AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her phone pinged a message. Kara glanced at it. Jace.
Hey, sweetheart, I promise you will have a great time with me. Give me a chance.
Frowning, she set down the phone. Not worth answering.
I don’t know what kind of mind game you’re playing Jace, but I’m not interested.
Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if something else was going on here. Something odd and definitely more dangerous.
Chapter 6
The next morning, Kara couldn’t shake the feeling something bad would soon happen. The meeting last night with Jace had brought up all kinds of mixed feelings. Regret that they had broken it off badly. Wistfulness for what they’d lost. Anger he’d changed into a motorcycle fanatic and joined a gang.
Most disturbing was the desire he still managed to kindle inside her, the feeling of being alive and excited about life again.
Forget Jace. She had bigger worries.
A twinge of guilt shot through her. Although it was Saturday, she had asked Dylan to work a couple of hours, promising overtime. Dylan had left his phone lying on the counter when he went out back to toss out boxes. Kara had scrolled through it. Worry propelled her, but still, it was wrong. Even if she did it for the right reasons—to protect Dylan.
Nothing suspicious. Dylan was careful, with messages written in popular teen text lingo she couldn’t decipher. Still, she found a text regarding a party at a clubhouse. Kara made a mental note of the clubhouse address and replaced his phone.
A couple of hours later, Dylan was gone, using the excuse he needed to leave early to check on his mother. Kara finished locking up her store, checking the front and back doors twice. Gripping the keys so hard they left marks in her palm, she hesitated walking to her car, which was parked out front.
Maybe I should stay here tonight. I’ve got plenty of paperwork.
She’d locked up the Vandermeers’ jewelry in the store safe and it was secure. As a precaution, she’d locked up some of the other jewelry as well.
The rest she wore. Sunlight glinted on the ruby teardrop around her neck, the six rings on her fingers and the pearl-drop earrings with rubies snug against her earlobes.
Kara never took home her store inventory. But she couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling she needed to split her stock.
Her home security system wasn’t as efficient as the store’s, but still, her house wasn’t as visible.
Jace knew.
Well, who cares about him? He’s changed.
Not that she cared. No, the tiny sting of hurt upon seeing him wasn’t regret. They were finished. Over. In retrospect, she’d made a good decision.
Jace would never know her terror with regard to motorcycles. Judging from how he acted now, hanging with a dangerous biker gang, bikes did mean more to him than anything else.
Kara drove slowly away from her shop downtown, toward her home. As she pulled into the driveway of her house, something in her chest eased.
The three-bedroom, two-bath modest ranch house blended with the other homes on the street. Here was her sanctuary. Few people knew she lived here. She’d searched for a home in a good neighborhood just before she and Jace broke up. The community was a far cry from her parents’ house in a waterfront country-club community.
The key slid smoothly into the lock as she opened the front door. Tierra Woods was a nongated community, where all the homes didn’t look as if they were stamped from a cookie cutter. Most of her neighbors were strictly middle-class with families, a few single professionals and retirees, with a mix of Black and Latino households. They all looked out for each other.
She’d bought here on Jace’s advice just after their painful breakup.
“I promised you I’d help you find a good home in a great neighborhood and I don’t back away from my promises,” he’d said. “I want you to be safe, Kara. Even though we’re no longer together,” he’d said, his blue eyes serious.
Jace had heard it through the computer department at his work that it was an up-and-coming neighborhood.
“Little crime in that area. Lots of cops,” he’d told her.
Kara loved it. After she’d moved in, neighbors had greeted her with food, offers of help to fix the broken porch railing and knowledge of reliable electricians, plumbers and contractors.
She’d barely walked inside, keyed the alarm code and set down her purse when the doorbell rang. She glanced at her phone. The security camera showed Maria Michaels, her neighbor from across the street and a good friend. Her husband, Hank, worked at the city’s police department as a detective.
