In Safe Hands Book 5

Title: Jeremy

Series: In Safe Hands

Author: S.M. Shade

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publication Date: May 22, 2018

ISBN-13: 9781978028456

ISBN-10: 1978028458


I escaped.
For the first time in almost four years, I’m free.
My freedom came at a steep cost, leaving me on my own with no family or friends. I have a lot of healing to do, and this beautiful lake house seems like a perfect setting to find myself again.
I can do this.
The only thing I have left is hope. 


I ran.
For the first time in my life, I’m alone.
I failed to appreciate what I had until it was too late, and now I can’t bear the grief of my friends while suffering my own. That’s not the only reason I’ve relocated.
Twenty-two people were murdered, including the woman I love.
The only thing I have left is revenge.

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My rise to consciousness is slow and filled with flashes of the night before. Whiskey. So much whiskey. I can still taste it, though it feels like my tongue is permanently attached to the roof of my mouth. My first thought when my eyes pop open is water. Thankfully, there’s a glass beside my bed. I’m pretty sure it’s been there for a couple of days, but right now, I couldn’t give a shit.


It isn’t until I shift onto my side to reach for the glass that I realize there’s a slight weight draped over my shoulder. Who the hell?


Ink black hair, straight and sleek, spills down my chest.


Oh fuck.


Shit. Damn. Hell.


It’s Melissa. She’s naked and in my bed, which can only mean one thing, and I don’t remember one second of it. Justus and Tucker and their damn intervention. Look where it’s gotten me. I have to get her out of here.

Sitting up, I grab the water and down it. My abrupt movement jostles her, and she blinks, trying to focus her bloodshot eyes.


“Morning,” she says, sitting up and pulling the sheet over her chest.


“You have to go,” I tell her, jumping out of bed when she reaches to touch me. My head pounds, and my stomach twists.


She glares at me, her lips thinning into a straight line before she spits, “Asshole. I should have known.”


She stomps around the room, collecting her clothes, and manages to knock a picture frame off the dresser.


Snatching it up, she tosses it back onto the dresser, and the broken glass rattles. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Being nice to assholes has never gotten me anywhere. I’m a damn glutton for punishment.”


Jerking my underwear up, I tell her, “Last night was a mistake. We were drunk. I never should’ve had you here, but you didn’t exactly run away, so if you’re waiting for an apology, don’t hold your breath.”


I’m aware I’m being a dick, but I need to put a stop to this right now. Frannie has only been dead for six weeks. It doesn’t matter she wasn’t technically my girlfriend or that we were dating other people when it happened. We would’ve found one another again. I know it.


Her glare fades a bit and she shakes her head, grumbling, “Unbelievable. Fucking class act.”


“You’re searching for your panties under my dresser. Doesn’t exactly scream classy."

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