/1/113764/coverbig.jpg?v=78e252b30de3cc2b512fbb50d462d3d6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
e master bathroom. Her fingers tremble so violently that the
links. Two solid pin
gna
rapes her throat, but she swallows the scream of pure joy. Hot
aces the flat plane of her stomach. She pictures Garrett's face-th
into the plush wool runner in the hallway. She heads towa
, a voice drifts up from the kitc
not what we
void of the warm, deferential lilt she uses
olding her breath. Down below, the receiver cl
us habit from years of gripping a stylus. She shakes off the uneas
gany desk, Garrett's backup iPad glows. A ne
wanting the battery to drain. Her fingertip brush
curity video. The angle is from the corner of their ow
ter of the Persian rug. Their mouth
or the volume button. Nothing happens. The audio
s toward the camera. His features contort into a sneer of absolu
uscles and mouth shapes to draw accurate dialogue panels. Her
es at th
her stop th
s her ribs. She must have read it wrong. Her
s mouth form t
lucinogens and t
r, clutching her stomach as acidic bile burns the back
But sir, her mental s
Then let her become a complete lunati
li
kull. Colin Richardson. Her former fiancé. The man
sing hours, and sudden emotional collapses. The puzzle p
e foyer. The private eleva
scalp prickle. She slams her finger onto
the edge of the leather desk mat,
nto the master bedroom, yanks open the bottom drawer of her vanity, and shov
e heavy silk duvet up to her chin. Her ent
of expensive cedar and bergamot cologne drifts
/1/113764/coverbig.jpg?v=78e252b30de3cc2b512fbb50d462d3d6&imageMogr2/format/webp)