Page 51 of Deceiver

I can only pray that time will make that stop.

“Tell me where and when, and I’ll get your proof,” I say, my voice tired.

“We’ll be in touch. Have you heard anything more from Bill?”

“No,” I say. “I gave him the information you sent, and he’s obviously looking into it because he hasn’t contacted me.”

“Good, keep him chasin’ his fuckin’ tail a little longer. Works better for us.”

“Can I leave now?” I ask.

“No,” Western says. “We’re goin’ to talk.”

Wonderful.

I can’t fucking wait.

11

“What is it you wantto talk about? Because I’m busy,” I mumble, standing at the shed door, refusing to enter any farther in fear of the danger I might encounter.

That danger being me falling on Western because I’m weak.

The way he’s standing there, those jeans hugging that thick cock, that shirt stretched across his broad chest, his arms bulging, his jaw ....

I need to snap out of it.

He is a bad man.

My obsession with him has to end.

I have to remind myself of all the things he’s capable of.

Why is he walking toward me?

Why are his eyes hooded like he’s about to pounce?

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