Free Seducing Liselle by Marie E. Blossom Page A

life running and until the old
man dropped dead, she had to keep going.
    She walked over to the bed and fell down
on it, hoping the chair she’d wedged under the door would hold if he found her.
She fingered the string around her neck, pulling it up until she could see the
single dog tag she’d taken that early morning several months ago. Her fingers
traced along the name inscribed in the metal, smoothed over the rubber silencers.
She fell asleep with it in her hand, thinking about the way John had touched
her, as if she was worth something. As if she was precious.
     
    “I think you should look her up,” Jenn was saying over her sandwich.
    John sighed. “She made it clear that she
didn’t want us to. Didn’t want me to.”
    “Beth really liked her.” Jenn took a bite of her pickle and chewed noisily. John
wisely didn’t mention her appalling lack of table manners. Older sisters could
be vicious when you pointed out things like that. Plus, she had a piece of
pickle on her cheek and it was more fun trying to calculate when it would fall
off than it would be letting her know she was a slob.
    “She wrote me a Dear John letter, Jenn . Seriously.” Even as he said
it he knew the explanation would be wasted on her.
    “That’s ridiculous,” his sister said,
taking a sip of her iced tea. “You’re not in the military anymore. And you
never dated her. You can’t get a breakup letter from her.”
    He rolled his eyes. Just one night with Liselle had felt like five years with any other woman. “My
name’s John. She left me a note that said, ‘Thanks, don’t look me up.’ That’s a Dear John letter if you ask me.”
    “This is why we don’t ask you,” Jean said
as she walked into the kitchen, sitting down. She slapped a postcard on the table
in front of him then extracted two more from her pocket. “See those? They’re
from three different states. Every time Beth gets one in the mail she gets all
sad.”
    He poked at the scraps of paper. All of
them bore battered photos of state landmarks, the kind of postcard you’d buy
when you were at a gas station or motel.
    “So? She moves around a lot. Some people
travel for their jobs,” he said. He wasn’t going to make more of this than he
had to. He took a huge bite of his sandwich, trying to chew fast. It was a
mistake coming here for lunch and the sooner he finished eating and could
escape his sisters the better.
    Jean huffed. “You know what kind of
brother she had.”
    John sighed. “Matt’s dead, remember?” He
rolled his head, cracking his neck. His dog tag chain caught on his hair and he
moved a finger beneath it to readjust it before it pinched. He had to get a
haircut.
    “When did you start wearing that again?” Jenn asked him, frowning over her glass.
    John took another bite of his sandwich and
chewed slowly this time, hoping she would forget she’d asked if he took long
enough. He didn’t look at the postcards on the table.
    She lifted a brow at him impatiently.
    He sighed and swallowed. “A few months ago.” He took another bite, following it with
a gulp of water.
    Jean glared at him. “You don’t need them
anymore.”
    John pushed his plate away, appetite gone.
He’d only eaten half of his lunch. “I need to get back to work.”
    “You only just got here,” Jenn said, clearly disappointed.
    Too bad, sis. Maybe next time you won’t interrogate me and we can all enjoy our
lunch , he thought, standing up. He grabbed his cell
phone. “Yeah, well, I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon.” He downed the rest of
his water. “Tell Beth I said hi.” He turned and walked through the hall and out
the front door before his sisters could protest. They could deal with his
half-eaten sandwich and their self-righteous opinions on their own. He didn’t
need to listen to it. He had enough regrets about that night without them
piling more on him.
     
    Outside, he paused next to his truck and
ran a hand down the shiny black paint. It was a nice