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The Anti-TV Radical
When Natasha Senecot defies the television industry with her anti-TV blog, she believes she’s protecting children and hopes for a few thank you cards. She doesn’t plan on a bullet aimed at her heart.
She refuses to be intimidated by the television conglomerates, but then her children are threatened. Will she save other families at the expense of her own?
Jace’s dark eyes narrowed. “You said there are no bad people in Wellsville.” His lip quivered. “You lied.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Natasha crossed the distance between them and forced her son to hug her. “I didn’t mean to lie. But I promise that man won’t come back. Nobody would dare hurt us with our big, tough daddy around.”
“But Daddy’s not always here. He’s not here now.”
The phone rang. Natasha grabbed the chance to not have to respond to that statement.
A deep voice resonated through the line. “Stop lying to your son. Of course there are bad people in Wellsville.”
Her heart stopped, then thudded in her ears. “Who is this?” she whispered, not needing or wanting the answer.
“It’s the bad man.” He chuckled. “I came back.”
Natasha sprinted from the kitchen, Jace tried to follow. “Stay with your sister,” she yelled. “Don’t leave her.”
She flew to the patio door - the deadbolt was secure. She ran to the garage entrance next. Her fingers bounced, but she managed to click the deadbolt into place.
“You can try and lock me out, Natasha, but I’ll be here. Your big, tough daddy isn’t anywhere around to protect you.”
How could he hear their conversation? Was he already in the house? She hurried back through the great room. Jace pretended to play with Alyssa. He watched her with wide eyes. His chin trembled.
She tried to smile at him. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right, Natasha,” the voice said. “You’ve been posting to your blog again.”
She sped past the children.
“You know,” the man continued, “I made a mistake not killing you the first time. I thought you were a better mom than this. That’s why I gave you the chance to survive. Can’t believe you’d risk your family for a useless blog.”
Natasha was almost to the front door when she saw the tall form on the porch, outlined by the patio light. She screamed.
“Please, don’t scare the children,” the deep voice whispered in her ear.
He sauntered toward the door. Help. The deadbolt wasn’t in place. Natasha sprinted the last few feet and turned the bolt. Her breath whooshed out, she clung to the door handle for support.
He stood on the other side of the glass, grinning at her. His dark eyes were cold. His pale cheeks gleamed in the porch light. “Do you really think a deadbolt will keep you safe?”
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