Heather Graham Pozzessere - Slow Burn

“David!”

He took them from her and walked up the tile path to her door, which he opened, then stepped into the house. He looked around the foyer and up the stairway. She thought she saw a small smile curving his lips, and she wondered if he was sniffing at Montgomery elegance, Montgomery money. The house wasn’t ostentatious in any way, she thought resentfully. It was sleek, warm, inviting.

She held out a hand. “My keys, David.”

He handed them over. “Don’t forget to set the alarm when I leave,” he told her.

“I’ve been managing on my own for over a year now,” she informed him briskly.

He nodded and turned to walk out. She was appalled at herself when she suddenly slammed a fist against his back, causing him to turn with a look of surprise on his features.

She swallowed hard, determined not to back down. “What were you doing there?” she demanded.

“I told you. I was following you, Spencer.”

“Why?” she exploded.

He shrugged. “Sly asked me to.”

“You’re—you’re working for Sly?” she gasped.

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged again. “Yeah, I’m working for Sly.”

“As of when?”

“As of this afternoon.”

“I don’t want you following me.”

“Take it up with Sly.”

“Damn it, David—”

“Take it up with Sly, Spencer. He thinks you’re in danger.”

“But I’m not!”

“And as of tonight, I agree with him. Hell, Spencer, you’re a damned danger to yourself, if nothing else. Don’t forget the alarm,” he said again.

“David, I’m telling you—”

“Don’t tell me, Spencer. Tell Sly.”

“Damn you—” she began, but he’d managed to exit, pulling the door shut behind him. She slammed the door, just as she had slammed his back, swearing.

“The alarm, Spencer!” he called back to her.

She told him what he should go do to himself.

“The alarm!”

She set the damned alarm, then turned away from the door, hurrying for the kitchen. She had good brandy somewhere, and she had never wanted a swallow of it more.

She downed half a snifter in a gulp, then stood there as it warmed her. Dear God, what a night. She knew what a stupid move she’d made. She’d been scared out of half of her hair pigment, but in the end they’d caught someone, and something might be solved because of that.

Might be. They hadn’t been after Danny’s grave, no one knew yet what had really been going on. But…

But something might come of it.

David was following her. Sly had hired David to follow her. Oh, God. Sly had paid David to watch her. The last thing she wanted in her life was David following her, watching her.

Oh, God. She poured more brandy and gulped that down, too. And then she had some more.

It might be nearly three o’clock in the morning, but brandy was the only way in hell she was ever going to get to sleep tonight.

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