Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
The small, slightly hunched shadow moving out of it.
I only realize Viola Babin is in the house when I smell the smoke.
She stops by the wall in front of me, a glowing cigarette in one hand and a thick wooden club in the other.
Her hair is dry.
She must’ve got here before the sky split, and there’s a hard darkness in her eyes so much worse than the restless night.
Distant, yet determined.
A little sad.
A lot cruel.
“Awful night for some justice, don’t ya think?” she hisses.
I make a strangled sound, scrambling back into the hallway until I hit the wall in the mudroom.
“Stay back!” I throw out my hands, doing my best to sound scary as I look around desperately for somewhere to run—or at least for a weapon.
What did she say?
Justice?
There’s a nasty smirk on her lips, like she hates the taste of the smoke she’s inhaling, but she needs it anyway like a vampire needs blood.
And I’d guess she needs something darker and thicker than nicotine tonight.
My lungs stop working.
Even worse, she’s blocking me from the kitchen, reducing my chances of grabbing anything useful.
Not good.
Oh, sure, I could make a run for it and try to sprint around her, but there’s no guarantee I’ll get past before she starts swinging that club at my head.
Also, I doubt she’s alone.
If she’s here, odds are Joseph Babin isn’t far behind.
She shifts the club in her hand, smacking it against her palm as I stare at her.
If she hits me with that thing, it’s going to break bones. A head strike could kill me.
She’s not a large woman, but she’s wiry and lean from years working the blueberry fields.
One good hit and it’s lights out. Or at least so much blistering pain I’ll wish I was unconscious.
Crap, crap.
Last I checked, Kane has at least thirty minutes until he’s home. Maybe more in this mess outside.
Another rainy gust shakes the window, reminding me how screwed I am, and Viola smiles.
I can’t stand it, I have to look away.
Just in time to see movement outside the window.
A bigger silhouette stalking the darkness, and I think there’s something bigger and more deadly in his hands.
A baseball bat? A rifle?
Shit.
So that’s where Joseph is, then.
Not in the kitchen. Not yet.
But in less than a minute…
What are they doing here? What do they want? They wouldn’t be crazy enough to just kill me in cold blood… would they?
I don’t realize I’m straining forward, my body reacting faster than my brain, searching for a way around her.
“Don’t even think about it, missy,” Viola snaps, striding closer. “I can read you like a book. Let’s just say you did get a knife, what do you think you’re gonna do? Gut me like a fish?” She holds up her club again, brandishing it. “Don’t bother. It’ll only make it worse if you wanna go out kicking like a scared rabbit.”
My breath stalls.
“What do you want?” I force out.
She just sucks her cheek as thunder vibrates the house.
“Like I said, awful night for this, but I bet this old place will still burn in the rain with enough good kindling.”
“Burn.” I echo it without meaning to. “Like the gazebo, you mean.”
She throws her head back and laughs, an evil, tinny sound.
“Oh, so someone blabbed about that, huh?” She gives me another carnivorous smile, stepping forward so I’m forced to back up, closer to the door. But there’s nowhere left for me to go with Joseph outside. “Half the folks in town thought we were behind it. But there was no proof, was there? Things are harder now, but not when you’re smart. Those fancy cameras you put up don’t work half as well as you think.”
Oh my God.
I don’t even know if they knocked out the one by the door or if I was too distracted by the storm to notice.
There’ll be proof this time, if I have anything to say about it.
Only, that hinges on survival first. I have zero doubt she intends to leave me beaten or dead to burn up with the house.
My phone hums in my pocket, but with that club in her hand, I don’t dare reach for it.
My heart hammers in my throat, so fast it’s sickening.
Every time the wind moans, I think it’s Joseph lighting a fire.
But he wouldn’t do it yet.
Not with his wife still inside.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why get this crazy over—”
“Crazy? Girl, it’s been a long time coming. You know what that’s like, spending your whole life staring at land that was stolen by some rich cockadoodie who don’t even live here? Tonight, we’re putting it right. We’re reclaiming what’s always been ours.” She stares straight through me. I keep my eyes fixed on the club in her hand. “The storm’ll prevent anyone from coming to the rescue, knowing how bad the cops get tied up on nights like this.”