Rose Quartz Read Online Free

serious. Who’s going to protect you? That damn cat?”
    “Well, yes actually,” Bella said in a mild voice. “That and my trusty derringer. Shug, may I suggest you take a deep breath and touch your amulet?” The healing amulet had a calming stone at its center.
    Muttering came from the other end of the phone followed by a deep breath. A moment later Maureen asked in reasonable tones, “What are you going to do, Bella? We both know how devious Victor is. I’m afraid he’s pulling strings from prison.”
    “I’m going to stick my derringer under my pillow. My phone is on the bedside table. If I so much as hear a scratch at the door I’ll call 9-1-1. Plus, I’ve alerted my doorman.”
    A sigh came over the phone. “I guess it will have to do.” And then as if diverted, “You have a doorman?”
    Bella grinned. She could picture Ms. No-nonsense, Down-to-earth Sinclair pulling the phone away from her ear and looking at it. God, that woman did her heart good. “I moved to a more secure location right after Victor helped himself to my amulet.” No need to tell her the doorman would never see sixty again or sixty-five for that matter. And the building did have an excellent alarm system.
    “What about your neighbors? Can you rely on them?”
    “They’re good folk.” Bella grimaced. Good folk, all right, but octogenarians. She had chosen a building made up mainly of seniors so she wouldn’t be spending all her free moments warding off unwanted advances. She grinned. Though some of those old guys were pretty spry. She had the pinch marks to prove it.
    “Sorry I woke you up. I’ll chat with you tomorrow.”
    “Bella…”
    “Night, night, sugar.” She clicked off.
    Puss–Puss still stood at the window, silent as a statue, staring with unblinking intensity across the street.
    Bella joined the cat. The only illumination in the gray-black night came from dimly lit streetlights that threw an eerie yellow glow on the cars parked beneath them.
    She shrugged. She’d done all she could do. Glancing down at the cat, she asked, “Are you coming to bed?”
    Puss–Puss ignored her.
    “Suit yourself.”
    She pulled out her pearl-handled lady’s derringer from the bedside table and started to stick it under her pillow then thought better of it and put it back in the drawer. Even though they did such things in the movies, she had no desire to blow her ear off. She admired Van Gogh’s style but had no wish to emulate his physical deformities. Making sure it was within easy reach, she shut the drawer.
    She gave one long lazy stretch, burrowed under the coverlet and to her amazement fell asleep.
    * * * * *
     
    She woke to pounding terror, her body slick with the cold sweat of fear. Oh gods, somehow the intruder had broken in. He was choking her with a velvet rope. She couldn’t breathe. No, dammit, she refused to become a victim and die in her bed without a fight. She threw out her hands, twisted away and sat up.
    Puss–Puss went tumbling sideways. “Mrrow.” He hissed and stalked to the foot of the bed.
    “Why do you do that? Why don’t you sleep on my head like a normal cat instead of stretching out across my neck?” She clutched her chest. “Lord, you just took ten years off my life. And I can’t afford them.”
    His ears back, his tail twitching, he hopped off the bed and stalked away. He got as far as the doorway, stopped, plopped his white bottom down on the silver-gray carpet and began to yowl.
    Yawning, she threw back the coverlet. “All right, all right.” She stretched, walked to the window and looked through the delicate lace sheers. Shades of pink and pearly gray illumed the buildings along the sidewalk. Dawn had arrived. She’d survived the night. She stared down into the street but saw no one standing in the shadows.
    “Let’s go get you some food and me some coffee,” she told the cat. He turned and ran down the stairs. She stumbled after him, yawning.
    Once in the kitchen she moved with the