Far From Heaven by Cherrie Lynn

Description : Far From Heaven
Twenty-seven years ago

The knock on the door sounded innocent enough. Pleasant, even. Light and friendly.

It wasn’t.

The man sitting at the battered old desk seemed to know that. His balding head jerked up from the lines he was snorting with a rolled-up dollar bill, and he blanched whiter than the powder scattered across the scarred desktop. Whiter than the wife-beater he wore…which,e to that, wasn’t all that white, but torn and yellowed with sweat stains.

Apparently he at least suspected that death was standing outside his door. What he didn’t realize was that a far more dangerous foe sat watching the scene from the tattered living room couch, cloaked in invisibility.

Ashemnon narrowed his eyes as the man leapt from his chair and stared at the front door with the whites of his eyes showing all around blue irises—though his pupils were so dilated the blue was nearly eclipsed by discs of black.

Blue, like her eyes will be.

Ash fidgeted as impatience gnawed at him. He wanted to get this show on the road, but not quite yet. Better to let the man’s fear build to a fever pitch, to a point of desperation that would impel him to do anything, pay any price, for his life to be spared. He was in bad trouble with worse people…people who would knock on your door and shoot you in the face. Without any sort of intervention, he was going to die here, now, riddled with bullets and left to rot until someoneplained about the smell and sent management to investigate. This was the sort of seedy establishment that housed hollow-eyed tenants who normally didn’t see you as long...
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