Sins of the Undead Patriot Read Online Free

her.
    Oh God. Her breath hitched in her throat. She fisted her hands, determined get through this. Was the sunflower bread roll the best accent to go with the earthy turnip? Maybe a stronger flavor would work better. What about a pumpernickel roll? That was a much better companion for the turnip.
    “So beautiful.” He probed down below.
    She jerked as far as she could away from him. Her hip bones knocked the table.
    “Careful. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. Don’t be alarmed.” Between her legs, he pressed back and forth. “Done. But if you’d like me to continue, Leera?”
    “Huh?”
    “Should I continue?”
    Was he giving her an out, or was this another part of his twisted game? Either way, she wouldn’t consent. She shook her head, slumping to the table.
    He huffed as he withdrew his hand. The cuffs loosened then released from her wrists. “Leera.”
    Where was she? In a warehouse with a warped Federal agent, who was employed by Homeland Security. She massaged the sore skin of her wrists. Her fingernails had turned blue.
    “Sit.” He pointed to the chair next to her.
    As instructed, she sat, pulled her jacket closed to cover up and crossed her arms. In front of her on the table was a pile of photos with one flipped facedown and a laptop.
    What on earth did this disturbed agent want with her? “Why am I here?”
    “Do you know what brought two of the men on the boards together?” He sat across from her.
    Behind her, one of the photos was of an Ancient. At least, that was what the zombies over a hundred years old called themselves...or so she’d heard. His gaze held sadness. Had she seen him somewhere? TV maybe? Who was this undead, and what did he have to do with her, Peter and Rowley?
    She got what he was implying. “Geography and or me. Since I’m here, I’m assuming you mean me.” It wasn’t like she controlled where her family lived. Rowley grew up in the house next door with his uncle, his guardian.
    “Very good, Leera.” He pushed back in his seat, shades resting on his head. He removed them and set them on the table. “We should start with Rowley McKie. Isn’t he the reason your parents agreed to ship you to Paris to study cooking?” He chuckled.
    Not even. Her parents saw her as the failure. However, said just that way, it would make sense. “No, not exactly. My reckless behavior with him convinced my parents it was in my best interest to study abroad.” She’d spread her legs was how her father had put it.
    “As far as I am aware, it takes two to make a baby.” The corner of his eyes narrowed. “It’s unfortunate what happened, painful and irreversible.”
    At eighteen, an ectopic pregnancy in her ovary had nearly killed her. In typical Waltz family style, they covered it up with fake appendicitis. She had lost a baby and an ovary. And all her father, the good senator, cared about was being publically embarrassed. Why she had let them muzzle her from telling Rowley the truth, she couldn’t even rationalize now.
    “All that seemed behind you when you met your husband, Jean. He didn’t mind that you were damaged. Bet you never revealed McKie was the reason or father. When your husband died in such an unfortunate accident, McKie’s interest piqued anew. Can’t blame the man.”
    She was Jean’s world. He’d given her everything she had asked for and more. Rowley couldn’t live up to how Jean had adored her, and yet she couldn’t keep away from him, even while married. Depraved and sick was the name of the game she had played with Rowley. Jean had given her safety and comfort and she’d craved Rowley’s poison, which hurt her husband. What kind of person did that make her? Not a good one.
    “We can’t forget your brother in all this. You and Peter grew up quite adept at lying for your father, covering up his affairs and violent fits to protect him–the Waltz’s public image. You hated it though, wanted nothing to do with it. So poor Peter had to do all the heavy