By Stuart Woods
In the most recent addition to the New York Times-bestselling sequence, Stone Barrington comes face-to-face with a gorgeous girl from his previous. . . .
Stone Barrington gets a slightly unforeseen mobile name from Arrington Calder, the ex-girlfriend with whom he has a son. Arrington's a lot older husband, the actor Vance Calder, has simply died, leaving her a fortune in Centurion Studios inventory. Arrington has plans for the cash and asks Stone to symbolize her within the sale of the corporate. but if he arrives at her domestic in Bel-Air to finalize the deal, issues take a bad flip. it kind of feels lots of Hollywood's wealthy and lovely have Arrington and Centurion of their attractions, and Stone unearths himself dragged right into a strangely lethal net of intrigue.
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Extra resources for Bel-Air Dead (Stone Barrington, Book 20)
The scent of nachos teased me. My fingers itched to pick up a ball, to send it flying down the lane. I loved bowling. I just hadn’t done it in weeks…because of him. Of Aaron. This was where we had our first date. Where we were supposed to be having a date. Right now. A sharp pang stabbed my heart and each thud was like a hammer against my chest. How had things gotten so messed up? Before we started dating—and even during—I used to think of him as Heart Stopper; I’d see his smile and my heart would give one solid thump and then poof, stop.
Are you getting a divorce? Are we becoming a statistic? ” My father let out a startled laugh, erasing the seriousness from his face for at least two full seconds. ” He quickly waved his hands. ” I let out a deep breath and sat back down, eyeing them warily. I wasn’t ready to relax just yet. The ‘nothing like that’ left a lot of ground uncovered. For instance, they could tell me I had been adopted or something. ” I asked. I shouldn’t have. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it’d been a mistake.
And then I burst into hysterics, laughing and crying at the same time. It was a silver necklace with a pendent. The pendent was…I couldn’t fathom the words. It was a small silver heart. Shooting through the heart was a single arrow, the tip made of a black stone. Onyx. My heart leaped and I wasn’t sure my ribs could contain it long. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed, the word bubbling out of nowhere. ” It was beautiful and ironic. And I didn’t deserve it. ” The words, spoken so softly, hit me like a lead fist and went straight through my chest to my heart.