Focus by Holly Bargo
Professional photographer Dana Secrest has a secret and doesn’t even know it. When she storms from her best friend’s home on Christmas Eve—not the wisest decision she’s ever made—security contractor Sam Galdicar follows her to save her from her own hot temper and impulsive action. Upon arriving home, Dana discovers her apartment has been ransacked. Then an attempt is made on her life. She doesn’t know who’s trying to kill her or why, but Sam is determined to protect the woman whose eyes don’t need a camera to see the truth.
“It’s been a stressful day, Dana. I won’t think less of you if you go to bed.”
I accepted the graceful exit and made mine, heading for the guest bedroom.
“My bed,” he called out.
I stopped in my tracks. Without turning to look at him, I replied, “I’m neither frostbitten nor chilled. I’ll sleep by myself, thank you.”
His expression probably darkened, perhaps turned sour, but he merely grunted, “Have it your way.”
I did. I lay on the extra firm and uncomfortable mattress and pulled the covers over myself. I left the bedroom door open so Sly could come or go into the room as he pleased. He hopped onto the bed and curled himself by my ankles.
My mind raced for I didn’t know how long before sleep claimed me and I awoke with a start, sweating, and quivering with fear, my body twisted around the warm, furry lump that was Sly. A whimper oozed from my mouth as the lingering wisps of whatever nightmare had gripped me in its icy claws scratched at my mind. I gulped great lungsful of air and pressed the heel of one hand against my racing heart. My blurry vision slowly began to clear. At that point I realized a dark presence lurked in the doorway, limned by faint light. I whimpered again and felt every sphincter clench. Sly snored.
“My bed,” came the husky order.
The shadow moved from the doorway and an unseen arm wrapped itself around me, hoisting me to my feet. I stumbled, my feet cold and nearly numb. The solid shadow settled me on another mattress, softer than the one I’d occupied earlier. It dipped behind me as it climbed in and that big, strong arm once again wrapped around me. Heat seeped through the fabric of the oversized shirt I wore—Sam’s shirt, I remembered—and soaked into my clammy skin.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
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Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is happy to reciprocate Blog Swaps in 2019.
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