It’s exquisite torture watching you.
For your sake, I hope you meet my expectations...
Beautiful Dangerous
Philly Heat Series #4
by Becky Flade
Genre: Romantic Thriller, Suspense
It’s
exquisite torture watching you. For your sake, I hope you meet my
expectations...
In
the year following her brother’s tragic murder, Public Defender
Hannah Patel withdrew into the comfort of family and career. As time
passed, the man obsessed with her became a terrifying threat.
A
fatal error caused Detective Doyle Murphy to doubt his future in law
enforcement, but protecting Hannah presents an opportunity for
redemption. Neither expect their forced closeness to create genuine
feelings.
As their burgeoning romance grows, it pushes her
stalker over the edge.
Will love win? Or will madness?
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The
January air was sharp as shattered glass in Hannah’s lungs. The scull sliced
through the water soundlessly; the oars cut through with precision as she
pumped and pushed her legs and arms in a familiar rhythm. Embraced the burn in
her muscles. It was early; the sun hadn’t fully breached the horizon, but hers
was not the only boat on the river. A college crew sped past, their coxswain
nodding to her as they passed. She was on the last leg, approaching the
clubhouse at the far end of Boathouse Row, when she pulled in her oars and let
the momentum take her home as the sun glowed orange over the skyline of Center
City.
I
needed this. The solitude and quiet. The solace I always find on the water. I
need the calm to carry me through the day.
She
lifted the bow side oar and glided alongside the stage before climbing out with
practiced grace. She stood and stretched, pulled off her cap and wiped the
light sheen of sweat from her brow. Hannah rowed all year, conditions allowing,
and though sometimes the river froze, winter was her favorite. In the dog days
of summer, the algae and pollen created a pungent film on the water’s surface,
which hindered the oars. Cold meant clean. “This is perfect.”
Pulling
her single scull from the river was the hardest part, and she did it
effortlessly. She’d rowed since college and had deceptively muscular legs and
arms. With the oars in one hand and the boat over her shoulder, she carried her
gear to the clubhouse and secured it in the garage. It had been converted into
a storage area for boats and gear decades prior, but was still called the
garage.
Twenty
minutes later, dressed in her favorite charcoal pencil skirt and a silky blouse
the color of ripe peaches, her long black hair–still damp from the
shower–plaited down her back, Hannah pulled a thick wool cap over her ears and
slipped into the cashmere coat her parents gave her for Christmas. She hurried
across Kelly Drive and onto Lemon Hill Drive, where she’d parked her car ninety
minutes earlier.
Her
mother hated the Mazda. Thought she should drive something small, sporty, and
feminine. Hannah considered it, and, despite her secret infatuation with the
Porsche Carrera, chose the sport utility vehicle. Sculling, skiing, and her
volunteer work at the Women’s Humane Society Animal Shelter in Olde City made
the compact SUV the better choice. Frosty morning sunlight glinted off the
chrome detailing. Hannah smiled. And she’s pretty.
With
the fob in her hand, she remotely started the car, used her foot to open the
liftgate and tossed her duffel bag in the back. She’d had it customized for
transporting animals and no matter how funky her gear got, or muddy, or sandy,
she wouldn’t damage her interior. She shivered, closed the hatch, and unlocked
the doors. With one foot in the car, and her body half in the seat, she froze.
A
standard piece of paper, folded in half and tucked under the windshield wiper,
fluttered in the icy breeze. Dread curled in her stomach. The coppery taste of
fear coated her tongue. She reached for it, slowly, cautiously, as though it
would bite her if she moved too quickly, and picked it off her windshield. She
checked the back seat. Empty. Checked it again. Hopped into the driver’s seat,
and locked the door. She waited a second, two, before unfolding the sheet.
It’s
exquisite torture watching you. Wondering how those powerful legs will feel
wrapped
around
me. How the muscles in your arms will quiver under restraints. I’ll know soon.
For
your sake, I hope you meet my expectations.
When I was little, I thought everyone had stories in their head. When I found out only special people had stories to tell, I wanted to be one of the magical ones who shared their stories with the world. I wrote my first book in kindergarten with the help of my teacher, Mrs. Daniels. My mom – my biggest fan and most ardent supporter – has that little crayon-drawn book tucked into the pages of her family bible. It took almost thirty years to get from there to published but here I am, making my own dreams come true, one happily ever after at a time.
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