Read Online Humidity Rising (Romantic Suspense) by Amelia Rose - Free Book Online Page B

closed the folder. “Well, that explains a few things, although it brings up more questions that it answers.”
    “I think we’ve had enough of Liza and her story for tonight.” She took the folder, tossed it on the coffee table, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
    “Okay. What story do you want to hear now?” His voice was husky.
    “How about the one where you carry me to the bedroom?”
    “Hmm … I’m not sure I know that one. Have I told it to you before?”
    “Yep. At least a few times. Don’t you remember?”
    He pretended to search his mind. “Maybe. Remind me how it starts.”
    She giggled. “First we kiss for a few minutes, then you pick me up and take me into the bedroom, then we—”
    “Oh! That story. That’s one of my favorites.”
    “Mine, too.” She began to giggle again, only to be quieted by his lips pressing feverishly upon hers.
     
    * * * * *
     
    They were probably in there acting like teenagers in heat. The thought of them like that only made her blood feel like molten lava as she sat in her car at the end of the block. She’d found a different spot to park, where she’d be less noticeable yet still able to keep watch on them.
    How could he carry on like that with a bimbo he barely knew? After all this time and all he’d put her through, he still took up with the other woman. Well, it was about time they both got what was coming to them.
    She hesitated, not sure what she was planning to do but knowing she had to do something. The gun was gone, but the bitch probably had several knives she could get her hands on. With that thought in her mind, she slipped out of the car, closed the door as quietly as she could, and tiptoed across the street, keeping herself as low as possible.
    It was a good thing she’d decided to wear black clothing tonight. She would hardly be noticed on the dark side of the street, where she could hide next to trees and shrubs until she reached that jezebel’s house.
    The problem of how to get into the house didn’t occur to her until she slithered around to the back. She didn’t have lock picking tools, but they wouldn’t have did her any good—she had no idea how to pick a lock.
    Then a thought struck her.
    Most people keep a spare key hidden somewhere, usually in a plastic fake rock or flower pot near the door. Finding neither, she began to panic, and placed her hand on the window sill to steady herself.
    That’s when she felt it. The key was sitting right there in plain view. Stupid cow. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to leave such things where anyone could find them?
    A giggle tried to bubble up, but she squashed it. Drawing attention to herself now would not be a good thing.
    She slipped the key into the lock and gently turned. It slid soundlessly and with little effort. Another fortunate thing for an intruder. Someone needed to have a long talk with this idiot Wes had gotten involved with. Oh, wait. When she was through with him and his harlot, it wouldn’t matter any more. They’d be dead. And the snotty little girl, too.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Kristi liked to make love by candlelight and Wes could understand why. It set a seductive mood, enhancing the sense of mystery and magical wonders as they explored each other's bodies. Even when they were both exhausted, spent, and lightly dozing—like now—the mood remained.
    The piercing scream in the hallway made them both sit bolt upright in the bed.
    Janie! Something was seriously awry to make her shriek in such a manner.
    Wes shot out of bed and slid into his jeans in one fluid motion, adrenaline pounding through his veins and into his brain. He reached the door as Kristi put on her robe and cinched the sash around her waist.
    He opened the door to see the child standing in the hall between the bedroom doors, looking toward the living room, still screaming as loudly as her lungs would let her. He turned his head, not believing what, or rather, who, was standing just a yard or two