âI DID IT FOR YOU.â
The chilling words in the text message have Julianne Grace fearing for her life. Sheâs sure that her abusive ex-fiancé has killed two peopleâand that sheâs the next target. But will anyone believe that her presumed dead ex is really alive? The only man who can help Julianne is cool, aloof security specialist Bradley Stone. Not only does she need his protection, but heâs also the link to finding answers about her ex-fiancéâs death. And the closer Bradley and Julianne get to the truthâand to each otherâthe angrier the madman after Julianne becomes. One wrong move and they could both fall prey to the killerâs deadly scheme.
âI saw someone outside.
Did you see anything? Hear anything?â Bradley asked.
Julianne shook her head, fear spreading through her. âNothing. Just you.â
He offered a crisp nod. âStay put. And call the police if I donât return within the hour.â
âIf you donâtâ¦?â She shut her mouth and nodded, not wanting to think about the implications of what he was saying. âOkay.â
She closed the door and turned the locks, checking each latch twice. Three times, for that matter. Then she backed away from the door. She kept backing up until she hit a wall. She stood there, frozen to the spot, her eyes darting around from one window to the next. She expected to see shadows, to hear yells and footfalls, to flinch from the sound of gunshot.
Instead, she heard nothing.
Was her ex-fiancé out there? Had he found her? What about Bradley? Was he hurt?
CHRISTY BARRITT
loves stories and has been writing them for as long as she can remember. She gets her best ideas when sheâs supposed to be paying attention to something elseâlike in a workshop or while driving down the road.
The second book in her Squeaky Clean Mystery series, Suspicious Minds, won the inspirational category of the 2009 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Suspense and Mystery. Sheâs also the coauthor of Changed: True Stories of Finding God in Christian Music.
When sheâs not working on books, Christy writes articles for various publications. Sheâs also a weekly feature writer for the Virginian-Pilot newspaper, the worship leader at her church and a frequent speaker at various writersâ groups, womenâs luncheons and church events.
Sheâs married to Scott, a teacher and funny man extraordinaire. They have two sons, two dogs and a house-plant named Martha.
To learn more about her, visit her website, www.christybarritt.com.
The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed,
a stronghold in times of trouble.
âPsalms 9:9
This book is dedicated to my husband. Heâs my Prince Charming, best friend and cheerleader
all rolled into one.
ONE
Julianne Grace bristled, pausing mid-step as she journeyed down the lonely road. She froze as her eyes scanned the area in front of her. Woods and swampland surrounded her, but nothing else.
There was the sound again. A stick cracking. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she turned her head. Fear pricked her skin. What had caused the noise?
All she saw was a desolate stretch of highway and looming oak trees enveloped by dark, murky water.
She ran a shaky hand through her mane of hair. Sheâd heard something. She knew she had. Was someone watching her from the woods?
Could it be Darrell Lewis?
The thought made her blood go coldâcold enough to rival the frigid wind that swept across the deceitfully sunny landscape. She should have worn a coat, but sheâd left her apartment too quickly. She hadnât had time to thinkâjust to drive. Now the scar across her collarbone pulled tight in the twenty-degree briskness.
The injury was a daily reminder of how ugly love could turn. A daily reminder of how relationships werenât worth it. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
She took a few more tentative steps. The feeling of unseen eyes caused her pace to quicken until she burst into a jog and then an all-out run. Though she saw nothing and no one, she couldnât shake the feeling that she was being chased.
Finally, a gate appeared in the distance. Could it be the entrance to Iron, Incorporated? Was help in sight?
She could make it that far. Sheâd ask to see Bradley Stone and then tell him the truth about why sheâd come. Sheâd ask the burning questions that consumed her and hopefully get some answers.
She had to get what sheâd come for. She had no other options, not if she wanted to live to see tomorrow.
Her legs felt like jelly when she reached the guardhouse. Her quick breaths came out in icy clouds, and she shivered again. What a mess. Everything was a mess.
A fresh-faced man in uniform stared at her. She could tell by the way his eyes wavered from side to side for just a split second that her presence baffled him. Certainly people didnât tread up to the gate every day, not when you considered there were miles of empty road before reaching the compound.