From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two by Amy Leigh Simpson Page B

hidden against his low back, the firepower doing little to assuage his paranoia as he waited for confirmation from Archer.
    After another two turns, his escalating nerves forced him to action. He made the call.
    “Arch, tell me you have a tail on us.” He kept his voice steady, but Joselyn’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror. Her teeth tore at her bottom lip, a sure sign of the fear Finn had hoped to spare her.
    “Negative. Where are you? I’m leaving now.”
    Finn rambled off a mailbox address as they passed it. “I can’t see the license plate. He’s hanging too far back. It looks like a late nineties Grand Prix. Dark green.”
    “We’re almost to my dad’s house. Sh-Should I keep driving or should I pull up to the gate?” Joselyn’s voice wobbled.
    “I radioed the local PD,” Archer said. “They are approaching from both directions. Tell Joselyn to call up to the house and have them open the gate. I want you guys out of harm’s way.”
    The whole thing was orchestrated in a flash. Joselyn whipped her car into the long drive and tore through the gates with less than an inch to spare before the black spear-tipped metal jaws started to close again.
    The Grand Prix had passed without pause, but something still didn’t feel right. Finn ended the call with Archer who promised to call back when he had something to report.
    “Nice driving, pumpkin. You okay?”
    She nodded a little too enthusiastically. And the fact that she hadn’t challenged him on the pet name spoke louder than words about her current state of mind as she drove silently up the mile-long entrance, around a marbled stone fountain to the cusp of the circle drive.
    “Whoa.” Finn knew he was gawking, even felt his jaw dislocate. Not only from the gorgeous view of a pewter Bond-issue Aston Martin, but also from the sight beyond it. The massive brick and stone structure couldn’t be classified as a house. It was a castle. Sloping European roof lines, arched dormers with scrolled wrought iron terraces, and a flippin’ turret were only a few details that made the Whyte Estate look like something out of a fairytale. The manicured grounds and picturesque rolling hills in wintery shades of muted green seemed to extend for miles to each side and were lined in the distance with a thick border of trees. The word was wow . It would seem Declan Whyte possessed the most beautiful things on earth.
    He slipped the gun under the seat and stepped out of the car, but stood unblinking, awed anew. What would it be like to grow up in a place like this?
    “Are you coming?”
    He honed in on Joselyn’s voice and found her looking back from the ornate fifteen-foot wood, iron, and glass entry doors. 
    “Yeah.” Jogging to catch up, Finn met a salt-and-pepper-haired Ann Bancroft look-alike, Gloria, the housekeeper, who ushered him in and collected his coat.
    Once inside, he couldn’t help but let his eyes sample the grandeur. The gleaming wood floors were an exotic grain he’d never seen, arched doorways graced endlessly tall walls to ceilings adorned with carved beams and enormous chandeliers. Exquisite furnishings flanked every nook and cranny with an aesthetic elegance that reeked of class. He followed Joselyn into the great room and was greeted by three stories and about a hundred yards of windows overlooking the distant edge of a lake.
    “Your father is on a conference call in the west den. Dinner will be in another thirty minutes or so. I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Gloria turned to Joselyn and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. “Glad you’re home, Josie.”
    Joselyn watched Gloria’s retreat with a stilted smile. And Finn watched Joselyn. Such an interesting peek into her world. Now that he’d breeched her fortress he was tempted to press her for some answers, delve a bit deeper into the mystery that was Snow Whyte. Yet something held him back.
    Fear. The feeling slithered around him like a boa constrictor. He promptly shook off the