JAMES SAT UP in bed, gasping. Kelly. Her cries had pierced him as sharply as any knife and he had to do something. Now.
His bedroom come into focus, the framed print of a Khalkha saddle across from his bed, right next to his mounted TV monitor; his dresser and the mirror above it; his own reflection, sweaty, hair all over the place, pasty beneath his tan.
Damn it. It was a dream. A stupid dream.
James ran a hand over his face, rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, then climbed out of bed. He wasn't looking forward to the day. Now, move than ever, he didn't want to do what he had to. Kelly needed...
Screw that. Save Kelly or stop a madman from killing who knows how many? He had no choice. It would all work out in the end. But only if he did his job.
Only if he got the hell away from Kelly and her problems.
The timing on this couldn't have been worse. He had to let Owen know that his situation had changed. That meant he had to be free of Kelly and Jones's surveillance long enough to make a phone call. He'd work that out.
It was just past five-thirty. He slipped on running shorts and his footgear and after he finished his crunches, headed out for his run. He didn't take his phone. There was too great a chance he'd run into Lee.
YOU ARE READING
Not-So-Secret
RomanceLike father . . . like son. The empty crib, the warning note - Kelly Declaremount-black recognised the signs that her secret life had been discovered. To save her son, she became the willing captive of a man arrogantly convinced that her baby was hi...
