Love you to Death Read Free

want to prevent it from happening again, just in case she got a lucky shot.
    He spun her around, twisting her arms behind her, and leaned his weight against her. She tried to head-butt him, but the top of her head only came up to his chin, so all she hit was his collarbone. Her pale hair was tucked into a bun, which cushioned the blow. Trent doubted he’d even have a bruise.
    He had to give her an A for effort, though. She was completely outclassed, apparently weaponless and alone, and yet she kept fighting.
    Her foot slammed down hard on his toes, and pain screamed up his leg.
    “Bad move,” he told her as he wrenched her arms higher, putting enough force on her shoulders to make a grown man cry.
    She let out a willowy gasp of pain that was so feminine it made Trent feel like an ass for hurting her. Not that she would have thought twice about hurting him, given the chance.
    He let up, releasing some of the pressure, which only proved how soft he’d gotten over the past two years. Soft and useless.
    “Let me go,” she ordered. The fact that her words came out as a breathless whisper robbed them of some authority.
    “Not gonna happen. Who are you, and why are you here?”
    “I should be asking you the same thing. Why are you in my sister’s house?”
    “Sister?” Oh, crap. Not good.
    Trent turned her around, a lot more gently this time, and looked at her face. It was hard to see in the dim light, but the flashlight she’d dropped created enough of an ambient glow that he could make out the basics. Her mouth wasn’t quite as full and pouty as Ashley’s, but she had the same dainty chin and nose, the same pale eyes and hair.
    “What’s your name?” he asked her, just to be sure.
    “Elise McBride.”
    Trent knew that name. He’d heard Ashley talk about the revered Elise often enough he remembered it. He let go of her like she’d sprouted quills. “I’m so sorry,” he rushed to tell her. “I’m Ashley’s neighbor and I thought you were breaking into her house. Did I hurt you?”
    She rubbed one shoulder, sagging against the door, breathing too fast. “I’m fine. Heck of a neighborhood watch you have here.”
    Well, hell. He’d gone and fucked up good this time. And the sirens in the distance told him that in a few minutes his humiliation would be complete.
    Elise couldn’t stop shaking. For a moment there, she was sure that she was about to witness what had happened to her sister, up close and personal. She’d thought she was going to die, that the man who had complete control over her body was going to kill her.
    And there hadn’t been a thing she could do to stop him.
    Suddenly, Ashley’s disappearance became even more sinister. In that one brief moment of helplessness, Elise had gone from hoping to find her sister safe and sound to knowing that she was fooling herself indulging in that kind of fantasy.
    Bad things happened. That nagging itch in her gut told her that Ashley had been a victim of one of them.
    Her whole body trembled, and it was still a little hard to breathe. Her lungs felt flat, heavy. The surge of adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her sagging and queasy in its wake.
    Sirens outside grew louder, but she couldn’t bring herself to face the police just yet. She had to get a grip and regain her composure. She didn’t want to look like a wilting flower when she demanded that they help her find Ashley.
    Elise straightened her shoulders, which ached almost as much as the back of her head. Whatever the hell this guy was made of, it was tough stuff. She’d nearly imploded her skull trying to bash him with it.
    Not the smartest thing she’d ever done.
    “Sit down a minute,” he said, urging her toward Ashley’s bed. “You look a little shaky.”
    Elise sat down, grateful to have the solid surface supporting her trembling legs. “Who are you?” she asked him.
    “Trent Brady. I live across the street.”
    The name was familiar, and it took her only a second to place him. “Ah.