“Oh, shut up, I don’t eat that much ice cream.” She searched through the freezer and found a tub of Chunky Monkey. “Jackpot.”
“Awesome. Just don’t tell Trace. The guys think I eat too much junk food. They’ve banned it from the house.”
Savannah winced. “Bet that’s going well.”
“Oh, it is. So I made them lasagna too. Only I made theirs vegetarian. With lentils.”
Savannah had to laugh. “You didn’t.”
“I’m going to be in trouble when I get home.” Lila winked, not looking worried in the least. And she shouldn’t be. Her men worshipped the ground she walked on.
***
Savannah sorted through the pile of mail as the lasagna heated in the oven. She’d asked Trace and Lila to stay for dinner, but even though Lila seemed to want to stay—probably regretting sneaking those lentils into their lasagna—Trace said he had jobs to return to on their ranch.
Logan was in the office, working his way through some paperwork. It was something Max usually took care of, but Logan said he didn’t want them to get behind.
She frowned as she came across a plain envelope. It had her name written on the front, but no address or postmark. She quickly opened it, her heart racing as a piece of paper slipped out. There was just one word typed in bold on the white paper.
Whore.
“Two husbands. Except they’re not really your husbands, are they? Not legally. Tell me, how many men have you opened these legs for?”
He cupped her mound and squeezed. Oh, God. Oh, God. Nausea bubbled in her stomach as she sobbed.
“Don’t. Don’t.”
She felt so helpless. Where were Max and Logan? Would they find her?
The asshole ran his finger up and down the slit of her pussy.
“No! No!” she screamed.
He just grinned.
“You are beautiful, aren’t you? No wonder men are taken in by you. Little do they know the truth, that you’re nothing more than a filthy whore.”
“Savannah is there any mail . . . Savannah? What’s wrong?”
Logan came up behind her. “Fuck! What the hell is this?” He picked up the piece of paper. “Where did you get this?”
“It was in the mail.” She pointed shakily at the envelope it had come in. “I just opened it. Who-who would send that?”
Logan picked up the envelope, studying it.
“Did he send it? Is it from him?” Her legs went limp, and Logan quickly drew her against him, turning her, so her face was sandwiched against his chest. She could barely breathe he was holding her so tightly, but she didn’t care. She trembled, her heart beating so hard she felt ill.
“There’s no postmark or address. Someone put this directly in our mail box.”
“He’s after me again. He’s been near the house.” Maybe she had seen something the other day. And then there were those phone calls. What if they weren’t prank calls?
“I’ve had phone calls,” she told Logan.
“What?” he barked out. He pulled her back, holding her upper arms in a tight grip. “What do you mean, you’ve had phone calls?”
“I didn’t tell you because I thought they were just wrong numbers.” Now, she wasn’t sure.
“Savannah, what calls? What happened?”