“I’ve got a gun,” I said, which was ridiculous, because not only did I not have one, I wouldn’t have the balls to point it at another person even if I did.
I let go of the handrail to push my fingers through my hair, my hand holding my torch-lit phone beginning to shake a little as I thought about someone waiting in the darkness for me.
Fucking Jarrid was going to get an arse-kicking tomorrow.
I took another few steps, and then someone appeared, dressed in black, lurching towards me.
I cried out when their skeleton mask-covered face loomed, lit by the torch. It was terrifying, and I stumbled on the step, which seemed to freak them out as they braced their hands on the wall and the wooden handrail and lifted their feet, shoving me hard in the chest with them.
It all happened in slow motion, but I couldn’t stop it. I reached for something to hold on to, but I was already falling, past the point of being able to defy gravity.
I hit the stairs hard, tumbling backwards, my eyes fixed on the person who’d pushed me as the house spun. The last thing I remember was my head bouncing off something that jolted my brain, and then the world went black.
“You scareme like that again, and I will fucking shoot you in the head myself… actually, I’ll shoot you in the balls and watch as you bleed out slowly.” Sean stood at the end of my bed, hands on his hips, glaring at me like an angry father. I rolled my eyes, but the movement made my head hurt, and so I followed it with a wince.
I came to in the back of an ambulance, my head throbbing and my body aching like a bitch. Apparently, Sean had flipped when he couldn’t contact me and sent the local police to check I was alright. They’d found me unconscious, later telling me I’d probably disturbed a burglar who heard the place was empty. I thought differently.
“Sorry,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest, feeling ridiculous.
“Doc has given you the all clear. We need to keep an eye on your head as you’ve probably got a concussion, but my clever doctor wife said she’ll do that, and since you got off lucky and bounced like a ball, you don’t have any other injuries, and they’re happy to discharge you.”
I twisted my legs off the bed with a groan. “Tell that to my aching bones,” I told him as I pushed my feet into my boots and stood, the room spinning a little as my temples throbbed. Sean grabbed my elbow.
“You can stay the night if you’re feeling shitty. Sorry, I should be a bit more sympathetic.” His voice was full of concern instead of anger now.
I shook my head, regretting it instantly. “No. I just want my own bed. And I like the idea of your hot wife having to take care of me.”
Sean growled like an angry bear, and I couldn’t hold in my laughter. “You won’t need a doctor if you look at my wife. I’ll kill you myself,” he muttered as he grabbed my bag and we walked through the maze of corridors to the entrance. “You’re a pain in my arse, and if I didn’t like you, I’d sack you for going against my clear orders. Do it again, and you won’t be as lucky.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about my job or the fact that I was pushed down the stairs by a masked attacker and walked away with only a mild concussion.
“Promise. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
35
ROMAN
I spunaround on my office chair, going slightly stir crazy from being at home. I almost laughed—I used to live like this: alone, isolated, stuck inside—but now, I craved the office, my team. I even missed this weird little town I now called home. I rubbed my temple, wondering if I had a worse brain injury than they first thought, a smile cracking my lips.
Sean had refused to let me come back to work until Hope, his doctor wife, deemed me well enough, and apparently, she was forcing me to rest for a couple of days, but rest had seen me do one of two things: search for any more signs of Hana and see if we could find anything else to explain the judge’s overstuffed bank accounts. Neither of which had been successful.
I stared up at the ceiling, hoping information might fall from the heavens, just as my phone beeped.
Sean: Preston didn’t have a heart attack. He was poisoned to look like natural causes.
I paused before I typed out a reply.
Me: So, 2 deaths in 2 weeks, and we know they’re linked.
Sean: Yes, but why kill them now?
Me: There has to be something that explains what’s going on here. What if this is a serial killer and there’s more killings to come? I can’t just sit here. I’m coming into the office.
Sean: No, you’re not.
Me: Fine. I’ll just work from here, and then when I collapse, there’ll be no one here to see, and I’ll be left to rot on the floor.
