Free The Runaway Viper (Viper #2) by Kirsty-Anne Still

shoulder. We rock in the light breeze, the sun settling down. There’s nothing to disturb us, but I can feel the lull of the pacing making me aware of how tired I am today. But I refuse to give up this moment.
    “Let’s go to bed,” he tells me, not releasing my hand. “I want to show you the new office first thing in the morning.”
    “Sounds good,” I mutter, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how tiring job hunting is?”
    “Then let me carry you,” he remarks, scooping me up.
    “We seem to do a lot of this,” I comment teasingly. “ You carrying me around a lot.”
    “Like you complain,” Jace smirks and says nothing else. He leaves the champagne behind and carries me toward our house. When we’re inside, he doesn’t put me down to lock the doors, vowing to turn the lights off once I’m in the shower. He only puts me down when we’re in the bedroom.
    “I’ll meet you in the shower,” he says, pushing me toward the door, slapping my ass as I obey.
     
    ***
     
    I'm awoken to a smash. As my mind awakens I hear the shatter of glass against tiles and I sit up. My body is hardening in trepidation, my cells seizing up in fear. I hit out, smacking Jace’s chest. He mumbles miserably at me, telling me to stop, but the more movement I hear, the more terror is thrust upon me.
    “Jace!” I say through gritted teeth.
    “What?” he asks just as I hit out again. "What's wrong?" Jace's sits up beside me. His voice is heightened with panic now he can see something isn’t quite right.
    I slap my palm flat across his lips, silencing him. " Shh," I whisper, my voice remaining quiet. "I think there's someone downstairs."
    He forces my hand away, and we sit in the middle of the bed listening. I’m terrified and I grip onto Jace out of pure fright. When he throws the sheets off himself, I grab at him, but he tells me to be quiet. I close my eyes and open them to see him going to the door of our master bedroom. He opens it gently, only stepping out a few feet to see over the railing. He quickly backtracks into the room, closing the door gently.
    “Pack!” he whispers his order at me, and I freeze up. “Joely, don’t sit around, you need to pack! And get dressed. We need to leave.”
    As my shock diffuses, I find myself suddenly moving as Jace pulls on yesterday’s clothing again, I mimic him. I run straight for the large closet, hauling out one of our duffel bags and take it to the bed. I don’t care if I forget stuff; I am going to just shove as many of Jace’s clothes in with mine. I take family photos I have, Jace’s too, and throw in the mix. I’m throwing things in blindly and carelessly. When I’m done, I zip the bag closed and look to Jace.
    “Right, I want you to go out onto the balcony, throw the bag out and then follow me downstairs. I’ll make a distraction, so you can get out,” he throws demands at me, orders of clear strategic origin. “I’ll meet you by the stairs for the dock.”
    I grab for him. “Jace, don’t,” I warn, not wanting him to go out there and put himself in danger. The thought of him getting hurt sickens me. I’m not sure I could do this life alone anymore. “You can’t leave me.”
    “It’s just until we’re both on the boat,” he reminds me, trying to ease my mind.
    All I can do is nod. It’s not what I want to do, I want to wake up and realize this was a sick nightmare my subconscious decided to play upon me.  As Jace leaves the bedroom, I follow like a good wife. We creep down the steps and can hear them in the farthest part of the house – one seems to be in the basement garage, while another seems to be tearing apart our entertainment room. Jace gets me to the patio door, the glass already shattered.
    “Go,” he whispers. “I just need to get to the study. I’ll get out of here just after you.”
    He kisses my forehead, but I grab at his shirt. I pull him close and kiss him as passionately as possible. I want him to remember the ferocity of my love