Snake by K.L. Savage EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: K.L. Savage
- Language: English
- Genre: Organized Crime Thrillers
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
SEER
Bones brings in the mail and carelessly tosses it on the desk. Classic,
careless Bones. A maid he is not, and he loves to remind me of it. None
of the men have been happy since I assigned household duties, but they
don’t have to live with my wife. One day, they’ll probably all understand
what it’s like to have a woman relentlessly nag at you until you have no
choice but to surrender.
“I didn’t marry you so I could spend all day, every day cleaning up after
our son and your pack of ingrates,” Tory had told me during a particularly
nasty fight. “When you took over as Prez, I thought that meant that I would
be your first lady. That I would help you keep things running. I did not sign
up to be the help!”
“Nobody thinks of you as the help,” I’d argued. It was apparently the
exact wrong thing to say. Tory had listed off an entire diatribe of domestic
duties she’d had to take care of over.
“Of all my friends, I’m clearly the stupid one,” she hissed, and I knew
better than to respond. “Abigail, Juliana, Evanesce, Meredith, they all live
somewhere else! They were smart enough to get away from this house and
make a place of their own.”
“We have the apartment,” I pointed out, which led to a pot being thrown
at my head.
Suffice it to say, the very next day I called church and announced the new
chores everyone in the house had to take part in. Pocus had a field day with
that one. Once Tory talked to Abigail about it and Abigail got on his ass, he
didn’t think it was so funny anymore.
So now I’m sorting through the mail Bones has so ungraciously dropped
in front of me. I sift through an endless pile of junk and garbage. Honestly, I
don’t know why people send mail anymore. It all gets thrown out away. Even
the postcards Hex and Juliana send from Brazil eventually end up in the
trash. It’s nothing personal. I don’t like clutter.
The unmarked envelope with the threatening note inside is hardly any
different. It’s the run-of-the-mill threat I get every few months. No return
address shows on the front. No name to the words that should intimidate me.
I wouldn’t be doing my job well if I didn’t get threatened at least once a
week.
The end is coming for you, Prez, is all it says in cut-out magazine letters.
Either this person is a serial killer or has entirely too much time on their
hands. And what a vague, unoriginal message. The end of what? My life? My
reign as the Prez? Honestly, I’d be more worried if I couldn’t literally see the
future. Little by little, Tory’s been helping me regain my second sight. I
haven’t seen anything horrible coming at me. The future seems calm, maybe
even promising. Of course, that worries. Nothing is calm around here.
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