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She stopped short. The woman on the other end sounded like she was crying. “Suzanne. Is that you?”

“Oh thank God, Blake, you’re home! I’m so glad. Listen.” Suzanne sniffed. “Can you talk right now?”

Blake glanced toward Mason. He glared at her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he mouthed the words ‘Is it Suzanne?’ she shook her head, turned her back on him and left the kitchen.

“I’m kind of busy at the moment.” Guilt immediately filled her. She was the worst kind of friend. It didn’t help that Mason’s suggestions made her the tiniest bit suspicious of Suzanne’s motives. “How about tomorrow? We could meet for coffee.”

“Oh.” Suzanne’s voice sounded awfully small. “I was hoping you could come over tonight. I really need a...friend to talk to.”

Blake closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Could she leave, just for a little bit and see what was wrong with Suzanne? Mason would insist he accompany her, and then they’d be separated for the rest of the evening. He sitting outside and waiting for her in the car freezing his butt off, while she comforted her seemingly distraught friend.

Why couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? She had important things to handle, Mason things. She didn’t want to let this opportunity slip out of her hands.

“You want to talk about it now? Over the phone? I have a few minutes.” She really didn’t want to do this, but her friend needed her and she didn’t want to turn her away either.

“No, I guess not. I can tell you’re busy, Blake. I’ll let you go.” A rustling sounded and Blake knew Suzanne was about to hang up the phone.

“Wait a minute, don’t hang up. Look, I’ll come over tomorrow to your place first thing, okay? I’ll bring lattes and you can tell me everything.” Blake thought about it for a moment, worry creeping down her spine. “Unless you’re in serious trouble now. Then I’ll come over, no hesitation.”

“No, really I’m all right. I just need a shoulder to cry on, I guess.” Suzanne sighed. “I can save it all up until morning. But I’m warning you, be prepared for a cry fest.”

Blake laughed. “Will do. I’ll give you call before I come over tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Suzanne paused and it seemed as if she wanted to say something else, something more. “Thanks, Blake. You’re a good friend.”

Not good enough. She couldn’t tear herself away from a certain man to help a friend in need. She felt like a selfish bitch. “See to you tomorrow.”

Blake hung up and went back into the kitchen. Mason watched her enter, his expression hard as stone.

“What did she want?” Good lord, he sounded like the old Mason. The cranky, I-don’t-like-or-trust-anyone-agent-Russell.

Blake shrugged and sat down, picking up her fork and moving food about her plate once more. “She sounded really upset. She wanted me to come over, said she needed to talk.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I couldn’t come over tonight.” She glanced up, saw that he was watching her very carefully. “I feel bad about it, though. Some kind of friend I am.”

“You made the right choice. We have no idea who made that call to you but I think it might’ve been your friend. And besides, a storm is coming. It’s supposed to break tonight, lots of rain and strong winds. The roads wouldn’t be safe.”

Great, now he sounded like her father. This was ridiculous. Why did he get riled up over Suzanne all the time? She was harmless—Blake really believed that. The weird phone call had to have come from someone else. It was the only logical explanation.

“Why don’t you like her, Mason?”

He shrugged, a shadow falling across his face. “I did some investigating.”

“What? You did?” She couldn’t believe it.

Okay, fine…she could.

“Yeah, but I found nothing.”

“No surprise.” Blake shrugged, relief filling her. She didn’t want to find out she’d been duped yet again. She’d feel like the biggest idiot on the planet.

“There’s no criminal history, no work history, no last known address,” he continued.

“So see, she’s not some crazed murderer ready to kill me. Satisfied?”

“You don’t get it. I couldn’t find out anything about her. Nothing. Your friend Suzanne doesn’t exist in any type of database in this country which means her name is false. How are they paying her at the café anyway? Didn’t she have to fill out forms and give a social security number?”


Tags: Karen Erickson Protect and Defend Romance