by Cora Kenborn
“We’re not late, Chloe.”
Her overly dramatic sigh echoed in my ears, and I couldn’t help shaking my head a little as Julian entered, carrying a stack of plates from the living room. Placing them on the counter, he made the sign for a phone with his finger in his ear and his pinkie next to his mouth and silently mouthed the words, “Who is it?”
Mouthing back to him, “Chloe,” he rolled his eyes and transferred his two fingers on top of his head with both index fingers pointing up and stuck out his tongue, imitating a devil. I had to cover the mouthpiece to prevent the giggles from reaching her ears.
“Phoebe, did you hear me?”
Turning my attention back to the phone, I cleared my throat and pointed an accusatory finger at Julian as I chuckled. “Sure, yeah…”
“Damn it, Pheebs, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, the tone in her voice giving me pause. “Chloe?” I ran a shaking hand down my face when she didn’t answer. “Chloe?” I said more forcefully.
“Predator Confidential called again,” she said finally.
“I’ve told you before, I don’t have anything to say to them.”
“Then just listen. They ran that generic story on Dad again after all that sensationalized press with your boyfriend and his stalker.”
“So? They run it all the time,” I reminded her. “It says nothing about me except for common facts of the crime.”
I’d been fearful of my father finding me after the media sensation over Tanna’s arrest. But after three months, the paranoia had started to fade. I guessed fear of incarceration was a stronger motivating factor than I’d realized.
“So, someone called the tip line.”
My heart stopped. “Someone always calls the tip line. It’s like crack for attention whores.” I tried to sound assertive but the tremble in my voice gave me away.
“Well, the local cops followed up on this one. Pheebs, there was a murder in Maryland. A hair was left at the scene.”
“No.”
“They matched DNA. It’s him.”
“No,” I said again, praying if I said it loudly enough it would be true.
“Dad’s on the move, Phoebe. Michael and I are on our way back to the airport. We’re getting out of here and heading home. The police are following a trail up the Eastern seaboard. You need to get out of New York—now.”
The phone slipped from my hand and bounced on the floor.
This isn’t happening.
Hands folded around me as the familiar scent of spice and sex invaded my senses. But even he couldn’t take away the chill that iced my soul. Turning around, I looked up at him, the feeling of unspeakable horror washing over me.
“Phoebe, what the hell did she say? You’re white as a ghost.”
“My father’s come out of hiding,” I said, glancing sideways in the mirror and taking in my extremely pregnant reflection. My words to Julian from the hospital came floating back in a rush of fear as he crushed me to his chest.
“Julian, I should know better than anyone that monsters can hide in plain sight. They hold your hand as you cross the street and then push you in front of a car when your back’s turned. We can’t hide from the world living in a bubble of what ifs. Evil doesn’t have a face. It just is.”
I was wrong. Evil had a face.
And he was coming for me.
Julian and Phoebe’s story continues in Fame and Secrets, Lords of Lyre Book 2
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Acknowledgements
KA Ware—I truly don’t know how I ever functioned without you. I remember reading your book dedication and thinking, She’s my people. I can honestly say this book would’ve never made it to publication without you. You gave me the push I needed to go for it. Thank you for being my beta reader, mentor, critique partner, daily comic relief, but most of all, my best friend. Karma gave me you to survive this crazy thing called being an author.
Limitless Publishing—Thank you for taking a chance on an unknown author and for your tireless efforts and professionalism.
Gillian Leonard—My fearless Obi-Wan editor, thank you for putting up with my secret identity as a machete-wielding comma splicer. I don’t know what I did to deserve having you as my editor and friend, but I try not to question Grammatical Errors of the Heart.
My husband—Thank you for putting up with the piles of laundry and months of me in pajamas holed up in the “cave.” I know it hasn’t been easy living with a writer on multiple deadlines, but I promised you it would pay off eventually. Welcome to eventually.
My three beautiful children (The Irish Mafia)—Thanks for closing the door and understanding that Mommy’s cranky because her characters won’t talk to her. Never give up, no matter how far-fetched you think your goals may be. It’s never too late to follow your dreams.
Lori Lebel—You never let me quit. Your industry insight was invaluable, and you single-handedly kept Julian and Phoebe alive. The chicken has finally set up residence under the desk.
Lorelei Logsdon—Your editing knowledge and expertise taught me so much. Thank you.
Teri Schultz—Thank you for letting me always reach out to you. You’ll always be the beta reading Regina to my book writing Gretchen.
Nancy Hutcheson—The best PA and beta reader I could ask for! Thank you!
Monsters & Rock Stars Reading Group—Thanks for the support and letting me be my weird, true, goofy self off page.
Deranged Doctor Design—For making my book cover stand out with originality, creativity, and stunning skill. Amazing work from the nicest designers around!
Lady Amber’s Reviews & PR—What can I say? Thank you for making me look good and for your tireless efforts in making my star shine bright…even if it did need a good polish now and then ;)
Rebekah Zink and Jaycee DeLorenzo—My lifesavers when I was drowning in my to-do list. My website and newsletters look beautiful because of the women behind them.
My mom—You’re my biggest cheerleader and inspiration. I am who I am because of you. You’ve always stood behind me and let me shine. When I was a little girl you used to tell me, “Baby doll, you were born to do something big in this world.” You were right, Mama.
Mostly, thank you to the bloggers who helped share my story, and my amazing readers. Without you, I’m just a chick with a laptop.
About the Author
Cora Kenborn writes romantic suspense novels with strong heroines, complex alphas, harrowing danger, and snappy banter. She is the author of the rock star stalker series, Lords of Lyre but refuses to be pigeon holed into one specific genre. She loves delving into the twisted mind of a dark villain as well as giggling while writing rom-com banter.
Cora lives in Eastern North Carolina and is a true Southern girl, growing up on sweet tea, front porches, and the simple life. She says “y’all,” “fixin’ to,” and should you deserve it, will “bless your heart.” She’s the proud mother of three hyperactive and occasionally adorable children, and the wife of a husband who tolerates her chaotic writer’s cave.
Although reading is her passion, she can usually be found watching true crime shows and crafting inspiration for twisted new tales. Cora admits to being a horrible cook, an even worse baker, and believes she’s more dangerous with a hot glue gun than any weapon on earth. Oh, and she and autocorrect are mortal enemies.
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