Page 28 of Temptation
People were buried alive.
How often did that shit happen? Uh, never. And she’d been there for it. She’d been called to the scene—the first ambulance to arrive—and when she’d arrived and seen a crew digging up the earth, she’d been so sure that there would only be dead bodies beneath the dirt.
“Bye, Bridget!” A shout from Jada at the main desk. Jada barely glanced up from her computer screen. Bridget knew she was already focused on the next shift’s schedule.
They always worked twelve-hour shifts on the ambulance rotations, and Bridget was damn tired but also way wired.
The man came out first. They hauled him out and the dirt poured off his body, and it was wild. Bridget’s jaw had dropped when she’d seen him. It had seriously been like seeing a ghost crawl from a grave. Talk about some Night of the Living Dead bullshit. Only he hadn’t been a zombie. He’d been a human, buried alive. The rich guy who pretty much owned everything within a two-hundred-mile radius. Yeah, she’d recognized him.
She hurried toward her little red Honda. Her fingers pushed the button to unlock the car.
The woman—I think I might have yelled when I saw her. Both of them—alive? That had been crazy. She could not wait to tell her friends this story. So what if she was technically not supposed to talk about the calls she made while on duty? This was too big not to share.
Her partner Adam had taken the whole scene in stride, barely even seemed to break a sweat, but she’d been shaking all over with excitement. They’d just been on a rescue where two people were buried alive. How cool was that?
Normally, they handled calls about people falling. Seizures. Car accidents. Nobody got buried alive cases. This was gonna be the stuff of legend around the break room.
She opened her car door.
Something stung her on the neck. “Dammit!” Her hand flew up. That had sure as hell better not have been a bee because she was allergic and…
Bridget’s legs buckled beneath her. She fell forward, and the side of her head hit the edge of her open car door.
Chapter Eight
Preston didn’t expect to sleep. How could he sleep after having hell thrown back in his face? But…
An angel curled in his lap. Her breath was warm and soft. Her body gentle. Delicate. And with her against him, he eventually drifted off to sleep.
Long ago, he’d become used to only catching bits and pieces of sleep. Normally when he closed his eyes, he found himself fighting the same old nightmares. Of course, now he had new nightmares but…
He didn’t dream this time. Didn’t have any nightmares. Didn’t even know really when he’d slipped into sleep. One minute, he was cradling Sloane, hating that she’d been terrorized because she’d tried to help him.
In the next instant, he was asleep.
When he woke, his eyes opened, instant alertness flooded him, and he stared through the giant windows and at the sprawling mountains that waited in front of him.
Wide open spaces. Stretching as far as I can see.
She was still in his lap. Tucked against him with her legs sliding over the side of the armchair. One of her hands pressed to his bare chest.
He didn’t move. Just kept sitting there, with Sloane Armstrong held in his lap.
Time passed slowly, and he kept staring at the mountains and holding her. He held her, and he made his plans. It would not be the first time that he’d killed.
Probably not the last time, either.
Some things had to be done.
There were people in the world who could go their entire lives, never knowing violence. He was not one of those people.
I will start at the initial crime scene. I’ll look at every piece of evidence. The sheriff would give him access, no problem. He had plenty of pull with her and her department. He’d search that scene. Review all the evidence that the prick had left behind. What did the bastard leave? What will take me to him?
And the crime scene—the first crime scene—had been right on his own property. Good thing he had hidden security cameras near the long driveway. The authorities would want that footage. He’d give it to them, eventually. After he’d reviewed it himself.
Sloane jerked in his arms. “Oh, no!”
Awake. Clearly.
