Table of Contents
In the Heat of the Hunt Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
About Sandra Sinclair
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- A Sensual Erotic Romance Mystery Novelette from Steam Books
This title is part of the Steam Books ROMANTICA line of novellas and novelettes. Sexy and sensual tales, slender but with added room for romance and characterization!
Copyright © 2015 Steam Books Erotica & Romance
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Sandra Sinclair has been a professional writer for years, but after spending most of her career writing marketing copy, she thought it was finally time to follow her passion, which thankfully for us involves igniting her readers’ passion as well. Teaming up with Steam Books Erotica & Romance, Sandra’s ready and willing to make her readers feel the love and lust of her prose.
Sandra has a degree in Journalism and had once created storylines for a professional video game, but her true calling is being one of the talented sirens of erotica.
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by Sandra Sinclair
It was still dark when I was awakened, not by an alarm clock or by one of Warren’s kisses, but by a scream.
I looked at Warren, who was also awake with a confused expression on his face – proof that I wasn’t dreaming. We hastily put on our robes and together, hurried down the hall.
The whole time, my heart was beating so fast I was afraid it would come out of my chest. What could possibly have happened?
Once we made it to the living room I saw the maid, Cathy, on the couch, her face pale and her cheeks streaked with tears. Her hands were also pale and shaking as they endlessly fumbled with her apron. Arthur sat beside her, a medical kit on his lap. Seconds later, Tammy and Keesha came running into the room as well.
“What happened?” Keesha asked before Warren or I could.
Arthur looked at us, his expression clearly showing that he was struggling with the right words to say. Finally, he said, “Someone…died.”
I froze.
“Who?” Warren asked.
“The butler,” Arthur answered. “Alec, I believe.”
At that point, Keesha screamed while Tammy covered her mouth to mute a gasp, her expression one of shock and anxiety.
“Where is he?” Warren spoke again, seemingly the only person among us capable of speech.
“In the study.”
Warren walked to the study and I reluctantly followed him, Tammy behind me. Keesha stayed behind.
“I don’t need to be seeing any dead bodies right now,” she explained.
I was afraid, too, but I knew I would be more restless if I didn’t see what happened to Alec myself. Based on Arthur’s expression and his reluctance to tell us, I could tell it was bad. Very bad. Even so, I couldn’t help but want to find out. It was the same as watching a tragedy on the news. Even if I knew there would be lots of dead bodies, I felt compelled to watch and find out what happened just the same.
A dozen scenarios crossed my mind, all vanishing the moment I saw Alec. He lay on the carpet in a shirt, checkered flannel pants and white socks, his eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Around his head was a puddle of blood, much of which had seeped into the carpet, whose blue hue deepened into a shade of purple. One of his arms was at his side while the other was outstretched, the gun that had likely caused the hole in his right temple in his palm.
Suicide.
I gasped and so did Tammy before quickly leaving, sobbing as she went. I stayed, trying my best to stay on my feet while at the same suppressing the sudden need to throw up. Warren was calm as ever as he stood over the corpse, though I wondered if he was shaking inside.
I reached for his hand, both for my sake and his. “He shot himself?”
“It looks that way.”
“Is that your gun?” The moment I finished speaking, I regretted my question, thinking it was a thoughtless thing for me to ask. Wouldn’t it make Warren feel responsible?
“It is,” he answered, his tone unchanging. “I keep it under some envelopes in my drawer. I don’t like to carry a gun but I always keep one in my study.”
I nodded. It was understandable. It only made sense for wealthy men needed to protect themselves.
We went back to the living room, still holding hands. Tammy and Keesha were no longer there.
“Did Cathy find the body?” Warren asked.
Cathy nodded slowly. “I was cleaning the hall. I noticed the door to the study was slightly open. I was worried that something had been stolen and I peaked and… and…”
She started sobbing.
Arthur patted her on the back, then looked at Warren. “Alec died of the gunshot wound, probably instantly. Cathy found him just now but he’s been dead a few hours.”
I glanced at the clock. It was a little past six.
Suddenly, Phyllis came rushing into the living room.
“William!” she cried. It took me a second for my brain to figure out that she was not mistakenly calling Warren ‘William’, but rather she was referring to the other twin in third person. “Something must be wrong with William. He’s not answering the door. I went to wake him up after finding out about Alec but the door to his bedroom is locked and he’s not answering. What if he’s dead, too?”
“Phyllis, please calm down,” Arthur pleaded.
She wouldn’t, however, shaking Warren hysterically.
“I’ll go check on him,” Warren finally said. “I have keys to every room.”
“I’ll go with you,” Phyllis offered.
“No,” Warren said firmly. “Stay here.”
Phyllis frowned but obeyed, probably knowing she could not cajole Warren as she could William. She still didn’t calm down, though, pacing the room and munching on one of the candy bars she had grabbed from the platter on the coffee table.
Minutes later, Warren returned.
“Well?” Phyllis asked him at once.
“He’s fine,” Warren assured her. “He was in the bathroom when you were knocking so he didn’t hear you.”
“I don’t believe it,” Phyllis said. “I want to see him.”
“I told him what happened and he doesn’t want to come down. He doesn’t like corpses, not even those on television.”
“Coward,” Phyllis sneered. “First, he leaves my room in the middle of the night and now, he…”
“Phyllis, please.” Warren placed a hand on her shoulder. “Leave him be. We have more important things to worry about.”
I could not agree more. How could Phyllis be worrying about romance when someone had just killed himself?
“We have to notify the police,” Warren said. “I couldn’t get through on my cell and the phone lines must be down. I’ll go change and head over to the village.”
“What?” I could not believe he was suggesting something so foolish. “You can’t go out in this weather.”
“It’s not too bad right now. If I delay, it will be worse.”
“But the roads are…”
“I’ll use the jet ski.”
“But you…”
“Nina.” He was using that firm tone again. “I have to go notify the authorities. Stay here.”