Read Online Particles of Obsession (A Shadow of Death Romantic Suspense Book 2) by Charlotte Raine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Charlotte Raine
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ask for a better woman.
* * *
T he greenhouse has dozens of dead plants inside it and one bag of mulch. A couple of hours ago, John settled somewhere behind some plants with massive leaves that have somehow survived several frosts. I don’t look for him. The killer can’t know he’s here. As much as I don’t like it, he’s my only safety net.
Now I have to look like I’m actually doing what he said I’d be doing in his blog.
I grab the closest plant, grab the bottom of the stem, and jerk it out of the soil. Its long roots—reminding me of tentacles—cling to most of the dirt. I shake it and the dirt rains down back into the pot.
Now, I need somewhere to throw it away.
Minutes tick by so slowly, I expect to actually finish cleaning out these plants by the end of the night. Maybe the killer hasn’t actually read his blog yet—maybe we were too fast to pull the trigger.
Which reminds me that I really wish I had my gun.
There’s movement in my periphery, outside of the greenhouse. The killer? Maybe he or she came after all. I grab the pruners and take a step outside. Even at night, it’s so much colder out here than inside the greenhouse.
I glance around. The greenhouse casts a faint glow, but there’s still a nearly pitch blackness encasing the light.
There’s no sound except faint traffic coming from what seems miles away. The sky is a blanket of nothingness, and I’m afraid that at any moment, I’ll turn and be face to face with the killer.
The closest college building is about a hundred yards away and it’s well-lit there, but nobody expects anybody to be out here late at night. That’s how John and I wanted it. We needed the killer to believe they could attack me without anybody seeing them.
A scream hides in my throat. I never thought of myself as weak or cowardly, but right now I’m questioning this entire plan.
Something moves just behind me. For a second, all I can feel is stinging pain in my elbow and I drop the pruners. As pain drills through my arm, I realize someone hit me from behind—someone who had seen I had a weapon and needed to disarm me.
Before I can spin around, the person wraps their arm around my neck, presses their forearm against my throat, and begins to choke me. I try to take in air, but their chokehold is too strong. I twist back and forth, but it only causes them to press their arm against me harder. The person jerks me backward and I hear their back hit against the greenhouse wall.
I stomp at their feet, but they manage to avoid both attempts. My vision is getting hazy and I can feel unconsciousness beckoning me.
Just let go , it says. Andre and Sonia are here. They’re waiting for you.
Something slams into both of us, sending us to the hard, frozen ground. As I grasp for breath, I feel a hand on my arm. I flail my arm at the person, trying to hit them.
“It’s me, Mira,” John hisses. “It’s fine.”
I flip over to see him reaching for the figure who attacked me. It’s the same person who had shoved that literary quote into my mouth—evident by the body figure and the clothing—and their face is covered with a ski mask like before. They were prepared—he or she knew there was a risk of being caught.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s an unmistakably female voice.
“Who are you?” John demands. He reaches for her mask. She ducks her head away from him and grabs his wrist. She twists him around by jerking his wrist and pushes him away from her. She sprints away from us.
I pursue her. Like last time, she proves to be much faster than me, but adrenaline allows me to stay about five paces away from her. Once she reaches the school building and it’s getting hard for me to breathe, she jumps up to a fire escape. Her weight doesn’t pull the ladder down. As I reach out to grab her, she pulls herself up to the next rung on the ladder. She continues to pull herself up until her feet hit the bottom rung and she scrambles her way up to the top. I
* * *
T he greenhouse has dozens of dead plants inside it and one bag of mulch. A couple of hours ago, John settled somewhere behind some plants with massive leaves that have somehow survived several frosts. I don’t look for him. The killer can’t know he’s here. As much as I don’t like it, he’s my only safety net.
Now I have to look like I’m actually doing what he said I’d be doing in his blog.
I grab the closest plant, grab the bottom of the stem, and jerk it out of the soil. Its long roots—reminding me of tentacles—cling to most of the dirt. I shake it and the dirt rains down back into the pot.
Now, I need somewhere to throw it away.
Minutes tick by so slowly, I expect to actually finish cleaning out these plants by the end of the night. Maybe the killer hasn’t actually read his blog yet—maybe we were too fast to pull the trigger.
Which reminds me that I really wish I had my gun.
There’s movement in my periphery, outside of the greenhouse. The killer? Maybe he or she came after all. I grab the pruners and take a step outside. Even at night, it’s so much colder out here than inside the greenhouse.
I glance around. The greenhouse casts a faint glow, but there’s still a nearly pitch blackness encasing the light.
There’s no sound except faint traffic coming from what seems miles away. The sky is a blanket of nothingness, and I’m afraid that at any moment, I’ll turn and be face to face with the killer.
The closest college building is about a hundred yards away and it’s well-lit there, but nobody expects anybody to be out here late at night. That’s how John and I wanted it. We needed the killer to believe they could attack me without anybody seeing them.
A scream hides in my throat. I never thought of myself as weak or cowardly, but right now I’m questioning this entire plan.
Something moves just behind me. For a second, all I can feel is stinging pain in my elbow and I drop the pruners. As pain drills through my arm, I realize someone hit me from behind—someone who had seen I had a weapon and needed to disarm me.
Before I can spin around, the person wraps their arm around my neck, presses their forearm against my throat, and begins to choke me. I try to take in air, but their chokehold is too strong. I twist back and forth, but it only causes them to press their arm against me harder. The person jerks me backward and I hear their back hit against the greenhouse wall.
I stomp at their feet, but they manage to avoid both attempts. My vision is getting hazy and I can feel unconsciousness beckoning me.
Just let go , it says. Andre and Sonia are here. They’re waiting for you.
Something slams into both of us, sending us to the hard, frozen ground. As I grasp for breath, I feel a hand on my arm. I flail my arm at the person, trying to hit them.
“It’s me, Mira,” John hisses. “It’s fine.”
I flip over to see him reaching for the figure who attacked me. It’s the same person who had shoved that literary quote into my mouth—evident by the body figure and the clothing—and their face is covered with a ski mask like before. They were prepared—he or she knew there was a risk of being caught.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s an unmistakably female voice.
“Who are you?” John demands. He reaches for her mask. She ducks her head away from him and grabs his wrist. She twists him around by jerking his wrist and pushes him away from her. She sprints away from us.
I pursue her. Like last time, she proves to be much faster than me, but adrenaline allows me to stay about five paces away from her. Once she reaches the school building and it’s getting hard for me to breathe, she jumps up to a fire escape. Her weight doesn’t pull the ladder down. As I reach out to grab her, she pulls herself up to the next rung on the ladder. She continues to pull herself up until her feet hit the bottom rung and she scrambles her way up to the top. I
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