Twenty-nine
Horror-struck, Edward
was frozen to the spot. He felt like he was in a nightmare. He
prayed he was in a nightmare. It wasn’t real, right? None of this
was real. He hadn’t seen . . . any of it. He hadn’t seen it. It
didn’t happen.
It was happening. Right now.
Rachael had driven
right up to the mansion, exactly like she knew where it
was.
She’d parked the car
in the driveway at a hurried slant, not caring if someone was
blocked . . . she’d been there before and wasn’t worried about
pissing someone off with a crappy parking job.
She’d gone right into
the mansion. Right in. Someone had been
watching for her and held the door for her. Held the fucking door for her! It was that last
that seemed to shriek the implication at him.
He plunged his hands
in his hair and clutched hard enough to make his eyes water. “What
. . . the . . . fuck?”