Page 16 of Rogue's Path

A stalker, I have a stalker.

“Are you okay? Do you need a drink?” One of the new friends walks over to where I’m sitting on a step near the front door, watching the conversations all around.

“Fine.” You’re fine. Your stalker can’t find you here.

She takes a step back, appraising me.

Like my demeanor could tell her about the wild… and scary stories playing out in my head. Sometimes it’s easy to think the stalker is all in my imagination, like the rest of the death in my life. If I hadn’t taken a picture of the card before the police came, I might be able to convince myself.

“You’re one of Dahlia’s writer friends.”

“Guilty as charged. My name’s Dylan.” I offer my hand. There’s something about the way this woman holds herself that screams no-nonsense businesswoman, regardless of the fact that her dress has more gems on it than most chandeliers. And I’d bet the solution to my next murder mystery series that those diamonds and black pearls around her neck aren’t glass.

“Winnie. What genre do you write?”

Interesting. She didn’t ask about the titles of my books. “Mystery. Sometimes cozy, occasionally noir, but mainly thriller. Are you a reader?” We’re usually a voracious bunch.

“Not like I wish I was. My work takes most of my time. Do you know what’s planned for our evening? Mindy mentioned that Dahlia had come up with some exciting events for us.”

“Exciting might not be the word I would use.” Scary. Terrifying.

“What would you use?” Winnie turns towards the group.

“Fun.” Hopefully.

“Is your group as eclectic as ours?” Her eyes stop on Savie knitting away while talking.

They have a group. What kind? The other women don’t seem alike in any way. Oh. I love a good mystery. “Yup.”

The doorbell rings. Dahlia has more friends?

She’s in the middle of what seems to be a deep conversation. “Excuse me a moment.” I make my way over to the door and open it.

“Knight!” Every time this man stands in front of me, I have a hard time believing he’s real. Not that Knight has that fake model perfection going. It’s more like how could a man like him really exist.

“Hey, Dylan.”

The room goes silent.

What happened? I turn to face them as Knight steps in.

Maverick is back. That sounded wrong. He lives here and was only in the backyard playing poker with some guys. But he’s standing at the edge of the kitchen with thunderclouds for eyes.

Whatever irritated him doesn’t matter. Everyone should just back away slowly before he explodes.

Dahlia seems completely oblivious to his ire as she strides over to him with a smile on her face.

“Why is he here?” Maverick nods towards Knight. “You didn’t need to invite the whole world to poker.”

Dahlia turns towards us and waves. “Hey, Knight. Thank you for coming. We should be ready to leave in a few minutes.”

Maverick pulls her in closer, grabbing her attention again. “Dahl.”

She pats his chest. “Don’t worry. Knight isn’t here for the poker game. He’s coming with us.”

“What?”

Okay, I didn’t even imagine this murder scene. Crimes of passion are so expected in the world of mystery that people rarely bother writing them anymore. But Maverick might lose his mind on her tonight.