Leather & Lark (THE RUINOUS LOVE TRILOGY #2) by Brynne Weaver EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Brynne Weaver
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3 MB
- Price: Free
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Lark
“Don’t hold your breath,” I yell to the man in the sinking car as he pounds
on the window and begs for my mercy. “Get it?”
I don’t think he heard me. But that’s okay. I just smile as I wave with one
hand, my gun trained on him with the other in case the window budges and
he manages to slither his way out.
Fortunately, the pressure of the climbing water makes it nearly
impossible for him to escape, and in mere moments, the vehicle is
submerged. Bubbles burst in the black water as the car slides beneath the
gentle waves of Scituate Reservoir. The headlights point to the stars,
flickering as the electrical connections succumb to the flood.
“Well, shit.”
This isn’t good.
Actually, it’s kind of amazing. But it’s also a giant pain in the ass.
I chew my lip and watch until the lights blink out and the surface goes
still. When I’m sure everything will stay silent, I pull out my phone and
open the contacts. My thumb hovers over Ethel’s number. She’s always
been the one I’ve called when things have gone tits up. Admittedly, a car
casket at the bottom of a lake might be a little beyond the usual definition of
tits up, even if the timing wasn’t already making it impossible to ask for
Ethel’s help.
With a sigh, I select the number just above hers instead.
Two rings and he picks up.
“Meadowlark,” my stepdad chimes on the other end. I roll my eyes and
smile at his use of my childhood nickname.
My wary tone is his first indication that something might be amiss when
I say, “Hi, Daddy.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Is everything okay?”
“Sure …”
“Did someone puke on the carpet?” he asks. It’s safe to assume he’s had
a few drinks at his own Halloween party if he hasn’t already clocked that
there’s no thumping bass or raucous voices in the background from my end
of the line. “I’ll have Margaret arrange some cleaners for you first thing.
Don’t worry about it, honey.”
A final, damning bubble erupts from the lake like an exclamation point.
“Umm, those aren’t really the cleaners that I need …”
The line goes silent.
I swallow. “Dad …? You still there?”
A door closes in the background on his end of the line, muffling the
laughter and voices and music. My stepdad’s unsteady exhalation is the
next thing I hear. I can almost picture the way he’s probably rubbing his
fingers across his forehead in a futile attempt to channel some chill energy.
“Lark, what the fuck? Are you okay?”
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