Paris is a Bitch

not that.”
    “Do you have any concept of what I’ve already sacrificed for you?”
    She couldn’t see all of his face in the mirror on the opposite wall, but she could see his eyes. Gaping into nothing. A thousand-yard stare. Somewhere other than this room. He’d gone deep, and she’d sensed it even before this moment, in the way he’d made love to her. Something held back. Something missing.
    She climbed out of bed and walked over to her dress where she’d thrown it against the wall two hours ago.
    “You don’t feel it?” he asked. “Not at all?”
    “I don’t understand what—”
    “Forget it.”
    “Kiernan—”
    “Fucking forget it.”
    “What is wrong with you?”
    “Nothing.”
    Dee pulled the straps over her shoulders as Kiernan glared at her through the cloud of smoke around his head. He was forty-one years old, with short black hair, and a two-day shadow that reminded her so much of her father.
    “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know?”
    “You and I are not the same anymore, Dee.”
    “Did I do something or—”
    “I’m not talking about our relationship. It’s deeper. It’s…so much more profound than that.”
    “You’re not making sense.”
    She was standing by the window. The air coming in was cool and it smelled of the city and the desert that surrounded it. A pair of gunshots drew her attention, and when she looked through the glass she saw grids of darkness overspreading the city.
    Dee glanced back at Kiernan, and she’d just opened her mouth to say something when the lights and the television in their room cut out.
    She froze.
    Her heart accelerating.
    Couldn’t see anything but the flare and fade of Kiernan’s tobacco ember.
    Heard him exhale in the dark, and then his voice, all the more terrifying for its evenness.
    “You need to get away from me right now,” he said.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “There’s this part of me, Dee, getting stronger every time I breathe in, that wants to hurt you.”
    “Why?”
    She heard the covers rip back. The sound of Kiernan rushing across the carpet.
    He stopped inches from her.
    She smelled the tobacco on his breath, and when she palmed his chest, felt his body shaking.
    “What’s happening to you?”
    “I don’t know, but I can’t stop it, Dee. Please remember that I love you.”
    He put his hands on her bare shoulders, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but then she was flying through darkness across the room.
    She crashed into the entertainment center, stunned, her shoulder throbbing from the impact.
    Kiernan shouted, “Now get the fuck out while you still can.”
    To continue reading RUN by Blake Crouch, visit your library or favorite ebook retailer and pick up a copy today.

A Thriller
J. A. Konrath and Ann Voss Peterson
    NOT TOO LONG AGO…
    “Whenever possible, avoid engaging the enemy,” The Instructor said. “If engaged, run. Fighting should be your last resort. Patriotism has its place, but it costs millions of dollars to train people like you. You’re more valuable than the mission. If things go sour, flee.”
    This is fun I typed. Then I hit enter and waited for the reply. It popped up on my computer screen a moment later.
    No pressure, but are we ever going to meet IRL?
    I took the last sip from my bottled water and tried to ignore the jitter under my rib cage.
In real life. He assumes I have one.
    I tossed the empty over my shoulder without looking. The sound it made confirmed I’d hit the garbage can.
    How do I know you’re not some lunatic stalker? Or even worse, weigh eighty pounds more than your jpg?
    I’d been chatting with Victor9904 almost daily for the past two weeks. I liked him, and he was the first guy I had ever hooked up with online that I wanted to meet in person. That alone made me a little nervous. Dating, for me, was complicated. Except for stretches of time when I was abroad, I kept to a tight routine. Cruising bars looking for men wasn’t part of that routine.
    Do you have a webcam? he typed.
    Another jitter, this time tougher to ignore. Chatting online was one thing. Letting him see me was riskier.
    Yes. But I haven’t showered yet this morning.
     Neither have I. You chicken?
    I smiled. I don’t scare easily.
    OK. I’ll set up a private webcam chat room and send you the URL. Give me a minute…
    Sounds good.
    I didn’t rush to the bathroom to check myself in the mirror, but I may have moved a little