Free Black Listed by Shelly Bell Page A

me.”
    Even half asleep she realized he wasn’t talking about orgasms anymore.
    He wanted answers. Why couldn’t he be satisfied with what she had to give him?
    A week. Nothing more.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she managed to whisper. “I can’t.”
    She never would.
    Not when asking him for help would be a death sentence.

Chapter Seven
    T HE LIGHTING WAS shit for such a delicate job, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Sitting in the back of his beat-up truck with the parts he’d purchased from the Home Depot store laid out in front of him, he fisted the wires and got to work.
    Amazing what you could find on the Internet these days.
    He rubbed his chest as a stab of regret hit him behind his sternum. If only she hadn’t left him, he wouldn’t have to go to such lengths. But she’d forced his hand.
    She hadn’t changed. Hadn’t learned her lesson yet.
    The woman was unyielding.
    Unbreakable.
    Why hadn’t she fled?
    At least the desecration of her space should have raised serious doubts about Sawyer Hayes. But rather than slam the door in the man’s face, she had run into his arms.
    Watching their little scene from a distance in his truck, he’d used his binoculars to see the way her eyes had softened at her old lover.
    It was obvious that she still loved him.
    And as long as she loved Hayes, she wouldn’t be his.
    He lowered the wires to rub his temples as the pounding in his head increased. Every time he thought about her, the pain inside him grew, and he became more and more confused. Why was she cheating on him with another man when he’d given her everything?
    She was a greedy whore, and whores had to die.
    He thought he’d already killed her. But here she was, alive and well, living it up as he struggled every day with his memories, her last words still ringing in his ears.
    â€œLove? I never loved you. I hate you.”
    It didn’t make sense. Once Sawyer had discovered her whereabouts, he had every reason to call the police. Yet instead, he had driven her to his hotel and allowed her to stay with him in his suite.
    The fucking penthouse suite.
    With no way to spy on her in there, he’d driven back to her condo and sat outside, holding her shirt up to his nose to take her scent into his lungs.
    Barely an hour had passed before a cleaning crew had arrived. He watched as they came in and out of her condo, carrying bags of damaged clothes and books to the Dumpster.
    Just as he’d expected, she hadn’t called the cops about the break-in. But as hard as he tried, he still couldn’t understand why Hayes hadn’t. He had no reason to protect her.
    What was his end game?
    How easily she had allowed that man back into her life, a man she knew nothing about. She’d thought she was the liar in their relationship, but she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.
    So many secrets.
    Lights flashed behind his eyes, the pain intensifying. He banged his skull against the wall of his truck, trying to destroy the rampant voices in his head that wouldn’t stop their chattering. He smashed it until a river of blood flowed down his face.
    The blazing agony stopped.
    The voices quieted to a dull murmur.
    He resumed his work, twisting the wires according to the instructions.
    He would make her love him again.
    He had to.
    And if she didn’t, this time he’d make sure she’d never leave him again.
    Even if it meant they both had to die.

Chapter Eight
    L ISA WOKE UP with a start, the heaviness of the blanket and the softness of the pillow foreign. She blinked a few times and rolled over, checking the clock on the nightstand as she remembered she was in Sawyer’s suite.
    Judging by the time, she’d probably gotten about four hours of sleep—enough to run to her office and function. She stretched, wonderfully sore in places she’d repressed since she’d become a born-again virgin.
    Seriously, how