1
TESSA
The Incan sun god taunted me, unaware of the Glock in my purse. He should have sensed my present mood—pissed off.
Perilous.
Where was Bobby?
I wasn’t sure who I’d kill first—him for worrying me sick—or whoever held him captive. (If there was such a person. It was more than likely that he got stuck between the legs of some pot princess).
My fiancé was “missing”—again.
Three days this time.
Longer than ever before.
On former occasions when he forgot to call, at least he showed up in time for breakfast. I’d be angry as a hornet, imagining all night the trouble he was in, but at least I knew he was alive.
This time neither Tribal Police nor the Sheriff’s Office were eagerly pursuing his whereabouts, and I could read the writing on the wall.
They figured he’d run out on me.
