Read Online Better Read Than Dead by Victoria Laurie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Laurie
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stopping me, “what’s got you so fired up?”
I glared up at him as all the insecurities about our relationship and his new beautiful partner welled up inside me, “Did you suddenly forget, Agent Rivers, that my psychic abilities practically led you to a certain serial killer last summer?”
“No,” he snapped, clearly growing tired of our argument, “I didn’t forget. But this is different.”
“ How exactly is this different?” I demanded.
“Because people in my line of work aren’t that open-minded. And you knew I was the new guy on the block at the Bureau, and you still had to go on and on about baying at the moon buck-naked.” I bit my lip nervously, suddenly ashamed of the colorful description I’d painted for Joe. “Jesus!” he continued, his voice rising in anger. “Do you know what’s going to happen when we get back to headquarters? I’m going to be the laughingstock! You could have said you were a stripper and I’d probably get razzed less than telling my boss that you’re psychic.”
I sucked in a huge breath, feeling as if he’d struck me. That was it; he’d crossed the line. “You are an utter asshole!” I yelled, and turned on my heel.
“Okay, maybe that was a little harsh—”
I ignored him and continued to stomp away.
“I’m sorry!” he called from behind me. “That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean it.”
I arrived at his car and stood next to the passenger-side door, waiting with balled fists and a temper on sizzle. “Take me back to my office immediately, ” I said through gritted teeth when he caught up to me.
“Abby—”
“Did I stutter? Did you not understand me?” I snarled over my shoulder as he stood behind me. “You will take me back to my office right now, or I swear to God I will cause a scene like you have never imagined!”
Sighing, he unlocked the doors and I got in with a huff. He stood outside the sedan for a moment and made a call on his cell phone. I could hear snatches of the conversation from inside the car: “. . . just have them put it in a to-go bag and I’ll meet you back at headquarters in an hour . . .”
Finally he got in and began to drive steadily back to my office. After several minutes of stony silence he said, “Can we talk about this?”
I ignored him, looking stoically out the window.
“Hey, come on, Edgar,” he tried in a soothing tone. “I’m headed out of town for at least a couple of weeks on an undercover assignment, and I won’t have a chance to call or talk to you for a while. I’d really rather not have this hanging over us until I get back.”
“You don’t have to worry about it,” I finally said, breaking my silence. “There is no more ‘us.’ ”
“Excuse me?”
“You want a girlfriend who won’t embarrass you? Then feel free to go mine a strip club, Dutch, ’cause we are over. Done. Finito. End of story.”
“Abby, come on. You don’t mean that. . . .”
Just then we pulled up in front of my office, and for the first time I felt the full sting of the disastrous afternoon as tears welled up and blurred my vision, threatening to spill over. The car had barely come to a stop and I was already opening the door. Dutch grabbed my arm as I was getting out. “Hey, wait, Abby. Come on, let’s talk about this,” he pleaded.
“Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” I said viciously, yanking my arm away as I got out and slammed the door behind me. I ran inside and up the stairs, keeping my head down as the tears came. When I reached my floor I rushed down the hallway to my suite and quickly unlocked the door. Bolting into my reading room I curled up into a ball on my chair and cried my eyes out.
Chapter Three
Sometimes, at least, I’m actually able to catch a break. After my disasterous lunch date with Dutch I was a sniveling, sobbing mess, and in no shape to see clients. Luckily, my last two appointments for the day—booked together—were no-shows. After waiting fifteen minutes
I glared up at him as all the insecurities about our relationship and his new beautiful partner welled up inside me, “Did you suddenly forget, Agent Rivers, that my psychic abilities practically led you to a certain serial killer last summer?”
“No,” he snapped, clearly growing tired of our argument, “I didn’t forget. But this is different.”
“ How exactly is this different?” I demanded.
“Because people in my line of work aren’t that open-minded. And you knew I was the new guy on the block at the Bureau, and you still had to go on and on about baying at the moon buck-naked.” I bit my lip nervously, suddenly ashamed of the colorful description I’d painted for Joe. “Jesus!” he continued, his voice rising in anger. “Do you know what’s going to happen when we get back to headquarters? I’m going to be the laughingstock! You could have said you were a stripper and I’d probably get razzed less than telling my boss that you’re psychic.”
I sucked in a huge breath, feeling as if he’d struck me. That was it; he’d crossed the line. “You are an utter asshole!” I yelled, and turned on my heel.
“Okay, maybe that was a little harsh—”
I ignored him and continued to stomp away.
“I’m sorry!” he called from behind me. “That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean it.”
I arrived at his car and stood next to the passenger-side door, waiting with balled fists and a temper on sizzle. “Take me back to my office immediately, ” I said through gritted teeth when he caught up to me.
“Abby—”
“Did I stutter? Did you not understand me?” I snarled over my shoulder as he stood behind me. “You will take me back to my office right now, or I swear to God I will cause a scene like you have never imagined!”
Sighing, he unlocked the doors and I got in with a huff. He stood outside the sedan for a moment and made a call on his cell phone. I could hear snatches of the conversation from inside the car: “. . . just have them put it in a to-go bag and I’ll meet you back at headquarters in an hour . . .”
Finally he got in and began to drive steadily back to my office. After several minutes of stony silence he said, “Can we talk about this?”
I ignored him, looking stoically out the window.
“Hey, come on, Edgar,” he tried in a soothing tone. “I’m headed out of town for at least a couple of weeks on an undercover assignment, and I won’t have a chance to call or talk to you for a while. I’d really rather not have this hanging over us until I get back.”
“You don’t have to worry about it,” I finally said, breaking my silence. “There is no more ‘us.’ ”
“Excuse me?”
“You want a girlfriend who won’t embarrass you? Then feel free to go mine a strip club, Dutch, ’cause we are over. Done. Finito. End of story.”
“Abby, come on. You don’t mean that. . . .”
Just then we pulled up in front of my office, and for the first time I felt the full sting of the disastrous afternoon as tears welled up and blurred my vision, threatening to spill over. The car had barely come to a stop and I was already opening the door. Dutch grabbed my arm as I was getting out. “Hey, wait, Abby. Come on, let’s talk about this,” he pleaded.
“Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” I said viciously, yanking my arm away as I got out and slammed the door behind me. I ran inside and up the stairs, keeping my head down as the tears came. When I reached my floor I rushed down the hallway to my suite and quickly unlocked the door. Bolting into my reading room I curled up into a ball on my chair and cried my eyes out.
Chapter Three
Sometimes, at least, I’m actually able to catch a break. After my disasterous lunch date with Dutch I was a sniveling, sobbing mess, and in no shape to see clients. Luckily, my last two appointments for the day—booked together—were no-shows. After waiting fifteen minutes
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