Page 101 of Lethal Threat

Fresh, just like it was yesterday. Not seven months ago.

Forty minutes later, the driver calls out to me as he slows. “Ma’am, we’re almost to the address you requested.”

Shifting, I stretch my travel weary body. Everything hurts. Redeye flights always make me feel like crap. But I’d have ridden a bicycle if I had to.

Nothing is keeping me from getting back here so I can search for Bryan.

As we pull into the lot, an ounce of relief washes over me. My white Honda Pilot is right in its spot, number 44.

Interesting. someone brought it back here after the accident. That’s great news, because I’ve got a three city area to canvas looking for my brother.

I need to get moving.

But my body has other plans.

But when the driver drops me in front of my apartment, a wave of exhaustion hits me. Not just my body, but my brain. It feels like I’m trying to walk with concrete shackles as I climb the steps to my apartment.

Reality apparently weighs a lot. At least, if you’re me, it does.

Nothing like having a missing drug addict brother and a few days in a mountain cabin with the man that crushed your heart, then wormed his way back into your bed.

Okay, okay, so maybe I did have a big part in the falling back in bed part, which infuriates me.

But I had reasons: a.) I was not in my right mind, and b.) Cole Strong is the most physically irresistible man I’ve ever met.

But a.) doesn’t apply anymore. And b.)... well, b.) can go screw itself.

I open the lock using the spare key that was stashed over the door, stuck in a little crack over the molding. It was there for Bryan. In case he ever needed to get in.

When I push open the door, I’m hit with wave after wave of memories. Mostly bad. Some horrible.

I’ve never shaken the awful emotions of the night that Bryan was arrested in this very room.

Suddenly, an ice-pick pain in my head steals my breath.

Oookay. I wasn’t expecting that.

Maybe I overdid it.

Carefully, I lock the deadbolt and hook the chain. My plan was to leave right away to begin my search, but that’s a big negative at the moment.

My body flatly refuses to move anymore.

My heavy legs carry me down the hall to the bedroom. Fumbling for an aspirin, I hiss out my frustration as things tumble out of the medicine cabinet.

A box of condoms first. Followed by a pack of tampons which scatter like pick up sticks.

“Oh,come on!”

I don’t even bother gathering a single thing up. It can wait.

The morning light filtering through the blinds in my bedroom is low and gloomy as I crash onto the comforter.

Sleep claims me fast, as if my brain just can’t take another moment of this world.

* * *

Lord, it’s hot in here.