XIII
In bed again.
“She won’t see you,” Allie said. She sounded frightened. “She doesn’t see anybody. She only comes out on Sunday evenings to scare the hell out of everybody.”
“How long has she been here?”
“Twelve years or so. Let’s not talk about her.”
“Where did she come from? Which direction?”
“I don’t know.” Lying.
“Allie?”
“I don’t know!”
“Allie?”
“All right! All right! She came from the dwellers! From the desert!”
“I thought so.” He relaxed a little. “Where does she live?”
Her voice dropped a notch. “If I tell you, will you make love to me?”
“You know the answer to that.”
She sighed. It was an old, yellow sound, like turning pages. “She has a house over the knoll in back of the church. A little shack. It’s where the . . . the real minister used to live until he moved out. Is that enough? Are you satisfied?”
“No. Not yet.” And he rolled on top of her.
ТЕЛЕГРАМКанал с обзорами, анонсами новинок и книжными подборками
Книжный Вестник
Бот для удобного поиска и скачивания книг
Книжный Бот
Свежие любовные романы в удобных форматах
Любовные романы
О психологии, саморазвитии и личностном росте
Саморазвитие
Детективы и триллеры, все новинки
Детективы
Фантастика и фэнтези, все новинки
Фантастика
ВКОНТАКТЕ