Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 133849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay.
* * * *
Childswood, Oregon
Eight years later
Nora Holloway stared at the body, the vision not quite reaching her brain. It wasn’t real. Because if it was real, then her husband was dead on the floor.
The idea of his death didn’t spark sorrow because he was an abusive asshole she planned to divorce.
Don’t think you can leave, Nora. You have nothing. I’ll ruin you.
He’d already ruined her.
He’d ruined her the day he’d married her and brought her into his hell.
“Micah?” His name came quietly out of her mouth as though she didn’t want to wake him. She didn’t. He was sleeping. Or maybe she was and this was a dream.
Micah’s body didn’t move. He was face down on the living room floor, a pool of blood forming around his body.
How was this a shock? She’d always known he would come to a bad end, but somehow she’d thought she wouldn’t be here to witness it. She would either have found a way out or he would have killed her.
“Damn, but you are a lovely woman,” a deep voice said. “Even standing there over my brother’s dead body, you still manage to look hot.”
She turned, fear coursing through her. If there was one person she feared more than Micah Holloway, it was his older brother, Ted. Ted stood in the hallway leading to the magnificent foyer of the McMansion Micah had first brought her to three years before. He’d carried her over the threshold, and a few weeks later he’d smacked her for the first time. This beautiful house had become a cage. Ted was taller than Micah, his features darker. He was the head of the family, though his father was still alive. He’d taken over the family company and ruthlessly pursued money and power. His wife was a shell of a woman who knew how to smile without a light in her eyes, when to nod and agree.
Nora had known that was exactly who she would become if she stayed, but now she feared she’d waited too long.
Or maybe he would be reasonable. “I don’t know what happened. I walked in and he was here. I was out having dinner with friends.”
A brow rose over Ted’s dark eyes, and he looked far too calm for a man who had found out his only brother was dead. “Were you? See, I don’t think you were. If you were out with friends, then you would have an alibi for this mess we find ourselves in. But if, say, you were out at the lake house practicing with the .22 you bought illegally, then no one would know because you didn’t want anyone to know.”
Her heart threatened to seize. She’d been quietly taking self-defense classes, and she kept the gun in a locker at the gym. She’d run it by before coming home because she didn’t trust Micah not to go through her things. “How do you know that?”
One big shoulder shrugged. “Because I had someone follow you. That was how I knew the timing was right. You see, my brother has been a liability for a long time, and now he’s run up debts with some nasty people, and I’m fairly certain the feds are about to come after him.”
Her breath caught as she realized he was holding a gun in his gloved hands. A familiar-looking gun. “You killed him.”
“I did what I had to in order to protect us all,” Ted said, coming into the light for the first time. He looked neat and tidy in his three-piece suit. Like a man who’d merely stopped by after a long day at work. “And by us, I do not mean you.”
The implications twisted through her brain. “You’re going to tell everyone I did it? How did you get my gun? I just left it.”
“Yes, there will be footage of you walking into the ladies’ gym roughly twenty minutes after Micah was killed by a .22 caliber pistol.” He held the gun up. “This one, but the cops will find yours exactly where you left it, and they’ll discover you’ve fired a pistol in the last twenty-four hours.”
Her hands started to shake. “Why are you doing this?”
“What—killing Micah? Because he’s a dumbass. Or setting you up? Because cops like a neat and well-explained crime. You’ve been talking about leaving. You’ve whined about Micah hurting you to whoever will listen. So here’s what I’m thinking. You could try to tell the cops I’m the one who spent months setting you up. I have an ironclad alibi, by the way. Good luck since you’ll be dealing with a public defender. No more money for you, honey. Or you could decide to plead self-defense and again, good luck with that. Either choice you make, no one’s looking my way and the feds no longer have a target.”