Black Listed(58)

Her hands shook as she parked in the lot across from her office, half from nervousness and half from the excitement of beginning a new chapter in her life. Before they’d parted ways that morning, Sawyer had told her he had big plans for her when she returned back at the suite. While her body should’ve been sated by now, that announcement, along with the naughty glimmer in his eyes as he said it, had made her pussy wet and swollen all over again. It was as if she and Sawyer were making up for lost time and trying to cram several years into a single week.

She walked across the street to the small one-story building that held her office and two others, one leased by a psychologist who saw patients there a few times a week and the other by an accountant who seemed to only use it around tax season. It was the perfect spot for her, since both she and a handful of her clients preferred the privacy the residential location afforded.

Until two days ago, she’d never run into a single problem here, as the neighborhood was almost completely free of crime. That’s why despite Sawyer’s warning about not lowering her guard, she wasn’t worried when she unlocked her office door and stepped inside, noticing immediately that the air felt hotter than normal.

The putrid smell tinged with sulphur was her second clue that something wasn’t right. It smacked into her, making her gag and causing her eyes to water.

It smelled like she imagined hell would.

Her gaze took in the destruction of her office, her files torn, paper crumpled, her drawers left open as if someone had rifled through them. Her heart plummeted to her feet as she snapped her gaze to the shelf where her books should be.

Empty.

The panic was short-lived, as when she lowered her eyes, she saw that lying haphazardly upon the floor, seemingly undamaged, were her books—including her precious copy of A Tale of Two Cities. And thankfully, this time, there was no red paint on her walls, carpet, or books.

But splattered all over her desk was something much, much worse.

Something just as red as the paint.

Blood.

So much blood.

A dead animal lay in the middle, an arrow with a note attached sticking out from its furry dark body. She didn’t want to move any closer, but she had to know. Had to read the note.

Covering her nose and mouth with her hand, she somehow managed to shuffle her feet forward until she reached her desk. Bile rose in her throat, choking her, as she saw the damage done to the poor squirrel. She only prayed that whoever had done this had found the animal dead on the side of the road first before he butchered it. The alternative was too horrific to imagine.

She wasn’t surprised to see a trail of ants crawling all over the squirrel’s rotting corpse. Snatching the note off the arrow, she made certain not to come in contact with the desk and shook the paper to ensure there were no bugs on it. The message was short and clear.

Next time it will be Sawyer.

Her stomach rolled and cramped, giving her almost no warning to get to the wastepaper basket before she lost her breakfast in it.

Sweat dripping down her neck, she realized the person who had broken into her office had cranked up the heat to high, most likely to increase the rancid smell.

Sure enough, when she checked the thermostat, she wasn’t surprised to see it set to ninety degrees. She flicked on the air-conditioning and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

What did they want?

There were no instructions. No demands.

The first note had taunted her with the knowledge that he’d found her. This one threatened Sawyer.

Was he the key to all of this?

Her life had been quiet until he’d shown up. And her photograph had appeared in the news weeks ago. Why had all of this only started after his arrival in Michigan?

Other than cutting the brakes on the car, whoever was behind all this hadn’t made a move to hurt her physically.

What if she wasn’t the target? What if Sawyer was? What if she wasn’t supposed to have been in that car with him?

Clearly, they wanted her husband out of her life. But to what end?

She had no doubt her past was connected in some way, but she was confused. Why didn’t they just call the police or kill her? Why toy with her like this?

So many questions with no answers in sight.

She folded the note and stuck it in her pocket, her eyes fixed on the books. The past refused to take its dirty hooks out of her. As much as she wanted to move on with her life, it still wasn’t time. She couldn’t turn over the black list to her brother until she figured out who wanted Sawyer out of the way. Not when there was even the slightest chance she might need it in the future.

She picked up her copy of A Tale of Two Cities and flipped through its pages, relieved to see the black list still intact. All these years, the cover had cloaked the journal from prying eyes and had kept it safe. But now, it wasn’t enough.