Read Online Kiss Kill Vanish by Jessica Martinez - Free Book Online

was making me nervous, and I couldn’t relax with the whooshing of the ocean being blown skyward all around me.
    Three minutes.
    His room smelled like shaving cream. His skin tasted like water. His hands were warm. The wind’s nagging was muted—I could hear the waves slapping against the side of the yacht, feel the boat rolling from side to side, but I didn’t feel like we were going to be shaken off anymore. Swallowed, maybe.
    But then the knock came, and his grip tightened like jaws sinking into my arms.
    How many times do I have to relive this moment before it makes sense?
    The sense is in his hands, I think, or in the way they changed. If I can just figure out which hands were the real Emilio’s, I’ll be able to hate him and mourn him. Or love him and mourn him. They went from plucking the mandolin strings to caressing my skin, then suddenly squeezing my arms tight enough to leave fingerprint bruises.
    And finally, his hand was gripping something sleek and glinting that I understood, even while refusing to understand. A gun. Emilio’s arm floated up in front of him, as if he had no control over his own body, as if his hand was being lifted by my father’s eyes.
    The whirlpool of why and stop and no accelerated, and I know I gasped, but the noise was swallowed by the reeling storm. I clamped my mouth shut. I dug my nails into my palms.
    Two minutes.
    Why am I reliving this again?
    But he turned the weapon like it was the most natural thing to do, like he’d done it before. And with no hesitation or tremor, he exploded the world.
    Too loud. Then no sound at all.
    There was so much more color than I would have guessed. A brain. A whole lifetime of thoughts and memories and emotions blooming like a flower on the wall beyond him. One bullet, one head, one massive scarlet blossom.
    Understanding came flash-like, illuminating everything. This. This juxtaposition of life and death, of vibrancy and shadow, of beauty in tragedy—this was the art my father dealt.
    One minute.
    And now. More art awaits.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
NINE       
    â€œY ou clean up nicely.”
    I spin around to see a lanky figure slouched in the shadows. His features are mottled in the half dark, but a cigarette glows in his mouth and his cheeks pull concave as he sucks on it. Panic and hope squeeze my heart at the sight of his long, lean limbs. How did he find me?
    â€œDid I scare you?”
    Bitter relief. It’s Marcel. The fist around my heart unclenches. “No.” I steady myself against the icy railing, but it’s too cold to grip with bare fingers.
    â€œStay and have a smoke with me.”
    â€œI don’t smoke.”
    â€œThen watch me smoke. You’ve got the whole night to hang on Lucien’s arm.”
    I’m about to say something rude, when I realize the potential of this situation. This isn’t a date if Marcel clings to us all night. If I can get him to stick around and annoy Lucien, I may even survive with both my job and my dignity intact.
    I take a few steps toward him. Once I’m in the shadow I can see him better, well enough to be reminded that he looks nothing like Emilio.
    â€œYou’re not even going to comment on how well I clean up?” Marcel gestures to his tux. Armani, if I haven’t lost my eye. His hair is slicked back and the eyeliner is gone, but I can see the glint of his lip ring. The malnourished pallor is the same.
    â€œYou look . . . cleaned up.”
    â€œDon’t worry, I’m not.”
    â€œAren’t you freezing out here?”
    â€œNo,” he says. “And I’d need a smoke break even if I didn’t need a smoke break.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIt’s pretty stuffy in there. A lot of hot air. A lot of annoying people.”
    â€œAnd where’s