Here is Part 3 of the Prologue:
He cleared his throat. “That was some dinner conversation.” In the end, he hadn’t even sat at the table. The collective venom had driven him away.
They continued running, saying nothing. His heart beat faster and his mouth went dry. His senses were on full alert. There was danger here. And he needed to get away. He could turn around and race toward his car. But what if she followed? This was ridiculous. He was allowing himself to be rattled by a middle-aged woman who meant absolutely nothing to him. A woman he would steer clear of in the future.
It would be a good idea to get away for a while. Check out conferences and take an extended holiday. Escape from those unrelenting March winds and below-normal temperatures and bask in some sunlight. Georgia or Florida and maybe a Caribbean island. He’d have to borrow on his Visa, but it would be worth it. One month. That’s all he would need, and this animosity would blow over.
He slowed his pace and she matched his speed. He circled and turned around. She followed. Anger rose in his throat. “What the hell do you want?”
No words. Only a fixed gaze and a flash of silver at her side. The faint smell of onions and garlic assaulted his senses. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, all the while watching her every movement. His eyes traveled around the deserted field. Not a soul. And that was the appeal of running close to the midnight hour.
This is not how he had planned his demise, not by a long shot. Despite the age gap between them, he had hoped to survive his wife and take on a full-time paramour, maybe even two. If only he had known. If only he could go back six hours.
Fascinated, he stood still, hypnotized as she approached and raised the knife.