Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

exhaled put a cloud of mist in the air. Trotting in place behind the trunk of a thick oak tree, he kept his eyes fixed on that lit kitchen window, hoping he’d see Kay in there. Then he’d know she was home for the night and would continue his stakeout in his car, with the heater on and some FM station on the radio to keep him awake.

In the yellowish light of the kitchen, a man was setting the table, carrying plates and cutlery from the cabinets and setting them down. He could only see a glimpse of his movements, when he passed in front of the narrow window, but he turned at some point and Scott could see him talking.

He recognized the guy; it was Jacob Sharp, the fed’s brother. But who was he talking with?

Approaching the house carefully, after checking to see if there were any headlights approaching, he managed to see a little more from the inside of the kitchen, but not enough to figure out who was in there with the guy.

Was it Kay? Had she put her SUV inside the garage?

Sticking his head out from behind a trash can, he followed every move Jacob made. He kept going back and forth between the sink, the cabinets, and the table, fixing dinner by the looks of it. Then something happened, maybe he was telling a joke or something, because he’d stopped in his tracks and held his hands up, talking quickly, stepping backward. But he wasn’t laughing; he seemed serious, worried. Was someone pointing a gun at him?

Scott could see his lips moving from the side, but couldn’t hear a sound and couldn’t tell what that scene was about. After a while, Jacob lowered his hands and resumed fussing about the food, opening the oven and removing a tray.

Then a woman approached him and cuddled at his chest, crying, while he caressed her hair and wrapped his arms around her.

His heart started racing, blood rushing to his head with dizzying speed.

It wasn’t Kay Sharp in that man’s arms. It was Nicole.

His Nicole.

Rage invaded his body in an instant, and all his plans were forgotten. He ran to the side door and with one kick, he broke it down and stepped inside.

Nicole’s scream fueled his anger, and that twerp, hiding her behind his matchstick body was a joke. That was Nicole’s lover boy? The fed’s brother?

“Please leave, and there won’t be consequences,” Jacob had the nerve to tell him, while Nicole cowered behind him like a cornered animal, sobbing hard like she always did when she knew she’d really fucked up.

“This is between me and my wife,” he said slowly, his tone low and menacing, his words in a cadence like bullets spewed in slow motion from a machine gun. His nostrils flared, clenching his fists tightly and anticipating the feeling of breaking Jacob’s jaw.

“And this is my house, and you’re not welcome here,” Jacob said, taking a small step forward.

The little fuck had nerve, but he didn’t have much time to lose. He brought his fists to his chest and sent a right cross, aiming for the guy’s face. Quick on his feet, Jacob sprung to the side and grabbed a skillet off the stove, holding it in the air with both hands, ready to strike.

“Please, Herb, this is not what you think,” Nicole pleaded, her words shattered by uncontrollable sobs. “His sister is my friend.”

Five simple words, and it felt as if Nicole had poured a bucket of ice water on his head. Since when was Nicole in cahoots with the feds? Who knows what lies Nicole had told that bitch?

His lips a thin, rigid line, he pulled his weapon and squeezed the trigger twice, each bullet hitting its target, lover boy’s center mass. Nicole shrieked, and Jacob stared at him in disbelief for a brief moment, then collapsed to the floor, the skillet clattering at his feet.

Calm and feeling satisfied for once that day, he holstered his weapon and reached Nicole in two large steps, smiling, taking in her primal fear, the terror in her eyes. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her out of the kitchen and into the cold darkness outside, her screams resonating against the silence of the night.

Then she fell silent and still under his hands.

40Witness

Elliot was almost finished with the cluster of gas stations on the interstate, about 20 miles south of Mount Chester. It had taken him a while, he realized, looking disapprovingly at the digital display above the cashier’s desk inside the Chevron. Almost an hour for five gas stations, four of them small, and one of them a truck stop that fueled big rigs and offered drivers complete services, such as hot showers and meals.

In between pasting flyers on bathroom hallways, he’d grabbed a hot dog from one of those spinning grills that kept them warm, lured by the smell like a starving coyote circling a trash can. It had tasted good at the time, his senses deceived by hunger, but the hotdog had left an aftertaste in his mouth worthy to be called gas-station breath.

He paid for the dog and a tin of breath mints, pretending not to notice the loaded smile on the cashier’s lips. She was young and athletic, maybe a little too thin, and pale under the fluorescent light. Her straight, blond hair touched her shoulders, and her lipstick glimmered on her thin lips when she spoke. She tilted her head and joked with him, purposefully ignoring the other customers lining behind him one after another, frowning and muttering impatiently. She promised to call him personally if she heard anything about the missing girl, and she regretted she hadn’t paid more attention to the people coming through the store, but there were thousands every day.

A tip of his hat widened the girl’s smile, for some reason reminding him of Kay, although she was nothing like his partner. Kay was taller, her forehead broader, her lips fuller. Her long,