MARRIAGE-BARGAIN

CHAPTER 18

NICK POV

Someone was in the house.

Nick sat up in bed and listened. A faint scraping noise echoed through the air. As if someone scratched a key against a lock and tried to

jimmy the door open.

With quick, economical motions he padded on bare feet to the door and opened it an inch. Silence greeted him. Then he heard the sound.

A low murmur. Almost like a growl.

A chill ran down his spine and he thought over his options. Who the hell was in his house? The alarm hadn't gone off, which meant the

burglar had disarmed it. He didn't have a gun or a bottle of mace. What else was used in the Clue game? A revolver, candlestick, knife, rope,

or lead pipe.

Better off calling 911.

He eased out of the doorway and tiptoed past Alexa's closed door. He paused, then decided waking her would be the wrong thing to do—

she may panic or give the intruder a target Nick didn't want to deal with. His main goal right now was to keep her safe. He grabbed a baseball

bat from the hall closet, swept up the cordless phone, punched out the three numbers and reported a break-in.

Then he started down the stairs to hurt the son-of-a-bitch.

Nick stopped at the bottom and hid in the shadows. The air remained still except for the steady buzz of the refrigerator. He stood alone for

a while and studied the darkened rooms. The front door was solidly locked—chain hooked on—alarm set. Strange, if it had been disarmed the

red light would be out. Maybe the back door, but he hadn't heard the panes of glass break unless—

The door to the spare room rattled. He eased forward, keeping tight against the wall, baseball bat brandished while he counted down the

seconds before the cops would arrive. Clint Eastwood he was not, but if he got one good hit with the bat he could call himself a man.

Heavy breathing. Almost like a pant. A scratch.

What the hell?

He stopped and reached for the knob. His pulse skittered with a rush of adrenalin. He fought past the fear and latched onto control. Nick

raised the bat, turned the knob, and threw open the door with all his strength.

"Aaaaghhh!"

A group of dogs rushed past him. Two, four, six, eight—a crowd of fur encircled his legs—spotted dogs, little dogs, big dogs—all barking

and wagging tails and lolling tongues. The bat hovered high in the air but they never sensed danger. Thrilled to see a human in the dark

hours of the night, they all leapt to attention and wanted to play.

For a few seconds, he convinced himself he was having a dream, and would wake up in his own bed.

Then he realized the scene was real.

And a murder would be committed.

Involving his wife.

The room was in shambles. Shredded papers flew in every direction. The luxurious carpet was mottled with liquid circles that didn't look

like water. Stuffing poked out of a couch cushion. His potted plant lay drunkenly to one side and one puppy pawed through the pile of dirt.Architectural Digest had been chewed up and spit out.