Read Online Eye of the Burning Man: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Series) by Harry Shannon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harry Shannon
Tags: Fiction / Thrillers
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throats cut."
"Jesus, cowboy, you sure do get around." Peanut sensed what the memory was doing to my pulse rate. She patted my hand.
After a moment, I continued. "Mary was running with the gang. She was assigned to watch us. I got her talking and convinced her to untie my hands. That's how we got away."
"You owe her." It was not a question.
"Peanut, we wouldn't have had a chance without her. Later on, a big, crazy son of a bitch named Donny Boy came at me. He was tweaked on crystal. I was going down for good." I swam against the current, lost in the memory. "Donny was mean, a pure sociopath. He just kept wandering around mumbling ' oh boy ' to himself while he hurt people." I felt like a haunted house.
"And?"
"And Mary whacked him with a shovel. Jerry and I got away. She saved my life twice that day. I promised her if she ever wanted to get clean that Hal and I would help."
"She told me everything else, I think," Peanut said.
"What did she say?"
"According to Mary, she disappeared from sight for several months. Then she finally calls you. You drop everything and race your ass down alone into the ghetto, stare down a pimp and some nasty guys with pipes and guns and shit, and take her on home. That about the size of it?"
"More or less."
"And you act like you still have something to feel guilty about. Callahan, look up neurotic in the dictionary. It has your picture next to it."
I laughed. "True enough."
A sobbing wail from the other room. "I'm going to be sick again!"
Peanut got up, stretched. She finished her coffee. "Sit your country ass down. This is still my shift. You stretch out on the couch and catch a few winks. I'll look out for the wounded bird."
"Never mind," Mary called. "It's just the fucking dry heaves. Oh, God, I feel so bad."
The retching came again, followed by the sound of water running in the sink. Bare feet stumbled down creaking floorboards, then the bedroom door closed again. Peanut shrugged, returned to the kitchen table. She poured herself another cup of coffee.
"I've been meaning to ask you something," Peanut said, "even though I probably know the answer."
"Fire away."
"Do you ever rescue men, or just attractive young women?"
I reddened and considered for a long moment. "That question scares the hell out of me."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a shrink, so the idea that I might be unconsciously exploiting people makes me . . . uncomfortable."
"Exploiting in what way?"
"Favoring young women over men wouldn't be very professional, and it would mean I might be getting some kind of subconscious sexual or romantic thrill out of working with females."
Peanut grinned. "Like me?"
"I guess."
She sat forward. "Never fear, Luke Skywalker. I'd suspect you are ever true to The Force. You remember how we met?"
"What's that got to do with it?"
"There are men in the program who would have taken advantage of the shape I was in. I had been beaten up by my husband for so long that kindness was actually a turn-on to me, not to mention the idea that I could be more than just a body to someone. I'm not sure you even noticed."
"What time is it, anyway?"
"Did you?"
"What?"
"I asked you a question," she said. Her gaze held firm.
So I found something fascinating to examine in the wooden paneling. She laughed at my discomfort. "Relax, Callahan. I wasn't your client. You don't have any professional boundaries to protect."
I grunted. "What was the question again, counselor?"
"Did you realize how much of a crush I had on your sorry ass back then?"
"I thought maybe I could use that to help you."
She raised an eyebrow in mock consternation. "Why, you cocky son of a bitch."
"You didn't place much value on yourself in those days, Suzanne." I shocked both of us by using her real name a second time. Doing that felt surprisingly intimate.
"No shit, bubba. I had real bad taste in men."
"So if I allowed myself to be significant to you, and then made staying sober a way to please me . . ."
She finished the
"Jesus, cowboy, you sure do get around." Peanut sensed what the memory was doing to my pulse rate. She patted my hand.
After a moment, I continued. "Mary was running with the gang. She was assigned to watch us. I got her talking and convinced her to untie my hands. That's how we got away."
"You owe her." It was not a question.
"Peanut, we wouldn't have had a chance without her. Later on, a big, crazy son of a bitch named Donny Boy came at me. He was tweaked on crystal. I was going down for good." I swam against the current, lost in the memory. "Donny was mean, a pure sociopath. He just kept wandering around mumbling ' oh boy ' to himself while he hurt people." I felt like a haunted house.
"And?"
"And Mary whacked him with a shovel. Jerry and I got away. She saved my life twice that day. I promised her if she ever wanted to get clean that Hal and I would help."
"She told me everything else, I think," Peanut said.
"What did she say?"
"According to Mary, she disappeared from sight for several months. Then she finally calls you. You drop everything and race your ass down alone into the ghetto, stare down a pimp and some nasty guys with pipes and guns and shit, and take her on home. That about the size of it?"
"More or less."
"And you act like you still have something to feel guilty about. Callahan, look up neurotic in the dictionary. It has your picture next to it."
I laughed. "True enough."
A sobbing wail from the other room. "I'm going to be sick again!"
Peanut got up, stretched. She finished her coffee. "Sit your country ass down. This is still my shift. You stretch out on the couch and catch a few winks. I'll look out for the wounded bird."
"Never mind," Mary called. "It's just the fucking dry heaves. Oh, God, I feel so bad."
The retching came again, followed by the sound of water running in the sink. Bare feet stumbled down creaking floorboards, then the bedroom door closed again. Peanut shrugged, returned to the kitchen table. She poured herself another cup of coffee.
"I've been meaning to ask you something," Peanut said, "even though I probably know the answer."
"Fire away."
"Do you ever rescue men, or just attractive young women?"
I reddened and considered for a long moment. "That question scares the hell out of me."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a shrink, so the idea that I might be unconsciously exploiting people makes me . . . uncomfortable."
"Exploiting in what way?"
"Favoring young women over men wouldn't be very professional, and it would mean I might be getting some kind of subconscious sexual or romantic thrill out of working with females."
Peanut grinned. "Like me?"
"I guess."
She sat forward. "Never fear, Luke Skywalker. I'd suspect you are ever true to The Force. You remember how we met?"
"What's that got to do with it?"
"There are men in the program who would have taken advantage of the shape I was in. I had been beaten up by my husband for so long that kindness was actually a turn-on to me, not to mention the idea that I could be more than just a body to someone. I'm not sure you even noticed."
"What time is it, anyway?"
"Did you?"
"What?"
"I asked you a question," she said. Her gaze held firm.
So I found something fascinating to examine in the wooden paneling. She laughed at my discomfort. "Relax, Callahan. I wasn't your client. You don't have any professional boundaries to protect."
I grunted. "What was the question again, counselor?"
"Did you realize how much of a crush I had on your sorry ass back then?"
"I thought maybe I could use that to help you."
She raised an eyebrow in mock consternation. "Why, you cocky son of a bitch."
"You didn't place much value on yourself in those days, Suzanne." I shocked both of us by using her real name a second time. Doing that felt surprisingly intimate.
"No shit, bubba. I had real bad taste in men."
"So if I allowed myself to be significant to you, and then made staying sober a way to please me . . ."
She finished the
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