Read Online Bad Moon Rising by Katherine Sutcliffe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katherine Sutcliffe
Ads: Link
over on a case you
shouldn’t have. Maybe took a bribe. It happens. Frequently. Instead of
disbarment, they gave you the option of resignation. You were married, right?
Of course. You and your wife were showing up in the society section of the
paper all the time.
“This fall from grace ultimately ruined your marriage.
You’re not wearing a wedding band. And your wife would never allow her husband
out the door wearing clothes that look like they’ve been left in a dryer too
long. She left you in search of greener pockets when you lost the job. And she
took the kids. You’re rarely allowed to see them. Breaks your heart, especially
when you’re forced to pay out the wazoo in child support.”
J.D. pulled his car to the curb and slammed on the
brakes, throwing Holly half out of the passenger seat. “My life is none of your
damn business,” he said. “I don’t have the time and I am not inclined to listen
to your smart-ass conjectures. Get out.”
Holly stared at him. Her lips parted and her blue eyes
wide.
“Get out,” he said. “Walk your pretty butt out of
here.” She glanced down the line of warehouses toward the river beyond them.
The street was narrow and shadowed.
Derelicts were sprawled against the buildings,
drinking from bottles in dirty paper bags. “Fine. Sure. Whatever you say, Damascus.” She swallowed. “Who needs you anyway.”
Grabbing up her purse, she exited the car, slamming
the door as hard as she could. She didn’t look back, just started walking, her
tumble of black hair swirling around her back, her long legs eating up the
pavement.
The car idling, J.D. watched her make a wide arc
around a leering bum, zigzag her way through street garbage from an
overflowing Dumpster, then round a corner, disappearing.
The woman had brass, no doubt about it. Too damn much
of it for her own good. He suspected spite and stubbornness made up a big part
of her psyche. Holly no doubt was convinced it was pride, but her pride could
too easily get her throat cut if she wasn’t careful.
Christ, he didn’t need this. He checked his watch,
again. Twelve sharp. Beverly would be waiting, having ordered herself an iced
tea and him a cola.
“Dammit,” he said through his teeth, then let his foot
off the brake.
J.D. eased his Mustang down the street, took a right
at the corner, and slowly moved the car behind Holly’s beautiful body.
Holly walked with hands fisted in either stress or
anger. Probably both. If he was smart, he’d let her go. She wasn’t his
responsibility. The last thing he needed right now was more responsibility.
Especially one with an attitude who looked like Miss October in Penthouse magazine.
Pulling up beside her, he let the window down and
yelled, “Get in.”
“Take a hike.” She didn’t so much as glance at him.
“I don’t have time for this, Miss Jones. Get in.”
A gang of tattooed skinheads stepped out from an alley
in front of her. Their faces broke out in lascivious smiles. Her confident step
hesitated. She clutched her purse, glanced around at the Mustang.
He lifted one eyebrow at her and smirked.
Wisely, she reentered his car and slammed and locked
the door, ignoring the crude shouts and whistles from the delinquents who
clutched their crotches and made lewd comments. “Freaks,” she said.
J.D. turned a corner onto Esplanade Avenue, then
reached for his cell phone and called Beverly.
She answered before the phone rang twice. “Where are
you?” she said. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes.”
No point in reminding her their meeting wasn’t until
noon. Beverly was obsessively early to any engagement, especially with him. He
glanced at Holly who continued to ignore him. “Sorry, sweetheart. A problem
dropped into my life and I’m running late. Order me my usual. Be there in
twenty minutes at the latest.”
“This is important, John. I’ve got to talk to you
about Patrick.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I found him with a pornographic
shouldn’t have. Maybe took a bribe. It happens. Frequently. Instead of
disbarment, they gave you the option of resignation. You were married, right?
Of course. You and your wife were showing up in the society section of the
paper all the time.
“This fall from grace ultimately ruined your marriage.
You’re not wearing a wedding band. And your wife would never allow her husband
out the door wearing clothes that look like they’ve been left in a dryer too
long. She left you in search of greener pockets when you lost the job. And she
took the kids. You’re rarely allowed to see them. Breaks your heart, especially
when you’re forced to pay out the wazoo in child support.”
J.D. pulled his car to the curb and slammed on the
brakes, throwing Holly half out of the passenger seat. “My life is none of your
damn business,” he said. “I don’t have the time and I am not inclined to listen
to your smart-ass conjectures. Get out.”
Holly stared at him. Her lips parted and her blue eyes
wide.
“Get out,” he said. “Walk your pretty butt out of
here.” She glanced down the line of warehouses toward the river beyond them.
The street was narrow and shadowed.
Derelicts were sprawled against the buildings,
drinking from bottles in dirty paper bags. “Fine. Sure. Whatever you say, Damascus.” She swallowed. “Who needs you anyway.”
Grabbing up her purse, she exited the car, slamming
the door as hard as she could. She didn’t look back, just started walking, her
tumble of black hair swirling around her back, her long legs eating up the
pavement.
The car idling, J.D. watched her make a wide arc
around a leering bum, zigzag her way through street garbage from an
overflowing Dumpster, then round a corner, disappearing.
The woman had brass, no doubt about it. Too damn much
of it for her own good. He suspected spite and stubbornness made up a big part
of her psyche. Holly no doubt was convinced it was pride, but her pride could
too easily get her throat cut if she wasn’t careful.
Christ, he didn’t need this. He checked his watch,
again. Twelve sharp. Beverly would be waiting, having ordered herself an iced
tea and him a cola.
“Dammit,” he said through his teeth, then let his foot
off the brake.
J.D. eased his Mustang down the street, took a right
at the corner, and slowly moved the car behind Holly’s beautiful body.
Holly walked with hands fisted in either stress or
anger. Probably both. If he was smart, he’d let her go. She wasn’t his
responsibility. The last thing he needed right now was more responsibility.
Especially one with an attitude who looked like Miss October in Penthouse magazine.
Pulling up beside her, he let the window down and
yelled, “Get in.”
“Take a hike.” She didn’t so much as glance at him.
“I don’t have time for this, Miss Jones. Get in.”
A gang of tattooed skinheads stepped out from an alley
in front of her. Their faces broke out in lascivious smiles. Her confident step
hesitated. She clutched her purse, glanced around at the Mustang.
He lifted one eyebrow at her and smirked.
Wisely, she reentered his car and slammed and locked
the door, ignoring the crude shouts and whistles from the delinquents who
clutched their crotches and made lewd comments. “Freaks,” she said.
J.D. turned a corner onto Esplanade Avenue, then
reached for his cell phone and called Beverly.
She answered before the phone rang twice. “Where are
you?” she said. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes.”
No point in reminding her their meeting wasn’t until
noon. Beverly was obsessively early to any engagement, especially with him. He
glanced at Holly who continued to ignore him. “Sorry, sweetheart. A problem
dropped into my life and I’m running late. Order me my usual. Be there in
twenty minutes at the latest.”
“This is important, John. I’ve got to talk to you
about Patrick.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I found him with a pornographic
Similar Books
