Within Temptation

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Was this a major coincidence? Or had Lady Luck just taken a piss on me? I shot forward in the passenger seat, not quite believing my own eyes. Damn. Less than four hours had passed since I’d left Gainstown Penitentiary, and who do I run into? Shannon Bradford—the last person I wanted to see.

My brother-in-law had just dashed into CVS at Main Street Plaza when I spotted her. She pulled into the lot, parking her black Volvo sedan in the opposite row, five spaces to my left.

I squinted past the salty film on the windshield and the trickle of snowflakes outside while she rescued the key ring she’d dropped. After a van blew by, spewing a wave of slush that barely missed her, she crossed the street and disappeared inside Noëlle’s Bakery. A few miles back, I’d seen her photo plastered on a fancy billboard along the interstate. Long blonde hair, eyes like liquid chocolate, and a killer smile.

Beneath her picture, the caption read: Shannon Bradford of Bradford Realty: A Name You Can Trust.

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