Lie To Her (Bree Taggert #6)(2)

Turning back, I return to the kitchen. I spot two thick steaks marinating on the counter. Filets. Romantic setting, good wine, a hearty meal. He’s pulling out all the stops. Clearly, he’s banking on sex. After all, this is their third date. In Spencer’s very limited mindset, he deserves sex tonight.
The bastard.
How many women has he used and discarded?
Anger heats the back of my neck.
I check the time on my watch. Spencer will be back soon. I need to get to my hiding location. My hand strays to my jacket pocket, where my tools weigh heavily. I have no desire for a fight. For my plan to work, Spencer must comply. Once he’s restrained, the rest of the plan will play out smoothly.
Easy as pie, as my grandmother used to say.
But first I must obtain control. A sudden burst of nerves assaults me. My skin grows prickly and itchy. My stomach rolls over. Doubt tempts me to abandon my plan. But I can’t. I promised myself I would get even. I’d better get my shit together. Tonight is only the beginning.
Users will be punished.
I head for a small closet that faces the kitchen and great room. The door is louvered, so I’ll be able to see. Perfect. I push aside a ski jacket and step in, closing the door behind me.
The minutes tick by. My heart skips, and I’m suddenly aware of the sound of my breathing. Is it loud, or is it echoing in my ears because of my adrenaline rush? A tune plays silently in my head, a damned earworm for sure.
Every breath you take.
I concentrate on controlling my lungs. I can’t have Spencer hearing me. Can’t have him ruining what I’ve so carefully planned.
I hear the motor of the garage door opener engage. A minute later, the door rattles closed.
Spencer is home.

CHAPTER TWO

Breathing heavily, Spencer LaForge jogged up his driveway and let himself in through the garage door using his PIN pad. In the kitchen, he glanced at the clock on the microwave. Less than an hour until his date was due to arrive. He could hardly wait. He grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and drank deeply.
Opening the dating app on his phone, he stared at her picture again. Avery was hot with a capital H, with long legs and boobs to die for. In person, she looked like a model. He wanted to wrap that long hair around his hand and hold on tight. The photos didn’t do her justice.
Water bottle in hand, he sauntered up to the granite island and turned the filets in the marinade. They’d be ready for the grill by the time he finished his shower. He glanced through the glass doors at the romantic scene he’d set.
A snow flurry drifted in the air, and Spencer smiled.
Cue the snow.
An outdoor dinner with a roaring fire and snow flurries was about as romantic as it could get.
He sipped his drink. He needed to be adequately hydrated, he thought with a grin. He’d fueled up with a lunch of raw oysters on the half shell. The night was going to be spectacular. He’d primed Avery with two romantic evenings and a fuckton of flattery. On their second date, she’d practically melted. She was a sure thing.
Now for his shower. He turned toward the stairwell. A click stopped him. He looked down the hall. Empty. He stood still, listening hard. The noise had sounded like it had come from inside.
Nah. Couldn’t be. He lived alone. No one had the code to his door or a key to his house except his biweekly cleaning woman, and she wasn’t due until the following day. Had an animal followed him into the garage and gotten trapped? He headed for the hallway to investigate.
At the entrance to the hall, the closet door sprang open, and a figure leaped out.
Startled, Spencer had no time to assess the intruder. He pulled back an arm to deliver a punch. Something crackled. A burning pain seared Spencer’s hip and shot through his body. His muscles stiffened, and then his nerves seemed to short out. He pitched forward, his limbs limp and useless, and fell over like a bird electrocuted on a live wire. He wanted to throw out an arm to catch himself, but he had no control over his body. He crumpled to the floor. Pain knocked through his elbow and shoulder. He lay on his back, his muscles still not responding.
“Hello, Spencer,” the intruder said.
Spencer wanted to speak, but his jaws were clamped tight, and his lips wouldn’t work.
“Are you all right? You don’t look well at all.”
Spencer blinked hard, but the figure remained featureless. He tried to roll over to his hands and knees, but his muscles were still on strike. He managed to get two words through his gritted teeth. “Help me.” A plea.
The intruder rolled Spencer onto his side, tied his hands behind his back, and bound his ankles. Spencer wanted to struggle, but he couldn’t control his arms. By the time his muscles started to obey his commands, it was too late. He was fully restrained.
Two hands grabbed him by the ankles. The intruder dragged him out the french doors. Spencer thumped over the door tracks. The patio pavers burned against the side of his face. Nausea stirred and swirled in his belly. But the fresh air helped clear his head, at least for a few seconds. A flake of snow drifted across his vision.
“It’s snowing.” The voice sounded impressed but also condescending. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight. This would have been the perfect date.”
Spencer gained control of his tongue and managed to spit out a weak, “Fuck you.”
“Fuck me? No, I think you’re the one who’s fucked.” The intruder jammed a small device at him. It crackled as it made contact with his skin, and the flash of electricity was like liquid fire roaring through his nervous system.
As he convulsed on the ground, his body useless, his brain screamed, Stun gun!