this time. Allyson’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat as he talked of danger on
the horizon. Some survivors of the House of Blood had gone missing and another had been found brutally murdered. He urged
Chad to “go underground.”
Allyson had been able to bear no more of it, retreating from her eavesdropping position and heading in a hurry to the spare
bedroom. There she retrieved from the closet the bag she’d packed months ago. It was a big black canvas bag stuffed full of
clothes very unlike the fashionable wardrobe she’d adopted for her big role as Chad’s love interest. Tucked away in a zippered
side pouch was the $10,000 cash advance she’d been given for the job. Her getaway money. Another pouch contained an array
of flawlessly produced false credentials and ID, including a passport, a Tennessee driver’s license, a birth certificate,
and a card identifying her as a consultant for something called Franklin Security Solutions. All bore the name Jennifer Campbell.
Chad likely would invite his friend to spend the night, and she could too easily imagine the man stumbling upon the stuffed
traveling bag. A man like that would operate at a base-level of paranoia every day. He would open the bag, see the fake ID
and documents, and…so she stashed the bag at the back of her own closet in the bedroom she shared with Chad.
Well. It was taken care of now. No one had any reason to suspect she was working with the bad guys. She turned away from her
reflection and returned to the bedroom. She went to the bed, watched Chad’s sleeping form. He was snoring lightly. She prayed
for him to turn over and see her in the expensive Victoria’s Secret lingerie they’d picked out together from a catalog. It
would arouse him. It always did. A good, energetic fucking might be just the thing to get him talking again. She pictured
herself in his embrace, their bodies naked and covered with a sheen of sweat in the afterglow of love. The intimacy of the
moment leading him to confide in her again, sharing his fears and telling her of the danger Jim claimed they were facing.
And it would then be so easy to fuel the fires of that fear, manipulating him with her own show of terror.
They would run.
Rouse Jim, grab a few necessities, and get the hell out of Dodge.
Chad shifted position on the bed, rolling from his side onto his back. Allyson held her breath for a hopeful, tense moment.
He didn’t wake.
Damn.
Allyson pulled on a tiny silk robe and slipped out of the bedroom. As she moved down the hallway toward the living room, she
paused at the doorway to the guest bedroom. The door was partly open, but the interior was dark. She could just vaguely make
out the sleeping form of Mr. Jim, Lazarus, or whatever his name really was. She heard an intake of breath and thought for
a moment that he might be awake. Awake and watching her watch him. Her heart raced at the thought. Without waiting to verify
whether the man was awake or asleep, she hurried past the darkened doorway.
She retrieved Chad’s laptop from his office and carried it into the living room. She settled into the plush sectional sofa
and propped the little computer on her lap. She opened it and tapped the power button. The computer came out of hibernation
mode to present her with a screen that offered the option of signing on to her desktop or Chad’s. She moved the cursor to
Chad’s name and clicked on it. The desktop icons quickly loaded and she signed on to Chad’s AOL account. She opened his mailbox
and scrolled through the list of e-mails, looking for anything that might be from someone looking to tip him to Allyson’s
true role here. She couldn’t imagine who might be in a position to do that, but paranoia drove her to periodically check his
messages on the off-chance anything that needed intercepting did show up.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she clicked over to his saved mail folder and opened the
the horizon. Some survivors of the House of Blood had gone missing and another had been found brutally murdered. He urged
Chad to “go underground.”
Allyson had been able to bear no more of it, retreating from her eavesdropping position and heading in a hurry to the spare
bedroom. There she retrieved from the closet the bag she’d packed months ago. It was a big black canvas bag stuffed full of
clothes very unlike the fashionable wardrobe she’d adopted for her big role as Chad’s love interest. Tucked away in a zippered
side pouch was the $10,000 cash advance she’d been given for the job. Her getaway money. Another pouch contained an array
of flawlessly produced false credentials and ID, including a passport, a Tennessee driver’s license, a birth certificate,
and a card identifying her as a consultant for something called Franklin Security Solutions. All bore the name Jennifer Campbell.
Chad likely would invite his friend to spend the night, and she could too easily imagine the man stumbling upon the stuffed
traveling bag. A man like that would operate at a base-level of paranoia every day. He would open the bag, see the fake ID
and documents, and…so she stashed the bag at the back of her own closet in the bedroom she shared with Chad.
Well. It was taken care of now. No one had any reason to suspect she was working with the bad guys. She turned away from her
reflection and returned to the bedroom. She went to the bed, watched Chad’s sleeping form. He was snoring lightly. She prayed
for him to turn over and see her in the expensive Victoria’s Secret lingerie they’d picked out together from a catalog. It
would arouse him. It always did. A good, energetic fucking might be just the thing to get him talking again. She pictured
herself in his embrace, their bodies naked and covered with a sheen of sweat in the afterglow of love. The intimacy of the
moment leading him to confide in her again, sharing his fears and telling her of the danger Jim claimed they were facing.
And it would then be so easy to fuel the fires of that fear, manipulating him with her own show of terror.
They would run.
Rouse Jim, grab a few necessities, and get the hell out of Dodge.
Chad shifted position on the bed, rolling from his side onto his back. Allyson held her breath for a hopeful, tense moment.
He didn’t wake.
Damn.
Allyson pulled on a tiny silk robe and slipped out of the bedroom. As she moved down the hallway toward the living room, she
paused at the doorway to the guest bedroom. The door was partly open, but the interior was dark. She could just vaguely make
out the sleeping form of Mr. Jim, Lazarus, or whatever his name really was. She heard an intake of breath and thought for
a moment that he might be awake. Awake and watching her watch him. Her heart raced at the thought. Without waiting to verify
whether the man was awake or asleep, she hurried past the darkened doorway.
She retrieved Chad’s laptop from his office and carried it into the living room. She settled into the plush sectional sofa
and propped the little computer on her lap. She opened it and tapped the power button. The computer came out of hibernation
mode to present her with a screen that offered the option of signing on to her desktop or Chad’s. She moved the cursor to
Chad’s name and clicked on it. The desktop icons quickly loaded and she signed on to Chad’s AOL account. She opened his mailbox
and scrolled through the list of e-mails, looking for anything that might be from someone looking to tip him to Allyson’s
true role here. She couldn’t imagine who might be in a position to do that, but paranoia drove her to periodically check his
messages on the off-chance anything that needed intercepting did show up.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she clicked over to his saved mail folder and opened the
Similar Books
