Reflection Point - By Emily March Page 0,112

looked at her again … and she wasn’t Celeste Blessing. But I swear, she looked so much like her that she could have been Celeste’s twin.”

“Really. Was she wearing angel earrings?”

“Nope. Nor white and gold clothes. That should have been my first tip-off.” They reached an intersection of booths, and Logan indicated he was going left. “I’m headed this way,” Zach said, pointing right.

“I’ll see you around, then. Have a nice lunch, Sheriff Romeo.”

“Bite me, Mr. McClure.”

Zach strolled on, waving to the mayor, nodding to the lemonade vendor, then stopping to buy a cup since he was thirsty. That caused him to consider what he had at home for lunch. He had offered Savannah lunch. He should have food. He didn’t have any food in either his fridge or his pantry. I’ll pick up something from a vendor and …

Abruptly the words Logan McClure had said filtered back through his mind. She could have been Celeste Blessing’s twin.

He stopped abruptly. Celeste Blessing’s twin.

Weeks ago Savannah had told him about Francine Vaughn. She’s Celeste Blessing’s doppelgänger.

The Vaughns had been arrested last week. Had they made bail? He hadn’t heard.

Logan had talked to Celeste Blessing’s twin.

“Oh, hell.” Zach dropped his lemonade and began to run.

Savannah’s heart pounded and her mind raced. Okay. Don’t panic. Think. This is your home, your territory.

Kyle Vaughn will not defeat you again.

She needed to stall for time. Zach would arrive here soon. He’d be early. He wouldn’t wait until one. He’d kissed her. He’d said he’d take her to Reflection Point for lunch. He’d be wanting make-up sex.

He’ll be early. Buy some time, Savannah. Do what you have to do to survive.

She slipped her bra straps off her shoulders and bared her breasts. It’s no big deal. It’s not like he hasn’t seen them before.

“Well now, sugar,” Kyle said, leering. “I’d forgotten what a nice rack you had. So tell me, did you get yourself a girlfriend while you were in the slammer? Bet you had plenty of ladies wantin’ to suck on those pretty tits.”

She eyed his gun. Had he come here to kill her? She knew he was a liar, a thief, and a drug dealer, but had he ever killed anyone before? Would he hesitate or would it be easy for him? What should she say? What should she do?

“Now take off those cute little shorts,” he demanded.

“My bathtub is going to overflow, Kyle. This is an old house and if it overflows it will leak down the side of the house. Someone might notice. Will you let me go turn it off?”

While he thought about it, she mentally inventoried her cabinets. Surely she could find something to use as a weapon. Hair spray. Tweezers. Didn’t she have a pair of scissors in the drawer?

“Don’t concern yourself with the bathtub, Savannah. Look on the good side: you won’t need to worry about a water bill. Now, take off those shorts.” Fine. More to distract him with. She dropped her shorts.

He let out a wolf whistle. “Baby, baby. I don’t recall you wearing thongs. I think I’d remember that.”

Her stomach rolled. He’d come here to kill her, that was obvious. The voice in her head asked, Okay, then, what are you going to do to stop him, Savannah Sophia?

Grams, you’re back!

Darling, I’m always with you. Now, answer the question, love. What are you going to do to stop this villain?

I don’t know!

Sure you do. You’ll do something. Anything.

It’s a risk. A huge risk. He’s got a gun.

And if he kills you, you’ll have died taking action.

Taking action. Savannah liked that. Taking action meant not being a victim. Have a nice victimhood, Zach had said.

I don’t think so. Not again. Never again.

That’s the spirit, Savannah Sophia.

Of course, won’t it be just my luck to die right when I’ve found Zach?

Fiddlesticks. Maybe you won’t die. Maybe you’ll defeat the villain. After all, you’re not a victim anymore.

No, I’m not. I’m Zach Turner’s woman.

And she wouldn’t be afraid.

Savannah used the weapons she had at her disposal—her voice, her body, her intellect. She arched her back, stuck out her boobs, and asked, “Did you come here to screw me or shoot me, Kyle?”

His gaze dropping to her breasts, he said, “Both.”

“You know what I learned in prison? Danger is a turn-on. I’m pretty turned on. My panties are wet. Wanna see?”

His voice tight, he said, “Show me.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all she had and as much as she’d have liked to wait for Zach,

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