Hard Case (Hard as Nails #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

steps around me and walks to the bedroom door. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he says before leaving my room, and I get the feeling he means anything .
    I feel heat rush to my cheeks as I blush. I shake it off and open my bag.
    First order of business now that I’m alone: take a shower.
    The hot water rushes over my body, washing off the anxiety and worry of the last few days. I stand under the showerhead for a few minutes before bathing, letting the water rain into my tangled hair and flow down over my skin. I run my hands over my breasts, enjoying the feel of my fingers cupping and squeezing as the water rushes down over me.
    I close my eyes and imagine Slate coming to check on me, to make sure I’m getting settled in. He finds me in the shower and steps in to join me. Except, when he pulls the shower curtain back and steps in, it’s not him. It’s Josh. He’s naked in front of me with two gunshot wounds in his chest.
    I open my eyes as I get an unexpected serving of guilt with my shower. Josh is dead, and I’m showering in my defense attorney’s house, exactly the kind of house Josh had always wanted.
     

Chapter Five
     
     
    Rose
     
    Standing at the top of the stairs, I hear Slate talking to someone. I can’t tell what he’s saying. His voice rings through the house, but his words are lost in the reverberations.
    I creep slowly down the stairs in jeans and a black blouse, not ready to really dress down in front of this stranger yet. I realize he’s standing at the front door. His voice isn’t moving around the way it would be if he were on the phone and walking around the house.
    Then I hear another voice, accompanied by the crackle of a radio. He’s obviously talking to law enforcement. I stop before I reach the bottom of the stairs and try to listen in, but the acoustics of the house continue to devour his words, robbing me of the opportunity to eavesdrop. When the door closes, I finally take the last few steps down to meet him.
    The marble floor is cold and hard under my bare feet. Its smooth surface makes the living room feel more like an office and makes me want to put on shoes before walking around on it.
    Slate walks into the room with a troubled look on his face, but it is quickly replaced with a smile when he sees me.
    “Hey, Rose. I was just about to come up and see you.”
    For a moment, I think maybe I should have stayed in the shower a little longer to give him the chance to join me after all. Once again, I’m horrified by the thought. What is happening to me? I’ve never felt this instant, overwhelming attraction to a man before, and the fact I’m experiencing it now, after the horror of what I’ve been through, fills me with self-loathing.
    Then again, maybe it’s only normal after such a tragedy to fantasize about feeling something stronger than grief or guilt. But fantasies are one thing. I can’t let Slate see how I crave his touch. Can’t reveal how much I want to lose myself in the pleasure he can give me. Or how I want him to hold me in his arms and comfort me until I actually believe everything is going to be okay.
    “That was the police,” he says. “I filed a report on the men who shot at us.”
    “What did you tell them?”
    He shrugs. “I told them I didn’t get a good look at the guys, but I gave them a description of the car, told them about the condition your house was in, and gave them the license plate number.”
    “You got their license plate number?” I don’t remember him saying anything about it or taking it down earlier.
    “You don’t do this for as long as I have without paying at least some attention to detail.”
    “Why didn’t you get me? I could have given them a statement.”
    “No need,” he tells me. “I told them you were resting after the ordeal, that it had stressed you out and you needed your sleep.”
    “And they were fine with that?” It seems a little suspicious he would want to keep me from talking to the