A Short Respite

I must be delusional, thinking I'm going to have a weekend where I don't have to go somewhere or do something. You'd think after many years of working retail management and customer service, and for big companies where mergers are the norm that I would have been able to kill off my inner optimist by now, but she's still there, hopeful, no matter what the situation. Haha.

I spent most of the week trying to think about what to make for this month's family dinner this weekend and coming up empty. Finally, I decided to take hubby's suggestion of something seafood for me and the boys and some burgers for hubby, and added a salad and cheesecake sampler, so my only real prep was chopping some veggies into the salad and in a little while I'll toss hubby's burgers into the grill pan. It was a good idea, but I really only considered it the day I needed to do our grocery orders for the next two weeks and had added an excursion to the boys' for yesterday to my weekend list. I should have just made up my mind earlier in the week when he suggested it, but that was before the gardening came up for yesterday. I still need to do the rest of my shrub trimming up there, but that will have to wait now until after the booksigning in two weeks. Next weekend will be booksigning prep--all the things to check off my list! But the rest of today is family time, so I guess I am getting a bit of a break after all.

Before I go heat up the grill pan, I have a snippet for you this week from Freeing Medusa.

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            Hunter had to do more digging to find Katharine than he’d guessed would be necessary. After he found her whole name–Rigas-Vardos–it still took him several hours and finally a phone call to a friend at the DOT to get her mailing and street addresses. By then it was too late to show up at her door unannounced, or even to call. So in the morning, he checked in at the office to see what Mary Ann had on tap for him. Luckily, he had a couple hours free before he had to meet with a new client. Time to see Katharine.

            He debated getting a gift certificate for a lingerie store to take along, to replace the underwear he’d destroyed, then decided that might be a little much, considering he was still virtually a stranger.

            Instead, he picked up a fistful of daisies at a nearby florist and drove across town to the address his buddy had given him last night. A neat little one-story white house with an attached garage. Two narrow flowerbeds flanked the two steps to the front door.

            And a tall guy in black shoved open a window at the side of the house as Hunter eased his car along the street.

            Heart pounding faster, he didn’t stop in front of her house, but parked down the street several houses–the way the homes were spaced on her street, it was far enough the guy wouldn’t hear him and think he was coming to Katharine’s. He left the daisies on the seat and sprinted back to her house, through her neighbors’ yards. He peered around the corner of her house. The side window was open, and there was no sign of the man. He was inside. 

            Hunter’s pulse quickened. No time to call the cops. He stepped up to the front door, noting the alarm company sticker in the front window. He didn’t want to do damage to her door, though, or alert the intruder to his entry, so he pulled a set of picks from his pocket, jiggling one carefully in the lock until the latch gave. Then he stepped inside, holding his breath and hoping the alarm would take a few seconds before it went off.

            There was silence through the little house. Maybe she hadn’t set the alarm. He shut the door noiselessly, then heard a low voice.

            Good thing he hadn’t given up carrying. He whipped his gun out as he crept through the living room, past the empty kitchen and an office. He stopped when he got to the open door of the bedroom and leveled his gun on the dark man standing beside her bed with a wicked, slightly curved blade in his hand. In the open collar of his shirt, a gold pendant gleamed, something too small for Hunter to identify. A few feet from the other man, the curtain fluttered in the breeze coming through the open window.

            “Drop it,” he said evenly, hoping Katharine stayed right where she was, lumped beneath her blankets.

            The guy jumped, startled, clearly so absorbed in his own plans that he hadn’t paid any attention to the rest of the house. Good thing for Hunter, and for Katharine. Bad for the intruder.

            From the corner of his eyes, Hunter saw movement on the pillow, but he couldn’t take his attention from the intruder. He just hoped she remained still long enough for him to deal with this asshole.

            “Do you truly want to stop me?” the other man said in heavily accented English. “From killing this monster?”

            “No monsters here, buddy. Drop the knife. Now.” He jerked his gun toward the rocking chair in front of the closet where the weapon wouldn’t be easily reachable again. More movement on the pillow. In his peripheral vision, it looked like a couple of snakes. That couldn’t be. He kept his gaze on the other man. “Do it.”

            The man’s dark eyes narrowed, mouth tightening, his expression furious. “It is my duty to kill the Medusa.”

            Hunter thumbed off the safety on his gun. “If you don’t drop your weapon now, I’m going to put a very large hole in you. One you will not recover from.”

            The dark guy muttered something Hunter couldn’t understand, something foreign, and, after a few more seconds, tossed the blade away, but not where Hunter had indicated. Instead, he threw it so it stuck in the plaster wall beside the mirror attached to her dresser. When Hunter glanced away from him to be certain the dagger hadn’t done any damage to Katharine, the intruder lunged out the open window.

            “Fuck.” He strode to the window in time to see the back of the other guy vanishing around the neighbor’s porch a few dozen yards away. He pulled his head back inside and froze.

            Those were snakes on the pillow, several of them.

            “Katharine,” he said quietly.

            “You should go, Hunter.” Her voice was choked, hushed.

            His gaze stuck on the snakes. They were in her hair. “Honey, there are snakes–”

            “I know. You should go.” She sucked in a harsh breath, and the lump of her under the blankets contracted.

            His frown deepened. That could not be. The snakes were not just in her hair, they were her hair. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “Honey, I think you’d better tell me.” His racing mind called up the other man’s words–“the Medusa.”

            But those old myths weren’t real.

            One of the dark snakes lifted its head from the pillow in his direction and hissed at him.

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I do have one more 'must' on the to-do list for later--sending the newsletter I promised last week, so now's your last chance to sign up below before that goes out.

I hope you all find some time this week to take a break, even if it's just a short one. I'd love to hear about it if you do!

Until next week, happy reading!