The Medallion

Unedited Excerpt

At the low, unmistakable male voice, Hope gasped, snapped straight and cursed as a half gallon of water splashed over the the edge of the tub. “What the h—”

Water ricocheted between the white porcelain walls of the tub, sloshing up the sides, but Hope couldn’t hear anything other than her pulse pounding in her ears. She clutched her arms over her naked breasts and scanned the bathroom. She was alone.

Great, now you’re hallucinating.

Regardless, she slanted her head and studied the small rectangular window beneath the vent in the ceiling, fogged in a layer of steam and seven feet up the wall. No one could reach it. Not to mention if anyone had been in the house other than herself Slim would have barked…he wasn’t that lazy.

She shoved a sudsy hand through her pixie short hair, gradually eased back but continued to shift her gaze around the room. Normally she wasn’t easily spooked. She’d been a single woman living in New York for years. What could be scarier than that?

Her only excuse, it had been a long night.

Once returned in a comfortable position she no sooner closed her eyes when a long eerie squeal sliced down the window and had her snapping them back open. Her hand flew to her chest, palm flat against her damp skin. Another shudder tore through her as a haunting howl of wind slipped through the poorly insulated frame and the crash of branches slapped against the side of her townhouse. Good lord, woman, it’s only the wind, probably the tall oak that towered within her small backyard. She gave herself a mental shake. “You’re losing it, Preston.”

“And apparently still talking to yourself.”

When she heard the voice this time there was no mistaking it came from somewhere inside the bathroom. She lunged for the only weapon within an arms length, her trusty loofa on a stick. Heart jammed in her throat Hope kneeled in the tub, one arm clamped over her breasts, the other gripped the wooden handle ready to strike. “I know someone’s there. Who’s there!”

A few seconds passed.

Nothing.

Goosebumps prickled her shoulders and arms. Her eyes darted left then right, froze on the linen closet near the door—her only exit. She sucked in a breath with an uneven gasp as she weighed her options. If she tried to make a run for it she would have to pass the closet but if she stayed in the tub she was a sitting duck.

Great, another no-win situation.

She opted for number one. The door to the linen closet was solid wood—if she were quiet and quick enough she might be able to get out the door before whoever was in there knew any better and in the living room was a Louis Ville Slugger that Richard had left when he’d stayed with her, a far better weapon than her dinky loofa.

Her limbs trembled as she shifted from her knees to her feet, careful not to make the tub squeak under her weight. Grip tight on the stick she kept her eyes locked on the closet door. So far so good. With a slow fluid movement, she emerged from the suds.
“Sweet Christ….”

Hope lost her balance and screamed, her feet slipped,  porcelain against skin shrieked and she plunged in a graceless heap back in the water just missing cracking her skull on the curved ledge.

She was as good as dead.