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The Watcher (A Miranda and Parker Mystery) #4
Fulfilling your destiny…one killer at a time.
He needs to get over it fast. The killer is on the attack. And if she and Parker can’t figure out who is sending those letters soon, they all might wind up dead.
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He watched her.
Hidden beneath a canopy of cool green mountain laurels at the edge of the property, he watched her emerge from the elegant home and stride across the lawn to the road.
His heart swelled, the folds of her expensive silk suit of frosty cream mesmerizing him as she moved. Her lovely neck was graced with jewels. Her long black hair was caught up in the back, neat and straight, as always. Oh, how he wished she would let her hair flow free to blow in the breeze as he’d seen her do in her own garden.
She moved down the road with purpose, her long, luscious legs turning every step into a work of art. He studied the curve of her calf, the flex in her muscles as she walked. Longing burned in his breast. She was breathtaking.
Strength, grace, determination. Too much determination.
Butterflies skirted along the tall grass, making the view even more perfect. He loved the fresh mountain air. He loved this land of Campos de Flores. Twenty-four hundred kilometers below the equator and fifty-six to the sea. It was a land like no other.
He rubbed his arms. At last the days were beginning to grow chilly. The hydrangeas were still in bloom, their wide blue blossoms covering the ground. Winter was late this year but he welcomed the cool weather.
She was almost to the end of the lane now. Heading just where he feared she might be.
He followed her.
It was not hard to keep himself well hidden from sight. He knew these forest paths, as the gringos say, like the back of his hand. He was right about her destination.
Without a sound or the rustle of a leaf he matched her stride and kept pace until she reached the steps of the Boteco do Sabor.
A young man in the standard white coat and black slacks greeted her, led her across the room.
The garçom seated her at a table with another, older man. He wore a dark tweed suit and thick horn-rimmed glasses.
Oh, no, Portia. She could only be up to one thing. The last thing he wanted her to do. The thing he would never allow her to do.
And yet there she sat, such a serious frown between her dark brows. The man pulled out papers from an attaché case to show her. Conducting business? No, this was more than business.
He watched the two of them order drinks and sip them slowly as they continued to chat. The man had plain coffee. And Tia? She would choose Caipifruta with mango. Only the freshest for her.
Quietly he clucked his tongue as if he were scolding a child.
If she kept behaving like that, he would have to take action soon. If she kept behaving like that, he would have to stop her. But she couldn’t go through with what he knew she was discussing with this man. Could she? Could she truly betray him? Watching the intent look on her face as she listened and slowly nodded, he knew she could.
His heart sank in bitter disappointment. This meant he would have to make good on his promise soon. He would have no choice. He would have to act. What a shame.
It would break his heart to lose her. But she would remain a beautiful memory in his heart forever. He wished it was not so but there was no other way.
As much as he admired her beauty and grace, he would have to kill her.
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