooks, Kathleen & Craig, Christie & Peterman, Robyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Humor, Novellas, Retail, Romance, Suspense
ISBN: 9780991397310
Google: GdHgAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00KRT5O3C
Barnesnoble: B00KRT5O3C
Publisher: Laurens Publishing
Published: 2014-07-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Reese had been almost asleep when the loud bang brought her to her feet. Then she heard the sound of footsteps running inside the house. Turner screamed something at her and the next thing she knew she was flat on her back on the bed, with him, shirtless, on top of her.

Solid male weight pressed down on her body. In all the right places, too. His chest against her chest. His pelvis against her pelvis. One of his thighs had slipped between her legs.

She wasn’t finished mentally cataloging body parts against body parts when she felt his arms slide under her, pulling her against him before he started rolling. Rolling her right off the mattress and onto the floor.

This time, the fall had her catching her breath. Not that she was hurt, she got the feeling he’d made sure he hit first. She landed on top of him this time. Her knee, now firmly pressed between his.

“Stay with her,” Frank called from the hallway. “I’ll go outside and check.”

She lifted her head just enough to see Frank standing there, holding a gun.

“No,” Turner snapped. “You stay with her.”

Frank either didn’t hear Turner or decided he didn’t care, because he shot down the hall.

Turner quickly but gently moved her off of him. Rolling on his stomach, he got on his hands and knees and glanced up over the bed, then back at her. “On the count of three, I want you to bolt for the door. Got it?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, her heart pounding in her chest. He started counting and got to two when she grabbed his arm. “Was someone shooting at us?”

“I don’t know,” he said as if confused. “You ready to run?”

She nodded.

He looked up one more time as if to make sure no one was right outside. “Let’s go.”

She made a mad dash for the door, Turner right behind her. She started for the living room, but he grabbed her around the middle, his arm right below her breasts, pulling her against him.

“Too many windows,” he said. “Stay right here in the hall.”

“Frank!” Turner called out again. “I’m going outside.” The sound of a door opening and slamming shut filled the house.

Another loud pop rang out.

“Shit!” Turner snapped and looked back at her. “Stay right here! Right here.” He darted off.

From her position, she could see Turner move into the living room, grab something that looked like a gun from the coffee table, and run out the door.

Another loud bang sounded. This one took her back to seeing the boy, not any older than Ricky, getting shot. Seeing him falling to the ground, blood spewing from his chest.

He’d died right in front of her eyes.

Feeling her knees shake, she slid down the wall, hugged her bent legs, and prayed.

She stayed like that one second, maybe two, when she realized someone needed to call the police. And that someone was her.

She wasn’t going to just sit here this time.

It didn’t matter that Turner was police and Frank was retired FBI, they might need backup.

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