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As she started to speak, he heard the sound of shattering glass coming from somewhere in the house.
It was apparently loud enough to carry through the phone, because a moment later, Ginny asked, “What was that?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered, keeping his voice low. He stepped out of her room into the hall. From there, he could see into the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place.
Then he heard the sound of more glass breaking, coming from the front of the house. Glass clattered onto a hard surface, then a second later came the unmistakable crunch of glass being broken underfoot.
“Anson?” Ginny’s voice rose in his ear.
He ducked back into her bedroom and eased the door closed, his heart pounding. “Someone’s breaking into your house.”
Two Souls
Hollow
Paula Graves
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When she’s not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website, www.paulagraves.com.
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For my buddy Paul, whose sweetness is eclipsed only by his geektastic awesomeness.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Kittens. Bunnies. Lemon icebox pie with whipped cream. The real stuff, not that gunk that came out of a can.
That was Ginny Coltrane. Soft, sweet and delicious.
So what the hell was she doing walking into the seediest bar in Ridge County?
Anson Daughtry’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the display and grimaced as he answered. “Hey, boss. Can I still call you that? This whole administrative-leave thing is a little confusing.”
“I’m still writing your paychecks,” Alexander Quinn answered in that toneless voice he used when he didn’t want to let anyone know what he was really feeling. Of course, that usually meant he was ticked off and didn’t want to give anyone the pleasure of knowing it. Anson took a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing he could get to the unflappable ex-CIA agent that way. Felt like a victory, and he’d had damned few of those in recent days.
“Boss it is, then.”
“I wanted to let you know I’ve taken Darcy off administrative leave.”
Keeping his eyes on the entrance of the Whiskey Road Tavern, Anson tried to keep any hint of emotion out of his own voice. “Already heard.”
“You’re angry.”
So much for keeping emotion out of his voice. “Don’t know why you’d say that. I mean, it’s not like I’m now your prime suspect for corporate espionage or anything.”
“I have to go through the process.”
“And Darcy gets a free pass why?” Anson stopped trying to hide his bitterness. Quinn would see through him anyway. “Because he saved an FBI agent in trouble and fed her corrupt supervisor to the band of domestic terrorists the man was trying to use for his own purposes? Stupid me, not stumbling into a chance to play hero and win your approval.”
“Get over yourself,
