Cliff's Descent (Immortal Guardians #11) - Dianne Duvall Page 0,40

on the front porch. She wrinkled her nose when her gaze went to the wood siding.

The rest of the exterior, unfortunately, looked pretty shabby. Paint that used to be… peach maybe?… flaked off in sizable strips. Emma had already bought some cheerful yellow to replace it along with bright white for the trim, but that was going to be an exhausting job. She’d have to sand off the flakes and—

Nope. She didn’t want to think about that tonight.

Unlocking the front door, she entered and flipped on the lights.

Much better.

She’d stripped the shudder-worthy wallpaper off every wall—and it had been on every wall—and painted each room with colors that appealed to her. Though the wood floor that ran throughout the house was scuffed and faded, she still loved it. She’d had the warped Formica countertop in the kitchen replaced with gleaming granite. Once she repainted the cabinets and added modern hardware, the kitchen would look fantastic.

Her gaze went to the treadmill parked in the space meant for dining.

When she’d bought the house, she had intended to purchase a nice table and chairs to fill the pretty nook, imagining inviting some special guy over for a candlelit dinner.

Then she’d met Cliff and…

Well. Not much point in buying a table she wouldn’t use. She couldn’t imagine any other man sitting in that nook with her and didn’t really want to. So she’d opted for a treadmill and was content to eat her dinner at the coffee table every night while she watched the news.

She sighed. As much as she loved the place, tonight it seemed too quiet.

Fortunately, her nearest neighbors were far enough away that she could crank up some tunes without disturbing them. Hendrix helped her shake off the restive feelings that tried to creep in while she showered, donned a tank top and some soft pajama pants, then whipped up a quick pasta dish.

Once she ate and did the dishes though, the restlessness returned.

Emma settled on her comfy sofa and tried to dive into a new e-book. But it failed to snare her interest. She tried another one. And another with the same results.

What was wrong with her tonight?

Giving up on reading, she turned the television on and surfed Netflix until she found a horror flick that looked promising.

Half an hour later, just as the action in the movie was picking up, a faint thump outside reached her ears.

Frowning, she muted the volume and glanced toward the front of the house. Blinds shielded the windows, beyond which a lone bulb lit the porch and part of the yard.

No shadow passed by them. Nor did any more thuds break the silence.

Had she imagined it?

When it didn’t recur, she chalked it up to the movie making her jumpy. It was pretty creepy.

Or perhaps she’d simply heard some nocturnal creature pouncing on unsuspecting prey. Nature surrounded her on all sides, and she’d seen a wide variety of animals pass by on their hunt for food. Maybe something had decided to snag itself one of the little field mice she’d had such a hard time keeping out when she’d first bought the place.

With a mental shrug, she turned the movie back on.

A loud knock shook her door.

Emma damn near jumped off the sofa. Her neck popped as she jerked her head around to stare at the door with wide eyes. Her heart began to slam against her ribs as fear trickled through her.

Who the hell would be knocking on her door this late at night?

Who the hell would be knocking on her door at any time of day or night?

No one she knew would do so without calling first. And deliverymen and women didn’t drop off packages at freaking midnight.

As quickly and quietly as a mouse, she darted into her bedroom and grabbed the 9mm her father had bought her and trained her to use. Flicking off the safety, she returned to the living room and swung by the coffee table to tuck her phone in her pajama pants pocket in case she needed to call 911. Only then did she cautiously approach the door.

Another knock thundered through the house.

Adrenaline spiking, she peered through the door’s peephole.

Shock rippled through her. “Oh shit,” she whispered. Setting the gun on the coatrack bench beside her, she hastily unlocked the dead bolt, then the knob, and flung open the door.

Cliff stood before her, his big body blocking her view of the yard.

Emma gaped up at him.

He wore the standard blacks of network guards covered with a long black

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