Bound in Blue
“The front door? Sara sighed and stirred beside him.
“Don’t get up,” he said when her eyes blinked open. “Stay here.”
He threw on sweats and a tee and padded down the stairs, wondering who’d be knocking at eight in the morning. He didn’t have any work appointments until ten. When he flung open the door, Michel Lemaitre pushed Jason aside and strode into his living room. “Sara is missing,” he said. “No one can find her. She hasn’t been back to her dorm all night.”
Well, this was a fucking situation. Lemaitre crossed to the window, his lips compressed in a line.
“She’s not missing,” said Jason. “She’s asleep upstairs.”
Lemaitre turned back to him and stared. He knew this house, because he’d sold it to Jason a few years ago. He knew “upstairs” meant Sara was in his bedroom.
“And why is Sara asleep upstairs?” he asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.
Because I got to her first, you horny lecher. Sara was twelve years younger than him; that meant she was twenty-two years younger than Lemaitre.
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