Free SHELBY (Second Chance Novels Book 4) by Kemmie Michaels Page A

could ignore the goddess-hot kind of beautiful she's got going on, the rest of her is at the very least complex. Few women could ooze sexy the way she does while working in a quiet, white-collar, super-nerd environment. Her intelligence and history indicate she could adopt nearly any hobby and enjoy success, but she chooses hacking.  
    Another complexity unique to Shelby is what she does when she gets through the final firewall of every hack. She achieves absolute power within the system, but she doesn't use that access for anything at all. They say absolute power corrupts absolutely, with the exception of Shelby, apparently.
    I take a few deep, slow breaths and try to relax my brain into sleep, but all I can do is relive the moment Shelby sprinted for the door. I knew she was broken, but I had no idea suicidal would be on the radar. I'm sure she wouldn't take a gun to her head, but I know now she would certainly allow herself to be passively swept away from her life. Like she said so sadly today, she's done.  
    Yeah, sleep isn't happening.  
    I pull myself out of bed and walk bare-chested through my bachelor pad apartment and smirk. Bachelor pad? More like home office. Nothing ever happens here but work. My spare bedroom is my gym. My breakfast table is my desk. My couch serves as a laundry station most of the time, and my bedroom serves as a goddamn monastery at this point. Between seventy-hour work weeks, extra surveillance on Shelby, and my general annoyance with female drama, the only action I'm getting comes from my right hand…and sometimes my left, just for variety.  
    God, I want to take Shelby in my arms and shake some sense into her…or kiss the sense out of her. All I can do, however, is peruse the case information again. She is my witness, and therefore she is off-limits, and also the safest person on the planet. There is nothing more simple than the base truth of the situation.  
    I burn these midnight oils brushing up on Shelby and her personal life. Every note I took during surveillance and every recap of our conversations I wrote get strewn across my table as I once again cannonball into her mind. Her sorry ex-boyfriend warrants some of my time. Mason Pratt. Dishonorable discharge, murder suspect, and rumored vigilante…not to mention he fucked his vigilante partner while still involved with Shelby. From what I can tell, his friends revere him. Am I missing something here? The man is a degenerate loser as far as I'm concerned. Much of the pain Shelby carries comes from her dealings with that man. He can stay away, and I'm happy to help.
    I look, too, at the other friends she keeps, most of whom hang out at a bar called Second Chance, which is owned by Mason's best friend Ledger, who is now engaged to Shelby's childhood friend. They are all so intertwined, yet none of them noticed when Shelby started to slip. If even one of them took the time to look past Shelby's fronted smiles, she may not have gotten so deep into hacking or started sleeping around to get attention. I shake my head at all of them, including Shelby, and return to my work.  
    By tomorrow, I'll be ready to play therapist. I hope being the only familiar face in the house will help her open up to me, even if she's still pissed. She needs to get her head together because the federal prosecutor doesn't want to waste any time. He'll interview and start Shelby's trial prep immediately, probably Monday, which means I have the weekend to bring her around. I let out a deep breath and glance at the clock. I might as well try to sleep.  
    Patting the table in a distant goodnight to Shelby, I scuff my way to my room and try to close my eyes again. Yeah, right.

CHAPTER NINE

    I arrive at the safe house Saturday morning just in time to see Shelby emerge from her room with dark shadows under her eyes. Apparently I'm not the only one who lost sleep last night.
    "Good morning," I say cautiously.
    Shelby meets my eyes but has no words. Her brain seems