Beautiful Dangerous 

💀  Philly Heat Series #4  💀

It’s exquisite torture watching you. For your sake, I hope you meet my expectations... Public Defender Hannah Patel is being stalked by a man obsessed. Detective Doyle Murphy hopes to redeem himself by protecting Hannah, but neither expect their forced closeness to create genuine feelings. Their burgeoning romance pushes her stalker over the edge. Into murder.
Will love or madness win?

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TheJanuary air was sharp as shattered glass in Hannah’s lungs. The scull slicedthrough the water soundlessly; the oars cut through with precision as shepumped and pushed her legs and arms in a familiar rhythm. Embraced the burn inher muscles. It was early; the sun hadn’t fully breached the horizon, but herswas not the only boat on the river. A college crew sped past, their coxswainnodding to her as they passed. She was on the last leg, approaching theclubhouse at the far end of Boathouse Row, when she pulled in her oars and letthe momentum take her home as the sun glowed orange over the skyline of CenterCity.

Ineeded this. The solitude and quiet. The solace I always find on the water. Ineed the calm to carry me through the day.

Shelifted the bow side oar and glided alongside the stage before climbing out withpracticed grace. She stood and stretched, pulled off her cap and wiped thelight sheen of sweat from her brow. Hannah rowed all year, conditions allowing,and though sometimes the river froze, winter was her favorite. In the dog daysof summer, the algae and pollen created a pungent film on the water’s surface,which hindered the oars. Cold meant clean. “This is perfect.”

Pullingher single scull from the river was the hardest part, and she did iteffortlessly. She’d rowed since college and had deceptively muscular legs andarms. With the oars in one hand and the boat over her shoulder, she carried hergear to the clubhouse and secured it in the garage. It had been converted intoa storage area for boats and gear decades prior, but was still called thegarage.

Twentyminutes later, dressed in her favorite charcoal pencil skirt and a silky blousethe color of ripe peaches, her long black hair–still damp from theshower–plaited down her back, Hannah pulled a thick wool cap over her ears andslipped into the cashmere coat her parents gave her for Christmas. She hurriedacross Kelly Drive and onto Lemon Hill Drive, where she’d parked her car ninetyminutes earlier.

Hermother hated the Mazda. Thought she should drive something small, sporty, andfeminine. Hannah considered it, and, despite her secret infatuation with thePorsche Carrera, chose the sport utility vehicle. Sculling, skiing, and hervolunteer work at the Women’s Humane Society Animal Shelter in Olde City madethe compact SUV the better choice. Frosty morning sunlight glinted off thechrome detailing. Hannah smiled. And she’s pretty.

Withthe fob in her hand, she remotely started the car, used her foot to open theliftgate and tossed her duffel bag in the back. She’d had it customized fortransporting animals and no matter how funky her gear got, or muddy, or sandy,she wouldn’t damage her interior. She shivered, closed the hatch, and unlockedthe doors. With one foot in the car, and her body half in the seat, she froze.

Astandard piece of paper, folded in half and tucked under the windshield wiper,fluttered in the icy breeze. Dread curled in her stomach. The coppery taste offear coated her tongue. She reached for it, slowly, cautiously, as though itwould bite her if she moved too quickly, and picked it off her windshield. Shechecked the back seat. Empty. Checked it again. Hopped into the driver’s seat,and locked the door. She waited a second, two, before unfolding the sheet.

It’sexquisite torture watching you. Wondering how those powerful legs will feelwrapped

aroundme. How the muscles in your arms will quiver under restraints. I’ll know soon.

Foryour sake, I hope you meet my expectations.

💀💀💀

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