Free Everywhere She Turns by Debra Webb Page A

as she went, she moved through the kitchen to the living room and up the stairs. At the landing, she switched on the hall light this time.
    The consuming quiet pressed in around her, felt creepy.
    Call the police now
.
    As she eased cautiously toward Shelley’s room, the little voice that had been screaming at her, which in her emotional outburst she had ignored, prompted her to slide her phone open and do what she should have done in the first place.
    At the bedroom door, she slid her hand along the wall until she hit the switch. Light flooded the room.
    CJ poised her thumb to enter the three digits, then froze.
    The window was broken. Glass had spewed across the floor. Shelley’s things were tossed all around the room. But none of that was what held her transfixed, unable to move or even to scream.
    On the wall above the bed was a message written in bold crimson swipes: STAY AND THERE’LL BE TWO DEAD BITCHES .
    The phone slipped from her icy fingers and bounced on the floor.
    CJ blinked.
    Her lips parted with the sound that burst from her lungs.
    She whirled and ran for the stairs.
    Plunged downward, barely staying vertical.
    She rushed for the door . . . and rammed into a hard chest before she could stop her forward momentum.
    The scream died in her throat as her reactions scrambled to catch up with the message her brain was sending.
    “CJ, what’s going on?”
    Braddock
.
    All the hurt, disappointment, regret, anger, and fear folded in on her. She crumpled into his arms.
    He was whispering to her. She couldn’t make out the words over her sobs. Strong arms lifted her. He carried her across the room and settled on the sofa with her in his lap, cradled in his arms.
    Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. She clung to his strength, to the warmth of his body. She was so cold. So tired. The misery was so overwhelming.
    And no matter how vehemently she’d denied it, she’d missed him. It felt good to be in his arms. All those nights they’d talked, just being close to him had warmed her . . . made her want things she’d never dared to want. Made her want to give herself to him and to take all he’d had to offer. Even now he had the power to make her tremble with that same need when she shouldn’t.
    She didn’t want to think anymore . . . didn’t want to feel this agony. She wanted to lose herself. Her lips found his. She kissed him with all the emotions churning madly inside her. Wanted to learn every part of him the way she’d dreamed of so many times before.
    “Slow down,” he murmured as he tried to draw away.
    “Can’t.” She pulled his mouth back to hers, kissed him harder. Her fingers knotted in his shirt, tugged at it until she found naked skin. Hot . . . smooth. She wanted to touch more of him. Wanted him to touch her. She tore at the buttons of her blouse. Her breasts strained against the satin of her bra, begging for attention.
    She guided his hand to her breast. He squeezed. She gasped, squirmed in his lap.
    Years of frustration and restraint exploded inside her. Watching her drunken mother’s male friends paw at her mother. Holding her sister while she sobbed because some bastard had taken advantage of her when she was wasted. CJ was always the good girl, the one who cleaned up the mess—who did the right thing.
    She didn’t want to do the right thing anymore. She wanted to go to that mind-numbing place. To forget everything else.
    She wanted Braddock to take her there. She’d dreamed of being with him for months even as she’d tried every tactic she knew to forget him.
    Jesus Christ, why didn’t he do something? “What’re you waiting for?” Her voice was thick with need.
    Those dark, dark eyes clashed with hers. She saw the desire there. He wanted her . . . no matter that he hesitated.
    “You don’t want to do this,” he murmured.
    A blast of fury ignited in her belly. “You don’t know a damned thing about what I want.” She tugged his polo up and off. Just looking at all