Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)
Page 195
Or was that wrong? Was everything a lie? A macabre figment of her imagination?
She took another step backward.
“You’re confused, Faith, but I can help you,” he said quietly, as if nothing had happened between them, as if everything she’d conjured was her imagination, as if he’d never touched her.
Dear Lord, how mad was she?
She spun quickly, her toe catching on the edge of a rug. Pitching forward, she again caught her reflection in the window and this time she saw him rushing forward, felt his hands upon her.
“No!” she cried, falling.
Glass cracked. Shattered.
With a scream she fell into the dark nothingness of the hot Louisiana night.