Chapter 18

Well, good for them. I had my own worries…The front door slammed shut as I tore into the hall. Bloody hell, St John could move fast when I didn’t want him to. I ran out onto the path, which was covered with melting snow, swearing as my bare toes came into contact with the cold, wet stuff. “Singe.” He dove into the black taxi that had answered his hail, and he never looked back. I swore again and wheeled to return inside, tearing through the hallway and hitting the stair on the run, taking them two and three at a time, and skidding on a throw rug that covered the smooth pine floor at the top.