Free The American Soldier Collection 3: Amazing Grace (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Dixie Lynn Dwyer Page A

saw the other day when you visited your mom’s place, it’s a great location. Despite some negative remarks and feedback, the program has been working for the last year. I can’t foresee it causing any other issues.”
    “What kind of negative feedback?” she asked, wondering how anyone could find anything wrong with such a program that helped those in need.
    “Just some complaints, a bit of freak accidents during the construction, but nothing too crazy.”
    “Freak accidents?”
    “Yeah, some things went wrong during construction, then there were lumber deliveries that were set on fire, things like that. It shocked most of the citizens of the area.”
    “That’s terrible. Well, I’m glad that it all worked out. There haven’t been any problems since?”
    “No, and I’m planning on helping with another project over in Colton, two towns over. They’ve been approved for the same program and set up.”
    “Excellent. Well good luck with that. Let me know if there’s anything I can assist with while I’m here. Well, if I can,” she added and he smiled as they walked out of the room.
     
    * * * *
     
    The mail had been delivered to the offices, and a stack of envelopes as well as a box were placed on Donald’s desk. Grace was standing by the window looking out at the chaos the killer was causing. She hadn’t even looked at the person who delivered the mail. She didn’t want anyone identifying her as the woman who found her dead sister and the one a killer was after. People might believe she was at fault or somehow responsible.
    Everyone had cleared out of the room to give her a few minutes alone. That alone time made her feel more insecure than anything.
    Just as she had noticed the box, Donald walked back in.
    “Are you doing okay, hun?” he asked her as Grace walked toward the door. She peeked outside and saw Sandman talking to her brothers. She was sure they were discussing her new living arrangements as well as the compromise she and Sandman had already discussed.
    “I’m okay. I can’t believe this is going on. I wish I knew more or could do more. I don’t know, maybe there’s something I can help with to stop this person. I don’t know,” she told him as he stood next to his desk.
    “What more could you do? I think it’s a good idea that you stay with Sandman. This killer is bad news and I don’t think you’re safe. Sandman is highly qualified and seems very alert and confident.” Donald picked up his mail, then saw the brown box. She noticed his expression changed and he appeared annoyed.
    “What is it?” she asked him.
    Simultaneously Sandman came through the door as Donald looked at the return address on the box he held in his hands.
    “Where did that come from?” Sandman asked.
    In the same instant there was a large bang and once again Sandman was tackling Grace to the floor just as she covered her head with her arms.
    There was a lot of smoke and everything she heard echoed. She was having trouble breathing as she gasped for air but with each inhale the pain in her chest became worse. Her arms and her neck ached. She saw some blood and little black tacks were sticking in her arms, her neck and her hair.
    Sandman was asking her if she was all right and she could tell he was panicking as he looked at her arms.
    Officers were rushing in wearing gas masks and offering one to Sandman, which he gave to her first.
    Jim was by the desk next to Donald who lay on the floor.
    She was breathing into the mask as she heard the fire alarms going off inside the building. Everyone was in a panic around them.
    She tried to pull the mask off. She wanted to make sure Donald was okay as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Each move, each motion causing tiny pinches of pain around her body. She realized she was covered with little black tacks. She felt that they were meant to cause her pain but not to kill her. She knew that, she felt it was what the killer wanted…to cause her pain. The way her