A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

up at Tommy, who was still sitting on the stairs. “Go to your room.” He didn’t move right away, so she added, “Now!” and Tommy scurried off. “Why didn’t you tell me about the number last night?” she asked her daughter.

Alice crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you. He gave it to me.”

“It’s an emergency number,” Catherine snapped. “What if something happened to you and I needed to reach him?”

“I could call him. Duh.”

“Listen, young lady, I’ve had enough of your crap. I know you think you’ve got this whole world all figured out, but you better wake up. I’m your mom, you got it? As long as you’re living in my house, you need to start showing me some damned respect.”

Catherine rarely swore. When she did, Alice knew she was pissed. But she had no right to be. Alice firmly believed what she’d now told her mom twice. If Dad wanted Catherine to have his number, he could have given it to her directly. Her mother was overreacting like she always did. “You’re insane.”

“That’s it. Go to your room.”

“Gladly.” Alice dramatically slung her backpack over one shoulder and went up the stairs, slamming her sneakers into the wood as hard as she could with each step.

“You can forget that concert tonight!”

Alice froze in her tracks. She spun around. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not playing around anymore. You’re grounded. Indefinitely. If you can figure out how to start showing me some respect, we can talk about you getting your freedom back.”

Alice curled her hands into fists and let out a sound that was something between a growl and a scream. Catherine was out of control. Alice thought of a whole bunch of things she could have said right then, but all of them would have made the situation worse. More than that, saying them would mean she was acting just as out of control as Catherine was. She would not do that. She would not be like Catherine in any way. She bit her tongue, charged to her room, and slammed the door.

Catherine wasn’t going to chase her up here. As long as she stayed in her room, Alice would be left alone. She dropped her bookbag by her desk and collapsed onto the bed. As she got control of her emotions, she stretched and straightened her back. Standing like she had been was uncomfortable.

Alice had been waiting three months for this concert. No matter what Catherine said, she wasn’t going to miss it. But since she’d have to leave well before Catherine went to bed, simply sneaking out the front door (like she had on other nights) wouldn’t be an option. She’d have to find another way.

Alice glanced around her room, thought about the layout of the house. There was only one option. She hadn’t opened her window before and doing so took some effort. Humidity had gotten into the wood, nearly locking it in place. A cold breeze rushed in and Alice shivered.

She popped loose the screen, awkwardly working it in through the opening. She tucked the screen under her bed so Catherine wouldn’t see it if she broke precedent and came to her room to talk to her.

She returned to the window and leaned out. There was a short overhang that wasn’t too steep within reach. That would work.

Liam Parker

Liam blew past the receptionist and found Ava at a young designer’s drafting table. He caught enough of what she was saying to know she was critiquing his work. The receptionist called for Liam to stop and apologized as Ava looked up from the sketches.

Ava removed her glasses. Liam could tell she was assessing his new look, but instead of commenting on it, she said, “Liam. What are you doing here?” Ava had moved to the United States with her family when she was a child, but he could still hear remnants of a French accent in her voice.

“We need to talk.” He’d been moving fast since he’d gotten off the elevator. He sounded winded, although that had more to do with emotion than exertion.

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said again. “I couldn’t stop him. Do you want me to call security?”

“No, it’s fine,” Ava said. She approached Liam. “Come with me.” She led him to her office and closed the door. “What is this about? What are you doing here looking like that?”

“I’m here about Rick Hawthorne.” He searched her face for a tell, even something small. A flinch, a narrowing of the eyes, a subtle nod—any gesture might be enough to let him know she recognized the name. It was half the reason he’d blown past the receptionist in the first place. He wanted to catch Ava off guard. The other half was because without using the alias he had no name at all he could give. Even here, using his real name was too dangerous. That wasn’t paranoia, that was common sense.

But Ava’s only reaction was to ask, “Who?”

“Jacob.”

“What about him?”

“You didn’t know his real name was Richard Hawthorne?”

Ava stared inscrutably at Liam for several seconds, then moved to one of the velvet chairs meant for guests. “Perhaps you should sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

Liam didn’t feel like sitting, but he sat because Ava asked him to. He told her the important parts of his story, ending with the discovery that the name on the ID Jacob had given him was his own.

Ava sighed. “This is concerning.”

“So you didn’t send him to help me? You didn’t have anything to do with this?”

“Liam, I like you. But no. Even if I’d known what was going on, I wouldn’t have gotten involved. This, right here”—she gestured in such a way as to indicate not only her office but the entire suite—“is my baby. I would not do anything that could put it, or my life in general, in jeopardy.”

Liam thought about something that should have struck him as odd right from the beginning. The people who attended Ava’s poker games were well