BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) by JANE ADAMS (best romantic books to read TXT) 📕

“The bathroom is the first door to your right,” Ethan informed her, “and your bedroom next door to that. I’ll wait for you in there.”

Rozlyn didn’t manage to reply. She struggled to her feet and surged through the door Ethan had indicated, just making it to the toilet bowl before throwing up so violently she felt herself almost pulled inside out.

“Feel better?” Ethan asked from the doorway.

Rozlyn nodded pathetically, sat back on her heels and watched the water flush around the bowl.

“There’s a new toothbrush in the cabinet. I always keep a couple extra. You never know.”

“Thanks,” Rozlyn managed. “You often have unexpected guests throwing up in your bathroom?”

“I generally find it’s the best place to do it.”

“Yeah, right.” She closed her eyes and stopped wondering about Ethan’s guests. All that mattered at the moment was that she was one of them and Ethan had a bed, a spare toothbrush and a cool drink. She managed to get to her feet despite the fact that the room shifted beneath them, then she brushed her teeth until her gums tingled. Ethan, as promised, was waiting in the little guest room. There was space for a single bed and a narrow wooden wardrobe set against a background of rosy wallpaper, the closet dark oak and wonderfully carved. The corner near the door was occupied by a low, bow-legged, pink upholstered chair. Curtains had been drawn and a red shaded lamp glowed on the tiny round table set between the chair and the inviting bed.

“Who shot at you?” Ethan asked.

Rozlyn shook her head. “I was where I shouldn’t have been. Mark Richards’ place. One of his security men shot my rear window out.”

Ethan frowned. “Where did you leave your car?”

Rozlyn tried to remember. “I usually park near The George,” she said. “I think it must have been there. I’m sorry, Ethan, I don’t seem to recall.” She smiled weakly. “I feel bloody lousy.”

“You look it,” Ethan told her frankly. “There’s a bug going around. Looks to me like you’ve caught a dose of it. Now, give me your keys and get yourself into bed. I’ll get you a drink and then go and move your car.”

“Move it?”

“I don’t imagine you were in a fit state to pay your parking fee,” Ethan said practically. “You don’t want to be clamped, do you? Besides, if your rear window’s been shot out it will attract the wrong kind of interest, don’t you think? There’s a little side road at the back of here and I’ve a friend with a place to park off-road. Don’t worry. It’ll be quite safe there.”

“You know,” Rozlyn said, “anyone else would be having hysterics and wanting to call the police if I was to tell them I’d been shot at.”

“I’m not given to hysterics,” Ethan told her. “And, frankly, I’ve never found the police much use. Now, get into bed and let me sort things out.”

Rozlyn closed her eyes. Her body was shaking and the chill had returned. She didn’t know if she had the strength to get undressed. She wondered at the fact that she’d had the strength to run and climb the wall but figured two slavering big-toothed dogs and a couple of armed men were probably the ideal motivating factor. Dimly, she was aware that Ethan was easing her out of her coat.

“Come along now.”

Ah, nanny was back again. Rozlyn surrendered. She let Ethan help her with the rest, feeling oddly unconcerned that this man she barely knew was helping her remove her jeans and shirt. Ethan covered her with warm blankets and cool linen sheets. Helpless as a child and quite happy to be so, Rozlyn was asleep in minutes.

CHAPTER 37

A visitor awaited Treven on his return home. One of Kendryk’s brother monks, a heavy set, squat faced man with a scar that ran the length of his cheek. They called him Aiken — the Oak. Treven had noted him before; he was rarely far from Kendryk’s side.

“Father Abbot wishes you to return with me.”

“For what reason?”

“When you had gone, he sent out men to search for the sister of the dead woman. And the one she fled with. He thought it best to test the words of Hugh de Vries.”

“Have they found anything?”

“Not when I left but I have waited an hour before your hearth. We should return now. The Lord Abbot said to tell you that I ride well. Horses would save time spent walking.”

“You can ride Hugh’s horse,” Treven told him. “But have a care, his mouth is like leather and he’s as headstrong as his master.”

Snow fell heavily as they returned the two miles to Theading. It had come early this year, Treven thought — it was still a few days before the year’s end at All Hallows. Not a good omen for the winter to come. Aiken handled his mount with ease and, looking at his hands, Treven noted they were broad and calloused. He wondered what the monk had been before he took his vows; what work he did for Kendryk now.

Kendryk was waiting for them in the open space before the Scriveners’ home. Snow fell about him but he stood bare headed and seemed not to notice the cold. Treven was reminded of the stranger he had seen in the ash grove. Aiken, of course, had not enquired as to where he’d been, but Treven knew that Kendryk would and he wondered if he could lie . . . or if he should.

“The searchers are returning,” Kendryk told him.

“And has aught been found?”

“No and in this white mirk I doubt it could be.”

“Then why send them out?”

Kendryk sighed and regarded him steadily with those cool grey eyes deep set in the death mask of a face. “I sent them