Page 89 of Silent Threat
The tension of Annie’s rushed morning leaked away; the earth drew it out through the soles of her feet. She also gave credit for this welcome measure of peace to Cole and his large, protective, reassuring presence.
When he’d helped her with the animals, she’d wondered what it would be like to have a partner in her rescue efforts. Now she wondered what it’d be like to have a partner to be with in general. She caught herself and put those thoughts away.
The man watching from the window allowed himself a smile. While Cole headed back to the facilities after their walk, Annie headed to the parking lot.
The SEAL was no longer shadowing her every moment.
She must have rebuffed him.Good.She was smart. She must have realized that the SEAL wasn’t for her.
That little car accident had snapped her to her senses after all. The wake-up call had been just what she’d needed.
He’d been so mad about her letting the SEAL kiss her, he almost hadn’t cared if she lived or died. But now he was glad she hadn’t gone into the dark water.
Watching her, playing with her, was too much fun.
She could give him so much more pleasure.Soon.
He was damned tired of waiting. Yet, once he’d done with her all he wanted to do with her, he would have to kill her.
Would a third death within a week, all connected to Hope Hill, be suspicious? He straddled a fine line. Mitch’s death was being investigated by the Maryland State Police. Slowly. Trevor’s death wasn’t being investigated at all. Broslin PD had put the case to bed the same day.
Yet, overconfidence had brought down many a smart person. The man was determined not to be one of them.
The SEAL was still alive—instead of floating in the pool—because of that.
And Annie was allowed to go on and break more rules. Up to her. If she did, her punishment would be that much more severe.
The man smiled, picturing a good, hard punishment and all that it entailed: apologies, begging, and tears—all too late. He wanted complete submission. He was ready for the end game.
Libby the reflexologist worked only half days on Tuesdays. Since Annie lived on the way, Libby drove her home so Annie could feed her animals lunch.
Libby’s car smelled like baby powder. They talked about her twins, who were begging for a pet. Annie mentioned that she had a cat who’d be soon done with his cast.
After Libby dropped her off, Annie took care of her small herd. Then she made a shepherd’s pie from the ground meat she had in her freezer and the wilting vegetables she had in the crisper. Since she’d been living at Hope Hill, she hadn’t been cooking at home. She needed to use up the food in her fridge before it spoiled.
When the meal was done, she split it into six individual portions. She put three of the plastic containers into a grocery bag and walked it over—hiking through the cornfield—to her grandfather’s.
“Where’s your sailor?” was the first thing her grandfather asked when Annie stepped into his kitchen.
“He’s not my sailor.”
He harrumphed at her response. “Kelly told me you were in an accident. She was here this morning.” He wouldn’t look at her. “You all right?”
Concern? It’d be a first. She put the food in the fridge. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Then she added, “It’s shepherd’s pie.”
“Kelly said your fancy piece of a foreign car was toast.” Was that satisfaction in his voice? But then he added, “You can take the truck if you want.”
She stared at him.
Gramps hadn’t driven in about a year. His blood-pressure issues made him too dizzy to be behind the wheel. But he’d never offered the truck to anyone, never even thought about selling, as far as Annie was aware.
“Thanks.” The word came out uncertain.
He looked at her when he snapped, “I don’t want that emotional-woman crap.”
OK, then.
“Key’s by the front door.” He turned to the TV and flicked it on. She was dismissed.
