Read Online Last Light by M. Pierce - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. Pierce
Tags: United States, Suspense, Erótica, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Contemporary Fiction, romantic suspense, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, Romantic Erotica, Mystery & Suspense, Romantic
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people read Night Owl, or how much they might guess about her life. She was, as far as I could tell, no closer to leaving Denver and disappearing with me. And now she knew Night Owl was posted on the Mystic Tavern forum. How long before she suspected me?
I relaxed my grip and sighed slowly; I felt so fucking powerless.
“Just pull the e-book,” I said. “Everywhere you’re selling it, pull the title. My brother has a lawyer looking into it. We’re both fucked if they figure it all out.”
“Oh … shit. Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.” I rolled my eyes. “Hence my six A . M . wake-up call, okay? Do it now.”
“I will. I promise. I’m so sorry … if this … shit, if this comes back to you…”
I smirked and pushed myself out of the chair. I brushed snow off my pants.
“Hey, don’t worry about me, Mel. I could lie my way out of existence.” I practically did.
Melanie was still talking when I shut my cell.
She would call again, I knew she would, when Night Owl was gone from the Net.
Chapter 11
HANNAH
My phone and watch alarms went off simultaneously, chiming and beeping in the dark. I groaned. It was five in the morning. I had a flight to catch at seven.
And I missed Matt.
I missed waking beside his warm body, our limbs tangled together. I missed the things he muttered in his sleep.
I told you, he insisted once. I told you!
And another night: Peaches. No, a picnic. A picnic …
We laughed like crazy when he woke up and I told him. Now it was our little joke, signifying nothing. “Peaches. No, a picnic!”
I checked the packing job I did last night. Not bad, I only missed my boots and nylons.
I popped two Tylenol and showered quickly. As hangovers go, I was feeling all right.
My plan was to call a cab and be gone before Nate showed. I would text him from the cab, saying I decided to head out early.
I frowned as I rinsed shampoo from my hair. It was too bad about Nate and his Night Owl fixation. I actually liked Nate.
Seth, on the other hand …
I shivered and plucked a towel off the rack. Seth … I felt a swirl of emotion when I thought of him. Anger, interest, confusion.
I pulled on a gray V-neck sweater, skinny jeans, boots, and my Burberry coat—a gift from Matt. He spoiled me terribly. I dried my curls and tied them back. My hair was getting long again, hanging around my shoulders. I think Matt liked it that way. I know he loved when I dragged it over his body …
My cell rang.
It was Nate, of course. I let the call go to voice mail.
He called again. Really, Nate?
I rubbed my neck and sighed. But of course he was calling … and calling and calling. He’d committed to giving me a ride to the airport, and like the gentleman he was, he wanted to remind me. We hadn’t exactly touched base after the memorial. I rode back to Nate’s house with two of Matt’s cousins, hid in the basement, and then made my escape with Seth. (And then made my escape from Seth by calling a cab.)
When my phone began to ring for a third round, I peeked through the curtains. Fuck. Nate stood in the motel parking lot, phone to his ear, eyes aimed in my direction.
I grabbed my cell.
“Hey!” I said. “Sorry, I was drying my hair.”
“There you are. I was worried, Hannah. We should get going soon. Are you ready?”
“Yup … all ready.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I watched Nate through the window as we talked. His posture relaxed the moment I answered. He nodded and raked a hand through his hair.
God, now I really felt like a scumbag.
Nate beamed at me in the lobby. I caught a touch of guilt in his smile.
“Hannah. Good morning.” He took my suitcase. “Did I scare you off with Shapiro yesterday? Did you get one of these?” He handed me Matt’s memorial card.
Matthew Robert Sky Jr. November 9, 1984–December 2013. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul…”
There was
I relaxed my grip and sighed slowly; I felt so fucking powerless.
“Just pull the e-book,” I said. “Everywhere you’re selling it, pull the title. My brother has a lawyer looking into it. We’re both fucked if they figure it all out.”
“Oh … shit. Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.” I rolled my eyes. “Hence my six A . M . wake-up call, okay? Do it now.”
“I will. I promise. I’m so sorry … if this … shit, if this comes back to you…”
I smirked and pushed myself out of the chair. I brushed snow off my pants.
“Hey, don’t worry about me, Mel. I could lie my way out of existence.” I practically did.
Melanie was still talking when I shut my cell.
She would call again, I knew she would, when Night Owl was gone from the Net.
Chapter 11
HANNAH
My phone and watch alarms went off simultaneously, chiming and beeping in the dark. I groaned. It was five in the morning. I had a flight to catch at seven.
And I missed Matt.
I missed waking beside his warm body, our limbs tangled together. I missed the things he muttered in his sleep.
I told you, he insisted once. I told you!
And another night: Peaches. No, a picnic. A picnic …
We laughed like crazy when he woke up and I told him. Now it was our little joke, signifying nothing. “Peaches. No, a picnic!”
I checked the packing job I did last night. Not bad, I only missed my boots and nylons.
I popped two Tylenol and showered quickly. As hangovers go, I was feeling all right.
My plan was to call a cab and be gone before Nate showed. I would text him from the cab, saying I decided to head out early.
I frowned as I rinsed shampoo from my hair. It was too bad about Nate and his Night Owl fixation. I actually liked Nate.
Seth, on the other hand …
I shivered and plucked a towel off the rack. Seth … I felt a swirl of emotion when I thought of him. Anger, interest, confusion.
I pulled on a gray V-neck sweater, skinny jeans, boots, and my Burberry coat—a gift from Matt. He spoiled me terribly. I dried my curls and tied them back. My hair was getting long again, hanging around my shoulders. I think Matt liked it that way. I know he loved when I dragged it over his body …
My cell rang.
It was Nate, of course. I let the call go to voice mail.
He called again. Really, Nate?
I rubbed my neck and sighed. But of course he was calling … and calling and calling. He’d committed to giving me a ride to the airport, and like the gentleman he was, he wanted to remind me. We hadn’t exactly touched base after the memorial. I rode back to Nate’s house with two of Matt’s cousins, hid in the basement, and then made my escape with Seth. (And then made my escape from Seth by calling a cab.)
When my phone began to ring for a third round, I peeked through the curtains. Fuck. Nate stood in the motel parking lot, phone to his ear, eyes aimed in my direction.
I grabbed my cell.
“Hey!” I said. “Sorry, I was drying my hair.”
“There you are. I was worried, Hannah. We should get going soon. Are you ready?”
“Yup … all ready.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I watched Nate through the window as we talked. His posture relaxed the moment I answered. He nodded and raked a hand through his hair.
God, now I really felt like a scumbag.
Nate beamed at me in the lobby. I caught a touch of guilt in his smile.
“Hannah. Good morning.” He took my suitcase. “Did I scare you off with Shapiro yesterday? Did you get one of these?” He handed me Matt’s memorial card.
Matthew Robert Sky Jr. November 9, 1984–December 2013. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul…”
There was
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