Read Online Cooked Goose by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page A

eye contact was when he was trying to intimidate someone.
    But, mostly, he just irritated the crap out of her, and she loved returning the aggravation. Having the opportunity to irk him made her day.
    She lifted one eyebrow. “Excuse me? This is a public street I’m standing on and, thanks to you, I’m now Jane Q. Public, so I’m right where I belong.”
    “Go home, Reid.”
    “Go to hell, Bloss. Go directly to hell. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”
    “How juvenile.”
    She wrinkled her nose as though she had just caught a whiff of a week-old road-kill. “Yeah? Well, nanny, nanny, boo, boo. And your mother dresses you funny, too.”
    Bloss gave her a condescending look that made her want to slap him stupid, then he walked away, heading for the car where Dirk was questioning Angie.
    Lucky Dirk , she thought as she watched Bloss, mentally calculating the length of the proverbial stick up his butt. Why else would someone walk that stiffly? Or maybe it was a simple case of deficient dietary fiber.
    She heard a girlish giggle behind her right shoulder. The titterer stepped forward, and Savannah recognized the outlandish orange and green spiked hair. It was the punked-out kid from her self-defense class.
    “Oh, hi, Margie,” she said, embarrassed that she had appeared so unprofessional in front of a student. “Sorry you overheard that. I don’t usually talk to law-enforcement officials like that, but I sorta hate that guy.”
    “Me too. What did he do to you?"
    “It’s a long story. What do you mean, you hate him, too? What did Captain Bloss do to you?”
    Probably had her arrested for drugs or shoplifting , Savannah thought, as she checked out the leather clothing, trimmed with metal studs and the pierced lip, cheek, nose and eyebrows. Then she reminded herself that not every kid who dressed like a weirdo was a criminal. Just lacking in taste.
    “He left me and my mother for another woman,” the girl said, “when I was ten years old.”
    Savannah’s jaw dropped. “What? Bloss is your dad?”
    “Yeap. Sucks, huh?”
    Savannah shook her head, trying to rearrange her scrambled brain waves. “Wow! I didn’t even know he had a kid.”
    Margie laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “That’s a scary thought, huh? A jerk like him procreating? My mom should’ve had him neutered on their honeymoon.”
    Savannah studied the teenager’s face. Her expression was belligerent, but, beneath all the exaggerated makeup, her eyes were filled with sadness.
    “Not necessarily,” Savannah said. “You seem like a nice kid.”
    “Naw, I’m a brat. Ask anybody who knows me.”
    While they’d been talking, Bloss had made his rounds and returned with the tall, handsome Officer Titus Dunn in tow. Bloss fixed his daughter with one of his classic glares which was, undoubtedly, intended to instill fear and intimidation. Margie glared back, the picture of adolescent rebellion.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked her.
    “You need to hire somebody to write you some new lines,” Savannah muttered, recalling his earlier greeting to her.
    Officer Dunn started to grin, but swallowed the smile when Bloss shot him a warning glance.
    "I was looking for you ,” Margie told her father, her demeanor as bristly as her hair.
    “How did you know I’d be here?” he snapped.
    “I was in the kitchen when you took the call. I heard you say where you were going. So later, I decided to—”
    “What do you want?”
    “Money,” his daughter returned, her tone turning as curt and hostile as his.
    “Why?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “Hell, yes, it matters.”
    She sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m going out with Amy, okay?”
    “Where?”
    “Don’t know yet, but I need some cash.”
    “No.”
    Margie’s face flushed angrily. She stuck out her open hand, ramming it against her father’s chest. “Give me the damned money!” she screamed. “No-o-o-ow!”
    Savannah glanced