Sealed with a Hiss by Addison Moore (read 50 shades of grey .txt) 📕

that man, Tiger, and that woman, Keegan, by the fountain. Both Diane and Lacey wear serious frowns as if they heavily disapproved of what they saw.

“Gizmo,” I whisper. “Did you see Bobbie holding a gun?”

He gives a sharp bark. No. I saw Diane holding one.

My heart lets out a few pronounced thumps as I rise to my feet. And no sooner do I hit an upright position than I find myself staring face-to-face with Diane herself.

“Come on, Gizmo.” She scoops him up in her arms before looking my way. “I’ll be by sometime soon to figure out what to do with those books. And I don’t know what to tell you about Valentine’s Day.”

“I do,” Lacey says, coming up behind her. “We’re still on for the dance, Bizzy.” She glares over at the ambulance. “I have a feeling Bobbie would want it that way. And who knows? She might just be there for the event herself. She’s always been bulletproof. And I have a feeling she’s going to prove this theory correct.”

Diane shakes her head. Leave it to Bobbie Buckingham to turn things upside down. And now the world will think she’s getting away with murder. Knowing her rabid fans, they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Goodnight, ladies,” Diane says as she meanders back toward the ambulance and keeps an eye on Bobbie with a hardened glare.

“Don’t worry, Bizzy.” Lacey stretches a quick smile my way. “I’ll make sure the inn has more than enough business on the fourteenth. In no way was this meant to harm you or your adorable inn.” I’d like to think Bobbie is all through harming people, but seeing that she’s still breathing, I can’t guarantee anyone anything. She’ll pay for what she’s done to Chip. I have no doubt justice will prevail. No one in their right mind will ever believe what she has to say again. We might have been the perfect pairing once, but all that has changed tonight.

She takes off, bypasses the ambulance, and hugs the caution tape until she’s standing as close to Chip’s body as she can. And less than three feet from her are Keegan and Tiger Caldwell. They might be three different people, but their expressions are one and the same—serene, peaceful and, dare I say, each one of them wears the hint of a smile on their face.

How about that?

Maybe this wasn’t an attempted murder-suicide after all?

Maybe this was murder.

Chapter 4

The inn is quiet, on this, the morning after Chip and Bobbie Buckingham were gunned down in front of the inn—directly in front of my cottage to be exact.

Jasper was right. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and that’s exactly what has me in the Country Cottage Café this morning, downing coffee as if it were the exact plasma my body needed to survive, and it just might be.

It’s light and bright inside. The café is an expansive space that’s open to the guests and the general public alike, with its black and white wrought iron bistro tables sprinkled about. Aside from a spacious dining room, there’s a sunroom that overlooks the majestic Atlantic Ocean. And in the warmer months, you can sit out on the covered patio that butts right up next to the sandy cove.

Emmie has been right here with me this morning, providing me with a steady supply of red velvet cookies, along with her delicious creamy lattes, and my taste buds haven’t complained one bit.

What’s to become of this mess? Sugar mewls, adjusting herself as she sits in my lap. I have Fish and Sherlock by my feet, and they’re both half-awake themselves. Suffice it to say, no one in that tiny cottage got a good night’s sleep last night. The way those deputies were drumming around, you’d think they were jackhammering the sidewalk.

“I don’t know what’s to become of anything.” I sigh down at the furry ball of fluff. “But you’ll be safe with me. A part of me wishes you had been around when everything went down. At least then we’d know for sure what truly transpired between Bobbie and Chip.”

Sugar shudders. I’m not sorry I didn’t see it. I love Bobbie. In fact, I’d like to go and visit her if you don’t mind.

I shrug up at Emmie. “She wants to see Bobbie.”

“Aww,” Emmie coos. “I still can’t believe you can talk to animals that way. Can’t you bonk me over the head or something so I can have the same talent?”

A laugh inches up my throat. “Nice try. But you’re already too talented for your own good,” I say, holding up a cookie and taking a bite as if to prove my point.

I didn’t always have the ability to pry into anyone else’s mind. But way back when I was thirteen, Emmie and one of our good friends at the time, Mackenzie Woods, went to a Halloween party together and some supernatural melee occurred. It turns out, Mackenzie was dared —by my brother no less—to dunk me in a whiskey barrel filled with water.

Not only did Mackenzie follow orders, she held me under until I was just about to exit that barrel and my body at the very same time.

Four things happened that day. One: I developed a fear of confined spaces. Two: I never wanted to see a body of water ever again. My phobia of the wet stuff is all too real to this day. Three: I vowed never to trust Mackenzie Woods again. Although, side note: We stayed friends right through high school where she proceeded to steal my boyfriends.

That’s when I finally cut ties with the wicked witch. And four: Once I made my way out of that barrel, I had the uncanny ability to hear people plain as day without their lips moving.

It took me about a day to catch on, but I quickly put two and two thoughts together and realized I was suddenly able to pry into other people’s private musings—the inner sanctum of their beings, their very