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insistent throb between her thighs. Whoever it was on site had lousy
timing. Talk about being left high and dry. Well, maybe not dry.
-206-
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A Handyman s Best Tool
 Gross, Beth-Ann. Get your mind off your body. Riley could be in
danger out there.
She dragged herself upright and pulled at the paint cloths until she
found one that wasn t too large. Twisting it about her body like a sarong,
she tucked the loose flap down between her breasts. It was scratchy
against her skin, but it was better than being spread-eagled like a naked
sacrifice. At least it gave her some measure of dignity.
For a moment, she thought about getting dressed. She shrugged and
discarded the idea. Riley was probably right and it was nothing but kids.
That being the case, he d soon be back and they could take up where
they d left off.
Kicking the surplus canvas behind her so it trailed like a wedding
dress, she shuffled across to the doorway and stared out. Once away
from the pool of light cast by the flashlight, darkness pressed in on her.
Suddenly, worry for Riley s safety filled her.
Fear gathered hold again. She wanted to go after him, but knew she
couldn t. If it wasn t kids and the saboteur was on site, she would be
more a hindrance than help. She pressed a hand to her middle as
nausea churned in her gut. Please let Riley be safe.
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When she turned to go back to the makeshift bed on the other side of
the room, she heard a slight noise behind her. Nothing more than a
shuffle, but ominous. She tried to spin around, but the bulky canvas
twisted about her feet. Bending from the waist, she worked to free her
legs and in that moment, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of
the hallway and erupted into the room.
A clenched fist hit her in the back and she went over. Her knees
cracked on the hard surface of the bare concrete. Tears filled her eyes,
but she blinked them away. Her breathing accelerated along with her
heartbeat. Her mouth dried and she struggled to swallow.
-207-
Alexis Fleming
On hands and knees, the bulk of the canvas flipped over her arm and
clutched to her side, she scrambled away from the menacing figure
behind her. When she reached the edge of the pool of light, she stopped
and took a deep breath, focused, and let it rip.
 Riley!
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One name. The one person she knew she could rely upon to rescue
her from the disastrous end to her night of passion.
 Shut up, missy. I don t want to hurt you.
The voice was gruff, that of an older man, and one she recognized.
She shuffled back even further and pushed herself upright, wavering on
shaky legs until she found her balance. Her knees stung like a bitch. The
canvas loosened about her body and she dropped the excess and
tightened it around her breasts.
 Jason? she said in disbelief, her voice a raspy croak. She cleared
her throat and tried again.  Jason, is that you?
The figure edged forward until it stood on the edge of the circle of
illumination. Beth-Ann backed away, as far from him as she could get
and still remain within the light.
The painter looked like a derelict off the streets. His shirt was creased
and dirty, buttoned in only two places. The shirttails hung over jeans
that had seen better days, the knees torn and muddy. His hair flopped
forward over his forehead and made the wild look in his eyes even more
of a threat.
He was the total opposite of the man who d painted her ceiling just a
few days ago. That man had been the perfect gentleman, helpful and
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kind, thoughtful. More the fatherly type. The sort of person a girl could
go to if she had a problem.
-208-
A Handyman s Best Tool
Now he was twitchy, his body in constant movement as he swayed
from side to side. His eyes were blood-shot, his face creased in a look of
hate. And she was sure she could smell alcohol.
Then she saw what he had in his hands and remembered the
comments the caller had made that night at her place. In one hand, he [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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