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worry
about fat and calories for “Sunday Meal” but no one complained. It was so worth the extra work-out Monday morning.
    State-of-the-art security systems kept their compound hidden from
prying eyes and would-be trespassers.
Home held painful memories for Royce now.
Time has a way of
healing, and good memories were starting to overshadow bad ones.
Time had done nothing , however, to help ease his loneliness, emptiness,
or guilt. After this mission, he might go home for a break, maybe.
Royce threw away the toothbrush and razor then cleaned up any
remaining evidence of his visit. Luckily, he still retained possession of
his wallet, and it contained plenty of cash. He pulled out two fifty-dollar
bills and tucked them under the toothbrush holder. Royce secured his
towel a little tighter and cautiously opened the bathroom door. Surely a
girl who looked like that had an occasional overnight guest. Hopefully
one who had left behind a change of clothes?
Becki yawned and stretched her tired limbs not bothering to open her
eyes.
Since she had been so rudely awakened too early by Kurt this
morning, she planned to spend most of the day lazing on her couch and
catching up on sleep.
Unfortunately, her sleep had been filled with
dreams--, some good, some not-so-good.
The dream she was having
right now, however, was downright mouthwatering .
Adonis stood in her living room, wearing nothing but a small white
towel. “Please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up,” she mumbled,
wishing she could touch him.
“Ummm,” she mumbled appreciatively. God, his abs were no measly
six-pack; they were a full twelve. And he smelled like… her favorite
shaving gel?
Wrinkling her nose, she brushed the tangled mass of hair out of her
face, and sat up.
Brown , Royce thought as her eyes suddenly opened wide. Before he
could even attempt to explain, she launched herself toward him; a bundle
of fury tangled in blankets, limbs flying. Before he could manage to
wrap his arms around her, she succeeded in connecting a hard right hook
to his chin.
His head snapped back, a move more aimed at self-preservation than
in actual response to her punch. He tightened his arms, the blankets
effectively trapping her in a soft cocoon.
“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” Royce soothed.
“I’m sure that is what all murdering psychopaths say right before they
torture and murder their victims!
Let go of me!” Becki demanded, as she
struggled to break free. Royce tightened his hold slightly not wanting to risk
injury to her or himself.
Damn her knuckles hurt. She had already succeeded in landing one good
punch.
If she could get away from him and make it as far as the front
porch, her nosey neighbor would call the police. Barring that possibility, she
would run to her bedroom and introduce him to the Glock Uncle Kurt had
given her last year.
Seriously? This pervert had come into her house wearing only a towel?
It was a small towel, at that! If he thought she was going to be easy prey, he
had another think coming. She was tempted to show him just how accurate
she could be with that Glock, and the more he pissed her off, the more
likely it was to become reality.
“Asshole,” she said, stepping down hard on his foot, “let me go,
dammit.” Jerking her body right and then left, she yelled, “You dumb pervert. Get. The. Hell. Out of my house! ” She annunciated each word, as if he
were slow to understand in addition to being hard-of-hearing.
Royce grunted, Damn it, that hurt .
Now he was getting pissed.
She
needed to be taught a lesson in how to deal with “criminals”. This approach
would likely get her killed if he were indeed a criminal. She probably planned
to free herself and then pull a gun on him. What she didn’t know, was that
he could disarm her before the weapon even cleared its hiding spot. He felt
her body shift and knew she was preparing for a head-butt.
“You freaking idiot ! I said--”
“Enough!” Royce interrupted as he tightened