Shay Morgan has stayed hidden for a long time. Living a reclusive life in Earth’s End, Alaska, she’s as far away as she can get from the trauma of her childhood and the man who hurt her long ago. But terror takes over Shay’s life yet again when an unknown stalker steals away the fragile peace she’s built for herself—targeting not only her but the one man who’s ever managed to get past the walls she’s built around herself.
Elliot Winter has lived through being falsely accused before—it ruined his military career. Now it’s happening all over again. And this time, his accuser is a twisted impostor who’s targeting his ex-girlfriend, Shay. Despite a fierce mutual attraction, Shay and Elliot broke up because Shay couldn’t let her guard down, couldn’t let Elliot in. But now they both need to trust each other to confront a psycho who seems to know all their secrets.
“You should have worn that skirt.”
“What skirt?” she asked absently as she stared at the emails that had amassed in her inbox. She had a headache, just thinking about dealing with them.
“That long denim one you like so much,” he said, glancing in the rearview mirror before cutting over into the other lane.
Frowning, she looked over at him. “Why should I have worn it?”
“Because if you had…” He laid a hand on her thigh, then slid it up until he was cupping her in his hand.
She gasped, sagging back in the seat. Her lids drifted down low and she muttered, “Oh…”
“Would have made the drive a lot more interesting,” he teased.
Swallowing, she let her chin drop down to her chest as he rubbed the heel of his hand against her. Yes…yes, it would definitely have done that. “Well, it’s definitely a better option than going through email.”
He teased her for another few seconds and then pulled away. “Yeah. Too bad you didn’t wear the skirt.”
Shooting him a dark look, she shifted in the seat. A hollow ache throbbed down low in her belly and she ended up crossing her legs just to ease it a little. “That was mean,” she muttered.
“Then why are you smiling?”
Absently, she touched her lips before looking back at her phone. “I’m plotting my revenge.”
“I can’t wait.” He glanced at the phone. “What has you glaring at the phone so hard?”
“Email,” she muttered glumly. “Lots of it.”
They lapsed into silence, him playing navigator while she dealt with all those messages.
I hope you’ll understand, but I’m unable to ….
I hope you’ll understand but there’s been some confusion—the Facebook page wasn’t mine…
After about ten of those, she hit a spate of regular emails and breathed a little easier. It was much easier to respond to those. Up until she hit one that wasn’t an email.
It was a picture.
Just looking at it—
Stolen releases tomorrow.
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