Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

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Authors: Teresa Michaels

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Rundown

Curveball
Book Two

Teresa Michaels

eBOOK
EDITION

Copyright
© 2015 TERESA MICHAELS

All
Rights Reserved

Cover
Design by
Mayhem
Cover Creations

Formatting
by
Mayhem
Cover Creations

All rights reserved,
including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form
or by any means.

This
is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and
events described in this novel are either products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

DEDICATION

For
my parents.

I
love you to the moon and back.

TABLE OF
CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THANK
YOU

ONE

RUNNING

I
stand in front of the open refrigerator pulling out the ingredients I
need for breakfast, placing each item on the counter behind me as I
go.  I do a mental inventory and come up short. 
Blueberries, where the hell are the blueberries?  I dig through
all the items, going shelf by shelf, shifting containers of
leftovers, juice boxes and jarred baby food, only to come up empty
handed. 


I
need to go into the office,” Mark says, startling me and causing me
to drop the unopened bag of pancake mix.


But
it’s Saturday.”

I
watch him place his mug on the ledge of the Keurig and go about
making his coffee.  He still hasn’t answered me, which is odd.
 Picking up the pancake mix, I set it on the counter.  I
can sense that something’s up.  I slowly walk over to him and
wrap my arms around his waist.  Mark’s core tenses before he
deeply exhales. 


Did
you hear me? It’s Saturday, and we have guests coming over in an
hour.”


This
isn’t something I can put off.”  He places a hand over mine,
which are still entwined around him.


Can’t
you just do whatever you need to do here in your office?  That
way you can be home.”


There’ll
be too many distractions.”  He takes a sip of his coffee and
then sets it down.  I drop my hands and back up marginally as he
turns to face me.


We’ll
be quiet, I promise.”  Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around
his neck.  I press my body against his, while he continues to
grip the edge of the counter behind him.  It doesn’t go
unnoticed that he hasn’t accepted or returned my embrace.


Bree,”
he warns.


I’ll
make it worth your while,” I sing suggestively, raising up on my
tiptoes and placing a kiss on his lips.  When he returns my
kiss, I start thinking that he’s changed his mind. 

On
a sigh, he pulls back slightly and searches my face.  I have no
idea what’s going on in that head of his, but it’s clearly not on
my offer.  I hate to admit it, but I can’t remember the last
time that it was.  


Why
are you looking at me like that?” I ask.


I’m
memorizing your face.”

I
roll my eyes and pull away.  “Well, if you just stayed home
you wouldn’t need to.”

I
walk to the other side of the kitchen to pre-heat the oven.  Out
of the corner of my eye, I watch Mark grab his wallet and keys. 


Have
you seen my jacket?” he asks.


I
took it to the drycleaners.  I thought they’d be able to get
the cigar smell out.  Your other coat should be in there.”


I’ll
be fine without it,” he replies, his tone dull.    


You’re
sure you can’t stay?” I ask one last time and he shakes his head
no.  

Now
it’s my turn to sigh. 


It’s
probably for the better.  I’ve apparently lost the
blueberries, so it’s not like you’d enjoy breakfast anyway.”

He
gives me a stiff smile before turning his attention to the front of
the house. 


Is
everything ok, Mark?”

His
eyes wander back towards me, and he nods.  He strides toward me
with purpose and gently kisses me on the top of my head.  “I
love you,” he whispers into my ear.  With those parting words,
he’s gone.

 
The
kids are off playing and I’m cleaning up the kitchen with Vivian
and Sarah.  We’re laughing about some ridiculous reality TV
show that Sarah’s been watching, when the doorbell rings.  I
turn the water off and dry one of my hands on my jeans as I make my
way to the door. 


Can
I help you, Officer?” I ask, wondering if one of the kids called
9-1-1 by mistake.


Good
morning, ma’am.  I’m Officer Derek Sloan.  Are you
Breanne Sullivan?”


Yes.”
 


Is
your husband Mark Sullivan?”


Yes.”
The hair on my arms is standing on end, and I can’t fight the
sickening feeling that’s growing in the pit of my stomach, shouting
at me that something bad has happened. 


When
was the last time you saw your husband?”


This
morning…a few hours ago,” I stutter. “Oh God.  Has he been
in a car accident?” 

The
Officer purses his lips together in a fine line and shakes his head.
“No, ma’am.”  He takes a deep breath and then continues.
“About an hour ago I was dispatched to an office building after
someone reported hearing a single gunshot.”

My
mouth goes completely dry and I can’t tell if I’m breathing or
not, but my heart is about to explode.  

Get
to the point.  Why the hell are you telling me this?

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