“No.”
Kat slumped her shoulders at the answer she expected. Her mother wouldn’t tell her not to come, but she sure would make it uncomfortable and not just offer the invitation despite Kat always attending the event.
“Okay, well, I should get back to work.” The derisive sound her mother gave in response to that hurt, but Kat pressed on. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks at the dinner.”
“Goodbye.” Her mother hung up the phone without an ‘I love you,’ or any of the things normal parents said to their children.
Kat dropped her phone on her desk and rubbed her eyes to ease the burning. Sherefusedto cry. She wasn’t this weak woman. Kat was a hellion, a brat, a woman who danced to her own tune and didn’t allow the small minds and opinions of those around her to influence her.
Or, at least that was who she wanted to be. The reality was always more complicated.
A knock on the door made her jump, and Kat rushed to turn the easel around before Bradley could see her painting. Shenevershowed this work to anyone. After winning that award, after her parents’ reaction, Kat had decided that showing this sort of work to anyone was far too dangerous a move.
“Come in,” she said with a shaky voice.
Bradley opened the door, a water bottle and plate of snacks in hand. He’d already dragged her out for lunch, and as much as she hated to admit it, she felt better than she normally did.
Often when working, Kat would forget all about silly things like sleep or breaks or drinking the water she needed to live. However, Bradley watched over her, reminding her every couple of hours to take a break, to move around, to stretch and to drink.
“Thanks,” she said, unsure how to react to the sweetness. “I’m done for today anyway.”
“Any luck?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to have to go back to waiting tables if I can’t get past this block.”
Even as she spoke, she knew it wasn’t true. Kat was good with her money and her back catalog of work did more than enough to pay her bills. Still, if she wasn’t creating, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.
“You’ll manage, Kat. You always do.” Bradley held out the water bottle, his tone one of absolute confidence.
It was something she’d craved, something she’d never really had before.
Kat opened her mouth to say something back when the engine of a car caught her attention. It was loud and close…
She’d picked this house because it was at the end of a small cul-de-sac, with no through traffic, and she’d have noticed the roar of that engine before if it had been a neighbor.
Bradley frowned as well, twisting toward it with the look of a man annoyed by his peace being interrupted.
However, the engine wasn’t the oddest thing. There was a bang, as if something hit the front door, then the slamming of a car door before the squeal of tires.
“Wait here,” Bradley said, setting down the plate and leaving the room, a hard look in his eyes.
Did he really expect Kat to just sit there? Did he know herat all?
Kat sure felt like she didn’t know Bradley, however, when she walked out of the office to find him reaching into his back near the front door, a series of beeps as if he were entering the code into a safe, then having a pistol in hand as he stood.
He handled the gun as if he were comfortable with it, as if it were nothing new. Then again, he did own a ranch. Maybe he had more practice with weapons than she realized?
He peered out of the front door, and his frown hardened.
Kat’s stomach dropped. That wasn’t a good expression on his face, and before he could say or do anything, she pulled open the front door, needing to see whatever it was that put that look on his face.
There, on her front step, was a body.
A young woman with blonde hair like hers, naked and covered in wounds and blood and clearly dead, a sickly, ashen pallor over her skin.
It seemed Jerry wanted to make sure his message made it to her this time…