Deadly Beginnings by Jaycee Clark

“Or something.”
    “Oh, the something’s my favorite.”
    He laughed as he leaned over and kissed her quickly again, or he’d stay with her and never get back. “Get inside, beautiful.”
    “So bossy.” She dug a key out of her purse and unlocked the door. He handed her her bags and she tossed them just inside the door.
    “You should get inside before someone gets ideas,” he said, edging her back two steps until she stepped over her threshold, holding the door.
    “Always so dramatic and bossy.”
    He ignored that. “This weekend.”
    “Can’t wait.”
    “Me either, now get inside and lock the door.” He gave her a peck.
    She huffed and he pulled the door closed.
    “Lock it!” he said loudly.
    The locks slid snug and he grinned. He patted the door. “Later, Kaitie lass.”
    He took the stairs down fast and quickly climbed into his car, wishing she didn’t live here. Wishing he could just take her with him.
    He made his way into traffic. He’d drop into the hotel here in Baltimore before he headed back to D.C.
    Next weekend couldn’t come fast enough.
     
    • • •
     
    Kaitlyn heard two pats on the door, but also heard the muted thumps of Jock on the stairs.
    She leaned her forehead against the door, grinning. Such a great getaway, magical. Bright and shining. Had she told him thank you for driving her back?
    She quickly unlocked the door, opened it, but heard the downstairs door squeak shut.
    Shaking her head, she again closed the door, her apartment shadowed and dark with the late day.
    Flipping the locks again, she thought of what Jock had told her. So protective. So—
    “Who was he?”
    She froze, her gaze jerking to the far corner of the room, where her—
    What the hell?
    Her couch was there, but no other furniture other than a side table and lamp, the chair in the shadows.
    She knew that voice, knew it all too well.
    Jock was already gone, but she wished he wasn’t.
    Kaitlyn stayed very, very still as the shadows from the corner shifted, uncurled, rose.
    Light from the window slashed across Landon’s face, glinted off his blond locks.
    “I’ve tried to be patient, but frankly, Katherine, I’m tired of waiting.”
    He prowled closer and closer.
    “I noticed when you locked the door you weren’t wearing my ring,” he said, his voice grinding across her nerves.
    Her hands trembled. “Wh-where are my things? Where’s all my stuff?”
    Her photos. She saw now there was a box on the counter and several on the floor.
    “I had your things packed away.” He motioned to the couch. “You won’t need most of your belongings. They don’t really reflect you as my wife, do they? Thrift-store finds, yard sale items.” He stepped closer.
    They were her things. Hers. She didn’t say that, though. She’d learned not to say what she was thinking with him.
    “Where is your ring, Katherine?” he asked.
    If only Jock hadn’t left. But he had. She knew he had, but maybe . . . maybe . . .
    Kaitlyn turned and dashed to the door.
    Her fingers fumbled with the locks even as he slammed into her, her head knocking hard against the door.
    “I don’t think so, little whore,” he growled in her ear.
    Kaitlyn whimpered.
    “You are mine. It’s time you learned your place.” He whirled her around, his long fingers digging into her arm.
    “I-I was afraid I’d-I’d lose the ring so I took it off, to keep it s-safe,” she tried.
    He stepped back.
    She took a careful breath. “And—”
    “Who was he?” he asked, a muscle bunching in his jaw, his dark eyes glittering down at her.
    Stupid, so stupid.
    Run away with me, Kaitie.
    She should have . . .
    “No-no one. He’s no one, just a ride I caught back. I missed my bus.”
    Before she could take another breath, he hit her, backhanding her hard.
    She stumbled as the pain flashed into the side of her face. She would have fallen if he hadn’t clasped her arm.
    He hit her again, this time across her mouth, and she stumbled against the door, grabbing