Read Online Bloody Acquisitions (Fred Book 3) by Drew Hayes - Free Book Online Page B

flat-screen, Krystal had explained that since Boarback got more than a few visitors in the form of agents and general parahumans, they’d invested in a nice place for people to stay. That was all she could muster before slipping into the shower, the water running so hot I could see the edge of the mirror beginning to fog within minutes.
    While she showered, I unpacked my own small suitcase and changed into what I considered my more outdoors-y attire: jeans, sneakers, and a short-sleeve button down paired with a robin’s egg blue sweater-vest. My more formal clothes were quickly folded and carefully put away, which still left me with time to kill before Krystal finished her shower.
    Pulling out my laptop, I was pleasantly surprised to find a Wi-Fi signal in our room, which I immediately jumped onto and began checking my e-mail. It had only been a day since the Colin incident, where I was hunted all over Winslow—a day which I’d spent hunkered down in Charlotte Manor with a laptop retrieved from my apartment, trying desperately to carve out a bit of breathing room in my work schedule. It helped that Krystal was busy setting up the trip, and that some of my parahuman clients understood that being hunted by an insane human can throw off a schedule. Still, I was barely treading water, so anything I could get done in the small bits of spare time I had would be a big help. Things were reaching a tipping point though, there was no getting around that. Either Fletcher Accounting Services would have to expand, or I’d have to start turning down work, a prospect which utterly galled me.
    It’s impossible to say how long I was working before I heard Krystal’s voice making a “tsk” sound and saw a polished red fingernail begin to tip my screen forward, closing the laptop even as I hurriedly tried to save my progress.
    “I did not book us this place so you could work.”
    “You booked it because it’s the only hotel in town,” I countered, mercifully clicking the outdated icon of a floppy disk and shutting the laptop myself. “Good internet, too.”
    “This place isn’t as podunk as you might expect.” Krystal grinned at me, and I noticed for the first time what outfit she’d changed into. A red flannel shirt tied off at the stomach, jean shorts that were far from Daisy-dukes but still quite higher than her usual sweats or slacks, all topped off with a beat-up straw hat perched atop her blonde head.
    “You’re making such a clear case for that,” I replied.
    “What, you’re the only one who gets to dress more comfortably?” Krystal asked.
    “I was actually just wondering where you were going to hide your gun.” I nodded to the black belt and attached holster lying on the bed where she’d left them. Inside was her firearm, the one accessory Krystal never left home without. Earlier in the relationship, I’d considered the practice paranoid. After a few months, I wondered why she didn’t carry two.
    “That thing will totally throw off my outfit. It can stay in the room. I’ll hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ so no one will come in and fuck with it.” Krystal turned, picked up her firearm, and set it to the side, completely missing the look of shock on my face. Fortunately, it was still there by the time she turned back, or at least, I assume it was, because she gave me a world-class roll of the eyes. “What?”
    “You
never
leave your gun behind. Bubba took us night fishing, and you wore that gun belt over a bikini. I’ve seen you take it with you when you run downstairs to get mail. Can you blame me for being a little surprised?”
    “I suppose I do have a bit of an attachment,” Krystal admitted. “That’s just prudence in my line of work. But it’s not necessary here.”
    “Why not?” There was something in her eyes, something she was hiding. When it came to her job, Krystal was probably a master deceiver, but in her personal life, she so rarely said anything other than the blunt truth that it became