Pay the Price (Harmony Grove Book 3) Carol Post (poetry books to read txt) 📖

He answered on the second ring, and she relayed the details of the conversation.

“Good work.”

She grimaced. He might not think so when she told him that she had possibly tipped off Spike. “Do you think you’ll be able to find out who he is?”

“Possibly. Although it would help if we had an approximate age. Do you know how many Nick Lombardis there are in the New England and New York area?”

“Probably a lot. But at least it’s somewhere to start.”

“I’ll get on it tomorrow.”

As she disconnected the call, the crack of shattering glass pierced the still night. Panic shot through her, threatening to paralyze her.

Buttons sailed to the floor in the midst of a barking frenzy, and Jessica flew to her feet. By the time her intruder climbed through the window, she would be ready to meet him…with Prissy’s pistol. She snatched the gun from its hiding place at the bottom of her t-shirt drawer and slipped from the room, trying to remember everything she’d ever heard about handling a gun. Hopefully just the sight would be enough to keep her intruder outside.

She stopped at the edge of the living room. Four of the vertical blind slats had been yanked loose from the front window and lay on the floor. Jagged shards of glass jutted from the window frame, glistening in the moonlight. The porch light was out, the bulb probably removed by whoever broke the window. The rest of the glass littered the tile floor, and a burlap sack lay in the middle of the room. A moving burlap sack.

Buttons stood beside her, barking for all he was worth, but unwilling to leave the safety of her side. She cocked the gun and waited. A beam of moonlight slanted across the living room floor, illuminating the bag. Its top was open, whatever was inside making its way out. A head emerged, dry and scaly, with two beady black eyes. A forked tongue shot from the mouth, wiggling in a sinister little dance before disappearing back inside.

Cold terror washed over her. Not a snake. Anything but a snake.

She aimed, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The resultant explosion and shattering glass wrenched a startled shriek from her throat. The bullet had hit the tile floor, ricocheted and taken out the TV. The snake was unharmed. It was almost out of the bag now. It slithered onto the living room tile, exposing its brown diamond-shaped patterns inch by inch. Soon, the telltale rattle confirmed her fears.

She had to kill it. And the gun wasn’t a good option. Something with a long handle. She mentally ticked through the contents of the bedroom closets. Nothing but a set of crutches. She scooped up Buttons and bolted into the first bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. After retrieving what she needed, she slipped from the room, makeshift weapon in hand. Buttons renewed his barking from behind the closed door, voicing his objections at being shut away from the action. But she had enough on her mind without worrying about Prissy’s dog.

She gripped the bottom of the crutch with both hands. The snake drew into a coil and raised its head. The warning hiss and rattle ratcheted up the terror even further. She raised the crutch and, with a strangled scream, swung downward, fast and sharp. Again and again she swung, hysteria urging her on. Finally, a soothing male voice penetrated the fog.

“Jess, I think it’s dead.”

She stared in confusion at the broken window. Shane stood just outside.

“Come on, open the door. Let me in.”

She still stood frozen, unable to process his request. A quivery weakness settled in her knees and climbed upward, spreading all the way to her fingertips.

“Let me in, Jess. I don’t have your key.”

Key? What key? Her brain was a jumble, and nothing made sense. She was trapped in the living room with a dead snake while Buttons’s muffled barks further shredded her nerves.

“I’m right here, Jess. It’s going to be okay.”

Finally, she stumbled toward the front door, giving the snake wide berth, and threw the locks.

“What took you so long?” Her voice was several pitches higher than normal, and she fought back an irrational urge to grab and shake him.

“I heard a gunshot, threw on my jeans and ran right over. I left my keys sitting on the nightstand.” When he stepped inside, he grasped both of her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right.” Her tone was still tinged with hysteria. She wasn’t all right, and wouldn’t be for some time.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He continued in the same soothing tone, as if trying to calm a frightened child. It wasn’t working.

“I don’t think you need this anymore.”

She followed his gaze to her left hand, which still maintained a death grip on the metal bottom of the crutch. He reached for the item, and she released it one finger at a time, unable to relinquish it all at once. She hated snakes. It didn’t matter what kind. Poisonous, harmless, large or small. The only good snake was a dead snake.

A shudder shook her shoulders, and he drew her into the circle of his arms. Barefoot, she didn’t even reach his chin. But that was all right. His height was perfect. With his strong arms wrapped around her and her face pressed to that muscular chest, she felt sheltered and protected. It was a new experience, and she wanted to hang onto it forever.

All too soon, he pulled away. “Let me get rid of that so you don’t have to look at it. You might want to let Buttons out, too. Wherever he is, he doesn’t sound very happy.”

Oh, yeah, the dog. He’d calmed only slightly. Shane opened the front door, then slid the crutch under the center of the snake. After she shut the door behind him, she released Buttons. He shot out of the room, a white streak, then bolted around the living room, his path erratic