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Cameron, Paige - The Billionaire Rancher Buys a Wife [Wives for the Western Billionaires 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) by Paige Cameron Page A
Authors: Paige Cameron
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jumped into her seat, and locked all the doors at once. She’d made—what the hell was written on her windshield? Leaning forward she read the large red letters. Die, Whore, Die.
Janice put in her key and prayed whoever had written the note hadn’t tampered with her car. She turned her key and the engine started. Relief washed over her. Her hands trembled and tears poured down her face. She considered wiping the paint off, but feared whoever wrote the message might be lurking behind a car. At least the letters didn’t block her view completely. She’d wait until she got to the toll booth before getting out of her car. She backed up and drove too fast around the curves to the bottom floor. When she stopped at the gate, the guard frowned.
“I heard your tires squealing. Slow down, lady before you have an accident,” he snapped at her.
“Look at my windshield. Did you see anybody sneaking around?”
The man frowned. “No one. Very few people have come for their cars. Most of them are still in the bars and restaurants nearby.”
Janice put her car in park and got out. “Do you have anything I can use to clean my windshield?” He grumbled, but handed her a bottle of water and a paper towel. She poured the water across the glass and the red flowed like blood over her hood. The frowning man shoved the full roll of paper towels at her. Thank goodness no one else came along wanting to pay and get out of the garage. It took her a good twenty minutes, two bottles of water, and almost the whole roll of towels before the windshield was clean enough for her to drive the car.
“Thanks,” she told the man inside the booth. “I’ll replace your water and paper towels.” She handed him the money for her toll and turned toward home. She’d had a long, stressful day. Once she was safe inside her house, she’d call the police and report the latest incident. Not that they’d find any clues. Whoever it was must be a ghost. Never seen or heard from except in the dead of night.
When she’d parked in her garage and lowered the door, she gave a sigh of relief. She looked around to make sure no one was hiding behind a box or the other clutter. Once out of the car she sprinted to the back door and let herself in. She doubled-checked all the locks and didn’t remember until she went to the front door that she’d forgotten to have her lock changed.
Sinking into the soft cushions of her sofa, she covered her face with her hands. Her life had become a nightmare in a short period of time. Samantha would never believe her logical, always calm and prepared friend was falling apart.
* * * *
“Drake, there’s something going on here I don’t think you know about,” Brent said.
“Concerning Janice?”
“Yeah. She went to the police station after work then went back and parked across from her office. My guy followed her to a bar and grill. He stayed by the bar and then covered her as she walked alone to her car. It was after dark. He said she appeared anxious, dug in her purse, and pulled out a container that looked like pepper spray.”
“Did someone bother her?” Drake interrupted.
“No. She got in the car all right. Our guy had to stay a good distance from her, or she’d have seen him and panicked. He said she drove out of there like a maniac. He ran down the steps and saw her at the gate...”
“Was another car following behind her?” Drake interrupted and asked.
“No, but someone had written, ‘Die, Whore, Die,’ in big red letters on her windshield. She stopped at the gate to clean off the words, and my guy was able to get to his car and trail her home.”
“And he saw no one that appeared suspicious anywhere around?”
“Nothing obvious, but there was a good deal of traffic until they got on the outskirts of town. The guard at the house reported her turning on all the lights, and he’s pretty sure she was checking the front door locks.”
“Jack told her to get that one changed, but she probably
Janice put in her key and prayed whoever had written the note hadn’t tampered with her car. She turned her key and the engine started. Relief washed over her. Her hands trembled and tears poured down her face. She considered wiping the paint off, but feared whoever wrote the message might be lurking behind a car. At least the letters didn’t block her view completely. She’d wait until she got to the toll booth before getting out of her car. She backed up and drove too fast around the curves to the bottom floor. When she stopped at the gate, the guard frowned.
“I heard your tires squealing. Slow down, lady before you have an accident,” he snapped at her.
“Look at my windshield. Did you see anybody sneaking around?”
The man frowned. “No one. Very few people have come for their cars. Most of them are still in the bars and restaurants nearby.”
Janice put her car in park and got out. “Do you have anything I can use to clean my windshield?” He grumbled, but handed her a bottle of water and a paper towel. She poured the water across the glass and the red flowed like blood over her hood. The frowning man shoved the full roll of paper towels at her. Thank goodness no one else came along wanting to pay and get out of the garage. It took her a good twenty minutes, two bottles of water, and almost the whole roll of towels before the windshield was clean enough for her to drive the car.
“Thanks,” she told the man inside the booth. “I’ll replace your water and paper towels.” She handed him the money for her toll and turned toward home. She’d had a long, stressful day. Once she was safe inside her house, she’d call the police and report the latest incident. Not that they’d find any clues. Whoever it was must be a ghost. Never seen or heard from except in the dead of night.
When she’d parked in her garage and lowered the door, she gave a sigh of relief. She looked around to make sure no one was hiding behind a box or the other clutter. Once out of the car she sprinted to the back door and let herself in. She doubled-checked all the locks and didn’t remember until she went to the front door that she’d forgotten to have her lock changed.
Sinking into the soft cushions of her sofa, she covered her face with her hands. Her life had become a nightmare in a short period of time. Samantha would never believe her logical, always calm and prepared friend was falling apart.
* * * *
“Drake, there’s something going on here I don’t think you know about,” Brent said.
“Concerning Janice?”
“Yeah. She went to the police station after work then went back and parked across from her office. My guy followed her to a bar and grill. He stayed by the bar and then covered her as she walked alone to her car. It was after dark. He said she appeared anxious, dug in her purse, and pulled out a container that looked like pepper spray.”
“Did someone bother her?” Drake interrupted.
“No. She got in the car all right. Our guy had to stay a good distance from her, or she’d have seen him and panicked. He said she drove out of there like a maniac. He ran down the steps and saw her at the gate...”
“Was another car following behind her?” Drake interrupted and asked.
“No, but someone had written, ‘Die, Whore, Die,’ in big red letters on her windshield. She stopped at the gate to clean off the words, and my guy was able to get to his car and trail her home.”
“And he saw no one that appeared suspicious anywhere around?”
“Nothing obvious, but there was a good deal of traffic until they got on the outskirts of town. The guard at the house reported her turning on all the lights, and he’s pretty sure she was checking the front door locks.”
“Jack told her to get that one changed, but she probably
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