Eye Snatcher Read Online Free Page A

that made her stomach quiver; made her smile no matter what mood she was in. Thick black stubble. He looked at her like she mattered. Like he cared.
    Like no one ever looked at her.
    “I was always running away when I was a boy,” he said. “Ran into the woods and wild-camped there for a couple of days once when my dad wouldn’t buy me a new toy.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yes, seriously. Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
    Jean shook her head. “Just you… you seem so clean. Way too clean to be wild-camping.”
    He pulled her close. Pressed his lips against her neck and moved his mouth up to her right ear. “You weren’t saying that last night,” he whispered, hot breath covering the side of her face.
    She wanted to be with him. She wanted to put all the bad thoughts of Sam, all the bad memories of his disappearance, to the back of her mind again. She felt bad for not looking for Sam more. But he had run off in the past, to be fair. Disappeared for five days once. Turned out he was just giving camping a go, just like her Han Solo spoke of. It just seemed strange that he’d left Clara. That wasn’t like him.
    But she’d called the police on Wednesday night. They’d do their jobs.
    She pressed against his solid body underneath the man’s white shirt as he kissed her neck more. Dug her nails into his chest and pushed him back. “I… I can’t. I—”
    “That’s okay,” he said. Didn’t even try to fight back. Stepped away, raised his arms.
    Jean felt herself liking this guy even more simply for not demanding what he wanted from her.
    That was the thing about being an escort. Men thought that by paying you money for a service, they had a God-given right to do whatever they pleased with you. But you wouldn’t go into McDonalds and order a Happy Meal only to demand a Big Mac.
    Escorting was the same. It was a business. And all good businesses had rules, regulations.
    So far, this man was ticking every box.
    He was earning his Happy Meal.
    “Would it break professional code to tell me your name?” Jean asked.
    He looked at her with those eyes. Smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Like I said. You can call me—”
    “Han Solo. I know. But that’s just ridiculous. I refuse to even think of you with that name.”
    “Wow. Charming.”
    “Sorry. I…”
    She saw the car pull up outside the house in the corner of her eyes. Looked around—a black Honda. Two men in decent clothing getting out. One of them was older, slightly chubbier, with dark and thinning hair. The other was younger and skinnier, a black leather jacket over his white shirt, top button undone. Doc Martens on his feet. He was looking right through the window, right at her.
    “Expecting visitors?” ‘Han Solo’ asked.
    Jean continued to stare at the men as they cleared their throats, walked up to her door, knocked against the wood.
    “No, I… I don’t think…”
    And then it hit her. She’d seen men like this before. She’d seen them knocking at her door before when she’d been badly abused by a client two years back. They didn’t come in the usual uniform—just smart wear, not like the movies suggested.
    The police.
    “I…” Jean stepped towards the door, transfixed. Heartbeat picked up. Palms sweated. She tried to think of reasons why the police would be here. Reasons other than Sam. Had something happened to one of her clients? Was she witness to anything recently—any crimes that she’d forgotten to report?
    She stepped closer to the front door, through the lounge, through the first doorway and into the porch way, still no closer to an answer. She could hear ‘Han Solo’ muttering things, hear Clara growling at the men at the door like she always did at guests, as Jean reached for the handle and hoped—prayed—for news on Sam.
    Or if it was bad news, she prayed for no news at all.
    She unlatched the door, nerves tingling through her body like they always did in uncomfortable situations. She’d managed