Page 61 of Secrets in the Deep

Ryan opened the door. Only a crack, so that he could glance outside.

“No one’s here,” he whispered under his breath.

“Oh. Has that happened before?”

“Never.”

The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. “It was probably some kids messing around.”

Right?

Ryan was just closing the door when a knock sounded from the back of the house.

Air stuttered in her chest. Was it the same person? Why would they go to the back door?

Ryan tugged her behind him before moving into the office off the hall. Her eyes widened when he pulled a gun from a safe.

Did he think the person was a threat?

He took her hand, and she followed him through the dark kitchen to the back door. Just as they reached it, he gripped her shoulder and whispered, “Don’t move.”

Move? Her heart was thumping so hard, she could barely breathe. But mostly because she didn’t want to watch Ryan step outside.

What if someone was out there, waiting? What if that someonealsohad a gun?

She forced herself to remain where she was as he stepped outside.

Nerves crawled through her belly, making her feel sick and dizzy at the same time. She hated the quiet. But she equally craved it. Preferred that over the sound of bullets or aggression.

After what felt like a lifetime, Ryan came back inside.

Air whooshed from her chest. “Anything?”

“Not that I could see. But there were mud prints on the driveway.”

Mud prints…like the ones in the movie?

No. That was crazy…wasn’t it?

“What is it?” Ryan asked.

“This will probably sound really stupid, but…this is a scene from the movie we’re filming.”

“What is?”

“This. My character is at home, with Preston, when someone knocks on the front door. There’s no one there, but then there’s a knock on thebackdoor. And the only evidence left behind are footprints on the driveway.”

14

Emily rolled to her right side and scrunched her eyes.

Sleep. She needed sleep. Bucketloads of it. She was so tired. So why was she lying here, completely awake, at whatever ridiculous hour it was?

She sat up because it was no use. Her knee hurt from the walk to Ryan’s house, she couldn’t stop thinking about the person who rang the doorbell…and she was too damn aware of Ryan sleeping downstairs.

Oh, and everything smelled of him. The sheets. His shirt. She glanced down at the gray tee. Just like the sweatshirt, she liked the feel of it against her skin far too much.

Clearly, she needed help.