Ready. Lucy Monroe
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you can’t stop a bullet shot from a sniper’s rifle, or a brake line being cut on a car, or—”
“Are you saying those things have happened to you?” he asked, breaking into the litany of fears that had plagued her conscious and unconscious mind for days.
“They could happen and I won’t be around my family if they do.”
Her mind was splintering again, trying to figure out the best escape route least likely to alert her hidden tormentor, while grappling with the problem of getting Joshua out of her apartment.
She yanked the door open. “I’ll call Bella and reassure her, okay?” Just as soon as she stopped somewhere with a phone.
Right now, all she wanted was to get into her car and drive forever, leaving her life careening out of control behind her.
Joshua said nothing; he just pushed the door shut again with his heel, his coffee-brown gaze never once leaving hers. He leaned back against it, crossed his arms, and waited with an attitude that said he’d wait there forever, but he was going to have his way.
Something snapped inside Lise.
Fine. He could wait there until hell froze over, but she was going to pack. She was leaving—not with Joshua, and not to Texas where she would put her family at risk, but she was going. She spun on her heel and rushed into the bedroom, a jumble of things she needed to take with her filling her fractured thoughts.
She was throwing clothes willy-nilly into a duffel bag when a beeping sound scared her, making her drop a pile of underwear onto the floor.
She stared at the multicolored cotton for several seconds before she latched onto the fact that the beeping sound was the phone ringing.
She grabbed the cordless phone from its base. “Hello?”
“Lise, your visitor left without taking you with him.”
Her already madly beating heart climbed into her throat at the computer-digitized voice she’d come to know much too well. “Who is this?”
“You should have gone with him. Family is supposed to be together on the holidays.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she shrieked, feeling what was left of her control slipping away.
“An eye for an eye, Lise.”
“What are you talking about?” None of this made sense. Her life didn’t make sense. “I don’t know what you want from me!”
A strong arm settled around her shoulders and she screamed before realizing it was Joshua.
“You sound upset,” the inhuman voice taunted.
Joshua’s lips settled next to her ear. “Is it him?”
She nodded her head violently, making her neck ache, but no sound would emerge from her throat.
“I guess it will be you and me together in our lonely solitude on Thanksgiving. I can’t spend it with my family, either.” The phone clicked in her ear.
A hand tapped gently on her cheek. “Lise.”
Joshua’s voice.
He was there. She wasn’t alone.
How long had she stood in paralyzed fear? She didn’t know.
“The phone…” she croaked out, her throat unaccountably dry.
“What did he say?”
“Something about spending Thanksgiving together.” Stupid, weak tears filled her eyes. “He thought you’d gone and he taunted me about being alone.”
Joshua’s eyes narrowed at that. “We need to get you out of here.”
She looked at him, unsure of what he was saying. Was he still harping on her going to Texas?
“Pack some clothes. We’re leaving.”
Fine by her. Joshua could get her out of the apartment and then she could disappear. “Okay.”
“We’ll go to a hotel,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked.
That sounded so good, the tears burning her eyes spilled over. “Yes. A hotel. Away from here.”
He didn’t answer, just picked up the pile of cotton panties off the floor and shoved them into the duffel bag. “What else do you need?”
“I’ll do it.” The overwhelming relief of leaving her apartment galvanized her brain enough to allow her to tackle the problem of packing. She was ready in less than five minutes.
He looked at the small burgundy leather duffel bag and then at her. “Let’s go.”
Nemesis slammed his listening device down, rubbing eyes reddened and bleary from lack of sleep.
He hadn’t been prepared for her to leave the apartment. She wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment.
He would not tolerate interference in his schedule.
Fury filled him, tightening his stomach into knots, and the urge to lash out overwhelmed him as he turned and slammed his fist into the wall beside his computer, picturing Lise Barton’s face there as he did it.
Pain radiated up his arm, filling his stomach with bile.
He cradled his bruised hand against his heaving chest and forced himself to think. It was difficult. His thoughts kept scattering, chasing memories he could not afford to dwell on.
She had left the apartment, but she would not dare go to Texas for the holidays, not while she feared him following her.
She wanted to protect her family.
His lips twisted cynically. Sure. More likely she wanted to spend the holiday writing her treacherous books. Either way, she would not go far. She had to come back to her apartment and when she did, he would be waiting…watching, just like always.
No, her leaving with the man was not a showstopper. He had said something about staying the night in a hotel. Nemesis could find them. He was very good at finding information on the computer, although his abilities had not kept him employed after what Lise Barton had done to him and his family.
He shoved aside a half-eaten sandwich that had gone dry and stale while he listened to the discussion between the man and the home-wrecking bitch. Pulling the information file out from where it had rested under his uneaten meal, he flipped open the manila folder and started going through the list of people she had regular contact with.
She’d called the man Joshua, but there was no Joshua on the list.
Frustration gnawed at Nemesis.
He couldn’t look for the man if he didn’t have a last name. He would have to do more research before he could start searching credit card records to find them.
When he did, perhaps he would visit his vengeance on the man who dared to take the bitch’s side.
It took Joshua thirty minutes of evasive maneuvers before he was satisfied they were not being followed.
During that time he did not speak and neither did Lise, but tension continued to emanate from her side of the car. Once he pulled onto I-5 North, he flipped on the radio, letting the low-volume classical music fill the car.
“That’s nice.” They were the first words Lise had spoken since they’d left the apartment and she said them in an almost normal tone of voice.
“Music helps calm nerves.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “I guess I seem pretty stressed-out to you.”
“A little,” he said dryly.
She hugged herself as if she was cold, but the car’s heater was keeping the interior warm despite the low temperatures outside. “I feel stressed, to tell you the truth.”
“How