TiedandTwisted Read Online Free PDF Page A

swallowed. This was what she’d found lacking
in their earlier play. Praise afterward. And comfort.
    * * * * *
    Friday, 1:35 a.m.
     
    She’d been gone for hours. He’d occupied himself with cat’s
cradle for some of the time, weaving purple yarn between his fingers while he
listened to the local radio station. He didn’t mean to kill her tonight, but it
was a Friday and he was bored. A man with a limp didn’t attract much attention
in bars. Not only had she wiped out his retirement fund, but she’d also
demolished his sex life.
    As another half-hour block of music started, he muttered a
frustrated curse and flicked the loop of yarn onto the passenger seat. Bitch
had picked someone up somewhere. She wasn’t coming home before she had a late
breakfast and a morning-after fuck wherever she’d spent the night. He reached
for the key in the ignition—and paused, holding his breath. Headlights arced
across the parking lot. Her little red two-door cruised into the empty spot in
front of her narrow townhouse.
    Smiling, he watched her move around inside the car,
gathering her bag or whatever the fuck she was doing. She finally stepped out.
A double beep of her car alarm indicated the alarm was set. That suited him
fine. Tonight, he wasn’t triggering any alarms, wasn’t putting in an appearance
on any cameras. Tonight, he was sitting back and enjoying. He had plans.
    She hitched her purse over her shoulder and climbed the
steps to the postage stamp that passed for her front porch. His dick hardened,
rose tight against the fly of his jeans. Four seconds. Three. Two—ahhhh. Her
motion sensor porch light flared bright and illuminated his gift to her.
    * * * * *
    Cunt. You owe me money.
    Adrenaline flooded her system, a hormone overload on top of
the endorphin high she’d been riding seconds earlier. Jovanna spun away from
the uneven words drawn in something red and oily on the glass panel of her
storm door. With her back to the door and the dark, silent parking lot in front
of her, both fight and flight failed her.
    “Inside,” she whispered. Inside would be safer than outside.
Her door was still firmly shut, no signs of a break-in. Just the message, the
tail of the last “y” dripping a blood-red trail down the glass.
    Pulse hammering in her ears, she tried not to leave her back
to the parking lot. The nape of her neck crawled with a pervasive feeling of
being watched as she fumbled with her keys and, excruciating minutes later,
finally plunged into the safety of her dark, quiet house. She bolted the door
with shaking hands and stumbled across the dark living room, intent on the
windowless bathroom in the middle of the house.
    In the dark, behind another locked door, she sat on the
toilet lid and clutched her phone. At a loss for what to do next. Police? Did
this count as an emergency?
    Family—none in New York.
    Friends—she’d left them all in Washington and Facebook
wouldn’t help her in this situation. Whatever this situation was.
    Her thumb landed on David Burke’s entry on her contact list.
She typed and deleted two drafts of a text before settling on
    CAN
YOU INSTALL HOME SECURITY TOMORROW?
    After several deep breaths, she looked up the number for the
local police precinct. Before she could dial, a text came through.
    WHAT’S
WRONG?
    Jovanna rubbed her forehead, wondering how to respond. She’d
expected “yes” or “no” from David, not an inquiry. After a moment, she blew out
a breath and called the police to report her non-emergency. Not an emergency
because she hadn’t heard even a floorboard creak in the house since she’d
entered.
    While she was on the phone with the police, another call
beeped on the line. After finishing with the police, she checked the missed
calls log to find David’s number in queue. And he called again. The phone
vibrated in her palm.
    “Hey,” she answered, staring at the shape of the vanity in
the dark.
    “Are you all right?” Overran her greeting.
    Jovanna blinked