Read Online Bad Bones (Claire Morgan) by Linda Ladd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Ladd
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being overly polite or mumbling out something that he wouldn’t remember later. But it was enough for Shaggy to don a great big wide grin. “Awesome, man. I’ll tell her. Maybe she’ll give you a call. Or you can call her. You got my home number.”
Bud nodded, turned around, and headed out the door. He didn’t say a single word more, just climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. Claire joined him, waiting for him to want to talk about it. He backed out and drove out of the parking lot in silence. Okay, he was mulling it over in his head and didn’t want to get chatty about his old love. Claire could relate. There were people she didn’t want to talk about, too. People she didn’t want to think about, either. A lot of them, in fact. Bud knew she was there any time he wanted to talk about anything. He was her rock at times, and vice versa. So they rode on in silence, Bud no doubt mulling over in his head all the ramifications of Brianna being back, meaning the good, the bad, and the ugly. Claire spent the quiet time thinking about Black and wishing they were back in that hot tub again with all that water sloshing over the sides.
Chapter Four
In the bright afternoon sunshine, The Knock Down Drag Out looked as if more than a few people had been knocked down and dragged out, all right. Ramshackle, rusted, seedy, it definitely needed a caretaker or two by the looks of the four feet of snow on the sagging corrugated tin roof. There was a house trailer on the same lot, held up on concrete blocks and of equally squalid description. A car’s motor was hanging off a giant oak tree limb in the front of the trailer and a chicken-wire dog pen holding six snarling pit bulls, who all, to a dog, looked cold, miserable, and murderous. They started barking and salivating at the sight of Claire and Bud as soon as they climbed out of Bud’s Bronco. Probably thought they were lunch on the hoof.
Out on the shoulder of a two-lane highway running through Lebanon, four old beat-up pickup trucks sat unoccupied because the parking lot had not yet been cleared, even after two full days of heavy snowfall. A copper-colored Mercedes sat alone across the road, late model and shiny and expensive, all of which Claire found highly interesting. Hmm. Maybe a scruple-empty somebody was making beaucoup money off the young idiots who went inside a chain-link cage and beat each other to bloody meat each and every night. Maybe she wanted to talk to him.
Bud glanced over at the yapping, howling critters who probably considered both of them delicious-looking Whoppers with Cheese. “Well, these guys can’t be all bad. They’re dog lovers.”
“Or they run a dog fighting operation,” Claire said. “Hope so. There’s nothing I like to bust more than jerks who abuse animals.”
They slugged their way through knee-high drifts to the front of the building and stared at the dented front door. Maybe they used it as a battering ram for practicing their head butts. That wouldn’t surprise Claire. The snow had been shoveled slightly around the entrance, but only in a narrow path from the ersatz fight club to the seedy trailer and highly agitated dogs. So they climbed over some more impressive snowbanks until they reached the cleared-off part.
“This bites, all right, but not as much as standing out in intersections dodging out-of-control cars,” Bud said. “I hate winter. I love summer. I love Florida. I love the tropics.”
“Just think of the good things about winter, Bud. You know, Christmas and snowmen and sleigh bells and hot tubs.”
“Yeah, right. All that’s fine and dandy, but Christmas is long over, and we’re freezing our butts off day and night. And we don’t all have hot tubs in our living room.”
“You can use mine anytime you want. I told you that.”
“Yeah, that’ll be real cozy. You and me and Nick. I hate to think of what I’d have to witness.”
Claire laughed. She couldn’t imagine him being in
Bud nodded, turned around, and headed out the door. He didn’t say a single word more, just climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the engine. Claire joined him, waiting for him to want to talk about it. He backed out and drove out of the parking lot in silence. Okay, he was mulling it over in his head and didn’t want to get chatty about his old love. Claire could relate. There were people she didn’t want to talk about, too. People she didn’t want to think about, either. A lot of them, in fact. Bud knew she was there any time he wanted to talk about anything. He was her rock at times, and vice versa. So they rode on in silence, Bud no doubt mulling over in his head all the ramifications of Brianna being back, meaning the good, the bad, and the ugly. Claire spent the quiet time thinking about Black and wishing they were back in that hot tub again with all that water sloshing over the sides.
Chapter Four
In the bright afternoon sunshine, The Knock Down Drag Out looked as if more than a few people had been knocked down and dragged out, all right. Ramshackle, rusted, seedy, it definitely needed a caretaker or two by the looks of the four feet of snow on the sagging corrugated tin roof. There was a house trailer on the same lot, held up on concrete blocks and of equally squalid description. A car’s motor was hanging off a giant oak tree limb in the front of the trailer and a chicken-wire dog pen holding six snarling pit bulls, who all, to a dog, looked cold, miserable, and murderous. They started barking and salivating at the sight of Claire and Bud as soon as they climbed out of Bud’s Bronco. Probably thought they were lunch on the hoof.
Out on the shoulder of a two-lane highway running through Lebanon, four old beat-up pickup trucks sat unoccupied because the parking lot had not yet been cleared, even after two full days of heavy snowfall. A copper-colored Mercedes sat alone across the road, late model and shiny and expensive, all of which Claire found highly interesting. Hmm. Maybe a scruple-empty somebody was making beaucoup money off the young idiots who went inside a chain-link cage and beat each other to bloody meat each and every night. Maybe she wanted to talk to him.
Bud glanced over at the yapping, howling critters who probably considered both of them delicious-looking Whoppers with Cheese. “Well, these guys can’t be all bad. They’re dog lovers.”
“Or they run a dog fighting operation,” Claire said. “Hope so. There’s nothing I like to bust more than jerks who abuse animals.”
They slugged their way through knee-high drifts to the front of the building and stared at the dented front door. Maybe they used it as a battering ram for practicing their head butts. That wouldn’t surprise Claire. The snow had been shoveled slightly around the entrance, but only in a narrow path from the ersatz fight club to the seedy trailer and highly agitated dogs. So they climbed over some more impressive snowbanks until they reached the cleared-off part.
“This bites, all right, but not as much as standing out in intersections dodging out-of-control cars,” Bud said. “I hate winter. I love summer. I love Florida. I love the tropics.”
“Just think of the good things about winter, Bud. You know, Christmas and snowmen and sleigh bells and hot tubs.”
“Yeah, right. All that’s fine and dandy, but Christmas is long over, and we’re freezing our butts off day and night. And we don’t all have hot tubs in our living room.”
“You can use mine anytime you want. I told you that.”
“Yeah, that’ll be real cozy. You and me and Nick. I hate to think of what I’d have to witness.”
Claire laughed. She couldn’t imagine him being in
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