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Back Nana Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title page
  2. Prologue
  3. Part One
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. Part Two
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. Part Three
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. Get on the Mailing List!
  69. Also by Brandon Massey
  70. About Brandon Massey

First, he checked the guest bathroom. Searching for hair samples. Unfortunately, Grace was a neat freak: he didn’t find a single strand of hair in the sink, bath, or floor. He didn’t see a toothbrush or set of toiletries, either. A pink body sponge hung on a hook in the shower, but it looked unused.

He backed out, into the hallway.

The door to the room in which Grace was staying was, as he expected, locked. He was prepared for that; last night, he had located the master key that fitted all of the interior doors. He slipped it out of his pocket.

But it didn’t match the keyhole.

Brows stitched into a frown, he stepped to the other nearby bedroom, tried the key on that door. It slid in smoothly.

He moved back to the door of Grace’s room, a sinking feeling coming over him.

Grace had swapped out the lock with a completely different one. One of her own.

30

Fists bunched on his waist, Troy glowered at the bedroom door like a boxer confronting an opponent in the ring.

His first impulse was to kick the door down. This was his house. Grace was only a guest. She had no right to change the lock. But he had every right to gain access to a room in his own residence, no matter what methods he chose to employ.

Crazy bitch, who does she think she is?

But he had never kicked down a door in his life. He wasn’t a cop and sure as hell had never performed a breaking-and-entering. They made stomping down doors look easy in the movies, but he was no fool. Trying to knock down that door was probably going to make a helluva mess, leave marks on the door frame, the door, and the knob.

The likelihood of causing visible damage to the door gave him pause. He turned away, lips buttoned.

He was supposed to be gathering evidence in secret. Tearing up the door would make his intentions clear to Grace, and Monica. He might as well have hung a sign above the door that declared: I’M SNOOPING AROUND TO FIND DIRT.

He was more worried about Grace discovering his intent than he was Monica. The old bitch was cold-blooded. If alerted to his plans, she would respond with a scheme of her own, and as she’d already shown a willingness to murder their dog and pin the heinous act on his mother, there was no telling what sort of retribution she would rain down on him and his family.

He spun back to the doorway. Think, man.