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HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?<\/p>\n
In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, seventeen-year-old Jennifer Thomas disappears without a trace.<\/p>\n
The second girl in nine years.<\/p>\n
Identical cases. Identical conditions. Only last time, the girl was found. Dead, stuffed in a well beside the creek that feeds the town’s water supply.<\/p>\n
The killer was never found.<\/p>\n
As the small town mobilizes and searches for newly vanished Jennifer Thomas, one suspect comes to the fore. But did he do it? Or is there something else at play? Something nobody could have anticipated?<\/p>\n
For Jennifer’s friend Cassie Carlino, the worst is yet to come. As she pins MISSING posters to store windows and joins the search, she begins to suspect that Jennifer’s disappearance might be much closer to her than she could have ever imagined.<\/p>\n
Find\u00a0Gun Shy\u00a0<\/em>on GOODREADS<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n CASSIE<\/b><\/p>\n The center of town is teeming with reporters when we arrive. The mood is somber, self-conscious, even. Can an entire town be collectively self-conscious? They\u2019re shy, that\u2019s for sure. We don\u2019t get a whole lot of visitors in Gun Creek. Certainly not ones who stick microphones in your face and blast you with questions while you\u2019re still half-asleep.<\/span><\/p>\n Damon parks the patrol car right across the front doors of the police station, his face drawn and tense. It must be a fucking nightmare, being in charge of an entire town like this. Especially when something like this happens.<\/span><\/p>\n I can only imagine how bad things are going to get at home if they don\u2019t find this girl soon.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThese people are fucking vultures,\u201d he mutters, and I make a noise signaling my agreement. He gets out, opening my door for me.<\/span><\/p>\n I muster up a plastic smile as Damon holds out my purse, the strap dangling on his outstretched finger.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThanks,\u201d I say, taking the bag and slinging it over my shoulder. I put my oversized dollar-store sunglasses on my face, the day already too bright for me to bear.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou okay?\u201d Damon asks.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAlways,\u201d I reply, walking away from him before he can say anything else. I should ask him if he\u2019s okay, but that would mean pretending that I care.<\/span><\/p>\n I have something important that I need, something immediate.<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m an asshole because I know I should care about the fact that a girl I\u2019ve grown up with is missing, but I have more pressing personal matters.<\/span><\/p>\n I need to take care of myself, first. I head for the diner, fifty feet away, already late for my shift. I push past reporters, hanging eagerly at the doors they\u2019re forbidden to cross. They have to hover outside in the snow for their pound of flesh, their soundbites, their newsworthy quotes from Jennifer\u2019s distraught friends and family. I see Casey Mulligan, a girl I went to school with, twirling a strand of long blonde hair around her finger as she musters up a couple of fat tears for a news camera, and it strikes me, just like last time, that the people who get the most attention in this world are the ones who least deserve it.<\/span><\/p>\n Still, I\u2019m glad it\u2019s not me. Last thing I want is a camera in my face. I slip by, unassisted, unseen, an invisible girl with a hollow spot inside me. I notice the crates of milk that get delivered to Dana\u2019s every morning are still stacked out front and I grab one as I approach, throwing my purse on top and bracing my stomach muscles to carry the thirty-odd pounds worth of liquid weight. One of our regulars holds the door open for me and I smile in thanks, lugging the milk crate through the diner and toward the cold storage out back.<\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m making my way down the main entrance, past rows of tables and customers talking feverishly about Jennifer, my arms full of milk bottles when it happens.<\/span><\/p>\n I see him. Him.<\/span><\/p>\n I stop.<\/span><\/p>\n My arms stop functioning. I drop everything; the milk crate, my purse, my practiced neutral expression. The purse wafts to the floor, the milk bottles hurtle down with an unceremonious crash, and blue plastic lids burst off and go skittering in every direction.<\/span><\/p>\n I sink to my knees, in shock. People are looking at me, but I don\u2019t pay attention to them. I\u2019m too busy fixated on the green-eyed ghost standing in front of me. The splinters in my knees sting like fire-ant bites, and I curl my legs to the side, coming to a sitting position.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShit!\u201d Leo says, dropping his backpack to the ground and crouching in front of me. \u201cCass. Cassie. Are you okay?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n My entire body is alight, little pinpricks along my skin that make me dizzy. The feeling spreads like wildfire, across my chest and through my limbs until I\u2019m overwhelmed and frozen on the spot, sitting on my ass in the middle of the diner, voices and whispers all around.<\/span><\/p>\n I watch in fascination as milk spreads in a puddle in front of me, like spilled blood. It rushes at me like a miniature tsunami as a painful buzz begins in my head.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re gonna pass out,\u201d Leo says, his words sounding far away as he reaches out a hand to help me up. \u201cJesus, Cassie, you\u2019re white as a sheet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n I hold my hand out, the conviction in my reach laughable, and it\u2019s like that moment of electricity that people talk about. I can feel it build in my fingertips, that arc of some invisible thing that wants to join with his invisible thing, but then a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks my arm away before I can make contact with the boy \u2014 no, with the man \u2014 I thought was still in prison.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDid he hurt you?\u201d Damon\u2019s voice in my ear breaks my dream-like state. I open my mouth to say something and decide against it, swallowing air instead. I shake my head.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019d you get on the ground?\u201d Damon asks, shaking me a little.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShe fell down,\u201d Leo says, his arm no longer outstretched. He takes a step away from me, and Jesus, it hurts. He looks anguished. \u201cShe dropped the milk and she fell down.\u201d I can\u2019t stop looking at him. I can\u2019t bear to look at him.<\/span><\/p>\n The milk has reached me. It seeps across my right knee, curled underneath me; the backs of my thighs, my palms. It\u2019s ice cold, and I can feel myself shaking.<\/span><\/p>\n Damon is crouched next to me, his hand on my cheek, diverting my attention to him. \u201cAre you all right, Cassie?\u201d he asks, helping me to my feet, his tone gathering more urgency with each question I don\u2019t answer. Amanda is picking up the milk bottles beside us, piling them high in her arms as I continue to stare at Leo. He\u2019s\u2026 different. He has tattoos now. He looks exactly the same but entirely reconstructed. He\u2019s eight years older, I realize. A third of his life, gone. A third of mine. It feels like it\u2019s been forever. It feels like it\u2019s been no time at all.<\/span><\/p>\n Deputy Chris appears, looking between me and Leo with uncertainty. Why didn\u2019t anyone tell me? How the hell did Leo just materialize from thin air in the Grill?<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cCassie,\u201d Damon snaps, and I know he means business.<\/span><\/p>\n I nod. \u201cI\u2019m fine. I\u2019m okay.\u201d I think of where I was going before I saw fucking Leo. Pills. Purge. \u201cI need a minute.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll take you home,\u201d Damon says, his hand on the small of my back as he starts to guide me toward the front doors. I panic, pushing him away.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou have a missing girl to find,\u201d I say quickly. \u201cI\u2019m fine, really. I just need some aspirin.\u201d And a fucking gun, so I can put myself out of my misery.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll walk you there,\u201d Damon says, ever the hero. If they only knew, I think to myself, as Amanda opens the staff room door and ushers us inside.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGive us a minute,\u201d Damon says, giving Amanda a concerned look. She nods, closing the door and waiting out in the hallway as Damon closes the blinds and twists the lock on the door.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDidn\u2019t think he\u2019d have the balls to show his face in public,\u201d Damon says, and that\u2019s when I understand.<\/span><\/p>\n I feel the blood drain from my cheeks as I realize. He knew. He knew Leo would be here today. I ask him with my eyes, searching, imploring. His expression tells me everything.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou could have warned me,\u201d I whisper.<\/span><\/p>\n His eyes narrow. \u201cI considered it. Figured it was better you didn\u2019t know in advance.\u201d He pauses. \u201cDidn\u2019t expect you to fall to your knees in front of him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cFuck you,\u201d I seethe.<\/span><\/p>\n Damon\u2019s jaw twitches. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he offers, almost as if he\u2019s suggesting an apology rather than delivering one.<\/span><\/p>\n I reach for the lock, twisting it and cracking the door open. The temporary quiet we\u2019ve had is pierced by the excited noise of a diner who\u2019s just witnessed the tragic reunion of two star-crossed lovers, or maybe they\u2019re all just gossiping about the missing girl.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cJennifer,\u201d I hiss at Damon. One word. It works. He shakes his head, his blue eyes fucking burning with anger, but he leaves.<\/span><\/p>\n Holy shit. As soon as he\u2019s gone, I close the door again. I don\u2019t bother locking it \u2014 who\u2019s going to find me in here? Leo\u2019s long gone if he\u2019s got any sense, and as much as I don\u2019t care about anything, the thought of Amanda having to mop up the milk I spilled makes me so fucking guilty I can barely breathe.<\/span><\/p>\n Pills. Purge<\/span>. Yes.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n I go into the staff bathroom, a small tiled square off the main staff room, and start to throw up as soon as the door is closed. I don\u2019t even need to stick my finger down my throat \u2014 I\u2019m so full of adrenaline from seeing Leo, I just open my mouth and everything comes out. It\u2019s the kind of vomit that gets in your nose and burns behind your eyes and makes you cry with the way it chokes you.<\/span><\/p>\n When I\u2019ve emptied my stomach and I stop gagging, I clean myself up, my head feeling like it might split in two. I\u2019m so hot I think I might burst into flames. I take off my cardigan, my fingers clumsy and damp, and use it to wipe my face.<\/span><\/p>\n Pills. Yes. I go back out to the staff room, seeking whatever pharmaceutical bliss I can rummage up from my staff locker. I didn\u2019t switch the overhead lights on when I first came in, and the windowless cave is dim, the only illumination coming from the slightly ajar bathroom door and the fluorescent strips that line its ceiling.<\/span><\/p>\n The staff room is empty. Except\u2026 it\u2019s not.<\/span><\/p>\n Leo. He\u2019s here. Somehow, the only person here with me is the one person I shouldn\u2019t be anywhere near.<\/span><\/p>\n He looks at me with eyes that have seen violence since I last gazed into them. I know because I recognize the hardness inside his soul; it matches mine.<\/span><\/p>\n My face is a blank canvas, but inside I\u2019m screaming.<\/span><\/p>\n Not with fear. With longing. And shame. I want the boy who destroyed everything to pick me up and take me into the bathroom and put his hands all over me. I want him to erase every trace of the last decade. Under my shirt, my nipples stiffen, and shame pools in my belly.<\/span><\/p>\n I shouldn\u2019t want to be anywhere near this boy after what he did, but I do.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Leo says. His voice. Oh, God. I don\u2019t remember his voice being that fucking beautiful. It\u2019s deep and full and if it were a food, it\u2019d be honey. He\u2019s not a boy anymore. He\u2019s a man now. A stranger.<\/span><\/p>\n His face falls as he gestures to my stomach, concerned. \u201cYou have blood on your shirt,\u201d he says, pointing from a safe distance. \u201cDid you cut yourself when you fell?\u201d He looks remorseful. Like he thinks the blood on my shirt is his fault.<\/span><\/p>\n My heart sinks. I shake my head tightly, tears springing to my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNot my blood,\u201d I say, my voice coming out like a squeak. Leo looks confused.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe dog,\u201d I stammer. \u201cRox. She \u2014 she\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI saw her yesterday,\u201d Leo says, his eyes wide as he looks from my eyes to the blood on my shirt. I didn\u2019t even realize it was there. I\u2019d been wearing my sweater until I took it off just now.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s dead,\u201d I say. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Leo takes a step back. Something passes over his face, a darkness, a fleeting suspicion. \u201cHow?\u201d he asks.<\/span><\/p>\n I don\u2019t know how to answer that. So I don\u2019t. I push past him and start walking to the kitchen, as fast as I can, because I don\u2019t have an answer for him. My shoulder burns from where I grazed his arm on the way out of the staff room. He might have ruined my life, destroyed my family, taken my future in one careless night \u2014 but Leo Bentley still makes me burn like hellfire<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lili writes dark, delicious romance full of love, lust and revenge. Her USA Today Bestselling Gypsy Brothers series focuses on a morally bankrupt biker gang and the young woman who seeks her vengeance upon them. The Cartel series is a trilogy that explores the beginnings of the club, published through HarperCollins.<\/span> <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" GUN SHY A Standalone Psychological Thriller by Lili St. Germain Preorder Today! Amazon\u00a0|\u00a0Nook\u00a0|\u00a0Kobo\u00a0|\u00a0iBooks Blurb HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? In the middle of a fierce snowstorm in Gun Creek, Nevada, seventeen-year-old Jennifer […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":8982,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","yasr_overall_rating":0,"yasr_post_is_review":"","yasr_auto_insert_disabled":"","yasr_review_type":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[290],"tags":[432,381],"class_list":["post-26073","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-book-news","tag-excerpt-reveal","tag-lili-st-germain"],"yasr_visitor_votes":{"stars_attributes":{"read_only":false,"span_bottom":false},"number_of_votes":0,"sum_votes":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/06\/gun-shy-cover.jpg?fit=150%2C234&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7gaNL-6Mx","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26073","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=26073"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26073\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8982"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=26073"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=26073"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=26073"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nExcerpt\u00a0<\/strong><\/h4>\n
\nAbout the Author<\/strong><\/h4>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/Lili-St.-Germain.png?resize=300%2C120&ssl=1\")
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\n<\/span>
\n<\/span>Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, excellent coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Instagram.<\/span>
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\n<\/span>She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.<\/span><\/p>\nTWITTER<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0FACEBOOK<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0WEBSITE<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0AMAZON<\/a>\u00a0|\u00a0GOODREADS<\/a><\/strong><\/h4>\n
\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.escapistbookblog.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/IMG_0828-e1490882371842.jpg?resize=350%2C66&ssl=1\")
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